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stylesharrys · 15 days

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The Box | Part One [Boxerry]

When Y/N’s brother dies unexpectedly, Harry breaks the news that she now owns an illegal underground fight club. While she wants nothing to do with that lifestyle, Harry is determined to not let her brother's dream die with him.

A/N: so this was the Patreon exclusive series that I decided to bring over here to share with you guys. I wanted to turn it into one long fic for you guys but it was over the block limit so I've had to split it into two parts. It’s still a hefty one so grab some snacks and get comfy, and please be sure to read through the warnings before continuing <3

Warnings: (in no particular order, for both chapters) mentions of death/loss of a sibling and grandparent, mentions of miscarriage, unsupportive parents, swearing, brief descriptions of illegal fighting, money laundering, use of weapons, brief mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety, schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder, smut; kissing, teasing, dirty talk, fingering, protected sex, oral (both receiving/69)

WC: 19.6k

In her 24 years of life, Y/N has only ever been to two funerals. Her first was when she was twelve, to the funeral of her great grandmother. Given, she didn’t know exactly what was happening, but she understood enough. She cried the entire time.

The second funeral she attended was her aunts. Just five years ago when she died in a freak car crash that killed twelve innocent people. Y/N was nineteen, fresh out of school and ready to start her new job, almost putting her deposit down on her new flat. She cried the entire time.

And now, at age 24, she stands at her brother's grave. The same brother that taught her to tie her shoes, that saved her from playground bullies. The brother that helped her move into her flat, that checked in on her when she wouldn’t eat for days while under the stress of their parents. The brother that comforted her after bad breakups, that taught her to fight and defend herself. The brother that risked and sacrificed so much, to give her the life she deserves because her parents labelled her a castaway.

She was the family disappointment because she didn't have her life figured out. Because she took up a job caring for the elderly, opposed to following in her mother’s footsteps and becoming a successful surgeon, or basking in her father's shadow of his worldwide corporations.

Both her mother and father standoff to her side, sniffling back tears of heartache as they comfort one another. Y/N won’t allow herself to mourn for her best friend with them. She won’t let them see her broken and ruined for her brother. Not for them to scold her, to tell her to pick her chin up and stop acting like a child.

She holds it all in as the rest of the funeral party disperse. It’s a fairly large turnout, even if Y/N and her parents don’t know or recognise half the mourners there. They told Y/N they knew him from the fights. Y/N told her parents they knew him from the docks. Even dead, his secret is safe with her.

Her cheeks are damp but not from tears. The wind has been lashing against her body for the past hour of the service and her eyes are still stinging. She doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know that her nose is angrily leaking, or that her eyes look awfully bloodshot.

She continues to hover at her brother’s grave, hoping maybe her parents will fuck off and let her have this moment alone. They don’t. They stand behind her, a few feet away, eyes on their daughter like hawks. Like she’s the unstable one. She has to scoff to herself.

Y/N lets her eyes run over his burial once more. Sammy Y/L/N. A loving son, brother and friend. She promises she’ll come back later, when their overbearing parents aren’t breathing down her neck and she thinks she knows exactly what Sam would say to her.

“Don’t say anything stupid. This is my day, remember.”

She has to fight back the teary smile that tugs on her lips and she turns around to her parents. Her hands are shoved in her coat pocket, shoulders hunched up to offer some form of protection to her ears against the lashing winds.

David reaches for her first, arm outstretched to coddle his daughter to his side. Y/N lets him — needs that comfort today even if it is just from her father. He kisses the top of her head, his wife, Layla, coddling in his other side and David feels a little relief, having both his girls on his arm.

“I hope you’re going to stay for the wake,” David asks softly. Y/N doesn’t miss the huff that slips from her mother's lips and she knows her dad has no doubt just pinched her shoulder because of it. She isn’t going to let them get her down, especially not today.

She nods. “I am.”

When they return to Y/N’s childhood home, she feels sick. She hasn’t been back here in almost four years and the last time she did, she got into an argument with her parents and Sam was the one to take her home and spend the weekend to make sure she was okay.

This time, she’s there because of him and he isn’t there to save her.

Nothing has changed. It’s still the same slightly outdated furniture but she can tell Layla got David to re-wallpaper the lounge. It’s quite busy, if she’s being honest, and Y/N’s feeling a little exhausted in preparation of cleaning up any little slip of the tongues these randoms let out.

The buffet has already been tucked into, Y/N’s grandparents having set out a lovely spread of Sam’s favourite finger foods from when he was younger. It’s solemn and quiet, save for the small bits of chatter between mourners and Y/N feels more than a little lost.

She’s shrugging her coat off and throwing it over the sofa, rubbing her hands together to get some friction of warmth back in her blood. The house is full of more unknown faces than it is with friends and family. They seem to keep to themselves in a separate part of the house and as much as Y/N wants to avoid them, intimidated and somewhat uncomfortable, she sucks it up and shimmies over with a tray of canapes.

The closer she gets, the less unfamiliar they look. She notices a couple of them, some faces she saw when Sam would pick her up from a failing date, or when she would go to his place for lunch and they would be just leaving. They’re all quite stoic, the seven of them and she clears her throat, a small, tight-lipped smile on her face.

The men part just enough to open their circle to her and she’s faced with tall figures and broad shoulders. In her small glory, she has to raise her chin to meet their gaze and she offers up the tray of finger food close to her chest.

“Um, thank you for coming. Sam would’ve appreciated it,” she mumbles the words Layla had been drilling in her head all morning.

They don’t say anything and Y/N lets out a shaky breath. “I take it you knew him from the fights?” She doesn’t miss the way their eyes widen slightly and two of the seven shift a little in their spot.

She laughs breathily. “It’s alright. My brother was my best friend, I knew about it all. Our parents still don’t, though. So I’d appreciate it if it stayed that way. They don’t need to know what he was really doing when he said he was at work.”

A few nod but she’s too busy staring at her feet to notice it. “So you’re Y/N?” A timid voice perks up and Y/N snaps her gaze to the tall blond directly opposite her. She nods shyly, eyes heavy and shoulders sagged.

The blond nods again. “Spoke about ya a lot, he did. Always said if anything happened to him, it was us that had to look out for ya,” he smiles sadly and Y/N really can’t help the tears that pool in her eyes. Typical Sam. Always looking out for his baby sister, even from the dead.

Her eyes rake over the group, some too solemn to make eye contact and others staring at their drinks. But the man to her right doesn’t look away from her face. His bright green eyes are captivating, to say the least, his broad shoulders making his 6ft frame even larger than it is and his wispy brown hair is barely styled but it sits well in a central parting, swooping just a little across the sides of his temples. From where she stands, his jaw and chin are a little stubbly, lips pink and a little damp from his drink.

He looks familiar, Y/N thinks she might’ve seen him in a few fight photos Sam had shown her before, and she can’t tell if he recognises her or not. Though, if she did see a picture of him before, she’s sure he would be in boxing shorts and a tight t-shirt, not a slick black suit with a white shirt and tie. He makes no effort to break the intense gaze he’s offering, so Y/N does. She wills herself to look away and scratches nervously at the side of her neck.

“Well, thank you again for coming. It means a lot.”

It was supposed to be an easy day. She had planned for a small arts and crafts session for the residents and some tea and sandwiches after. Y/N loved planning activities, it usually gave the other staff a chance to take a break or catch up on their paperwork.

But Dylan had a funny moment that resulted in a gloopy paint bottle being chucked at her head and she’s leaving work sporting a cut on her forehead and a three-hour-old migraine. She isn’t even leaving work at 3, like she usually would.

She’s coming out of the home at 6 because upon Dylan’s behaviour, he tore up the rest of the group's paintings and broke one of the staff laptops — resulting in two and half hours spent calming him down, administering PRN and writing up several incident reports.

She’s tired, she’s hungry and she just wants to sit down. It’s cold out, the sky thickening black above her and she knows a storm is due. She quite likes a storm, if she’s honest — just doesn’t much like to drive in them.

She’s rubbing out a kink in her neck as she approaches her car, eyes too busy rolled back as she walks blindly. Y/N sees the feet first — a pair of Adidas trainers — then her eyes trail up a pair of toned legs that are adorned in a pair of shorts. Her brows are pinched and she looks up some more, notices the man leaning on the bonnet of her car and his toned arms are folded over his chest.

It’s when she cranes her neck up a little to see his face that her worry is softly eased a little, but not entirely. She remembers him from her brother's funeral three weeks ago.

“Can I help you?” She asks, voice a little throaty and scratchy.

He’s got a baseball cap on his head, longish brown hair curling around the rim of it and his ears. His eyes are a little squinted and there’s a heavy stubble that decorates his jaw and chin. Y/N thinks he looks much more intimidating in this attire, opposed to the suit she last saw him in.

He drinks her in before he speaks. She’s wearing a pair of boyfriend jeans and a knitted jumper, and her hair is half plaited up, the rest falling into natural waves down her back. He thinks she looks quite pretty for an elderly support worker.

“I’m Harry. I used to box with your brother.”

She nods, biting at her inner cheek. “Figured that when no one recognised you or your friends at the wake.” She squints at him again, scratching at her sore neck. “Look I don’t mean to be rude, but what do you want? How do you even know I work here?” Her tone holds more accusation as she rambles on and Harry can’t help a somewhat amused smile tug on the corners of his mouth.

He shrugs. “I have my ways.” His arms are still crossed over his chest but he didn’t answer Y/N’s first question. She raises a brow and Harry inhales heavily before his shoulders sag and he drops his arms to his side. “I need t’ talk to ya about the club.”

Her brows are pinched harder than before and she shakes her head in confusion, shifting from one foot to the other. “Club? What club?” Her movement allows Harry to see the cut on her smooth forehead and he frowns, reaching closer to inspect it but Y/N’s too quick and with wide eyes, she backs away.

He realises his forwardness and holds his hands up in surrender; standing straighter. “The underground club. Y’know… the one your brother left to you when he died.” She blinks again, lips parting and she’s blubbering a little like she’s trying to understand what he’s talking about.

Realisation is quick to wash over Harry’s face and he nods. Of course Sam wouldn’t tell her anything about what she’d be taking over. Typical.

She takes a deep breath. “Why the fuck would I be left an underground fight club by my brother? He was just a boxer,” she sighs tiredly, punching the bridge of her nose and Harry frowns harder. So maybe she didn’t really know anything about him.

He shakes his head. “Your brother wasn’t just a fighter, Y/N. He owned the club. Sam was the best fighter we had in The Box and he bought it outright five years ago. Always said if anything happened to him, you’d be the one to take it over, do whatever you think best wi’ it.”

Y/N is silent, tears welling in her eyes and she stomps her foot like an insolent child, like she can’t believe this is fucking happening. “You’re telling me I now own an illegal underground boxing club?” Her voice is frantic, high-pitched and whispered through gritted teeth.

Her hands find their way to her hair, gripping on her roots in disbelief. “It’s a good business investment, if you're into that.” He shrugs, arms crossed over his chest again and he’s struggling to understand why she’s so worked up about it.

If Harry had just inherited a three quarters of a million pound business, he’d be fucking ecstatic. But Y/N isn’t ecstatic and she’s staring at him in complete bewilderment.

“No, Harry. No, I’m not into that. Sell it, give it away, I don’t care. I don’t want it.” She shoves past him, unlocking her car and opening the door. Harry’s watching with wide eyes and parted lips.

She can’t be serious.

He closes the door before she can fully open it and she seethes up at him, teeth gritted and all. “You can’t give it away and you can’t sell it! It’s your brother's life.” He fights back and Y/N bursts, veins popping and she pushes him away by his chest.

“And I can’t fucking keep it! I’m a care worker, for God’s sake! I can’t have shit like that tied to me.” Her hands are waving sporadically, chest heaving in panic as she rips her door open and clambers in the car.

Harry’s gripping onto the door, preventing her from shutting it. He never meant to show up and send her in a spiral of anger and panic. Harry digs into his pocket, pulling out a little business card and handing it to her, waiting for her to take it.

“Look, jus’... jus’ sleep on it, yeah? My number and the club's address is on this, jus’ take it ‘n think about it. Please.”

She eyes the card sceptically, gnawing on her inner cheek. She knows he’s right, that she shouldn’t ruin her brother's legacy with one shitty, selfish decision she makes. But she also knows that she’s right — that she can’t afford to have that kind of business in her name.

Y/N looks back up at Harry, lets her heart flutter a little under his gaze despite knowing these are awful circumstances to get butterflies under. But she sees the desperation in his eyes and she supposes maybe it’s because he wants Sam’s life to carry on through the business.

She takes the card and drives off.

“Why haven’t you been to see your brother?”

Y/N closes her eyes for a moment, struggles to keep herself in check. It’s been a long day and the last she needs is her mother chastising her on her break.

“Because I’ve been working double shifts all week, Mum.”

She hears her mother huff from the other end of the line, no doubt rolling her eyes.

God, why did Sam have to leave her all alone in this godforsaken world? Why did he have to get in that fucking car?

Deciding that Y/N does not want to be spending the last few hours of her shift fighting back tears, she cuts her mother off before she can think of anything else to question her on.

“Look, I’ve got to go. Meds round is in the next half hour so I need to get things sorted.”

The line is cut off as quickly as she speaks. Y/N tries not to get too into her head about her mother. About the lack of compassion the woman has shown her during both childhood and now, early adulthood.

If she allows her mind to wander down that path, she’s not sure she’ll ever find the exit.

She leaves the office after allowing herself a moment to compose herself. Across from her, the little light above ROOM 13 flashes and she smiles to herself.

She’s outside the door within seconds, knocking softly before letting herself in. “It’s Y/N… are you okay, Mary?”

The elderly woman sits in her chair, a ball of wool in her lap as she continues knitting. There’s a childlike grin on her lips, eyes full of excitement as she stares at her favourite carer.

“I didn’t think you worked Mondays!”

Y/N laughs, taking a seat next to her. She takes it upon herself to unravel a little more string for her.

“I don’t. I’m covering for Frankie. I should’ve come and said hello sooner, it’s just been a bit busy today, Mary. I hope you can forgive me.”

Mary smiles broadly, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “You know you’ll always be my favourite, Penny.”

She smiles at the nickname. Mary has called her that since her first day at the home all those years ago – when Y/N gave her a penny from her purse for her scratch card and she won the jackpot. That was it. Y/N was Mary’s lucky penny.

“How are you feeling today?”

Mary hums. “Oh, I feel so wonderful. My grandson is coming to visit today. And as far as I can remember... you’re still single, aren’t you?”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully with a huff. “You’re not setting me up with your grandson, Mary.”

She pouts, unhappy. “Why not? He’s a handsome lad and you’re very beautiful. You’d make such gorgeous great grandbabies for me!”

Y/N almost chokes on her tongue, blinking fast as she tries to catch her breath. “Mary!”

“What? It’s not like I’m getting any younger!”

She can’t quite believe her ears. Mary has talked about her grandson a few times, but she’s never once alluded to setting him and Y/N up. She does not need her patient getting involved in her love life.

“He’s a handsome young man, your age… maybe a couple years older. And he’s a personal trainer! Even runs the gym he works at!”

Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. She’s wondering if she’s got enough time to escape the building before her grandson arrives. She wouldn’t put it past Mary to scour the entire home for her.

“Oh, really?” she asks, playing into it for Mary’s sake.

She grins as she nods, looking back down to her knitting.

“And what’s his name?” Y/N asks, fiddling with the yarn between her fingers.

Mary gasps. “Harry!”

Y/N eyes widen at the volume of her voice, looking at Mary, who’s looking at the door.

“Hello, Gran.”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Of course it fucking is,” Y/N mumbles under her breath.

She stands, plastering a kind smile across her lips. Harry sees right through it, hiding his own smirk as he takes her in. Her attire is completely different from when he saw her last week.

Her hair is a bit shorter, and instead of her jumper and jeans, she’s wearing a pair of black leggings and a purple nurses shirt.

“Nice to meet you, Harry.” She extends a hand to him politely, which he more than happily takes.

He can see how much this pains her.

Mary clears her throat. “Harry this is Y/N… but I like to call her Penny.”

He raises a brow, looking between his Gran and Y/N.

“Oh, so this is Penny?” He looks at Y/N. “I had no idea you were my Gran’s favourite. She talks about you all the time.”

Y/N smiles through pursed lips, feeling a little embarrassed, though she’s not sure why.

“Thank you for looking after Gran, it’s lovely to meet you, Penny.”

She smiles tightly, nodding her head before quickly combing through her brain for an excuse to leave.

Y/N knows it's only a coincidence that the same man trying to get her to take over her dead brother’s underground fight club is also the same man that is her resident's grandson, but it still makes her head spin a little too much.

“I’ve got to get started on teatime meds. It was lovely to meet you again, Harry.”

She excuses herself as quickly as she can. Walking into the meds room, she feels like this is Sam’s way of forcing her hand. She looks up to the ceiling with a frustrated huff.

“Even from the dead, you’re a pain in my ass.”

A knock on the door makes her jump and as it slowly peels open, her eyebrows furrow. “What are you doing? You can’t be in here!”

Harry closes the door as he shuffles inside, hands up in feign surrender and there’s an apologetic look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry if me being here freaked you out a bit. I only visit Gran on Mondays because Sam never wanted us boys bringing trouble around you. I swear, I didn’t know you’d be working today. You’ve never worked Monday’s.”

Her shoulders slack as she exhales deeply. “He didn’t want you bringing me trouble, and yet he’s the one that left an entire illegal business to me.”

Harry huffs out a laugh.

“If he was secretly loaded, why couldn’t he have just left me some cash instead?”

“Honestly? Because he knew no amount he left you would equate to what you could earn running The Box. He’s only ever looked out for you, you know?”

Y/N scoffs out a laugh, shaking her head as she turns back to her paperwork. “I would’ve preferred it if he left me nothing. If Sam trusted you so much, why can’t you just take it over?”

“Because he didn’t leave it to me.”

“No,” Y/N huffs. “Instead, he left it to his clueless little sister who could really do without the hassle.”

Harry purses his lips shut, stuffing his hands into his pocket. If it weren’t for his bestfriend’s passing, he’d probably bark out a laugh at Y/N’s little strop.

“Look,” he begins. “No one is expecting you to take it over and know what you’re doing. Why else did you think he asked me to talk you through it?”

Y/N turns to him, a little pissed off. “And you couldn’t have started with that?”

She’s starting to feel like she could have a breakdown at any given moment. The last thing she needs is taking over an illegal underground boxing club with her dead brother’s friend showing her the ropes.

“I can’t deal with all of this right now. I need to get this meds round done, so if you don’t mind…” Y/N gestures to the door, her other hand on her hip.

She doesn’t make eye contact, her gaze fixed on the floor beneath her. Harry sighs, nodding more to himself than her as he reaches for the handle.

“You have my number. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

She stays silent as he leaves the meds room, a shaky exhale slipping past her lips as the door closes shut. She feels guilty, for being so snappy and rude. But Y/N isn’t sure how else she was expected to react.

Her big brother dies in a freak car accident, leaves a multi-million pound illegal business in her name and she’s supposed to just be okay about it?

Her heart hurts. For herself, for Sam. God, she misses him. She just wants to wake up from this bad dream and talk to her big brother about her day.

Y/N wonders what he would say to her right now if he could. Would he hug her and tell her it’s okay? Remind her that she doesn’t have to go through with this if she dosn’t want to?

She scoffs to herself. No, Sammy would be selfish. I looked after you, now you need to look after my legacy. She can hear his voice in her head, clear as day. It makes her smile, for a brief moment, before she’s overcome with sadness and anxiety once again.

In all honesty, Y/N needs to get her head out of her ass. If Sam had asked Harry to show her the ropes and help her into this transition, then perhaps she should be taking this a little more seriously.

She rolls her neck, taking a deep breath. She’s back to staring at the ceiling, like somehow it’ll connect her to heaven radio and she has to laugh at herself.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself up there.”

Y/N stands outside, toes wiggling in her converse as she gnaws on her inner cheek. The building is a tall, dance academy, decked out with the poshest of entrances and Y/N tilts her head to the side. There’s no way in hell this is The Box.

Her squinted eyes flicker back to the card. Not much is on there – an address, Harry’s name, and number. She contemplated calling him before showing up, but she knew if she planned to do this, she would’ve backed out.

So instead, very spontaneously, Y/N drove here right after her shift – not even allowing herself time to rethink or second guess herself.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, she makes her way inside the entrance. It’s quite grand, beautiful even. The ceilings are tall, marble floors. If she’s honest, she feels extremely out of place with her slightly scuffed Converse padding across the ground.

She makes her way to the reception desk tentatively, tapping the business card on the knuckle of her thumb. The blonde woman looks up with a smile, though Y/N’s sure she’s likely judging her in her mind.

“Hi, can I help?” Her voice is soft as she speaks and Y/N clears her throat.

“I’m not sure,” she chuckles nervously. “My name’s Y/N… I’m Sam’s sister. I, uh… I’m looking for Harry?”

The receptionist's smile no longer meets her eyes as it begins to shrink. The look on her face makes Y/N’s stomach twist slightly, her polite smile faltering.

The blonde woman looks at her for a moment – it’s like a flicker of grief passes through her eyes before she quickly composes herself again. She fiddles with something under her desk, retrieving what looks like a key card and handing it to Y/N.

“You’ll be needing this. It’s the first door to your left, just down that hall.” She nods her head over to the other side of the reception and Y/N takes the card with pursed lips and a tight smile.

Nothing can ever describe the fear and anxiety that bubble in her tummy. If she’s being completely honest with herself, she’s terrified of what she’ll see behind that door. What harsh reality of Sam’s life she’ll be privy to.

It’s the closest she’s felt to him since he passed, and yet she’s never felt so distant in her entire life.

Behind the door, is a set of stairs. They lead to an extremely large expanse of a basement; concrete floors, and concrete walls. The lighting is dim and to her surprise, the place is bustling.

Three large boxing rings sit in the length of the basement, and gym equipment is spread out across the far right of the stairs entrance. She can see a small shower sign to her left, and right in front of her, she notices him.

He’s sweating, struggling to catch his breath. His hands are resting on his knees, his back hunched over slightly as he lets out shallow pants to gain control of his breathing.

Harry and his opponent stand in the middle of the ring. There’s a cocky grin on his lips as he stands up straight, tearing the Velcro on his gloves as he tugs them off his hands and throws them out of the ring. Jason, Harry’s sparring partner, waddles over, face beet red and chest splotchy.

“Good fight.” He shakes Harry’s hand, a tired yet smug look on his face and Harry can’t help but roll his eyes when he pulls away, taking out his gum shield as he does so.

He grins. “You tried.”

The sight of him makes Y/N’s chest heave. The sweat adoring his tattooed chest and torso, the way his golden skin glistens under the dim lighting.

She feels a bit more suited in this environment than she did upstairs. At least down here, she isn’t self-conscious about her tatty converse.

Y/N takes a moment to compose herself, letting her eyes flutter around the other trainers. She doesn’t recognize any faces, not even any from Sam’s funeral.

And amid her surveillance, Harry notices her presence. He’s unwrapping the bandage across his knuckles as he watches her, ignoring Jason’s words about going for drinks for Tony’s birthday.

When Y/N turns back to Harry, their eyes finally meet. She offers a nervous smile through pursed lips, barely raising her hand from the side of her body in a timid wave.

“Hey, you hitting the showers or what?” Jason’s voice breaks Harry from his little trance and he hums.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you guys later.”

Harry’s crouching under the top rope of the boxing ring, climbing over the bottom two, and jumping off the platform. He approaches Y/N with a breezy smile, his eyes light and welcoming.

“Hey.”

Y/N clears her throat. “Hi.”

There’s a moment of silence between them both. The gym winds down as more people head for the lockers and showers. Y/N notices and supposes it’s closing time.

“Are you closing?” She finally asks.

Harry looks around them. “Oh… yeah the guys are going for drinks for someone’s birthday. We open back up at 11 for the midnight fights.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Midnight fights?”

Harry nods. “Yeah… training during the day and then we host fights on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights.”

Y/N chews on the inside of her cheek, nodding slowly as she takes his words in. Harry can read her like a book and can tell she’s slightly overwhelmed but even more so, she’s intrigued.

He scratches the back of his head. “I can show you to Sam’s office if you want to talk?”

It takes Y/N a moment to consider Harry’s offer. She’s unsure if she’s mentally and emotionally prepared to see her late brother's office. She’s not sure how it’ll make her feel.

But if she can drive here after work without thinking about it too much, she supposes seeing Sam’s office would be better done spontaneously than planned. Because if she allows herself to think and ponder and doubt, she’ll never make it past the door.

So she nods her head with a soft ‘okay’ and Harry leads her through the gym.

Y/N notices the lock on the door first, then the key that Harry pulls out of his pocket. She wonders how close he and Sam must’ve been for Harry to have access to the office.

He pushes the door open and flicks on the light, allowing Y/N to enter first. She takes her steps slowly, tentatively. The office is small, nothing fancy. There’s an oak desk, an office chair, some filing cabinets, and framed photos of past fights on the walls. Photos that she does not have the strength to acknowledge right now.

Harry closes the door behind them both and drops the key on the desk. “I’ve been coming in here every day. Just to keep on top of things until you were ready to take over.”

His words are slightly muffled as he squeezes his head into a tight t-shirt, tugging it down his still-damp torso.

Y/N turns to him, a little overwhelmed as the tears begin to gather. “I don’t think I can do this,” she laughs tearfully.

Her arms are raised by her sides as she looks around the place. “Look at all of this. I have no idea about fighting or training. How the hell am I supposed to do this? Why did he think I could?”

There’s pity in Harry’s eyes and he purses his lips, upset for her. “Sam needed to know you’d be looked after if anything happened to him. He liked the idea of you continuing his legacy and inheriting all the riches that come with it.”

Y/N scoffs through her tears. “This is a lot, Harry. It’s not like he’s left me his hamster.”

He bites back a smile at her words. He knows if Sam could see his sister now, he’d be rolling his eyes and calling her a drama queen.

“Were you close? You and Sam?” She asks.

Harry takes a shaky breath, nodding slowly. “We were best mates. We were partners.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, eyebrows raised to her forehead in shock and Harry is quick to clock on to what she’s assuming.

“No!” He blurts. “Not like that, Jesus fucking Christ. Partners in the company, I mean.”

Y/N’s body visibly relaxes at the statement but it’s quickly replaced with confusion.

“Wait,” she holds her hand up. “If you’re a partner, why does it matter that I take over? Can’t you just have the company to yourself?”

Harry frowns. “No, Sam is the sole owner of this place. I helped him run things. I have twenty-five percent and you now own the rest. Sam left that to you. Which is why I’ll be the one showing you the ropes. Sam would arrange the illegal side of things – you know, book in the fights, set up bets and stuff. I would do the more legitimate side. Membership fees, taxes… keeping everything under the radar and looking kosher.”

She takes a seat in the chair, closing her eyes for a moment. “Okay,” she whispers, more so to herself. “So… what is this then? Disguised as a gym?”

Harry chuckles softly, planting his bum on the edge of his desk. “Basically. We’re registered as a business, a gym. We keep the fights quiet though. You only know about them if you’re invited or scouted.”

“Scouted?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, there’s a whole network of underground fighting. The Box is one of the most elite. You don’t get to fight unless you’re scouted by us, and you don’t get to watch unless you’re invited and you pay.”

It’s a lot to take in, Harry knows that. But if Y/N is going to take over half the company, she needs to know the ins and outs of everything – no matter how dark or dodgy it may be.

“We charge memberships through card, so we have something to declare and pay taxes on. As for the fights–”

“Let me guess, paid in cash; same with the bets. That’s the real money maker, you don’t have to declare cash.”

Harry nods slowly, impressed by her ability to connect the dots. Unlike most people, Harry has no issue trusting her with every secret within the company. She’s Sam’s blood. And this place was Sam’s everything. He wouldn’t dream of leaving it in untrusted hands.

“I’ll be blunt here, I am not cut out to be running anything illegal.” She admits blatantly, not even thinking of entertaining the idea.

Harry gets it, completely. “That’s fine. If you would rather handle memberships and the legitimate side of the business, I can handle the rest.”

Y/N doesn’t expect him to be so understanding. To be frank, she doesn’t know what she expected from Harry. She figured all her brother's boxer friends would be cold and calculated. Not a gorgeous, kindhearted 6ft teddy bear.

“I know this is a lot to take in all at once, but if you’re happy to, I can show you how we work around here.”

What feels like an hour, is three. And by the time Harry has explained the basics and the logistics, it’s nearly 9:30 p.m. and Y/N’s stomach is rumbling. The loudness of it has heat rising to her cheeks and Harry chuckles.

She’s grown a little more relaxed around him in the two and a half hours they’ve spent in Sam’s office. Her Converse have been kicked off and her cardigan is long gone. She’s still sitting in the chair and Harry leans his bum against the desk, just a few inches from her.

“D’you wanna order food or call it a night?” He asks.

Y/N looks up at him. She’s ashamed to admit she’s enjoying this time with Harry. It’s been a long time since she’s felt so consumed in something that she hasn’t thought about how sad her life is right now.

“Oh, sorry I’ve been here a while. You’ve probably been wanting to go home for ages,” she laughs nervously, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Harry is quick to shake his head. “No, not at all. Besides, I’ve got to stay here for the fights tonight anyway.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Do you mind if I stay?” She asks.

Y/N supposes that she may as well cram as much into one night as she can. Even if that does include watching illegal fights in this new business she co-owns.

Harry nods, taking a sip of his bottled water. “If you feel okay, stay. I know this is a lot to take in. Don’t think you have to do everything all at once.”

She appreciates his consideration, and maybe she’s not as mentally prepared for tonight and she’s letting herself think, but that doesn’t change her mind.

Y/N can’t fight this inheritance. Harry won’t let her and she knows she’ll regret it if she walks away from Sam’s pride and joy. So she might as well suck it up the best she can.

“I can’t escape this now, Harry. If I’m going to be in this, I’ve got to be all in, right?”

Harry isn’t sure where her change of attitude has come from, but he hopes tonight doesn’t have her coiling back into that previous mindset of wanting nothing to do with the business.

So he nods at her and offers an apologetic yet appreciative smile. And looking at her, he takes a moment to admire the beauty of her. She’s nothing like Sam, not look-wise anyway.

She’s much more attractive than he was.

“So… do you want pizza or something else?” Y/N asks, tapping away on her phone to begin an order for food.

Harry purses his lips. “Oh, I can’t eat until after the fight. But order whatever you want on the company card. I’ll go up and grab it for you when it’s delivered.”

She finds it strange, but maybe Harry gets nervous for fight night. She’s not sure why else he wouldn’t eat until after watching illegal fights.

Y/N orders herself a small pizza and by the time she’s eaten, and Harry has finished explaining the systems, they’re leaving the office to find the trainers in the locker rooms.

The buzzing atmosphere has an unfamiliar wave of excitement washing over Y/N. The unknown anticipation is like electricity, sending a little shockwave through her body.

She hasn’t experienced anything like this before, and knowing nothing about how tonight may unfold, it has her on the tip of her toes. Nervous and ready for anything at the same time.

She thinks she gets what Sam used to say about the thrill he got from fighting. This feeling she’s getting just being stood in the gym before someone’s fight probably doesn’t even begin to compare to the feeling of actually fighting.

“Everyone listen up!”

Harry’s voice beckons over every single trainer. All eyes are on him and Y/N. She feels a little nervous like she’s intruding on their work.

“I’m sure many of you know, but for those who don’t… this is Sam’s sister, Y/N. She is the new partner in the company and will be just as involved in this business as Sam was. If she has any questions, you answer them. Tonight, you’re all to keep an eye out for her. We’ve got a rough bunch coming in and it’s Y/N’s first fight. Now glove up and get angry. We’re undefeated for a reason.”

As quickly as they paid attention, they were filtering out of the lockers. Y/N won’t admit it but she’s slightly in awe of the respect and power Harry has.

She would’ve never guessed he could have that effect on people. But as her life has proven, Y/N doesn’t seem to be right about anything. Ever.

As they exit the lockers, the gym is a lot fuller. At least two to three hundred people are occupying the space. Y/N’s never seen anything quite like it. It’s loud and masculine, and the eager guests put their bets in at the side of the rings.

“Niall!” Harry calls out, a blond amongst the trainers turning to the owners as he wanders over.

“Y/N, this is Niall. One of our best fighters and Sam’s protégé.”

She shakes his hand with a relaxed smile. “I remember you from his wake. Thank you for coming that day.”

Niall smiles pitifully, releasing her hand. “Your brother was a good fella. Welcome to the team, Y/N. We’re glad to have you in the family.”

She doesn’t question the family remark. She doesn’t have to. Sam had always expressed to Y/N how the boys at the gym were like his brothers. It warms her heart to speak with Niall.

“Ni, I want you to keep an eye on her for me. Just until I’m done.” Niall nods and Y/N frowns, turning to Harry.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

He grins at her, cheeky and cocky. “I'm the first fight. You gonna give me luck like you give my gran, Penny?”

Y/N can’t hide the way her eyes widen or how heat rises to her cheeks. She doesn’t know what she’s more caught off by. Harry fighting or the unexpected use of her nickname.

Wherever it is, it has fire licking at every inch of her body. And the smirk he throws her before approaching the ring only adds fuel to her ever-growing fire.

She’s got fucking whiplash. One minute she’s moping over her brother and the next she’s pressing her thighs together desperately and accepting the fact that she is now, to put it bluntly, a crime boss.

She turns to Niall with a sheepish smile and attempts to relax her shoulders. Niall seems to see right through her shaky facade and he lets out a cackle of a laugh before throwing an arm around her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Harry is the dog's bollocks. And it’s okay to fancy him. Most girls do.”

The ruckus only gets louder, a fairly even mix of chants and boos as Harry approaches the ring and climbs in. Y/N isn’t sure why her heart begins to race. She isn’t sure why she’s instinctively toying with the pendant on her necklace. She has no idea why she’s so hooked and nervous.

Like she’s worried for him.

The introductions are a blur, both Harry and his opponent walking the ring for all to see. The referee doesn’t stand in there with them. He stands to the side, an older man with a beer belly and balding scalp, his voice rumbling through the microphone that echoes.

“This guy’s a fucking nutter.” she hears Niall say beside her, face close to her ear to raise his voice above the noise.

Y/N’s heart stammers a little faster. “He got banned for a little while. The last time he was here, he bit someone’s pinky finger off. Two years later, and we still haven’t got the blood out of the mat. Osmond has very little perception of pain. The only way to win against him is knocking him clean out, or he can fight all night.”

She tries her hardest not to let her eyes widen at his words and keeps her gaze focused on Harry and Osmond. He’s significantly larger than Harry – stockier and taller. Y/N thought they’d at least follow weight class guidelines, but now she’s beginning to worry that Harry may barely come out of there with a pulse.

When the bell sounds and the fight starts, Y/N can’t tear her eyes away. They’re both circling the ring, cautious like lions stalking their prey. Osmond is the first to move, feigning an attack by stomping his foot forward and then easing back.

The motion goes unphased by Harry, not even a flicker of a flinch. Niall giggles to himself, like he’s not at all worried about his friend. Unfortunately, Y/N doesn’t share the same confidence in Harry that Niall does. How can she? She’d never seen him fight before.

They grow closer and Harry is bouncing on his toes. Even barely knowing him. Y/N can feel the energy he’s permitting. The confidence, the excitement. She swallows a gasp when Osomond lunges for Harry but he’s quick to dodge it, forcing a fist into the side of Osmond’s face as he bounces back.

Osmond stumbles for a second, taken aback by the force of Harry’s punch – like Y/N’s not the only one to underestimate the boxer. But as soon as he finds his footing, the fight breaks loose.

Harry is quick to dodge ninety percent of Osmond’s punches, delivering a blow of his own with every other recoil. His slimmer build and smaller weight works to his advantage. Y/N watches the way Harry moves around his opponent, notices how much quicker his reflexes are than Osmond’s.

The crowd has grown significantly louder than before and yet it all becomes a bit of a blur to Y/N. She’s enamoured by him, by his every movement. The way muscles ripple with every pinch, how his skin glistens with sweat, and blood begins to drip from the bridge of his nose.

As quickly as she begins to grow aroused, she stops. Remembering that this was her brother’s life for years. Fighting like this, with little to no rules and people betting on him to win or lose.

So caught up in her head, she misses the final punch that Harry connects with Osmond’s jaw. Misses the way the larger man plummets to the ground with a thud. She doesn’t notice the straining eyes of strangers as they stare at her from across the basement, watching her every move like hawks.

She doesn’t notice, but Harry does. Because he’s looking right at her, stuck in her head. He doesn’t like it one bit; how naive she is. In another Universe, maybe he’d admire it. But not in this world – the new world she’s been thrown into. She can’t afford to be unaware of the dangers this place can carry, of the things people are capable of. It’s muffled to Y/N when the crowd begins to count down from ten, reality only really fixing her senses when that bell rings again.

And the fight is over.

She hasn’t been able to stop looking at him.

Harry’s been cleaned up, dressed in a t-shirt again, and counting the money he’s won from the fight. He flicks the notes from one hand to another with ease, counting far too quickly but Y/N supposes he’s used to it.

“What did you think of the fight?” he asks.

Y/N quirks a brow, wonders if there’s a hint of cockiness in his tone, but there isn’t. He’s not boasting about how good of a fight it was, he’s just asking what she thought.

“Was good. Didn’t know you could fight like that.”

Harry hums, stuffing the cash into an envelope and offering her a tight-lipped smile. “Most people don’t. I’m used to being underestimated.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything as she sits on the edge of the ring. The Box had cleared out around forty-five minutes ago, just the two of them left now and the clock is ticking ten to three.

“Think I missed the part where you knocked him out, though.”

Harry hums. “Yeah, I noticed you were a bit in your head when that happened. You need to stop doing that here moving forward.”

Y/N frowns, unsure what she should address first. The fact he was watching her during the fight, or that she needs to stop getting in her head.

“What do you mean?” she settles for.

Harry stands from the small foldable table beside the ring. “No matter how well you may ever think you know this place and these people, you don’t. It’s a bottomless pit of uncertainty and you need to have your wits about you at all times. People were watching you tonight, trying to suss you out. If anyone smells even a hint of fear or weakness on you in this place, you’re done for – whether you’re a fighter or not.”

His words hit Y/N a little harder than both anticipated but she supposes it’s what she needed to hear. Because he is right. She gets in her head far too often since Sam’s passing, and Y/N knows it’ll only end up getting her hurt or in trouble. Especially in a place like this.

So she nods her head, understanding and agreeing. And it’s not like Harry expected her to put up a fight, but he’s at least glad he didn’t make her cry with it.

“Come on, it’s late. I’ll drive you home.” He offers, but Y/N is quick to stand and shake her head, hauling her purse over her shoulder.

“It’s okay, my car’s outside.”

He looks at her for a moment, like he’s debating letting her drive alone at this time. But it’s not his business, and he’s not prepared to overstep again. He might’ve promised Sam he’d look out for her, but he’s not about to be overbearing.

“Okay. Text me when you’re home.”

She leaves shortly after, allowing Harry a few moments of peace as he finishes the last of his paperwork. A weight sits heavy on his shoulders about tonight. About how dangerous getting tied up in this place could be for Y/N.

The first day and people are already staring, gawking, surveilling. There’s that unnerving feeling in Harry’s tummy that just won’t go away. The kind of feeling he got before Sam died.

The memory stings him a little with both grief and guilt. Will there ever be a right time for him to tell Y/N how her brother really died? That it wasn’t just an unfortunate car accident. That Harry’s been watching his back and secretly hers ever since. That the associates of the people who did it were in The Box tonight?

His phone chimes from beside him, screen alight with one single text from Y/N.

I’m home x

Bursting through the doors of Oakdale Care, Y/N’s more than a little pissed off. Not because she’s been called into work on her only day off this week. But because the staff have waited two hours to make her aware of Mary’s fall this evening. And to top it off, they didn’t think to contact her family to notify them either.

Y/N chews into Melanie the second she comes through the door, exclaiming how unprofessional it is that they didn’t contact anyone when this happened.

Melanie remains quiet, doesn’t know what to say back to that and she knows Y/N’s right in what she’s saying. But in Melanie’s defence, she’s not running the shift.

“I can call Mary’s grandson now. I’m not running today, Lara is… I thought she would’ve called him?”

Y/N takes a breath as she stops outside of Mary’s bedsit. She knows she shouldn’t have kicked up a big fuss without knowing everything, but the fact still stands that she and Harry weren’t notified when the accident occurred two hours ago.

Shaking her head, Y/N peers into Mary’s room. She lays on her back in her bed, eyes closed but there’s a pinch between her brows, suggesting discomfort and pain from her fall.

“Don’t worry, I called Harry as soon as you called me. He’s on his way now. Has Lara given Mary any pain meds? What’s going on with paramedics?”

Melanie doesn’t say anything about Y/N calling Harry from home. Honestly, she doesn’t think anything of it. It’s not uncommon for seniors to have patients' family members' contacts on their phones. It comes in handy for situations like this.

“Oh, okay. Um, yes… Lara gave her pain relief and paramedics said they’ll be here as soon as possible – they’re understaffed and have a lot of more emergent calls.”

Y/N nods, reaching back to tie her hair up the best she can without a mirror. “Okay, did they say if they’d be taking her in?”

Melanie shakes her head. “They said they’ll assess her on scene and go from there. If they don’t think her hip is broken, they’ll get her referred for an X-ray tomorrow afternoon. If they can tell that it is, then they’ll take her in.”

Y/N nods. She’s been here long enough to know how it works, it isn’t the first time an elderly patient has had a fall. “Alright, thank you. Can you let Lara know I’m staying for the remainder of the shift, most likely tonight as well?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see if Lara wants you to take over the shift or whatever.”

When Melanie leaves, Y/N quietly enters Mary’s room. She sits on the chair across from the bed and exhales softly.

“For Christ's sake, Mary… you’re always up to no good.” She whispers to herself, allowing just a moment to get her mind in order so she’s calm enough to explain to Harry fully what’s going on.

The idea of seeing him under these circumstances irks her a bit. She’s only been to the club once since she was first there two weeks ago, still finding it a little overwhelming to process. And Harry had assured her that it was fine and to take her time, and if once a week is all she can handle right now, then that’s fine, too.

Y/N feels a little bad. Allowing Harry to run the club alone while she owns the majority of it. It feels a little too cheeky in the worst way and the guilt has been nipping at her for a few days now.

It doesn’t help that tonight she was supposed to be there, to run through the books and set up some form of timesheet for what days she’d come in. Now it looks like neither of them will be there this evening.

A gentle knock on Mary’s door disturbs Y/N’s inner turmoil, and she’s met with the devil himself standing in the doorway. There’s worry in his eyes, brows knitted and lips in a fine line.

“Hey,” Y/N breathes a greeting as she stands from her chair.

Harry enters the room cautiously, scared he may wake her but also scared of what Y/N may say to him. His eyes flicker between the two women for a moment and Y/N offers a gentle smile.

“We’re waiting for paramedics to come and assess her. She’s been given medication for the pain. I’m so sorry you weren't contacted sooner. I called as soon as I found out.”

Harry waves off her apology, knowing it isn’t Y/N’s fault. He takes the seat beside hers as they sit together. Harry’s fingers are intertwined across his chest as he sits back and regards his grandmother.

Guilt is quick to settle into his stomach. He wishes he visited her more often. When scary things like this occur, he finds himself deep in his head about what he couldn’t and should’ve done better or more. He’s not silly, he knows his gran is getting old, but growing up, Harry always viewed her as immortal — isn’t that how everyone sees their grandparents? As ever-lasting beings who will always just be there?

“Do you want me to give you some space?”

Y/N notices his dazed eyes slowly blink her way. He’s not completely with it, may that be through fear, stress or something entirely else.

Harry shakes his head. “No, you’re fine. Feels a bit reassuring having you in here, if I’m honest.” There’s a hesitant (dare she say, shy) smile on his lips as he speaks.

Y/N would like to say his words mean something deeper but in reality, she gets it. Family tend to prefer having a member of staff present after something like this — just in case something happens, there’s already someone there.

She bites down her confused disappointment and a few moments of silence settle around them.

Y/N picks at her nails while Harry chews at the inside of his cheek; his eyes focused on the clock on the wall beside him. It’s nearing eight in the evening and the home is relatively quiet. There will be a staff swap shortly for the night shift but even then, there won’t be much more noise.

“Why’s the car park always so busy recently?” Harry asks mindlessly, but the question bewilders Y/N for a second.

“What do you mean?” She blinks.

Harry shrugs his shoulders, shifting in his chair. “The amount of cars parked out the front compared to the amount of staff in right now doesn’t match up.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to shrug her shoulders. “It’s a busy area. A lot of people tend to use the car park if they live nearby and can’t find a space. Plus it’s free.”

A quiet hum sounds from Harry’s throat and Y/N finds herself wondering if he’s satisfied with her answer or not. Then she finds herself confused again as to why she cares.

“I told Melanie I’d stay for a few hours, or at least until we know what’s going on with the paramedics. So, I most probably won’t be at the gym later tonight. Sorry.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, don’t be silly. It’s fine. I’ll stay, too. Niall can oversee the gym, it’s just a few lads putting in extra training tonight, there’s no fights anyway.”

Y/N’s about to reply when a gentle knocking on Mary’s door stops her. Melanie pops her head through, an apologetic smile on her face as she greets Harry with a polite wave.

“Y/N, is there any chance you can do bedtime meds round? Lana’s speaking with the Head of Care about the fall.”

She looks to Harry, who nods with a small smile before she leaves the room with Melanie. He’s left with silence and his grandmother's soft snores as she sleeps. His heart races a little with worry of what could’ve happened. If she’d hit her head or if a member of staff wasn’t in the room when it happened.

It takes a lot of force to shake those thoughts from his head. The what-ifs. He tries to find something else to focus his attention on, but Mary doesn’t have much in her room.

She’s always been a very simplistic person, never been one for clutter and unnecessary decorations. She has a clock on one wall and the cross of Christ on another beside a photo of her late mother.

Digging through the pockets of his slacks, Harry retrieves his phone and shoots Niall a quick text.

Harry: Can’t make it in tonight, family emergency. You okay to oversee the training?

A few moments pass before the little bubble appears at the bottom of his screen, which is quickly replaced with Niall’s reply.

Niall: No prob, hope alls ok. Is Y/N in?

Harry: No.

Shutting his phone off, he stuffs it back into his pocket. He sits in silence for a few moments, foot tapping against the carpeted floor until he hears a little movement from out in the hall.

Harry cranes his neck from where he sits in his chair, peering through the crack. Y/N pushes the medication trolley through the hallway, stopping outside of Mary’s door as she enters the room opposite.

“Evening, Malcolm. I’ve got your medication, mate. Do you want juice or water with it?”

He smiles at the softness of her voice, of how calm and collected she seems. He listens in as Malcolm attempts to refuse them, fights back a laugh as Y/N persuades him to take it because if you don’t, you know your hair will start to fall out again and you told me Alice doesn’t like bald men.

He takes the medication and she leaves shortly after, moving onto the next room that Harry can’t hear from.

It’s roughly twenty minutes later when she’s returning to Mary’s room and offering Harry an apologetic smile. She’s got two mugs of tea in her hands as she passes one to Harry and sits in the chair beside him.

“I find it really admirable, what you do.” He tells her softly.

Y/N frowns a little, slightly embarrassed by the compliment but she shrugs it off. “I treat them how I’d want someone to treat my grandparents. Really, they’re all like extra Nan’s and Grandad’s to me.”

He smiles at her, believing what she says. Mary has always boasted about how amazing her Penny is. Harry knows she loves her job and the people she cares for. It makes his heart feel full.

“Have you always wanted to work in care?”

Y/N pulls a face as she thinks, a look that suggests no, not really.

“I actually wanted to be an air hostess,” she laughs to herself, like her dream job is completely irrational and totally out of reach.

Harry must admit that it does make his eyebrows raise. He doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who shares an interest in something like that.

“But my grandma passed away in a care home a few years ago. She was unwell, we thought she might’ve had a heart attack or a stroke or something in her sleep. The coroner concluded it was a heartache but it stemmed from a build-up of neglect. The nurses weren’t giving her the medication she needed and things like that. Sam ended up beating the shit out of the manager and he sued them. At my grandma’s funeral, I vowed to her I wouldn’t let that happen to anyone else’s grandparent again.”

Harry blinks at her, lips parted. He’s stunned, to say the least, and his heart feels heavy from her words. He can’t begin to imagine the anger and heartache she must’ve felt. Harry supposes that’s why she got so uptight about Mary’s fall.

“Jesus. Penny, I’m so sorry.”

His apology is genuine, she knows that. But she waves her hand to dismiss the condolence. It’s not something she likes to talk about. And she’s not entirely sure why she feels so comfortable sharing that with Harry.

“What about you?” She takes a sip of her tea. “Have you always wanted to be a boxer?”

Harry puffs out the air in his cheeks and shifts in his chair. “For the longest time, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I was a bit of a problem child as a kid, so my mum got me into boxing to help me learn respect and discipline. Didn’t think I’d love it as much as I did.”

Y/N listens intently to his words, watches the way his lips move with every syllable. She comes to the realisation that she could sit and listen to him speak for hours.

“After school, I started Uni… studying law.”

The irony in his voice has them both laughing quietly and Y/N has to purse her lips shut to not wake Mary. She can’t imagine Harry wearing a suit and tie all day every day. Though she does remember how handsome he looked at Sam’s funeral.

“I was on a night out with some friends one night down the pub, and this bloke was just on one. We got into a fight outside and right after, Sam came up to me. Told me he was impressed and invited me to come and train at the gym.”

It’s funny, really. How in both of their stories, Sam plays such a crucial part. Sometimes Harry does wonder if he would’ve followed through with law school if Sam hadn’t scouted him. Though as much as he tries to imagine it, he can’t see his life for anything other than what it already is.

“Around the time Gran got unwell, Sam had offered me fights at the club. I knew she’d need private care and fighting would be the only way to afford it. My mum was out of work with knee surgery around the same time, so it was all falling on me. I did what I had to do. I dropped out of Uni and never looked back.”

It’s bittersweet, how his path was paved for him. Harry had to step up and support his family, and whatever plans he had before that had to be pushed aside and forgotten. Y/N finds it quite noble if she’s honest. But there’s sadness and pity in her gut.

“Where’s your mum now?” She asks.

Harry takes a sip of his drink.

“She works for a big publishing firm in the city. She travels a lot, I think she’s in New York at the moment.”

“Oh, wow.” Y/N’s eyes widen slightly.

Harry nods his head. “Yeah, she’s a big shot.” He laughs. “My mum sacrificed a lot for me and Gran, I’m trying my best to give it back. She doesn’t know that I pay for all of Gran’s care. She thinks it’s covered by her disability.”

Her heart hurts but it swells at the same time. Behind that rough and mean exterior, Harry seems to be one of the most gentle and genuine people Y/N has ever met. She just wants to give him a hug.

“I don’t mean to be nosy, so tell me if I’m overstepping. But as Mary’s keyworker, I handle all invoices and health care… and I know you make a lot of money from the fights. Why do you keep her here when you could afford something more lavish?”

She hopes it doesn’t come off the wrong way — she already thinks it’s incredible what he’s doing for his family. But she can’t help but wonder.

“Honestly?” He asks, and Y/N nods. “Because of you. She loves living here and she loves you. Whenever I visit, it’s always Penny this, and Penny that. You’ve got no idea how at peace I feel with her living her, because of how incredible you are with her.”

Y/N’s not sure when the tears began to well in her eyes but when they begin to fall down her cheek, Harry is quick to wipe them away softly with the pad of his thumb.

They’re both aware of how intimate his little act was, so he’s quick to sit back in his chair and clear his throat.

“As for the money, I save most of it for my future children and stuff. I don’t want to do this forever, but now Sam’s gone… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk away from it. It’s all I’ve got left of him.”

Everything he says is loaded to Y/N. Future children, her late brother. She’s not sure if she pegged Harry for the type to want children, but she constantly has to remind herself that she doesn’t know him, and every time they speak she learns something new.

The mention of Sam makes her heart hurt. And in the past two weeks, she’s begun to adopt the same mindset that Harry already has. Now she’s part of it, she doesn’t think she could let the club go. Much like Harry, it’s one of the only things she has left of Sam, too.

They sit like that for another hour or so, just talking and learning more about each other. Harry shares stories about Mary, and Y/N listens intently to the mirage of the older woman’s life.

Y/N is about to ask another question when their little story time is interrupted by two male paramedics knocking on the door of Mary’s room.

Y/N’s the first to stand, offering a polite smile as she shakes both of their hands. “Hi, I’m Y/N, Mary’s keyworker. This is Harry,” she gestures to him, “Mary’s grandson.”

The two paramedics introduce themselves as Darren and Olli as they lug their equipment into the room with them. Harry sits back to allow them their space as they wake Mary from her light slumber.

He watches as Y/N softly explains what’s happening and that she needs to be checked over by the nice paramedics. They’re all thankful that Mary doesn’t kick up a fuss about it, and allows Darren and Olli to gently examine her hips.

“Been a while since a strapping young bloke has had his hands all over my hips… let alone two of ya.”

Harry closes his eyes in embarrassment as Y/N stifles her laugh. No matter how long she’s been caring for Mary, she never fails to give Y/N the giggles. And it doesn’t help when she mumbles something along the lines of ‘I should fall over more often’, under her breath.

Olli gently pushes pressure on her left hip. “Is that giving you any discomfort, Mary?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, absolutely not, petal. You can keep doing that.”

“Gran!”

It’s Olli’s turn to stifle his amusement as he removes his hands from her hips and takes off his gloves. He turns to Harry and Y/N while Darren helps Mary to lay back and pulls her top back over her stomach.

“From what I can feel, it’s not broken. She may be a bit achy for a couple of days, so keep on top of painkillers but she’ll be fine.”

An audible gasp can be heard in the room from both Y/N and Harry as Mary gets comfortable in her bed again. Too pent up with both worry and relief, neither of them notice the way Mary looks at them, how her eyes are knowing and clueless at the same time.

It’s another twenty minutes or so before the paramedics leave to speak with the manager. Harry is quick to sit beside Mary, holding her hand and chastising her about how much she scared everyone.

Mary is even quicker to roll her eyes and smack the back of Harry’s hand lightly. “Oh, behave, Harry. I’m fine. The yummy paramedics even said so.”

Y/N can’t help but laugh at the way Harry’s face screws up at her words, quickly tugging his hand from her hold to cover his face with a groan.

“Harry’s right. You gave us all a scare.”

Mary looks at her with gentle eyes and huffs. “I’m okay, honestly. And I heard what you said earlier. As much as I love you both, I don’t need a babysitter. Both of you can shoo off and let me sleep. Come back tomorrow.”

Harry’s about to put up a fight about it, but Mary shakes her head. “No, I mean it. Go on, both of you. Piss off.”

Neither of them are shocked by her pottymouth. If anything, they’re thankful that’s all she had to say. They both know how venomous Mary’s words can be when she’s pissed off.

They say goodbye to her shortly after, traipsing back through the hall until they reach reception. Y/N leans over the desk and scribbles a note on a post-it, sticking it to the laptop to notify the staff that she’s left.

The brisk air of the late-night envelopes them harshly as they leave through the front door, barely given enough time to brace themselves for the frosty impact.

Y/N’s eyes scan the car park for her car, absentmindedly searching for Harry’s, too. “I’m over there,” she points to her car. “Did you drive here?”

The question makes Harry’s eyes widen and shoulders slump. “My car was playing up so I took it to the garage down the street. It’s still in there.”

Neither of them need to glance at their watches to know the garage won’t be open at nearly midnight. Y/N frowns but shrugs her shoulders.

“S’okay. Where do you live? I can drop you off.”

The offer warms his heart but not enough to give him hope. “Don’t worry about it, I’m like forty minutes away… I wouldn’t expect you to drive there and back before you even get home.”

The thought sounds a bit grim to her but she’s not about to leave him on the street to have to walk or pay an extortionate amount (which she’s sure he can afford) on an Uber.

“Well, you can just crash at mine then. I have work tomorrow afternoon, so I can bring you back and you can grab your car then?”

It stuns them both for a moment, her words. Y/N’s shocked she actually offered what was on her mind and Harry’s a little bewildered at how willing she is to have him, somewhat of a stranger, in her home.

He tilts his head slightly with gently pinched brows. “Are you sure?” Ever the gentleman.

She nods, like she’s trying to convince herself as well. “Honestly, I don’t mind. And it’s not like you’re a complete stranger.”

He laughs at that, he laughs hard. Maybe it’s the tiredness or maybe it’s the relief that Gran’s okay. Either way, he knows what she said wasn’t that funny.

She leads the way to her car and the drive back to her flat is quiet. Harry sings along softly to the radio, taking note of his surroundings.

There’s a cherry-scented freshener that hangs from the rearview mirror, a pair of running trainers sitting on one of the backseats and a small knitted blanket folded nearly just by his feet in the passenger footwell.

Harry thinks she’s the type of girl to have an emergency supply kit in her boot as well.

She does.

When they arrive at her apartment building, Harry follows her through the halls. She’s a little nervous, the closer they’re getting to her home. She panics as she struggles to remember if she left it a mess or still has clean clothes and underwear lying about anywhere.

As soon as she opens the door, she lets herself relax. No wild underwear to be seen, thank god.

Harry closes the door behind him and looks around. It’s nice, cosy. The walls are decorated with funky artwork and all of her furniture is slightly mismatched but it pulls together well.

He’s not sure what he expected, maybe something a bit more simplistic and minimalist. This is anything but — it feels a little intimate, like he’s seeing a deeper side to her. He can tell her flat reflects her personality.

“Cool artwork.”

She smiles sheepishly, hoping Harry can’t tell how nervous she is to have him in her home. He can. But he doesn’t say anything on the matter.

“Are you okay on the sofa?”

“Yeah, honestly I’m just thankful you’re letting me stay.”

Y/N smiles kindly at him. “Of course. There are blankets in the basket by the TV. Help yourself to anything you want in the kitchen. And the bathroom is just to the left of the dining table.”

It’s a little awkward for a moment. They’re not friendly enough for this to be normal, and Harry starts to feel that nervous tension too.

She says goodnight first, sauntering off to her bedroom and closing the door behind her. It takes a moment for Y/N to calm down a little. It’s been a while since an attractive man has been in her home, and she has to remind herself that previous men have been complete strangers for a hookup once in a blue moon.

Harry’s is not a hookup (unfortunately), and he is not a stranger. She repeats it in her head as she gets into her pyjamas and crawls into bed.

At least Y/N understands why she feels so anxious. Because Harry can’t put his finger on why he does. Too in his head about being in her home and it feeling so fucking intimate.

She doesn’t sleep all night.

Neither does Harry.

It’s been a week since Harry crashed on Y/N’s sofa and she hasn’t been able to look at it the same ever since. It’s been a bit of a struggle to try and wrap her head around these feelings she’s begun to harbour for Harry – she can’t get him out of her head.

They’ve spoken a couple of times here and there. Mostly him checking in about Gran or a tiny bit of flirtatious banter when she’s visited The Box a couple of evenings. Nothing at all to warrant how she feels at the moment.

Perhaps that’s why she’s so confused and conflicted.

And it doesn’t help that the second her mother called, the first thing she asked was if Y/N was dating or not yet.

“No mum.”

She hears the audible sigh from down the line and pinches her eyes shut to gain some form of self-control. Not today, Y/N – don’t snap at her today.

“Well, there’s a small amount of time left for you, I suppose. Anyway, have you seen your brother today?”

“Yes, I’m with him now Mum. I see you’ve already been down… the flowers look beautiful.”

She doesn’t reply to her daughter, not about Sam’s grave anyway. Instead, she changes the subject to something a little lighter. Y/N supposes it’s still hard for her, to talk about her deceased son. The one child she actually adored.

“Your father wanted me to ask if you’d like to come away with us this weekend?”

Y/N’s brows pinch at the proposition. A holiday with just her parents sounds like a living Hell if she’s entirely honest. And she’s more than a little shocked to even have received an invite. She reckons her Dad probably had something to do with that.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

Layla sighs, and Y/N imagines her scrutinising the new manicure she gets every Thursday. “Bora Bora,” she says with little to no enthusiasm.

Y/N stares at Sam’s headstone with a tired gaze in her eyes. “Only for three weeks, we need the break, to be honest. Are you coming or not?”

Only three weeks? Y/N finds herself biting down hard on her tongue. She’ll never understand how people with money can be so out of touch with the world sometimes. She scoffs, shaking her head to herself.

“Thank you for the offer, but no. I don’t have that kind of money and I can’t get three weeks off of work on such short notice.”

Layla hums. “Yes, I understand. Well, I have to start packing. Oh and please don’t get any dirt on Sammy’s headstone, I just got it power-washed.”

The line goes dead and Y/N stares at her brother's grave in astonishment. “Love you, too,” she mutters sarcastically as she pulls the phone away from her ear.

“Even in the dead, you’re still the goddamn favourite.”

She crouches down to get a better look at his plot. There are at least six bunches of fresh flowers in small plant potters that dig into the dirt. All beautiful and vibrant. Y/N places the seventh bunch in an empty plastic pot and uses her water bottle to fill it.

“Happy birthday, Sammy. I miss you.”

The cemetery is quiet, save for the few robins that perch on headstones close to her. From where she stands, Y/N spots an elderly couple walking hand in hand, no doubt visiting their own loved ones together.

Sometimes, she wishes she had someone to visit Sam with. Someone other than her parents.

She stays there for a few moments, doesn’t really know what to say. It irks her a little, knowing his body lies beneath that cold ground. Y/N can feel that familiar sinking feeling of depression consume her. The guilt, the pain.

She’d give everything to have him back, if even just for a day.

“It’s not getting any easier, Sammy.”

It’s like admitting defeat – like she’s not strong enough to cope with his loss. She is, but she certainly doesn’t feel the strength she needs to get her through.

From the peripheral of her vision, Y/N spots a figure approaching. She turns her head, the silhouette now much clearer and she’s sure she recognises the slender blonde woman that edges closer with every tentative step.

The woman from the reception.

She looks just as shocked as Y/N – clearly not expecting to bump into her but she must’ve known his family would visit on his birthday.

“Sorry,” the stranger starts. “I’ll come back later.”

Y/N shakes her head and calls out to her before she can fully turn to walk away. “Wait! I remember you, from the gym.” She chooses her words carefully, unsure how much she may know about the club itself.

The blonde nods her head and takes a few steps closer, eyes fixed on Sam’s grave as tears well in her eyes. “My name’s Amira… Sam and I were seeing each other when…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but Y/N gets it. Her lips part and her eyes fall downcast. Sammy never mentioned he was seeing anyone – but Y/N supposes there was a lot he didn’t mention in his lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I had no idea he was seeing anyone. He tended to keep that kind of stuff to himself.”

Amira smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She continues to clutch a fresh bouquet of flowers close to her chest and doesn’t say much more. Y/N begins to feel like maybe she’s the one intruding and quickly clears her throat, fixing the strap of her purse on her shoulder.

“Listen, my parents are going away for a few weeks. So if you’d like to stop by the house at all to go through some of Sam’s stuff, let me know. My number should be on the system at the gym anyway.”

There’s a look in Amira’s eyes as she takes in Y/N’s kind consideration. Maybe it’s relief, maybe it’s something else. But Y/N figures the least she could do is allow her a deeper look into Sam’s life and let her take whatever she may need to feel closer to him.

“Thank you, Y/N. That means so much to me. I’ll let you have time with him, I can come back later.”

She smiles at Amira, a genuine one this time and shakes her head. “No, don’t be silly. I’m heading out now anyway.” She brushes past Amira, hand reaching out to gently squeeze her arm. “Please don’t be a stranger. Sam might be gone, but our memories of him aren’t.”

The music is a bit deafening and Y/N’s ears are struggling to adjust to it. The Box isn’t all that busy this afternoon. A few on the weights and a couple sparring to the side of boxing bags.

What does catch her attention is Harry in the ring again. He’s not topless this time, instead wearing a simple red t-shirt and a pair of black gym shorts. His stance is firm as he holds his hands up (under those thick boxing pads) and allows Ricky to throw punches in timely combos.

Niall is the first to notice Y/N’s presence, and he’s soon by her side with a lopsided smile and ruffled hair. They share a bit of light chit-chat, nothing too deep or personal. Niall doesn’t want to tread in shallow water, not today.

And she’s far too focused on the way Harry’s biceps flex to focus on anything more than absentminded conversation. She’s not sure what’s gotten into her but she can’t get this man out of her head.

It’s been a long time since she’s had a crush, almost too long to remember what it even feels like. But the more she looks at him – admires him – she’s back to feeling those wanton butterflies and clammy hands.

Clearing her throat, she finally tears her gaze from the boxer and looks up at Niall. “I’ve got some invoices and stuff that I need to catch up on. Can you let Harry know I’m in the office when he’s done?”

Niall nods and just as quickly as their conversation starts, it ends.

Sitting in the office, she finds that there isn’t actually all that much to do. From what she can see, Harry has already made a start on this weeks memberships and was halfway through processing them on the system.

That tinge of guilt begins to nip at her gut again. She needs to talk to Harry about it, really. It’s not fair for him to do the majority of the work and only own a quarter of the company. She either needs to up her game or convince him to take another twenty-five percent.

But if Y/N has learnt anything about Harry by now, it’s that he will not take any more of this godforsaken company. So she finds herself making a mental note to put in more than just three evenings a week at this place.

She’s a few minutes into finishing the last of the memberships when Harry knocks on the door and enters. He’s hot and sweaty and his dishevelled hair only makes him look even more attractive than usual.

Lord have fucking mercy, she can’t handle this.

“Hey,” he greets her in a gruff voice.

She has to swallow down the lump in her throat before she can reply (a little too squeaky for her liking, and she’s wondering what the fuck is wrong with her).

“Have you seen Sammy today yet?”

Y/N nods with a sigh. “Yeah, just got back from there actually. Have you?”

Harry hums. “Yeah, I saw him this morning.”

He’s hunched over now, ruffling through his gym bag for his water bottle when he stands straight again and takes a sip of his drink.

“You’re probably spending the evening with your family, but a bunch of us are gonna go down to the pub for a few drinks for Sammy’s birthday. You’re more than welcome to join at some point if you’d like.”

The offer warms her heart to no end. It’s nice to hear how much people loved and respected him. Enough to celebrate his birthday even when he’s no longer here.

She also thinks it’s cute that he thinks she’ll be with her family. As if anything about her and her parents' relationship is healthy.

“I’ll be there,” she says a little too quickly. “My parents are busy packing for their spontaneous trip to Bora Bora. And my mother is insufferable so that’s just a big fat no to family time.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, a small quirk of a smile on his lips. Her words are nothing new to him. Despite being the favourite, Sam always had his moments to moan about their parents, too. Used to say the same thing about their mother being insufferable.

“You’re not going with them?”

“No!” She laughs and the sound makes Harry smile. “I can’t afford a spontaneous three-week vacation and I can’t get the time off work so short notice either.”

She watches Harry open the middle drawer of the silver filing cabinet and pull out an overly stuffed envelope. He hands it to her, brows raised expectantly for her to take it.

It’s heavy, and her name is written in his scribbled handwriting and she finds herself looking at it for a second too long.

“It’s your month's wages.”

She peers inside, eyes wide. Y/N looks back at him. “How much is this?”

“Ten grand.”

Her eyes widen even more. “I’m sorry…” she blinks, “Ten fucking grand? For a month?”

Harry shrugs, finally deciding to take a seat opposite her. “That’s what Sam used to pay himself monthly. You own the same amount that he did.”

Y/N stares at him for a moment. She wonders if this amount of cash is normal to Harry and by the way he doesn’t bat an eyelid, she supposes it is.

“Well I’m not Sam and you’re doing more work than me,” she blubbers. “You should be getting paid more.”

She tries to shove the envelope across the table and into his hands but he won’t have any of it. Harry laughs at her, shaking his head like she’s the ridiculous one.

“I get paid enough, believe me.” He pushes the envelope back over to her and she stares at it.

Y/N has never seen that much money in cash with her name on. She’s never even had that much money at once before. The possibilities are endless as she thinks of what she could do with it.

She could join her parents in Bora Bora and fuck work off completely if she’s getting paid that every month. But she won’t.

She could also redecorate her entire flat and do out her wardrobe twice over with just that single month's wage, but she knows she won’t.

Because Y/N will probably tuck it away under her bed later tonight and be too afraid to spend a single penny of it.

And Harry notices the way she falls into her mind. She hasn’t taken her eyes off the envelope but she’s still yet to touch it again. He figures it’ll take a while for her to become a bit more accustomed to this.

He taps his fingers on the desk, gaining her attention. “Penny, it’s your money. Do whatever you see fit with it. Save it, spend it, give it away. Do what you want.”

Her eyes soften a little, appreciating his encouragement. It still feels wrong, though. To accept that amount of money for doing virtually nothing when people out there who work forty-plus hours every week and still struggle to pay their bills on time.

She hangs onto the suggestion of giving it away. Maybe she’ll donate it to charity. Not all of it — she does need her oil changed and a new tyre — but most of it.

Then a thought occurs to her and her eyebrows raise. It’s like Harry already knows what she’s going to suggest and he’s shaking his head again with a raspy laugh that Y/N feels between her legs.

“No,” he tells her. “You can’t give it away to me.”

If someone had warned her what tonight would look like before she left The Box, Y/N would’ve laughed in their face and called them delusional.

The night had started like she’d expected. Y/N had driven to the pub with Harry, Niall and Ricky after they were showered and changed, and met up with everyone else where they started off with two shots each in honour of Sammy.

It continued like she’d expected. The group of them were spread across two booths and two tables — Y/N being one of the only women amongst the bunch of rowdy men — and drinks went down nicely as everyone took turns to reminisce on their favourite memories of her late brother.

But somewhere down the line of shots, jugs and a drinking game where you had to drink every time Ricky said ‘aye aye captain’ (which she learnt was his catchphrase), Harry had grown increasingly closer to Y/N.

And now, the two of them have somehow moved deeper into the booth. Harry sits right in the corner with Y/N tucked into his side. About twenty minutes ago, his arm had found its way across her shoulder and has been comfortably resting there ever since.

His fingers gently stroke the exposed skin of the middle of her bicep and she’s so close to him that half of her back is pressed against his chest.

They’ve both had a fair amount to drink, but Harry seems significantly more sober than she does. Maybe it’s because she’s the one feeling a little hot about their close proximity.

And it’s not that she minds it, because she absolutely fucking doesn’t. She’s revelling in it, if she’s completely honest. But she’s shocked and confused as to where this touchy side of Harry has come from and why.

And just when she thinks they couldn’t get any closer, Harry’s leaning his head just enough so his lips ghost her ear as he whispers something jokingly about whatever it is that Niall has said.

She can’t fucking focus. Out of nowhere this man has come into her life and flipped it 180. And in just a month of knowing one another, she's down bad and ready to say yes to anything he could ever want.

Y/N has to force a breathy laugh to whatever he’s just whispered. She can’t think straight, unable to hear a thing when all she can think about is the way his lips feel against the shell of her ear.

And Harry’s noticed.

After her third drink, he noticed how she looked at him a little longer than usual. At first, he thought nothing of it, then she did it again and again and her eyes grew shy whenever he looked at her.

It made his stomach flip. She’s attractive, incredibly so. And Harry’s no blind man. Even before Sam had passed, he knew what she looked like and he found her quite fit.

But this odd friendship they have, where he’s gotten to know her and came to the realisation that she’s the one to care for his Gran… it’s blown that initial attraction tenfold.

So maybe he did play up to it a little bit. Maybe he threw his arm around her shoulder to test the waters, to see if she’d pull away or ask him not to.

But she didn’t pull away and she didn’t say a word. So Harry finally let himself consider the fact that she may find him just as attractive as he finds her.

“Y’look really pretty, by the way.”

Oof. Way to fucking play it cool, Harry.

Her head snaps up in his direction and the mumbled tone of his voice. She heard him. Loud and clear. And she’s blinking up at him like he holds the stars in the sky.

“What?” she breathes.

Harry gulps, visibly. “I said you look really pretty today.”

She thought she heard him right. But it doesn’t hurt to hear it for a second time. Y/N’s skin grows warm as she looks at him, and his eyes are lingering on her lips.

Her heart skips a beat or two, breathing lodged in her throat. The way he looks at her has her stone-cold sober, no longer feeling the effects of alcohol. Instead, she feels the heat that radiates from Harry’s and the palpable tension between them.

He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from her mouth — the way her plump lips part and her eyes drop down to his. The thought of kissing her is at the front of his mind, but before he can decide if he’ll act on impulse or not, a glass shatters on the other table and the moment is gone.

Niall’s drunkenly mopping up a spilt beer with paper towels and an empty crisp packet, and Y/N is no longer tucked into his hold. She’s leaning forward to take a look at the damage and Harry’s left feeling a little disappointed.

He shifts in the booth, sitting upright and clearing his throat as he recomposes himself. Niall’s little accident has drawn a fair amount of attention toward the group, and when Harry eyes the other patrons of the pub, his heart sinks to his stomach at one possee in particular.

They’re already looking at him. At her. It takes every ounce of self-control to not approach and beat the shit out of them. Who the fuck do they think they are?

Showing up here, on Sammy’s birthday after what they did to him. Harry’s hands are balled into fists at his sides, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself down. His knee begins to bounce, the anger getting the better of him.

Ryce, George and Scott — the three men who drove Sam off the road and ended his life. They remain staring, vile smirks tugging at the corners of their lips.

Harry’s consistent knee jitters finally catches Y/N’s attention and when she looks at him, she’s alarmed by his sudden change in composure. She can read that look on any man’s face. He’s got itchy knuckles.

“Harry,” she says softly, palm resting on his thigh.

He forces himself to tear his gaze away from the men and look down at her. Her brows are pinched, confusion evident in her voice. Harry plasters a fake, unbelieving smile on his face.

“Nothing,” he says tightly.

His gaze averts to his pint on the table and Y/N takes the opportunity to follow his previous line of sight. The three men are still looking over, all a little jagged on the edges. Their presence doesn’t sit well with Y/N.

Perhaps that’s because of how she’s seen Harry react to them, or maybe it’s just the uncomfortable stares and creepy vibe they exude.

Either way, it has her shuffling back into the booth and closer to Harry again.

It’s a little while later and a few drinks more when Y/N tells Harry she’s going to go home. He’s been on edge the past forty-five minutes and while Y/N was quick to forget the trio of strangers, Harry wasn’t.

He watched them for the final thirty minutes of their stay before he finally began to calm down a little. Harry’s still on edge and Y/N can tell, maybe that’s why she asks if he’ll walk her to her car.

He looks at her, brows pinched. “I’m not letting you behind a wheel, Penny. You’ve been drinking. I’ll drive you home.”

She tilts her head, that nickname awakening butterflies in her stomach. “You’ve been drinking, too,” she points out.

Harry smiles toothily. “But I can handle my drink and I’m sobered up anyway. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Y/N doesn’t argue with that. She lets him grab her purse and guide her out of the booth, follows him through the group as they both say their goodbyes.

When they get outside and reach Y/N’s car, Harry opens the passenger door for her as she hands him his keys. It takes him a moment to get comfortable in her seat, familiarising himself with her model before he starts the engine and pulls out of the parking space.

The drive to her flat is quiet, a little bit of chit-chat here and there. She feels hot, watching him drive around in her car with ease. There’s something about it — the way his arms flex as he grips the wheel, how his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth whenever he takes a tight turn.

She hates to admit that he drives better than her.

By the time they arrive back at her apartment building, Y/N’s feeling a lot more sober than when they first left the pub. She’s greeted with a hefty wave of arousal, however, when Harry reverses into her parking space with his arm on the back of her headrest.

It’s a struggle to walk up to her flat with her thighs clenched tightly together, but she makes it work and Harry doesn’t seem to notice. He walks her straight to her door, hands her the keys and watches as she unlocks it.

For some reason, Harry feels a little underwhelmed. He didn’t want the night to end so abruptly. He wanted to stay with her a little longer, maybe even get a little closer.

So when she turns around with a shy smile and presses onto her tiptoes to plant a kiss to his check, he’s a little taken aback.

It’s gentle, how her lips meet his skin, but she doesn’t cower back down after. Her face is still close, her lips just barely ghosting his as she slowly starts to pull away. Y/N’s eyes flicker up to meet Harry’s to find them already staring down at her.

She’s not sure if it’s the final effects of the alcohol or something else that possesses her to press her lips against his, but she lets the intrusive thoughts win. She kisses him and he kisses her back just as softly.

Her heart is racing, mind blank and she can’t think about anything other than the way his soft lips feel on hers and how his hands reach for her hips to hold her in place.

Harry’s the one that pulls away first, just enough for the tips of their noses to brush and he’s staring down at Y/N with blown pupils.

She swallows thickly, suddenly doubting the signs he suggested earlier this evening.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly says.

Harry shakes his head, his hold on her hips tightening. “Don’t be.”

His lips are back on hers, messier and needier than before. Y/N’s hands are quick to reach for his head — fingers tangling into his unruly hair.

Harry swipes his tongue across her bottom lip, parting her mouth until they taste one another. Amid the kiss, he guides her into the flat, kicking the door shut behind them with his foot.

Y/N’s hand leaves his hair and trails down his body in desperate search of something she can tug at. His find the backs of her thighs and with ease, lifts her in his hold. Legs wrapped around his waist, her arms circle his neck as he guides their bodies to the sofa, crawling on top of Y/N.

Harry kisses down her neck, nipping at the taut skin as she arches her back and her chest presses into his.

“Are you sure?” he mumbles against her collarbone.

Y/N nods, not an ounce of doubt in her mind. His fingers find the hem of her t-shirt and he rolls it up her body, tugging it off her arms and over her head.

She’s bare beneath it; with supple breasts and pearled nipples. Harry doesn’t think twice before leaning down and taking one into his mouth, swirling his tongue across the hardened nub.

Y/N’s back arches, chest pushing into his face as her fingertips continue to scratch at his scalp. Harry swirls his tongue around her, teeth biting down and a sharp gasp leaves her lips.

Trailing kisses up her clavicle, Harry meets her lips again, open mouths and hot tongues. He steadies his weight above her, slotted between her parted thighs.

“D’you have a condom?” he mutters into the kiss.

Y/N hums, sitting up as she chases his lips. “In the bedroom.”

He wraps her legs around his waist and lifts them both from the sofa, lips attached once again as he guides them to what he remembers to be her bedroom.

He’s allowed no time to take a look at her room, not that he’s interested anyway. Harry lays her flat in the middle of the bed, crawling on top to situate himself between her thighs again.

It’s dark, traces of moonlight barely seeping through the slits of her bedroom curtains. It offers an angelic hue over her soft body, a sight that Harry never wants to forget.

Her fingers tug at the hem of his t-shirt, swooping underneath to feel the warm, toned skin of his abdomen. Harry leans back on his knees just enough to allow him space to remove his top, flinging it somewhere across the darkened room.

Y/N admires him for a moment, swallowing thickly. His pupils are blown, lips swollen and pink. She watches the way Harry’s chest rises and falls with each breath, takes a second to gawk at the divots of his abs and the dark tattoos that ink his golden skin.

She expects him to crawl back over her body, to kiss her like his life depends on it. But he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers loop into the waistband of her flared leggings and he slowly pulls them down the length of legs.

It leaves her almost bare, wearing just a simple black thong but the sight of it has Harry’s cock twitching in his pants. His gaze roams up her body until he finds her eyes, blown and hooded. He doesn’t break that contact as he stands from the bed and unbuckles his belt. He continues to stare into her soul as he tugs them down his toned thighs and kicks them off to the side.

Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat in anticipation of the big reveal. But he doesn’t offer it. He climbs back onto the bed, heavy palms hot on her inner thighs as he spreads her legs apart for him.

She breaks eye contact first, eyes fluttering closed when Harry slowly inches his face closer to her clothed cunt. She feels his hot breath fan over her lower tummy, feels him nip at the skin by her hip before his fingers loop into the top of her panties and he drags them down to her ankles.

She’s bare before him, core soaked and puffy from arousal. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so fucking sexy and delicious in his entire life, and it takes all self-restraint to not bury his face between her thighs for the foreseeable future.

He doesn’t know what she wants or what she likes, so to play it safely, Harry peppers kisses from her ankles to her tummy and noses at the underside of her breasts. Their lips meet soon after, Y/N’s fingers tangling in his hair.

She blindly reaches for her bedside table, fingers nimbly searching for a foil packet. Her mind feels dizzy – hazy – at the feeling of Harry’s mouth on hers. She’s seeping down onto the mattress, her arousal too much all at once as his body rests between her legs; his cock nudging against her inner thigh beneath the fabric of his boxers.

Harry reaches a hand down between their bodies, can practically feel the heat from her hot cunt as his fingers hover over her slit. He gently pushes his middle finger through her folds, his skin immediately immersed in wetness as he does so.

Y/N gasps softly into his mouth, hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. “Please,” she whimpers, voice quiet.

The sound of her begging has his cock leaping, desperate to be buried inside her. Harry bites back a groan and swirls his finger around her arousal, spreading it across her cunt. He teases at her puckering hole, watches how her body responds to his touch. Like she was fucking made for him.

“You’re so wet, Penny.”

She shakes her head, breaking her lips from his. “Don’t call me that,” she laughs breathily, “Not when we’re doing this.”

Harry grins against her mouth, pulling away just enough to get a better look at her face. God, she’s fucking stunning.

With his eyes on hers, he gently pushes his finger through her cunt, cock twitching at just how tight she clamps around him.

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

Her eyes roll to the back of her head, Harry’s smirk growing tenfold. He moves his wrist slowly, curling his finger against the spongy part of her g-spot as small, broken whimpers escape her lips.

He wants to kiss her, feel her plump lips on his again but the sight is too consuming. Watching her face contort in the pleasure that he’s inflicting her.

“Har, please.”

Her voice does something to him, something sinister and desperate. He coos down at her, enjoying the dynamic they seem to have a bit too much — how she submits to his touch and gives him all control.

“Be patient, baby. You’re so tight, I need to stretch you out a little for me first.”

He adds a second finger, struggles to tuck them into her cunt as he quickens the pace of his hand. She feels the burn of the intrusion but welcomes it regardless. His fingers are thick, stretching her better than hers do.

Y/N’s hips begin to roll against his palm, eagerly chasing more when he doesn’t offer it. He’s bulging in his boxers, desperate for relief with every sweet cry she mumbles out.

“Please, Har. I need you.”

He struggles to keep himself composed at how needy she sounds. Harry backs up onto his knees, continues fucking her with his fingers and uses his other hand to shimmy down his boxers.

Y/N watches with wide eyes. He’s huge – long and thick and so much fucking bigger than anything that she’s ever had before. The sight of him makes her stomach twitch in nerves, worried she won’t be able to take him.

Harry seems to notice her inner turmoil as he snatches the condom from the side of the bed and tears the foil open with his teeth. He removes his fingers from her cunt, brings them to his lips to get a taste.

She’s sweet on his tongue, and in that moment, Harry makes a promise to himself that this won’t be just a one-time thing.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says, pinching the tip of the condom and rolling it down his thick length. “I’ll make it fit.”

She shudders when he lines himself with her dripping hole, swirling his tip around her arousal and gently nudging his way through. The burn is unlike before – much more prominent and harsh. And it doesn’t ease the further he fills her. She struggles to take him, to stretch around his cock. But Harry will fuck into her all night to get her accustomed to his size. To break her in.

Harry thinks he could explode at any minute. It’s been a long time since he’d had a cunt grip him the way hers does. And he knows full well just how good she’ll milk him dry of everything he has to offer.

He grits his teeth in an attempt to control his desire of fucking her silly. Not yet, he has to tell himself. She’s not ready for that.

“Doin’ so well, baby. So fuckin’ tight.”

Her head rolls back and his words offer a sweet relief to the initial sting. With every gentle whisper he breathes, she takes more and more of him. He’s close to nudging at her cervix, close to bottoming out.

“More,” she chokes. “Fuck me, Har. I need more.”

His movements are on the slower side to begin with – a proven struggle to pull out and back in with how tight her pussy grips him. But with every thrust of Harry’s hips, the better she stretches and the deeper he goes.

Her tits begin to bounce on her chest with every harsh movement he offers. Y/N’s hands reach for them, fingers tweaking at her hardened nipples and her hips move in circles against his own.

Harry sits back on his knees to watch as he fucks her, to admire just how good he’s making her feel. She’s breathless, brows pinched and mouth parted. He wants to touch and taste every fucking inch of her body – to bury himself so deep inside she begs him to never leave.

It’s primal, how he looks at her, thinks of her. The idea of anyone else having her like this makes him sick, angry. The thought alone has his vision blurring red and he struggles to snap out of such a dominant and protective mindset.

His. She’s all his whether she knows it or not.

“Tight little cunt, baby. Jesus Christ… fucking made for me.”

It’s filthy, the way he spits at her is the most sexy thing. How he claims her, owns her. No one could ever fuck her the way he is, no one could have her withering and begging and crying in pleasure. No one but him.

“Yes, yes,” she pants out.

All she wants is to please him, give him everything he wants and take anything he’ll offer in return. Her body starts to melt, into his touch, his words, his presence. He’s taking her somewhere she’s never been before and there’s no better feeling.

Harry’s cock rubs deliciously against her her g-spot, pinching at her cervix the deeper he gets. She’s soaked him, fully – his cock and his pubic bone. And the squelching sound her pussy makes is music to his fucking ears.

He’s struggling to see straight, eyes glossy as sweat begins to dot his hairline. If she feels this good now, he can’t imagine how warm and wet she’d feel raw – without the flimsy rubber between them. He’ll dream of it, how soft her cunt would be wrapped around his cock.

Christ, the thought has him twitching between her walls, splutters of guttural moans falling from his lips. The sounds are fuel to Y/N’s fire, her eyes snapping open to finally take a look at him.

He’s fucked out, head thrown back and bottom lip tight between his teeth. His stomach is tensed, knuckles white as he grips her hips, and it’s all because of her. She’s got him feeling like this, so fucked out and feral.

Y/N grinds her hips against him, faster now as she meets his pace. She’s sitting up on her elbows to watch where his cock nuzzles into her, watching how her arousal soaks the base of his cock and his lower tummy.

She can feel him in her stomach, how he’s almost nudging at her organs to make room for himself. She’s never felt so excited before, bare and naked – fucking under the moonlight in her pitch-black bedroom.

Maybe it’s the excitement or maybe it’s Harry’s fingers rubbing at her clit that sends her spiralling – sobbing out his name and begging for mercy. He doesn’t relent, he won’t. He wants to feel her exploding around him, wants to feel her close in on him until he’s releasing deep in her cunt, albeit in the condom.

It hits her like a fist – straight in her face. She’s coming over his cock, legs trembling and cunt convulsing as she sobs.

“Fuckkk, Daddy, please!”

Harry’s orgasm creeps up on him as his eyes widen at the name. He comes with her, fast and hard and if he wasn’t wearing a condom, he’d already be dripping out of her. Y/N’s legs continue to tremble, cunt squeezing him so tight that Harry thinks he could pass out.

He’s desperate to catch his breath, and she’s no better. Gentle whimpers continue to rake through her body as she slowly settles down from her high. Harry stares down at her, fucked out and body limp. The reality of what they’ve just done sits heavy in his stomach and he worries she’ll ask him to leave, that she regrets it.

But she doesn’t. Instead, Y/N whimpers his name as he slowly pulls out and reaches her hands down for him. He coos her, taps her thigh gently before tugging off the condom and tying it up.

She lies there, alone as Harry leaves the room. Worry is quick to consume her, the anxiety that he’s about to leave without another word. But he doesn’t. He returns to her bedroom with a damp cloth and his boxers back on his lower half.

He’s gentle as he wipes her down, helps settle her tired and aching body beneath a blanket and she doesn’t want to be the type that cries after sex, but no one has ever given her this kind of aftercare before. It all feels a little too domestic.

Not to Harry. Not really, anyway – he’s not the type to fuck and leave, not usually. It doesn’t feel foreign to help her get clean or tuck her in, and he only surprises her further when he lays beside her under the blanket, too.

“You’re staying?” she peeps out.

Harry hums, face close to hers. “If you want me to.” Her eyes are heavy as she covers her mouth to stifle a yawn.

“At least wait until I’m asleep before you sneak out.”

So, he does.

Thank you for sticking it out lol, part two will be posted next week, so let me know if you want to be added to my general tag list to be notified <3

Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!!

Tags: @kissfromadove @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #imagine harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #the box #boxerry

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itsthewritergal · 4 months

Text

Just let me go - Bucky Barnes x reader

Okay this one is ANGSTTYYY Also there will be a part two! Posted tomorrow :)

TW: kidnapping, swearing, suicidal thoughts, guns, angst, sadness, suicidal ideation, also I haven't proof read this aha I'm sorry!!

“Sergeant Barnes, there is someone here to see you” One of the agent said as they stepped into the training room,

“Who?” Bucky replied curtly, being halfway through a session with Nat he didn’t exactly want to be interrupted no matter who it was

“I don’t know but she looks upset, if I was you I’d be worried” the agent said with a laugh, making a few of the other trainee’s laugh

“Don’t forget your rank” Bucky said bluntly,

“Sorry Sargent Barnes” The agent said,

“You can start sparring, I’ll be back soon and I expect to see some improvements from yesterday” Nat said following Bucky out the room,

“Who do you think it is?” Nat asked

“I don’t know” Bucky said

“What about that girl you went out with the other night?”

“I don’t think she’d come here” Bucky said with a huff, “she didn’t like me” he said

“Ooh what about the girl from Tony’s party?” Nat suggested, it sounded as though the idea of Bucky having a girl round was entertaining to her, Bucky narrowed his eyes at Nat,

“No” He said bluntly,

“Tensions killing me” Nat said with a dry laugh

“Come on Nat, leave it alone” he said, turning the corner to the common room, he stopped immediately his breath hitching in his throat for a split second,

“Y/N?” Nat beamed running over to give her a hug almost knocking her off of her feet “It’s been like a year since I saw you!” She grinned,

“Hey Nat” She said gently,

“You have to stay for dinner, Wanda’s cooking, she’ll want to see you. So will Steve, and Tony, oh and Sam!” She said “I’ll text them all now, they’ll set up a place for you”

“Nat, I don’t think—” Y/N started

“I don’t want to hear it, you’re staying” She said pulling out her phone and quickly tapping a message,

“Y/N” Bucky said bluntly, his voice void of all emotions.

“Hey” Y/N cut herself off unsure of what to call him so deciding against calling him anything, her eyes wandered to his arm, “the black and gold suits you” She said softly “Always said silver wasn’t your colour”

“Shuri agreed with you” Bucky nodded

An uncomfortable silence settled across the two of them,

“I should go” She said quickly,

“Why did you come?” He asked a part of him not wanting her to disappear, not again

“I, uh I found, I found this” Y/N said her cheeks flushing red as she passed Bucky a t-shirt, one that he had forgotten about, but it certainly looked more worn now than how he remembered it. His heart squeezed at the thought of her wearing it after everything

“This is why you came?” Bucky said

“You’re right, it was stupid. I’m gonna go” Y/N said quickly, shaking her head as she turned, Bucky knew how she felt. He had imaged many times making an excuse to go and see her, he just didn’t think she was the kind of person to go through with it.

“Y/N! Oh my, Nat said you were here. I’ve just laid the table dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes which is just long enough for you to catch me up on your life! Sorry Buck, but she’s with me until dinner. Then you can have her back” Wanda said not offering Bucky or Y/N a second option.

----

“So Y/N where have you been?” Tony asked as they all sat down at the table “it’s like you dropped off the face of the earth

“Just around,” She said quietly

“I came by your apartment, but it was empty” Tony said,

“I had to move out”

“You moved out?” Nat said “How come?” She said worry filling her voice

“Life happens” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Bucky’s eyes fell on her face, watching how her eyes studied her plate not daring to look up

“Well things always find a way of getting better” Wanda said squeezing Y/N’s hand on the top of the table

“How about you guys, I’ve seen good things on the news” Y/N said softly

“We’re okay” Steve said,

“I”m pleased,” Y/N said with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes,

“What’s your new apartment like?” Wanda asked,

“It’s nice” Y/N said gently ,

“You should give me the address,” Tony said commandingly

“I’ll send it over to you, I still don’t quite know it off by heart” She said, it was a lie. Bucky knew it was a lie, even if he couldn’t hear her heartbeat pick up, he would be able to tell from the way she couldn’t look at anyone in their eye.

“What part of town is it?” Steve pressed,

“I really appreciate you guys having me for dinner but I’m going to head home” She said quickly, “I’ll see you guys around” She said picking up her coat,

“I'm sorry if I said something wrong” Steve apologised quickly, he should’ve known better than to press her, Bucky thought

“You don’t need to” Tony said trying to savour the dinner

“Why don’t you stay for a movie?” Wanda suggested,

“I need to go” She said standing up and quickly hurrying out of the room

A gentle silence fell across the room, “I shouldn’t have asked her” Steve said

“It’s not on you” Wanda said “I don’t think that anyone could have convinced her to open up to us”

“I’ll find her address and go over tomorrow, it’ll be easier without anyone else there” Tony said fiercely,

“She won’t talk to you” Bucky said

“And she’ll talk to you?” Tony snapped “You’re the reason we are in this mess in the first place. She is my friend and I will do what I think is right”

“What even happened when you broke up?” Wanda asked

“ Nothing” Bucky said

“Don’t lie” Tony snapped

“What the hell did you do? I thought you two were fine” Nat asked

“You told us all you two were fine after the breakup” Wanda said

“Leave him alone” Steve said sternly

Bucky sighed softly “She just came to drop off a shirt”

“Nobody drops off a shirt after a year” Tony said “She wanted to see you and you couldn’t even give her the time of day” He snapped

“She’ll be okay, I’ll come with you tomorrow, we can check in on her” Wanda said

Bucky didn’t dare to say anything, he just nodded gently. It was a thank you, all be it a silent one, but a thank you none the less.

----

“Tony, you need to see this” Wanda said as an alert popped up on the screen alerting Tony to a new message, they had been in Tony's lab for a few hours scouting out Y/N's new apartment.

“Have you seen where she is living?” Tony said scanning through the photos that FRIDAY had brought up on his screen “it’s worse than I thought”

“Tony now” Wanda said fiercely,

“What is it?” Tony asked, turning around, his face dropping when he saw the screen. “Is that?”

“Y/N” Wanda finished

“Who sent this” Tony asked

“I don’t know, it’s anonymous. I can’t trace the signal either”

“FRIDAY, call the team and get them into the conference room now”

“Yes Mr Stark” FRIDAY answered

“We can’t tell Bucky” Wanda said,

“We can and we will because he is going to help us”

“That’s a bad idea” Wanda said

“He once was one the best assassins, no debate. As much as I don’t like the tinman, he can and will help us” Tony said leaving little room for debate.

“Tony what the hell? We’re meant to have the week off of missions” Nat said, sitting down in a chair with a mug of coffee nursed in her hands

“This is different” Tony said,

“How so?” Steve asked

“This is personal” Tony said sternly,

“It’s Y/N” Wanda whispered,

“What happened to her?” Bucky asked

“I was sent this video” Tony said

“We thought it was best we watched it together” Wanda added

“FRIDAY, play the video please”

The screen went dark for a moment and then lit up with a picture of Y/N locked in a room, Bucky felt a strange wave of familiarity wash over him

“Tell your friends what we want” A voice spoke, it sent chills down Bucky’s spine, he put her in this position. He had done everything to keep her safe, after all these years, this was his fault.

“They won’t come” Y/N’s voice was strangely calm

“Don’t be difficult girl, tell them what we want” The voice spoke again

“You want the soldier, you want someone who’s gone. But here’s the catch. Even if he wasn’t gone, even if the solider still existed he wouldn’t come. Not for me.” She said

“We’ve done our research” The voice mused, there was a hint of amusement in it’s voice, as though it had caught Y/N out,

“Your research is wrong. I haven’t spoken to Bucky in a year, he does’t care” Y/N snapped, a gunshot sounded through the conference room, making them jump

“Turn it off” Bucky’s voice was quiet but cut through the entire room

“Shooting blanks at me won’t work” Y/N snapped “If you’re going to kill me then kill me”

“Turn it off” Bucky said once more

“We want the soldat” The voice behind the camera spoke

“Then you’ll have to find someone who he cares about, because it isn’t me” She snapped

“You have six hours or she dies”

The camera turned off and the room went dark. All eyes turned to Bucky,

“When was this sent?” He said

“Barely ten minutes ago” Wanda answered softly,

“Let’s start at her apartment” Steve said firmly “Wanda, Clint you’re with me, Tony, Nat you should try and find something from the video, there might be an idea of where they’re keeping her.”

“I need to go as well” Bucky said

“No” Wanda said “You need to stay away from this”

“I spent years tracking people down, I think I’m the best chance we have to finding Y/N” He said challenging anyone to speak out against him

“I’ll go as support” Sam said patting Bucky’s back comfortingly.

“We need to go, now” Steve said

----

Steve’s skin crawled at the sight of Y/N’s apartment. He hesitated before pushing the door open, it creaked and echoed through the tiny studio. Clothes were thrown across the room, plates were stacked up by the sink, two blankets were half heartedly thrown across the bed, no sign of a duvet or pillow. Bucky had to tear his eyes away from her apartment for a minute to regain his composure.

“I can’t believe she was staying here” Wanda said stepping into it

“It was a means to an end” Steve said,

“I should have helped her” Wanda sighed softly, her eyes falling on the pile of clothes in the corner of the room,

“We didn’t know” Clint said

“We should have” Wanda snapped “Look at how she was living, we should have been able to help”

“She was always good at surviving” Steve said firmly

“She shouldn’t have had to be, we are her friends and the moment her and Bucky split we left her” Wanda said, tears building in her eyes

“They must have taken her here, look at the mess” Steve said changing the subject quickly,

“No” Bucky said softly “This is Y/N” Bucky said with a sigh

“What do you mean?” Clint asked “this is normal?”

“When she got busy, she used to get messy, never put things away. Found it hard to do anything” Bucky said swallowing tightly “We argued about it” He admitted

“So did they take her here, or not?” Sam asked

“Not here, this is normal for her. It didn’t happen here” Bucky said firmly

“Ok so that’s something” Sam said, attempting at a loose sense of positivity

“It must’ve happened by the compound” Wanda said “think about it, if they wanted Bucky then surely they’d be keeping tabs on him. When she left last night they must have taken the next best thing to get to him” She said

“We need to look at security cameras” Clint suggested

“Who wants Bucky though?” Sam said, “I think we’re focussing too much on Y/N, rather than on what they want”

“Hydra” Steve said through pursed lips

“It can’t be” Wanda said

“It has to be” Clint confirmed “It makes the most sense”

“So who are we looking at? Zemo?” Sam asked

“Maybe” Steve said “Doesn’t feel right though”, Steve’s thought was cut short by his phone ringing

“Steve, I’ve got an address” Tony said, “suit up”

----

Bucky couldn’t stop shaking, he’d been on tougher missions, he’d been in tougher briefings, he had almost died more times than he could count. But this felt like the worst day of his life,

“We’ve been sent an address,” Tony said

“It’s a trap” Nat said

“We don’t know that” Steve suggested, “Who sent it to you?”

“It came with a video, it was from the same people as before”

“What’s the video?” Sam asked, noticing the tension that had fallen across the room,

Tony instructed FRIDAY to play the video, Y/N’s face was brought up on the screen,

“Y/N tell them what you just told me” The voice spoke

“No” She spat through gritted teeth, her hair was matted with blood which dripped slowly from a wound on her hair line, her face was bruised and Bucky was silently pleased he could only see to the base on her neck, anymore and he was sure he would throw up. The skin he had once pressed kisses to so gently was purple and blotted with blood.

“Our captive here has a death wish” The voice said again, “She had her little suicide letters in her pocket when we caught her” it sneered

“Shut the hell up” Y/N snapped, there was something in her eyes that scared Bucky, she looked so void of the love that she had once been filled with

“She was on the top of a building when we found her, she’s only got 3 hours left avengers. Are you going to give in to her wishes?”

“Just kill me” She whispered

“What was that?” The voice asked, it was mocking her, teasing her, it was a sight that Bucky couldn’t stand

“Kill me!” She shouted, her voice sent chills down each of the spines of her old friends “Just kill me” She said settling into a bought of sobs,

The video stopped and cut to a map with a pin placed directly in it.

“We need to go” Steve said “We leave in 5”

----

The quinjet landed softly and Bucky could feel a knot growing in his stomach, he had been on enough rescue missions to know the ways that this could go. It was an old hydra base, one that Bucky was sure should’ve been emptied years ago. But here it stood, admittedly it was partly falling down but the cells were deep underground and the structures were built to last. He knew that much well enough, if he strained his ears he would swear that he could hear Y/N’s cries, but he convinced himself it was all in his head.

“She’s going to be okay” Steve said

“I can’t loose her Steve” Bucky admitted “I’ve lost her once, I can’t watch her die”

“Then don’t let her” Steve said

Bucky followed behind the rest of the team, Wanda stood beside him,

“Do you want me to take the fear away?” She asked under her breath, knowing nobody else would be able to hear her

“No, I need it” Bucky said, he didn’t explain anything else but Wanda nodded,

“Let’s go get Y/N home” Wanda said

Bucky followed Tony’s lead, any other mission he would have tried to take the lead off of Tony but he couldn’t for this. Y/N needed Tony’s planning, Y/N’s life couldn’t be in Bucky’s hands. He would never forgive himself if anything happened. They descended into the base, it was too quiet for Bucky’s liking. Hydra would never have kept it this quiet, something was wrong.

“Welcome home soldat” the words echoed through the halls,

“They know we are here” Steve muttered,

“She’s down here” Tony said, taking another set of steps downwards, Bucky could hear her shallow breaths getting louder slowly with each step he took.

“Y/N?” Steve called out,

“I told you to fucking kill me” Y/N screamed, Tony immediately picked up the pace to a run following the sound of her voice. Their footsteps echoed through the concrete walls, as they came across a long hallway filled with cells made of glass. Bucky’s skin crawled at the sight. This was what he wanted to protect Y/N from, she shouldn’t see this.

“KIll me” Her voice rang through the cells,

“Soldat” Bucky turned to find the voice behind him. “Do the honours?” The man said, he was older than Bucky thought he would be.

“We’re surrounded” Steve said,

“There’s no getting out of this” The man sneered,

“That’s kind of where you are wrong” Tony said smartly, “You really think there’s only four of us?” He laughed

“What?”

“The rest of our team have cleared out your base, and they’re on their way” He said with a smirk “Also not only have we got two super soldiers, we’ve also got a freaky witch and me, ironman, you might of heard of me”

“Ironman, you forget. You have an unstable winter soldier on your team, All I have to do is say a few words and he’s under my control right?”

“Doesn’t work anymore” Bucky snapped

“I’m bored” Nat said sneaking up from behind, with a wicked grin she pulled the trigger and the body fell to the ground with a thud. Instantly Bucky turned and shot the guard who was keeping him surrounded “God why are all the people we go against so boring” Nat said with a huff, once they had dealt with the guards.

“Let’s just get Y/N” Tony said letting out a breath.

Wanda took a step away from the group into a nearby cell, it was as though she felt her.

“Guys she’s here” Wanda called,

Bucky took a deep breath and turned the corner, Y/N sat slumped on a chair, out of breath and covered in bruises and dried blood.

“Please” She whimpered

“We’re going to get you out of here” Wanda said slowly untying her gently

“Please no” She cried

“You’re safe” Steve said kneeling at her side

“No Please, let me go” She said

“We’re letting you go, you’re going to be ok”

“No, please” She sobbed again “You have to let me die” She cried as Wanda pulled the ties away from her

“Y/N, we can’t do that” Steve said,

“You’re going to be okay” Tony promised

“Just let me go please?”

PART TWO

#bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes x y/n #itsthewritergal #bucky masterlist #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x #bucky barnes masterlist #bucky x

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 9 months

Text

Lost Comfort

masterlist

summary: dean hurt you when he was a demon, now it’s hard to sleep next to him

paring: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language, violent themes

word count: 1.1k

warnings: please read! talk of serious sexual assault, demon!dean being worse than he was in the show, (he wasn’t even that bad in the show, but he’s bad in this), language

“Dean, stop, this isn’t you!” you shrieked, pushing the demon’s arm away. It was no use. Dean was stronger than you when he wasn’t a supernatural being, but now you didn’t even stand a chance.

“C’mon, sweetheart, I know you love me,” he laughed, black eyes staring at you.

“Of course I do Dean, but I know you love me too and this isn’t love! Please get off of me!” you sobbed.

Your eyes flung open, a thin layer of sweat coating your forehead. You blinked away the dream and took in your surroundings, before realizing Dean’s arms were wrapped tightly around you.

“Dean, let me go,” you said. It came out as barely a whisper. Even if he was awake he wouldn’t have heard you. “Dean, please- fuck, let me go!” you repeated, but you were still barely speaking. “Dean let go!” you screamed, which woke him up.

“Y/n?” He furrowed his brows. “Hey, you okay?”

“Dean let me go! Now!” you cried. He flung his arms open and you hurried out of the bed. “God fucking damn it! I told you to let me go and you didn’t!”

“I- I’m sorry, hun I was asleep I swear I didn’t hear you,” he said quietly as he sat up.

“This was a mistake, I can’t sleep next to you! What was I thinking?” you scoffed. “I’m sleeping in the Dean Cave, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait, no don’t go! I’ll go sleep on the couch, you stay here!” He got out of bed but didn’t miss the flinch you threw when he walked towards you. “I’m so sorry.”

Sam suddenly burst through the door; gun in one hand and holy water in the other.

“What happened? He a demon again?” Sam asked you, his eyes wide.

“Just a bad dream.” You shook your head. You brushed past Sam and walked towards the Dean Cave before stopping in your tracks. You hurried back to yours and Dean’s room.

“I still love you, Dean, I just need a bit of time, okay?” You smiled sadly, noticing the tears now on his face as he nodded.

“I love you, take all the time you need,” he replied.

With that you left.

“Dude, what the fuck happened?” Sam asked, putting his gun and the holy water down. “She’s never left you after a dream before, has she?”

“I- I think the dream was about me,” Dean whispered. “Fuck, I really hurt her this time Sam. I- I don’t think she’s gonna be able to forgive me.”

“This is Y/n, Dean,” Sam started, “she’d do anything for you. I think she just needs time.”

“But you don’t know what I did.” Dean let silent tears fall as he thought about what his demon self had done to you.

“I mean, it couldn’t have been that bad?” Sam scoffed a little then Dean looked at him. “Right?”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head, looking down. “I r-ruh—god, I can’t even say it out loud.”

“Oh god,” Sam muttered, internally jumping to (correct) conclusions. “It’s been like two weeks, Dean. Of course she can’t stand to sleep next to you.”

“But it wasn’t me!” Dean cried. “I hate myself so fucking much for taking this stupid fucking mark and letting it consume me.”

“Dean-”

“Don’t get me wrong, I do not blame her if she doesn’t wanna ever see me again, but fuck! I’d do anything to fix this.”

“Just give her space.” Sam shrugged. “I think that’s all you can do right now. Whatever future your relationship with her has, is completely up to her.” As he turned to leave, he added; “But also be prepared for her not to forgive you for this. I don’t think she’ll be able to.” With that Sam left.

“Dean please!?” you screamed. “Dean, I love you! I know you’re in there somewhere, please stop!”

You woke up alone in the Dean Cave, beads of sweat rolling down your temples.

“Shit!” you mumbled, letting tears fall.

You sat up on the couch and tucked your knees into your chest. You checked the clock and realized you’d only gotten about forty-five minutes of sleep since your last dream.

You tried to go back to sleep but every time you closed your eyes you were met with the horrid memories; Dean hovering over you with his demon eyes.

You tossed and turned for a while before you realized there was only one person in the world who could make you feel better and he was the one person you couldn’t stand to touch right now. You huffed to yourself as you got up and left the Dean Cave.

When you opened the bedroom door you were met with Dean crying softly into your pillow, facing away from the door.

“Hey,” you said quietly, your voice laced with trace amounts of fear. His eyes flung open and he slowly sat up.

“Hey, uh- what’re you- what’re you doing here, uh, Y/n?” He stumbled over his words and wiped his tears away with his hands. He put his feet to the hardwood to stand up but you backed away and shook your head. You didn’t want to be that close to him.

“I- I’m still scared of you, I’m sorry,” you whispered. “But I love you,” you added quickly. “I love you so fucking much and I know I can’t sleep next to you, but I can’t sleep properly without you. So, I uh, I’m just gonna sleep in here… on the floor.”

“What? Honey you can’t sleep on the floor,” Dean said. “I’ll sleep on the floor, you can have the bed.”

“No, cause then I’ll feel bad about kicking you out of bed,” you mumbled, causing Dean to smile a little.

“How about this; we both sleep on the floor by our sides of the bed. That way neither of us feel bad about the other, we’re far enough apart, and we can see each other from under the bed.”

“I’d like that.” You smiled softly. “Can I maybe use your pillow though, looks like you soaked mine,” you laughed a little, causing him to do the same.

“I’d actually prefer to use yours,” he replied and tossed you his pillow. “Smells like you.”

You took a whiff of the pillow now in your hands. “Is that the aftershave I bought you?” He nodded with a smile. “Perfect!”

You waited until Dean was on the floor of his side of the bed before you went to your side and laid down. When you put your head to the pillow, you were met with Dean’s soft smile a few feet away.

“Is this okay?” he asked, you nodded.

“I love you, Dean,” you whispered. You reached an arm out under the bed so Dean did the same, your fingers touching in the middle.

“I love you so much, Y/n.”

#spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester fic #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

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help-itrappedmyself · 3 months

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Dead on Main part 6

Masterpost

This town is weird. Jason knows he shouldn’t be one to judge, considering Gotham and his own attachment to it. But this place is like a nightmare, stuck in time backwards-ness intermingled between the people and the place itself. It reminds him of Fawcett, which is not a good thing. He feels judged just walking down the street.

The head into a diner looking restaurant, fast food by the looks of it, that is in fact named Nasty Burger. Jason knows he shouldn’t judge. He’s doing it anyway.

There’s a girl behind the counter who seems to be glaring at Jason. Or Danny, but since he’s Jason right now, he decides he doesn’t need to deal with whatever her issue is. With little faith, Jason tells Jazz to order for him and goes to sit in a booth.

The couple in the booth next to him watch him as he heads to his booth and gape at him as he sits down.

“Danny, come on.” The guy whines, he and the girl both stand and come over to sit across from him. “What was that? Don’t want to sit with us?”

Jason tenses. “Uh.”

“Hey guys!” Jazz says, coming to sit next to Jason. She places a tray with a burger, fries, and a soft drink in front of him and he eyes it warily. “This is Jason.”

They two across from them get these stupid dumbfounded looks. The girl behind the counter is listening to their conversation.

“Jason, these are Danny’s friends, Sam and Tucker.” Jazz motions to the girl and then the boy.

“Nice to meet you.” Jason inclines his head at them, and decides to try a fry.

“Is he…” Sam stops herself. “Does he know about Danny?”

“Not much, but they haven’t officially met yet, obviously.” Jazz is eating her food like it’s normal, so Jason follows her lead on the burger as well. “Danny should be here sometime tomorrow.”

“Where is Danny now?” Tucker asks, concerned.

“With my family.” Sam and Tucker look at him strangely. He can tell they’re concerned for their friend though. “He’s being driven back now, they’re rotating drivers so they don’t have to stop for the night. He’ll be here as soon as he can.”

“Danny will be fine until he gets back.” Jazz comforts them. “Danny was more concerned about Jason, considering the food at our house.”

Sam and Tucker tense in response. “Right. I’d be worried about that too. Might want to stay at the house after this anyway.” Sam says lightly. Jason can tell he’s being talked around. Can hear them talking about something they don’t want him to know under the guise of their conversation, but he doesn’t know enough to make sense of it.

“Let us know if anything comes up of course, but Danny won’t be able to hang out for a while.” Jazz smiles at them, but her eyes are concerned.

“Sure thing.” Tucker says.

“If you guys want to have a chat where you can actually talk to each other, I can leave you along for a bit.” Jason tells them all.

“No!” Tucker says quickly. They don't seem like they care that he caught on, there's no shame to be excluding him. They all just seem worried about something. “Best you stay with Jazz.” He turns back to her. “The GIW tools were deactivated. The whole fiasco yesterday was a lot for everyone. But they should be up and running again by tomorrow.”

Jazz nods at them and Sam and Tucker leave, whisper-arguing to each other as they go.

They eat quietly for a minute, but Jazz stiffens as she looks at something out the window.

Jason follows her gaze to see her tracking a man outside. He’s pretty smarmy looking. Long grey hair, in a full suit, seems like more Brucie’s crowd than someone who would be in a place called Nasty Burger. But he’s spotted them through the window and does seem to be on his way in. ““Hey Jason, would it be cool if you went to the bathroom for a second? Nevermind, there’s no time, follow my lead.”

The man walks right up to their booth.

“Daniel, Jasmine, lovely to see you both.”

“Vlad, can we help you?” Jazz asks politely, Jason just glares at them man.

“You know I always love to see you, but I would like to speak with Daniel for a moment.”

“Unfortunately, Danny and I have places to be, Vlad. I’m sure my parents would love to speak with you though. Dad has been meaning to stop by.” Jazz gathers the trash and remnants of their meal and stands, going to throw them away. Jason gets up to follow her, but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He feels a tickle in his throat and his next breath comes out cold and foggy, visible in the air.

“Daniel, don’t you want to have a talk?” The hand on his shoulder is forceful.

“Don’t touch me.” Jason turns himself out of his grasp, backing away towards the door. Jazz pulls him quickly back onto the street towards home.

“Who the hell was that guy?”

“Danny’s godfather, friend of our parents. They went to college together.”

They’re walking past an alley when Jason feels that tickle again, he stops as his breath comes out cold, then something rams into him, pushing him to the ground farther in the alley.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dead on main #soulmate au #danny phantom #red hood #my writing #fanfiction

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clockwayswrites · 4 months

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Masked in Amity

CW: Sam doesn't come off great in this, but not Sam bashing. She just has a lot of growing up to do still and knee jerk reacts badly. (I also don't want to listen to any Sam bashing please and ty.)

Sam’s room still looked the same as always. Danny supposed that’s what happened when someone moved out for college but still came home again— especially to a home like Sam’s. There were only a few posters, a few photos, and a knickknack or two that had changed between high school and now. Danny sat on the edge of the bed like always.

“So how’s school doing?” Danny asked into the awkward silence. Silences never used to be awkward between them, or was that just looking back with rose colored glasses?

“Ugh,” Sam gripped and flopped back onto her bed next to Danny. “Why would you even ask me that? You know I hate it.”

“Because it’s what you’re doing right now? It’s a huge part of your life, you can’t just… avoid it.”

“Watch me,” Sam said, bitterly. Her snarled lips looked weird without the dark purple lipstick. “I’m going to get my stupid law degree my parents are paying for and work at some stupid corporate firm Dad has connections at and when my trust fund has made enough in interest I’m going to quite and go open a non-profit and sue all those fuckers I was forced to work for over how they’ve fucked up the environment.”

“Okay,” Danny said. He didn’t want to argue about this. He just hoped this plan worked better than the last three Sam had had before her privilege knocked her down a peg.

“Can I ask about, I don’t know, your time in Chicago at least?”

“Chicago is amazing,” Sam said, wistfully. “Being in Chicago, I mean, I’m sure you know how it is, it really makes it clear how backwater Amity Park is. The things people worry about here are so small compared to what’s out there!”

Danny just hummed in response. He didn’t exactly know what to say to that. It didn’t feel completely wrong, but it wasn’t right either. Worries weren’t a competition like that.

“And the bands!” Sam continued, thankfully changing the topic. “I have got to see so many amazing bands. The local scene alone is amazing and no one knows about them so you can be right up close and a lot of times even talk to the band after. You should come for a show sometime.”

“I can try to,” Danny said. Sam’s music wasn’t usually his thing, but something like that might be fun. It would be different at least. Danny gave her a little smile. “Maybe Tucker could make it out too.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “You know he won’t. When was the last time you talked to him not on the computer or the phone? He’s only here at Christmas when you aren’t.”

“You know how I feel about Christmas, Sam,” Danny said, holding back a sigh. Sure Tucker had been busy lately and that had made him more distant, but he was still one of their trio. “And if we plan something then Tucker can schedule for it. Don’t count him out just because he’s busy.”

“Alright, fine, we can plan something for a bigger show with Tucker,” Sam agreed, “but you still need to come out to something local. They’re really better anyways. We’ll go out to eat first and hit up a bar or three after. I know some really great places— places like you’ve never seen.”

Sam reached up and wrapped her hands around Danny’s neck, pulling him down a little. “It can be a date.”

Something in Danny balked at that. It was an innocent enough comment. Sam and him had dated and then not and then dated again or just had fun together. They’d known each other so long that it was easy to just ebb and flow out of the different levels of a relationship like that.

This time, though, Danny found himself resisting the tide. “Or we can just hang out.”

The almost dreamy smile Sam had crumpled into a frown. “What? I mean, sure, it can, but why? Are you seeing someone?”

“Yes? No? I mean, I’ve been… sleeping with someone, but we’re not dating or anything.”

“That’s okay,” Sam said easily. “I’m not going to make you be exclusive. I don’t want to be either right now; we’re not around each other enough for that and You know that I’ve been sleeping with my roommate sometimes and I’ve met a cute person in study group now too with amazing fingers.”

“No, I know, just…” Danny gave a frustrated noise. Nightwing and him weren’t even close to being exclusive. Someone like Nightwing could have anyone they wanted and with how much he liked sex, Danny was pretty sure Nightwing did have whoever he wanted. Danny was just… convenient for the hero side and Danny didn’t begrudge the other that. It was convenient for Danny too. It was just…

Danny didn’t want to keep living the same cycle with Sam where he was her world for a few weeks or months and then just back to an occasional phone call. He didn’t want to keep being pulled back to Amity Park. Maybe meeting her in Chicago would be different enough, but Sam was still so tied to Amity and always would be by her parent’s money.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this again,” Danny said slowly, feeling the words out as he said them. “Maybe it’s time just to leave us dating in the past?”

Sam dropped her hands and sat up. “Excuse me?”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just, we’ve tried being together in a lot of different ways and we always end up in the same place.”

“So you want to leave me in the past?”

“No!” Danny said quickly, trying to get ahead of this before Sam spiraled too badly from making assumptions. “I’d love to come to Chicago and see a band with you! Just… not as a date.”

“Because you want to leave that in the past,” Sam snapped and got up off the bed.

Danny scrambled off also.

“That’s not a bad thing. I enjoyed it and I know you did too. Just more, okay, maybe that wasn’t the best phrase? I mean maybe we shouldn’t go down that road again when we know where it’s going to end.”

Sam crossed her arms. That was never a good sign. “Right, because I’m always going to be a dead end, is that it? Not like you who’s off playing hero with the big names?”

“What? What does me being a Titan have to do with this?”

“Don’t play dumb, Danny, we both know you’re not. You left to go be a famous hero and hardly looked back at Amity Park or me or Tucker or your parents. What if the town needed you?”

Danny threw his hands up in the air. “Why would they need me? I destroyed the portal, came to an agreement with Vlad, made sure my parents couldn’t build another working one— it fixed everything!”

“And then left.”

“So I could help other people!”

“Sure it wasn’t so that you could be famous?”

Danny closed his mouth with a clack.

Sam winced at her own words. “Danny…”

“No.” Danny backed up a few steps from her. “No. You don’t get to— you of all people don’t get to come at me like that! I never wanted to be a hero, Sam! You’re the one who said I needed to protect Amity and you were right, sure, but it’s never what I wanted! You wanted it!”

“Danny, no—” Sam reached out for him and Danny stepped back again, hitting the wall.

“Yes you did, Sam! You did or I never would have had to die a second time after your wish! I lost everything again! I don’t have a future like you and Tucker, I just have being a hero. I just have being dead.”

“Come on Danny,” Sam tried. She moved close again, slowly, like Danny was some sort of feral animal.

Maybe he really was just a caged beast.

“I’m just— I better go. I’m just going to go,” Danny said. In a flash of light he was back to being Phantom. He let himself tip back and phase through the wall.

As he left Amity Park behind, he couldn’t help but think it really said something that he was far more comfortable being Phantom these day than Danny.

AN: Here's yous all voted on treat for the day! This comes before Danny showing up at Dick's door, quite upset.

#dp x dc #past Danny/Sam #masked #death defying

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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 1 year

Text

The List (1)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Not Beta’d. I was going to conclude this with an actual ending, but it was getting long so I’ll let the readers decide how it ends. If enough people are interested, I might do a part 2. Comment if you want a part 2.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Rumors spread through the underground of New York like the plague. Four murders of New York's most elite in the past 72 hours. Floating around the city was a list of names, a hit list for anyone involved with the mafia. Bucky was no stranger to a threat on his life. Being a mob boss, he constantly walked a thin line, a trapeze artist always one slip away from falling into the hands of death. Bucky had the resources and power to not be taken out so easily. If his name was on the list, he’d be toward the end, but no one knew home long the list was or who was on it. His team had spent the past 3 days searching the city for any information on the list. He had to know who was on it.

“Mr. Barnes, sir,” Peter Parker stammered, catching his breath in the doorway. Peter was a prospect, a good kid with a good head on his shoulders. Bucky couldn't understand why such a gifted kid was so eager to join the mob. Regardless, Bucky couldn’t be happier to have such potential, but the kid picked the wrong time to join them. “We have a lead.”

Bucky’s head snapped up from his desk. He had been engrossed in his own research on his laptop that he had forgotten about his men’s quest. Peter’s spine went rigid under the mob boss’s intense stare. He had yet to get used to it. Peter was certain that was why Bucky’s right-hand man, Steve Rogers, had sent him to retrieve Bucky. Well, that or it was part of Sam Wilson’s attempt at a joke to haze the new guy. Either way, Peter had been a fan of Steve growing up. Steve usually was the face while Bucky worked in the shadows, which only made Bucky more intimidating to Peter. He respected Steve though which is why he found Bucky without hesitation.

“Follow me, sir.”

Standing abruptly, the chair Bucky had been sitting in crashed into the wall behind him with a loud bang. He smoothed his rough palms down the front of his pristine white shirt before straightening his black suit jacket. Without a word, he extended his hand behind Peter, encouraging him to lead the way.

Peter anxiously peered over his shoulder the entire way down the hall. He thought he might have been walking too fast, but Bucky’s pace never faltered. Bucky was hot on his heels, always one step behind him. Stopping unexpectedly outside of the boardroom, Bucky hissed nearly crashing into the teen. Before Bucky could reprimand him, Peter explained, “Before we go inside, Steve told me to give you a message.” Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a bit leaving Peter relieved his boss wasn’t going to chew him out. Still, his own dress shirt began to cling to him with the amount of sweat he was producing. Bucky may have relaxed a bit, but his posture was always disciplined, predatory, and intimidating.

“Spill it out,” Bucky huffed, his hands resting in the pockets of his slacks.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Peter nodded, “Right, um- He said don’t do anything stupid and that we need her.”

The jaw of the boss twitched before he stormed past a confused Peter. His hands pressed into each of the double doors using his full force to slam the doors wide open. All eyes snapped to Bucky as he strode into the room, confidence and determination oozing off of him. Peter ushered in behind him, awkwardly failing to close the doors several times before succeeding. A string of apologies escaped his lips as he stepped further into the room. The serious look Steve shot Peter had him clearing his throat and adjusting his dress coat.

Sam and Steve stood side by side on one end of the room, their arms crossed. They were cautious, guarded rightfully so. Any one of their lives could be on the line. For all they knew, everyone in the room was on the hit list. Spying the woman sitting at the middle of the conference table, Bucky stalked across from her. With his eyes trained on the floor, he dragged the chair away from the table but made no move to sit down as he stepped up to the table.

When his eyes met hers, he puffed out his chest. His arms remained at his sides, his hands burrowing in his pockets. Without so much as a greeting, Bucky began his interrogation, “Who created the hit list.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, a frown etched on her crimson-painted lips. “Right down to business, huh Buck?” A smirk replaced her frown. “I should’ve known, you never were one for much foreplay.”

Bucky pressed his tongue to his cheek. He had expected this, her teasing. It was always a dance between them, one he wanted to avoid by cutting to the chase. She always knew how to rile him up, in more ways than one.

“Princess-”

‘No,” she stopped him with her hand raised, “you don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Bucky snorted, leaning forward, “Isn’t that what you are now?”

“Who is she?” Peter attempted to whisper to Steve, but everyone heard him.

Taking pity on the clueless teen, Sam answered, “She’s Bucky’s ex-wife, Y/N.”

Ignoring the other men, Y/N flashed her diamond engagement ring at Bucky. The light reflected off of the ring making it impossible to miss even from where Steve, Sam, and Peter had been standing.

“That title is pending, followed by queen,” she sassed.

It started out as a term of endearment. Y/N always had a taste for the finer things in life, Bucky’s lifestyle satisfied that craving. He enjoyed spoiling his princess, but that was all she would be. A princess, someone no one would take seriously. It had been an ironic twist of fate that she had met an actual prince after her divorce from Bucky.

Examining the rock on her finger, her signature red nail had been replaced by a nude shade. She was no longer accepting his blood money; she had a good man and clean money now. His eyes traveled back to her face, zeroing in on her red-painted lip. Her hands may be clean now, but her lips were still tainted. The secrets she could talk about his business alone could ruin him which reminded him of why she was here in the first place.

“Who created the hit list, Y/N,” he tried once again to control the conversation.

Pursing her lips, she let him.

“I don’t know,” her gaze dropped to the table, “but I know who has it.”

Finally getting somewhere, Bucky reached back pulling the chair behind him. Once he was seated, he snapped his fingers. Not a moment later, a pen and paper were placed in front of him.

“Give me a name,” Bucky demanded, pen in hand.

Y/N raised her head, the man twirled a pen between his fingers tempting her to sign a deal with the devil. Shaking the image from her head she placed her hand over his, ceasing his movements.

“It’s not that easy. He won't meet with just anyone.”

“He?” Steve asked.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Bucky isn’t just anyone,” Sam called out.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “He may very well be suspect number one. It would be bad for anyone to meet with Bucky alone.” Feeling Bucky’s hand turn beneath her own she went to pull away, but he grabbed her hand.

“What about a future queen?”

Eyeing him beneath her lashes, Y/N pulled her hand back to her chest. Noticing the hesitant look on her face, Bucky leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t a fool to think she was here willingly. She wanted something; she needed something.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Bucky asked, “What do you want?”

Thumbing the ring on her finger, she contemplated lying. She didn’t want to need Bucky, but she did. One look at Bucky and she knew he would see through any lie she would come up with, so she told the truth, “I need protection.” Suddenly she felt exposed with everyone's eyes on her. “If my name is on the list,” her voice shook. She wasn’t Bucky’s dirty little secret. People knew she was his wife, well ex-wife. She had ties to the mob and if her name was on the list or if her fiancé found out, the engagement would be called off.

After a long pause, Bucky spoke, “Get me access to the list and let me worry about the rest.”

Relief flooded Y/N. He could have turned her away. He could have blackmailed the information out of her, but he didn’t. Bucky was a rough man, but he was also kind. She had seen it first-hand for many years. Guilt ate away at her for her earlier actions. He knew she had been engaged but she didn’t need to rub it in his face. She wanted to hurt him but only because he had hurt her. A small part of her hoped he would protect her not because he was kind but because he still loved her.

Y/N was able to request a meeting with the man not even 24 hours later. His assistant had sent her an invitation, but it wasn’t for what she had been expecting. Instead, the man had invited her to a gala. He was a businessman after all, and her appearance would be good for business. At a time when she should be laying low, she was about to attend a high-press event.

It wasn’t long after Bucky was notified that he insisted he escort her. Y/N protested but he had argued that he couldn’t protect her if she was dead. That had convinced her, on one condition, they arrive separately. She was still engaged.

The event was beautiful but high glass windows had Y/N on edge. Anyone could see her. She tried to distract herself by searching for the host. There were so many bodies and no sign of the man who had invited her. In the middle of her search, a hand circled her wrist tugging her in the opposite direction. Y/N began clawing at the man’s wrist, an attempt to pry him off. When he stopped and spun around, she crashed into his chest. With her face in his chest, the unmistakable scent of expensive cologne hit her. She shoved his chest putting enough distance between the two.

“Bucky,” Y/N hissed, “you’re supposed to be laying low.”

Surveying the crowd, Bucky muttered, “I am. It’s you who is running all over the damn place.”

Y/N shook her head glaring at him. Not only did he smell good, but he looked good too. He had shaved since she had last seen him. He had traded in his white dress shirt for a black one, forgoing a bow or tie. The top button of his shirt was open, relieving his collarbone. Instead of drooling over her ex-husband she continued to glare at him. It was easier to hate him than to pine over him.

“If someone takes pictures of us together and my fiancé finds out-”

His cerulean eyes shot down to meet her eyes, “Where is he anyway? Shouldn’t you be asking him for protection? Surely, he has the resources.”

Y/N froze, her hands clutching the sides of her silk gown. “He doesn’t know,” she mumbled, then her voice grew. “He doesn’t know about the list, my past, or about you.” Bucky’s eyes softened. He had his doubts before, but he was certain now that she wasn’t happy. He wanted to gloat, to rub it in her fiancé’s face. He knew Y/N better than her fiancé did, and even better, she wanted to tell him. Bucky wanted to make a joke about how keeping secrets in a relationship was unhealthy, but he kept his mouth shut. Y/N sighed, running her hands down her dress to smooth out the wrinkles she had created. “He’s out of the country right now.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she wrapped her arms around herself. His gaze dropped to the floor, but Bucky’s remained on her.

He recognized a lonely soul when he saw one because he was one himself. His lifestyle left few people he could trust. He hadn’t always been lonely though, and neither had she. Bucky’s hand twitched to reach out and hug her, but he didn’t think she would appreciate that with cameras around. He took in her appearance and couldn’t help the squeeze he felt in his heart.

“You look beautiful.”

A giggle escaped her lips, “Thanks, Buck. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He had meant to cheer her up, but her giggle was unexpected. He missed it, he missed her. Everyone he knew in the mob lifestyle had died in the mob. It was poetic in a live by the sword, die by the sword type of way. No one got out, but she did. With his status, he’d never get out and a selfish part of him wanted to pull her right back in.

“You got out, you got away from the life,” Bucky hummed, admiration in his voice, respect.

Y/N shook her head. “No, I just got away from you.”

It was his turn to laugh, “Now if that were true, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. I am standing here with you, not you are standing here with me. He meant it. Even if she was here because of him, he was here for her, to protect her. He put her first.

“You of all people know once you’re in there’s only one way out.”

That was it for Bucky. He wasn’t pulling her back in. She never left. They might have been divorced but they had both meant it on their wedding day when they said, “Till death do us part.” Bucky’s calloused hand cupped her jaw just below her ear, pausing. She didn’t push him away. With both hands, she cradled his jaw pulling his face down to meet hers. Their lips brushed one another, slowly at first, testing the waters. Then his other hand slid up the length of her neck, sliding back to tangle his fingers in her hair. It was a dance they were all too familiar with.

The flash of a camera penetrated Y/N’s eyes beneath her closed lids and it was like pouring a bucket of cold water over her. Quickly, she pulled away shoving Bucky’s chest when his lips tried to follow her. She was fucked, royally.

“Y/N?”

Wiping her smudged lipstick, she ignored Bucky’s lingering gaze before turning to face the new voice. A woman in a blue silk dress approached the pair.

“Virginia?” Y/N asked.

The woman waved her hand in the air. “Please, call me Pepper. We spoke on the phone yesterday. Mr. Stark is ready to meet with you. Follow me.”

Without looking back, Y/N followed Pepper through the crowd. She knew Bucky would be right behind her. She would deal with him later. Right now, she needed the names on the list. Upon their arrival, Pepper exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her. On the other side of a glass desk was one of the wealthiest men in the world, Tony Stark.

“Did I interrupt something?” Tony asked eyes darting between Y/N and Bucky. “I swear there wasn’t so much tension before you two walked in.”

Y/N sent him a tight-lipped smile holding up her left hand. “I’m engaged.”

Tony shrugged, “What you do is none of my business. Besides, something like this would be published on the front page.” Y/N’s stomach dropped. “You know what they say, all press is good press.”

“Says the man with a new woman every week,” Bucky grumbled.

Tony smiled. “Precisely, I would know.”

“Mr. Stark-”

Tony loosened the bow tie around his neck. “Call me Tony.”

“Tony,” Y/N corrected, “so you know anything about a list?”

With a raised eyebrow Tony laughed, “If it’s a list you want, I suggest you talk to Pepper. She handles all of that stuff.”

“Not just any kind of list,” Y/N took a step forward, her hands clasped in front of her, “a hit list.” From this distance, Y/N couldn't miss the way Tony’s eyes shifted to Bucky.

“Are you looking to assassinate anybody?”

Bucky held up his hands, “I’m just looking to protect the people I care about.”

Y/N stood still, watching the intense stare-off between the two.

Eventually, Tony sighed, “I don’t want to be in the middle of any of this.” He tapped a few keys on the computer on his desk before turning the screen. “You better get out of here before your fiancé sends someone.”

“What?” Y/N gasped, blindly clutching Bucky’s forearm beside her. Both of their names were written in green on the list. Beneath them were some of Bucky’s most trusted men; their names written in white.

Tony leaned back in his chair. “Green means active. You’re both next on the list and judging by the number of cameras here, someone probably already knows you’re here.”

“You knew,” Bucky growled.

Tony barely flinched. “Your names weren’t active until recently. Other people’s lives are on the line. I can’t get to everyone in time.”

“Wait, why would my fiancé send someone, he’s not even in the country,” Y/N asked, trying to wrap her head around everything.

Tony frowned. “Your fiance is the one who put the hit list out. What better alibi for your significant other’s death than being out of the country at her time of death.”

Y/N would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Bucky’s quick reflexes. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her weight.

“Why?” Y/N whispered wide-eyed.

Bucky wanted to drag her out of the building toward safety but was there even a safe place? People already knew their location.

Tony shrugged. “The New York mobs aren't the only mobs out there. They're all over the country, they're in other countries. There are some real higher-ups in the mafia in other countries. The mafia controls everything, it's one of the most powerful positions. Take out other mobs and you can control more area, more power.”

Y/N felt sick. When she said you never get out once you get in, she hadn’t realized how deep she was in life now. Turning to Bucky, he was already on his phone typing. “Bucky, we need to go.”

“No. I text Steve, he’s rounding everyone up. They’ll be here soon.”

Tony’s eyes widened, his eyebrows reaching his forehead. “You can’t be serious. There are cameras everywhere. This will be plastered on every news station.”

Bucky shrugged, lifting the back of Y/N’s hand to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, a quiet promise to protect her. “All press is good press.”

Next Chapter

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kaleldobrev · 10 months

Text

Please Don't Leave

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean's lucky to have you in his life and honestly doesn't know what he would ever do without you

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Cursing (3x), Fluff, Vulnerable/Angry Dean

Authors Note: The gif makes me sad | This might seem a little non canon but at the same time I honestly feel like Dean would react this way (fight me if you want, but I said what I said) | I just love this man so fucking much | Dream/Flashbacks are in italics | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Dean didn’t have a lot of consistencies in his life, but you were one of them. Out of everyone he had known in his life, you were one of the only people that had remained with him through all the heartbreak, all of the death, all of the blood, sweat, and tears that this life had. You had been through it all with him: Sam going to Stanford and leaving him behind, his fathers death, him selling his soul, the year that Sam went to Hell, the year the two of you were in Purgatory, the few months he was a demon, his bloodlust fueled by the Mark, him being possessed by Michael. He had an endless list of things that the two of you had been through together, things that would cause any normal or rational person to throw in the towel; but not you. “You can’t get rid of me Dean Winchester, not even if you kill me yourself.” You had joked. And that was something that he had almost done – and on several occasions too. And yet, you never left him. “I guess I’m just stupid.” You said. “Or maybe the sex me and you have is just that good.”

The sex he had with you, now that was something. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced; and he has had quite a lot of sex during his lifetime (not that he bragged about it of course). When the two of you initially met, it was only supposed to be a working relationship, a friends with benefits sort of deal. But eventually it turned into more. He wasn’t sure where him or you had gotten your wires crossed but they did; and it turned into you and him always finding each other at the end of the night regardless of the different men and women that had hit on both of you at the bar you two were at.

The sex used to be quick, usually done in either a drunken haze or after a tough hunt. But it eventually turned into something that either one of you would initiate through soft touches: a kiss on the forehead, a simple hand hold, or cuddling into each other. Once, in the middle of sex, he wasn’t sure why he had said it but he did. He kind of just blurted it out. “I love you.” Now that was something he never thought he’d ever say during sex before. But here you were beneath him, staring up at him with those doe eyes of yours that you frequently had during sex and said, “I love you too.” It was something he didn’t expect.

Dean didn’t know what he could or would possibly do if you weren’t in his life; and that was something he didn’t want to think about. But it was something that has been an unavoidable thought as of late. Waking up to you was one of the worst but best things after a nightmare of losing you. He would wake up in a panic, his heart racing, sweating; afraid that you were gone for good this time. But without fail, every single time you would be right there next to him. Either sound asleep or awake enough to tell him, “It’s okay, I’m right here.” He would always reply the same way. “Just…please don’t leave.” It was a simple yet complicated sentence. “I’m not going to. I’d never leave you.” Those words that you always uttered back should have been comforting to him, but it was just an empty promise – even though he knows that’s how you never intended it to sound. In your heart you loved him deeply, and he knew that. He knew that you’d never leave him; the two of you have been through everything together. But when it came to this life, it was hard to make and keep promises like that.

“Dean, I just can’t do this anymore I’m sorry.” Your words had cut into him like a knife. Like he’d been shot hundreds of times. The torture he received from Hell combined with the loss of his mother was child’s play compared to what he was currently feeling. He just started blankly at the two duffel bags at your feet as you stood in the doorway of the room the two of you shared. Well, formally shared that is. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” You asked, your question snapping him out of whatever trance he was in.

“There’s nothing to say.” Of course there were hundreds, no thousands of things that he had wanted to say to you, but he knew that he couldn’t say any of it. As much as he wanted to beg for you to stay, he wasn’t going to make you stay. Once you made up your mind that was it; there was no convincing you.

You looked at him with a confused expression. “You don’t even want to know why I’m leaving?” You asked, and Dean simply shook his head. “Why not?”

“It doesn’t really matter.” He tried to keep his voice even, to make you believe that he was okay. But he could tell that you knew he wasn’t (you knew him long enough to know when he was or wasn’t okay).

“Dean.” You said, your voice sounding more heartbroken than his.

“It’s alright. You don’t…you don’t have to explain yourself.” He said, taking a seat on the bed you two once shared.

“I feel like you deserve an explanation. We were together for almost twenty years Dean.” You sat down next to him on the bed. He had just wanted to push you away or wrap you in his arms. Two completely differently reactions, but that’s the way he felt. “Dean.” You touched his shoulder and he flinched, you quickly removed your hand. “I love you, and I know you know that but –”

“Please just…stop talking. I really don’t want to hear what you have to say.” His voice was more hurt now, and he could feel himself trying not to say or do anything that he was going to regret. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t want you to have to see that, despite seeing him do it so many times before. “Just, leave if you’re going to leave.” You didn’t move, simply just staring at him. “Go!” He snapped, and that’s when you got up.

You walked over to your bags, slinging one over your shoulder and holding the other one in your hands. “Goodbye Dean.” You said, before walking out of the room. For a while he heard the sound of your boots down the hall, but they suddenly became faint, almost inaudible. The Bunker door opened and closed again. You were gone. Gone for good this time.

“You said you’d never fucking leave.” He whispered to himself. “Said you’d never fucking leave me.” He pounded the bed with his fist. “You fucking lied!” He got up from the bed and he felt himself start to lose control; no longer in control of the emotions that had been building up when he had started watching you pack up your bags.

Dean woke up abruptly, sitting up. He was panicked, his heart racing. His breaths were heavy, his chest moving up and down. He rubbed his face, trying to fully wake himself up. There was no way he would be getting back to sleep for a while; not after that nightmare. “Y/N -” he began to say as he looked over to his right side; your side of the bed. You were gone. “Sweetheart?” He asked, his hand reached out and touched the emptiness next to him: it was cold.

He looked up at the door to the bedroom which was slightly ajar. The only light in the room came seeping in from the hallway. He didn’t remember having the door open, the door was always shut whenever the two of you slept. Despite how safe the Bunker was, sleeping with the door closed added an extra layer of safety, not just for him, but for you as well.

A shadow appeared, blocking some of the light. He reached over and opened the drawer of his nightstand, slightly gripping his gun that he always kept there. Before he could fully wrap his hand around the weapon you squeaked inside the room and shut the door again quietly. A huge amount of relief washed over him in that moment as he let go of the gun and closed the drawer. “Dean?” You questioned, upon hearing the drawer close. “Baby are you okay?” You asked, walking to sit on his side of the bed. He looked at you as you placed a hand on his cheek. Your eyes full of worry.

“You were…” his eyes flickered to your side of the bed that had been empty when he woke up before looking back at you again. “You were gone. When I woke up you…”

“It’s okay. I’m here.” You reassured him, your voice calm.

“Where did you go?” He asked tiredly.

“The bathroom. I really, really needed to pee.” You said, Dean chuckled a little at your comment. “You know I wouldn’t willingly leave you right?” You reassured him again. You felt him nod in your hand.

“I know.” His voice sounding just a hint sad. “I uh, I feel stupid for freaking out.” The sentence was a whisper.

“There’s nothing to feel stupid about Dean.” Another reassurance. Dean had every right to react the way he did; he had lost so much, even before you had met him. You had been with him through everything. Witnessed so much loss and endured just as much. “Was it a nightmare?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was the…the one where you break up with me.” You hated that one just as much as he did.

“I’m never going to break up with you. I love you too damn much.” You said, giving him a smile. You crawled into bed next to him getting underneath the covers. “Come here.” You held out your arms for him, and without hesitation he went into them. He wrapped his arms around your torso and rested his head on your chest; your arms wrapping around the back of his neck. Your fingers started playing with his hair, gently massaging his head.

The two of you sat there in silence, both of you with your eyes closed. You weren’t sleeping, but you were unsure if he was. Even if he wasn’t, his breathing was starting to get more even, he was starting to calm down. Hearing the sound of your heartbeat always calmed him down. “Y/N?” Dean asked.

“Yes my love?” You asked, opening your eyes.

He looked up at you briefly, tiredly. “I know I don’t tell you enough but…I’m really lucky to have you in my life. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” He kissed your neck, as that was one of the only spots he could currently reach.

“I’m lucky to have you in my life too.” You responded, giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

“And Sweetheart?” He asked again.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Thank you…thank you for not leaving me.” His voice sounding a little pained. The sound of this sentence had broken your heart a bit. Leaving Dean was never an option for you, no matter what had happened between the two of you. Being with him wasn’t easy, but you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. He was your person, the love of your life, your soulmate. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kissed him on the top of the head again, and you could feel his smile.

That night, Dean didn’t have another nightmare, but he did dream. He had one of his favorite dreams; one that always gave him a sense of calmness and normalcy. The two of you would be just lying in bed together watching some random horror movie on tv. It was something that the two of you have done hundreds, no, thousands of times, so there would be no reason why it would be his so called favorite dream. What made it his favorite though was purely based on one small detail, a detail that made it known to him that it was in fact a dream: wedding rings would be on both of your fingers.

Someday maybe, he thought.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 If you'd like to be on a tag list, just message me!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #spn #supernatural #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #reader insert #female reader #Dean x you #dean x reader

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willowrites · 3 months

Note

heyyy so this is a request for colby. i thought that maybe he invited his “friend😉” y/n for a collab on his channel and theyre playing truth or drink and the questions get kinda spicy and he also gets kinda jealous fron some of her answers and stuff and maybe add some crazy smut idk its up to u😙😙

POUND TOWN

PAIRINGS. colby brock x fem reader

SUMMARY. amid a no big deal type of video of truth or drink some feelings and needs get mixed...

WARNINGS. drinking! smut, dominant male x sub fem (colby showing his dominant side fr), choking, spanking, rough sex, scratching, oral female!receiving, degradation, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex (don’t do this!!)...

AUTHORS NOTE. i absolutely LOVED this request!! i usually don’t get a lot of these types of requests so u best believe i tried putting my whole heart and soul into it. hope you enjoyed bae !! SORRY THIS IS SO LATE BTW.

WORD COUNT. 4.9k

as you sat on the couch scrolling on instagram you heard your friend colby’s voice.

“we should do a special kind of Q&A huh?” he was speaking to sam but you still took the liberty to answer.

“how about truth or drink? it’ll still be a q & a. just more fun.” you raised your brows.

they both looked at each other and nodded. “fuck, for once she has a good idea.” colby scoffed.

“oh shut the fuck up dick. i always have good ideas.” you rolled your eyes.

“yeah, that tiny ass skirt not being one of them.” he looked at your outfit.

you had on a basic black fitted shirt which fell just above your belly button. a blue-wash mini skirt with black high-heeled boots that reach just the middle of your shin.

your hair was pin-straight because you straightened it and you had on your usual makeup.

“my outfit is fire you’re just a hater.” you eyed him.

“oh please, you could see your bare ass cheeks in that thing.” he gestured up and down towards your body.

“oh, sad you can’t see more?” you grinned and he immediately left the room.

you shrugged him off waiting for their queue to go to their little filming area.

it was 11:30 when they had started to get things ready. you headed towards the filming area and sat down on the couch.

“guys sorry i have to go. my friend just texted and told me it’s an emergency.” sam was panicking and you could tell. “maybe you can do this for your personal channel colby, but i gotta go. have fun.” he was quick to say bye and headed out towards the door.

you hoped everything with sam was okay but all you thought about after he left was how it was just you and colby and how you were bound to get heated.

“for fucks sake,” you whispered to yourself.

“don’t act so excited.” colby randomly appeared. you had no idea where he came from. he was carrying a bottle of tequila and plastic shot cups. “you ready?”

“i guess.” you fake yawned.

colby clicked on the camera making it start clicking.

“it’s counting down to ten then it’ll record. just in case you’re too stupid to realize.” he snickered after his rude remark.

“i know you fuckface.” you sneered.

you and colby always had this love-hate friendship. of course, it wasn’t real but it was just more interesting to be mean to each other. you both got the memo and never got mad about anything you guys have said to each other.

in the midst of your friendship, you found yourself finding colby more attractive by the day. you didn’t give yourself the time of day to really think or dwell but in the back of your mind, you knew you had just the tiniest bit of feelings for him.

were they as tiny as your little brain thought though?

“what’s up, guys! it’s colby brock here and welcome back to my channel! today we’re going to get…fucked!” he says to the camera. “i haven’t done one of these in a loooong time. oh shit…by the way guys this is y/n!” he pretends to shrug then grins.

“wow thank you so much for the introduction colby, hi guys!” you smile. you weren’t usually on colby’s channel so you wanted to make a good impression all the time.

“of course.” he fake smiles. “alright! you guys already know what this video is based on the title. view discretion is advised…if you do not have 21! don’t drink.” you both paused. “why’d i say that so weirdly.” he cringed.

“because you’re odd.” you stated. “what he means is if you are underage obviously don’t drink.”

“yeah, what she said. now i posted a little instagram story thingy asking you guys to ask us truth or dare questions but we are cutting out the dares and doing drinks!” he rubs his hands together. “so let’s get started”

he brought out his phone scrolling through it. “i’m so not prepared for the hangover i will endure tomorrow.” you groaned leaning back on the couch.

“me too, i haven’t drunk in like 3 days.” he wiped his forehead playfully.

“wow colby that must be a new record for you.” you patted his back.

“oh fuck off. here you read the questions.” he rolled his eyes passing the phone to you. “alright guys, the first question let’s get it.”

you were biting your cheek as you carefully skimmed the question. “woah! starting off strong huh. alright…what’s the worst ‘doing the dirty’ experience you’ve had.”

his eyes widened. “starting off very strong.” he laughed. “wow…um”

you thought about it. there were quite a few. “are you going to answer this?”

“yeah! i’m gonna…m gonna answer it.” he leaned back on the couch. “just uh..one time i had a female use a lot of teeth. and it hurt.”

you winced at that and giggled a bit. “yikes that’s uh…”

“yeah yeah it was really awkward and i just..yeah we never talked again.” he looked down in fake shame. “what about you. you going to answer?”

“yeah for sure um…well i’m not going to name names but this one guy i was with …let’s just say he didn't have the best hygiene and well it smelled so bad i genuinely had to leave.” you laughed painfully.

“that is so nasty y/n oh my god.” colby covers his face.

“you’re telling me! i wanted to die then and there. somehow i was the embarrassed one.” you covered your face.

“jeez alright alright well i am soooo sorry about that.” he chuckled.

he wasn’t sorry.

“next question!” he fake demanded.

“okay, which one of you has the better style?” you spoke.

“oooo that is a hard question…” colby pretended to think. “me!”

“oh that’s such a fat lie!” your tone playful but offended. “i have a much better style than you!”

“liar liar!” he sang.

“oh, whatever i’m better and you know it. next question.”

as you both bantered and went through questions some you drank some you answered you felt the alcohol hit you after three shots.

your brain went fuzzy and your actions became more free.

you looked at colby throughout your time and he got increasingly hot. you didn’t know if it was you or the alcohol but you wanted to jump his bones.

“colby why do you have a pair of handcuffs in your room?” your eyes widened on that one as soon as you said it.

you’ve never really been in colby’s room. only once to use the restroom so you never really looked around.

you turned to him and his eyes were wide and his face turned red.

“what the fuck.” he laughed in disbelief. “umm…why? i mean…?” he grabbed the bottle of tequila ready to go.

“no come on answer it!” you wanted to get it out of him even though you clearly knew why. “were they props for a video?”

“no.” he stated. then he got ready to put the bottle back. “you know what i use them for personal fun alright.”

“what the fuck does that even mean? personal fun?” you questioned, confusion written on your face.

“that should answer the question right?” he nods to himself while you’re shaking your head.

“no no, you need to go a little bit more in-depth with it.” you have a smug look on your face.

“oh my god, i’m getting embarrassed.” he smiles awkwardly at me and then at the camera.

“then go ahead and drink.” you raise your brows trying to use reverse psychology to make him spill…and it works.

“i’ve used them for sexual fun.” he says while about to pour the shot. “that counts right.”

you thought about it, your stomach doing loops. “fine.” you roll your eyes.

“ha ha…” he rubs his hands together. “next question.”

you scroll through and find the perfect one.

“ñame two dirty kinks that you have.” colby’s face as you read the question was filled with surprise.

“jeez…oh my god. sorry…m-mom.” he apologized.

“oh so you’re gonna answer?” you squinted your eyes in intimidation.

“w-what. you know what now i’m not.” he scoffed and picked up the bottle. he poured half the shot when you interrupted.

“you already said one!” you shrugged.

“oh so that counts?” he questioned.

“mhm.” you hummed waiting for his second response.

“ummm…” he paused putting his hand out in front of him and leaning against his knee. “i like to be dominant. alright, there we go.”

your eyes widened. even though you could tell what kind of guy colby was in the bedroom, it was more effective as he said it right in front of the camera not being afraid to express it.

“oh wow…” you said slowly. “not surprised.”

“oh really? now you have to answer.” he waits.

“mmm, or i could drink.” you snicker grabbing the bottle from his hands.

“nuh uh, cmonnnn…” he tries to convince you.

“oh my god ugh.” you whine. “fine, um…i like to be …praised?” you questioned.

“wow…a very good one. mhm…” his gaze on you was strong. you felt so small under his stare. “one more…” he says softly.

“and iliketobechoked.” you muttered as quick as you could.

“you what now? sorry i didn’t hear you! doesn’t count.” he fake frowns.

“oh my god. i like to be choked.” you sternly let out. “moving on!” you raised your voice trying to distract yourself.

little did you know, for the rest of the video colby was thinking of you in that position and his mind ran through all the other times you could’ve been with someone else.

he was envious.

envious of people who got to pleasure you and who got pleasured by you.

as the time went on you both got more drunk. you were a bit tipsy but thanks to your genius plan of just telling the truth the alcohol barely affected you.

same with colby, after that he realized he really had nothing to hide.

“okay well that’s it you guys thank you for watching…and thank you y/n for joining. ” as he was talking to the camera you were analyzing him. his perfect face. his jawline. your eyes trailed down to his hands.

you felt you dampen your underwear.

you felt embarrassed at the fact that he was able to make you feel these things so easily.

“of course it was fun! i definitely learned a lot more about you.” you laughed.

“yes, same here…” he paused and squinted at you. “but anyways i will see you guys next time!”

he ended the video and there was just silence.

“how tipsy are you?” he asked.

“considering ive told the truth more times than i took a drink, i’m sober.” you snickered. “you?”

“not at all,” he spoke. his tone is not something you’ve heard before.

“i’ll be right back im going to use the restroom.” you got nervous under his gaze.

you scurried off to the restroom looking yourself in the mirror. you made sure to fix anything about yourself and reapplied your lip product.

you then adjusted your skirt so that it was in a higher position. you didn’t know what possessed you to act so teasing but you did.

after you were done, you walked out confidently heading back to the main room.

“in here!” colby shouted his voice heard from the hall leading towards the den.

what you loved about sam and colby’s house was that it was always cozy. it wasn’t like a big celebrity mansion you always felt at home here.

to explain the sudden thought in your head, as you walked into the den there was a massive L-shaped couch that was basically a big bed. there were detachable seats where you could just slide them wherever to maximize the space.

the huge window on one side of the room looking out to darkness but covered with curtains that had fairy lights draped. the colors red.

then a fireplace with a large flat-screen TV above it. some plants scattered around too which also pleased your eyes.

“wanna watch a movie?” he was manspreading making you want to squeeze your thighs together.

“uh..thought you’d want me gone by now.” you playfully spat one hand on your hip and the other on your thigh playing with the end of your skirt.

you were never really flirty but maybe you’ll admit the alcohol is affecting you more than you mentioned.

“mmmm, see i would kick you out because being home alone is depressing. sam won’t be back until tomorrow he just texted.” he was looking down at his phone but then put it to the side and rested his gaze on you.

you were still in the door frame which was quite wide so you were being illuminated by the light behind you.

“turn the light off and come over here,” he spoke softly. you couldn’t tell but when you turned around to shut the switch off he admired how you looked in your outfit.

he was throwing a fit earlier because he was jealous he wouldn’t be the only one seeing it. he wanted to be the one to take it off too.

something you also didn’t know was that he was jealous. jealous that you’ve been with other people but not with him. he wanted to be the one who kissed you and loved up on you. he wanted to choke you while he fucked you at a relentless pace.

and he too, was more tipsy than he’d like to admit.

you made your way back once you switched off the light; the only thing illuminating the room was the flatscreen TV.

you sat on the opposite side of the couch starting to get nervous.

“you act like i’m going to do something to you.” colby chuckled his arm resting on the back of the couch. he looks so good, you thought to yourself.

you wanted him to do something to you.

“i’m just getting comfortable.” you settled on the couch and somehow some way the skirt barely covered your underwear.

colby looked and noticed which had him visibly become hard.

you didn’t notice because you were focused on his ring-clad hands and how they’d feel inside you.

you looked away to then look at the TV and see what he was putting on to watch.

“so what we are watching?” you questioned fiddling with your hair.

“mmm” he started to speak distracted by your thighs and how they’d look around his head while he…you know. “what do you feel like?”

“hmm, i’m not sure how long are you planning on keeping me around?” you look at him.

as your gazes met your stomach churned and you squeezed your thighs tighter.

there was pure lust in his eyes. you felt like he could kill you with his glare. he fiddled with his ring causing you to gulp.

“why do you look nervous?” he said disregarding your question.

“i’m not…” you denied. “you’re the one who looks nervous.” lie.

“how so?” he said starting to get up.

your eyes didn’t leave his body as he stood up to turn on the fireplace. he then came towards you. you froze heart beating out of your chest.

“what’s wrong?” he pouted. “stand up.”

what the fuck was going on.

you were confused but still followed his orders.

“how are you not cold in this tiny ass skirt.” he played with the end of it.

you lifted your head to meet his eyes trying to keep your composure.

“last time i checked im not outside.” you scoffed rolling your eyes at his comment.

“mmm, i turned on the fireplace because i thought you’d be a bit chilly. aren’t i a nice friend?” he grinned his hand making its way to your shoulder brushing the hair away. his touch sent chills down your body you couldn’t control.

“friend is an overstatement,” you whispered. he was now a centimeter away from you. his hand made its way behind your neck and caressed softly.

“not friends? funny.” he humorlessly laughed now playing with your hair. “you love my company.”

“do not.” you snort. he grinned knowingly stepping closer toward you. you were close to stumbling back onto the couch but kept your balance.

“then why are you so nervous? you’re shivering but you’re not cold…you get chills every time i touch you. you love my company.” he called you out. you were stunned to speak. what did you have to say to that? “and you love my touch.” he stepped even closer this time causing you to fall back onto the couch. you sat up in a sitting position looking up at him.

he knelt down meeting your eyes. “look at you in this skirt.” his right hand trailing down your thigh and the other on the couch. “do you have any idea how good you look? and how pissed the fuck off i was to see you wearing it not just for me?”

you had no idea where this behavior came from but it was turning you on.

your breathing became heavier as his hand trailed closer to your sex. “dressed like a slut to get who’s attention?” his demeanor changed but you could tell it wasn’t serious, even then it was still turning you on.

“certainly not for you.” you felt breathless.

“the way that your legs just opened at my touch; i'd say it was.” he bit his lip a little bit. “just ask and i’ll touch you, baby.”

his teasing had you wanting to drop to your knees.

you placed your hand protectively at the end of your skirt. “touch me? you think you can make me feel good?” you challenged.

“find out.” he replied tapping your knee. “cmon, open up.”

as if you were hypnotized your legs spread giving room for colby hands to go further.

“good girl.” all that he was able to see was your lacy black lingerie, he pressed the back of his palm right on top of your clothed clit. “ironic how you’re this wet but seem to despise me.”

he’s more harsh with his touch pressing firmly focusing on your clit rather than where you’re most damp. your face contorts as you’re experiencing the smallest bit of pleasure.

“fuck, just wanna taste you so bad. you have no idea how fucking long I've wanted to wrap my lips around your sweet pussy.’ he groaned rubbing back and forth on your sensitive area.

so the dirty talk has begun…

your legs spread further apart granting him more access.

“all needy, go on beg for it.” he pulls his hand away from your sex setting both on top of either of your thighs.

the pleasure you were just receiving seemed to have wiped your memory from all the previous comments he's made because you find yourself begging for his touch.

“touch me please,” you whine trying to grab his hand and bring it toward where you were aching the most.

“look at you, being such a needy whore.” he spat all of a sudden pulling you by your legs closer to him so that your legs were wrapping around his waist. “you sure you wanna start this baby? i don't know if you can handle it.” he egotistically chuckles.

his comment sparked something up in your brain.

your past relationships have been slightly rough in the bedroom but not to the point where you were fully satisfied. you found that you like it when you're belittled or manhandled, it turns you on like nothing else does. you enjoyed being choked and spanked and having your hair pulled. just imagining all the hints colby would do to you had you pulling colby by his shirt and connecting your lips.

immediately he took control grabbing you by your neck just the way you liked it. he slipped his tongue in your mouth swiftly dominating the kiss and his other hand pulled you closer to him, your pussy and his cock only being separated by a few pieces of clothing.

after a few more seconds of your heated make-out session, he pulled away placing the hand that was choking you on your chin and dominantly looking down at you. it was a few seconds before he spoke, “so fucking beautiful.” he said, aggressively connecting your lips one more time before picking you up, your legs still around his waist.

with no more words, he walked out of the den, through the halls, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. he tossed you on the bed then turned around and slammed the door shut locking it.

“gonna let me make you feel good?” he questioned quickly scanning you up and down. you both had lust unmistakably written on your faces.

you leaned up on your elbows looking down and noticing his prominent bulge signaling he was enjoying this as much as you were. “mhm” you hummed wanting to continue as quick as possible.

“good.” he quickly replied before taking off his black shirt in milliseconds revealing his rose tattoo. he then followed by taking off his belt and his pants, his muscles completely visible to you.

while he was doing that you went again and removed your boots while admiring the way his body moved and how it looked. the way he was moving had you wanting to suck him dry. “you're cute when you stare.” he mentioned before making his way onto the bed and pulling you by your legs toward him causing you to lie down on your back.

you moved the hair out of your face to get a better look at him. “can i take this off?” he toyed with your mini skirt. instead of replying you took the skirt off yourself; as well as your top revealing the lacy bra under.

“god, look at you.” he groaned feeling you up and down admiring you. admiring the way you looked in your lingerie on his bed. he’s been wanting to be in this position for so long so you best believed he would savor the feeling.

the way he was looking at you made you feel so good.

“gonna make you feel so fucking good.” he climbed on top of you connecting your lips once more before pulling away. “gonna let me touch you?”

your hands made their way to his hair tugging on it. “yes.” you panted.

he chuckled and pulled down your underwear so that you were bare. your legs immediately spread welcoming his hands to do whatever they wanted.

“wanna taste you. let me taste you.” he managed to slowly make his way to the edge of his bed right in front of your wet pussy. “so pretty. you can tell me to stop whenever okay?” his pointer finger dragged along your folds receiving a gasp from your lips.

“i will but please colby, want your tongue so bad.” you whined, your right hand gripping his hair while the other gripped his bed sheets.

it was like he didn’t need any more reassurance before he latched his lips onto your clit sucking harshly. surprised by his antics your head lunged forward in surprise.

“oh fuck.” you groaned tugging on his hair earning a moan from him.

“do that again come on. you want more?” the animalistic sounds he was making while slurping up your juices had you getting closer and closer to your release.

you repeatedly whined ‘yes’ so desperately wanting his mouth to keep pleasuring you.

his tongue was moving so fast you couldn’t keep up. you were so sensitive you had tried pushing his head away but this only caused him to grip your thighs harder.

"cmon baby, you can take it." you looked down to see a smirk on his face. 'mmm' he hummed, he went from a slow pace to a fast pace but regardless you were nearly there. you felt it.

you were getting so close you forced yourself to let go of his head and brought your hands up to your breasts playing with your nipples.

your breaths became short showing colby you were almost there. he pulled you impossibly closer sucking on your clit; his actions succeeding as it caused your orgasm to crash into you. "fuck fuck fuck" you came on his tongue.

you were screaming because of how sensitive you were and how he didn't stop the pace of his tongue on your sensitive clit.

he finally pulled away giving you time to breath. you felt as if you were in another dimension.

"holy fuck you tasted so good." he crawled up your body as you lay there trying to catch your breath. "come here" he spoke connecting your lips.

even though that orgasm nearly had you tired for the night, it didn't satisfy the need you felt for his cock.

your hand went ahead and groped his print; boxers were the only thing separating his skin from yours.

he spasmed as you started palming him slowly.

"want my cock?" he whispered against the skin of your chest as he sucked lovebites all across.

"so bad" you begged. "want you in me now" your sentences were short and straight to the point.

no time to waste. you thought.

"don't worry baby, i got you." his hand went towards his bedside table looking for a condom you assumed.

"im on birth control and clean if that matters. with or without I don't mind. just need you so bad." you stopped walking him so he could make up his mind and think clearly.

"wow, im that special?" he joked which earned a eye roll from you.

"oh please, you wish." you stated.

after your comment which colby wasn't fond of, he kissed you.

his tongue delved in through your lips completely dominating you and a second later you felt him push all the way inside you.

to say you lost your breath would be an understatement. you wouldn't say this out loud but he was huge. he completely took your breath away and he didn't allow you to catch it as he pulled out and then slammed back into you.

"i wish?" he asked still relentlessly pounding into you. he groaned and spoke again. "look at you. you're telling me i’m not special when i have you fucked dumb here in my house, in my room, and in my bed?" he laughed in disbelief.

you wanted to speak and tell him off. you wanted to say something, anything but nothing came to your mind; not that you'd be able to say it anyway.

all that came from your mouth were moans from how pleasured you were feeling.

your orgasm was coming faster than you thought. your hands were scratching at colbys back trying to hold onto anything.

your hand scratched down for the first time on his back earning a full groan from him. "god feels so fucking good." as he continued pounding into you, his right hand made its way to your throat.

fuck yes.

"you like to be choked?" he asked obviously not looking for an answer. "yeah? i’m the only fucking person who'll have you feeling this good. no one else. do you understand me?"

you had tried to respond but your brain couldn't move fast enough. apparently, colby would get it out of you.

when you didn't respond he pulled out and flipped you over, ass up. he then pushed into you once again slamming into you over and over again.

you felt a hard smack on your ass. it hurt but it hurt so good. you felt tears stinging your eyes.

"i said do you understand me?" both hands were on your hips for support so that it didn't mess up his rhythm. your face was in the pillow so he didn't hear your response.

he then pulled your back to his chest still inside you and wrapped his hand around your neck once more.

"oh y/n? fucked you so good you can't speak?" confidence laced in his tone. "i said, do you understand that i am the only one to make you feel this good?"

"yes yes yes!" your words finally slipped out of your lips.

"good girl." he praised you pushing you back down so he could continue ramming into you. "fuck m'gonna come"

those words had you coming whether you liked it or not. "I'm coming oh fuck" you gripped the bed sheets.

"mhm, that's my girl." colby moaned, his rhythm interrupted by his own orgasm.

he still had the strength to ride you both through your orgasm.

as you both were coming down from your high you heard a door slam downstairs.

"what the fuck was that?" you gasped.

colby's dick was still in fact inside you so you had nowhere to go.

all colby did was throw his black silk sheets over both of your bodies.

"colby?" you heard sam downstairs.

"i guess he didn't end up staying?" colby said confused. "fuck, he's such a cock block."

"who said we were going to keep going?" you asked knowing damn well you wouldn't turn him down.

colby eyed you, connected your lips chastely, then pulled out of you getting off the bed and slipping his boxers on.

"ill be right back," he whispered.

as he walked away you couldn't help but hope that this wouldn't be just a one-night stand.

#✮ ⋆˙ 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾 #colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock smut #colby x reader #sam and colby #sam and colby imagine #sam and colby smut #colby brock x reader

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intrepidacious · 2 years

Text

almost believing

summary: You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: miscommunication dialled up to eleven bc it's me; friends to lovers with lots of seething in between; set around christmas, but not a christmas fic; slight spoiler warning for wakanda forever just to be safe

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: fake dating, baby 😌 title and initial inspiration for this fic were taken from "so close" from enchanted. yes. that scene.

a/n: this was written for my wonderful tiff's sweet as sugar writing challenge!! @traitorjoelite i'm so proud of you and i hope you enjoy this fic. i really thought this one would be short i swear. big shoutout and thank you to @sweetascanbee for listening to me rant about this for weeks, i appreciate you so much!!

masterlist | read on ao3

Here’s the thing: It’s supposed to be a simple mission. Just gathering intel at the hotel for one single night, the two of you pretending that everything is fine for a couple of hours more.

After all, it’s Bucky’s last mission with you before his reassignment goes through.

Well, it’s not like it’s going to make a difference to how much you’re seeing him, to be honest.

You’re not sure when he started making himself rare or why, but once you noticed it, it was impossible not to.

"Sorry, I’m heading out," when you ask him to grab lunch together seems inconspicuous enough, as does, "Ah, I’m already supposed to meet Sam," when you try asking him about that trip to IKEA you’d been talking about for ages.

But it doesn’t stop there. One excuse follows the next, and suddenly there’s always something more important than the two of you hanging out.

Of course, you try to rationalize it at first. Swallow down your hurt feelings, because Bucky is your friend, and sometimes people just need space. You’re fine. The two of you are fine.

Once he starts scheduling dates for Friday night, though—which has always been movie night, always, every week since you met him—you know that something’s wrong.

"Is he angry with me?" you keep asking Steve, who looks very uncomfortable and definitely knows what's going on.

"Just give him a little space," he suggests timidly. So you do. You let the whole thing go.

For like a week.

"I just don’t know what I did," you tell Sam over drinks, your head held in your hands.

"Nope," he answers, downing his dregs. "I’m not doing this. Nuh-uh."

"You know, too?" you cry, accusingly pointing at him.

"I don’t know anything," Sam deadpans. And then he puts his scarf on and leaves.

"Maybe try talking to Bucky about it?" Natasha suggests, either incapable of hiding her amused smile or unwilling to try.

"I would if I ever saw him for longer than a 'hi, how are you' at the gym," you mumble. Fact is, you’re getting pissed about him giving you the silent treatment without even knowing what you did wrong.

Because before this, whatever this is, things were fine. Great, even. Free afternoons were spent on each other’s couches, introducing him to your favorite tv shows and letting him teach you that stupid card game he loves so damn much. You’d even been starting to imagine that there might be something …

Clearly, you were wrong.

Now, you can’t even look at him without your throat closing up. It’s like you woke up a few weeks ago and he’s become an entirely different person around you, much more like he was at the beginning of your friendship, distant and cold.

He didn’t even tell you that he’d signed up for a transfer.

The mission call feels like your last chance.

A whole evening of teamwork and espionage, of him basically having no other choice than talking to you and finally telling you why the fuck he would get himself reassigned without even telling you beforehand. You could’ve hugged Fury for the opportunity.

That is, until you’re handed the file containing your fake identities for the op a few hours before you’re supposed to leave.

"You’re joking," you say as soon as you open the door.

"Great, you’re here as well," Steve says dryly. "Again, a) you both gotta learn how to knock, b) the whole thing wasn’t my idea or my decision, but I also think it’s the best directive for what you’re trying to do, and c) no, there’s no one else available for the mission. Anything I missed?"

Bucky deliberately doesn’t meet your eye, his arms still crossed as he stares Steve down with a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t even acknowledge you standing in the door, but his foot is doing the tapping thing again.

You purse your lips and join the staring.

Steve sighs, rubbing his temples with the palms of his hands. "Listen, you two work well together and I know these past few weeks have been … strained"—you almost laugh at that—"but it’s just one night."

"We need to pretend we’re married," you say. "How’re we going to pull that off if he can’t stand being in the same room as me?"

"I trust that there won’t be any issues." Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky as he says that, but of course he doesn’t get a reply. That would necessitate talking in your presence.

"One night," Bucky repeats through gritted teeth.

Not for the first time, there seems to be some sort of silent conversation between the two of them that you’re not privy to. You roll your eyes.

"I’ll see you later."

You leave with your back straight and without a glance over your shoulder, the door slamming shut behind you.

For a moment, you’re tempted to barge into Natasha’s office next, but you have a feeling like she’d just give you another one of her looks again, which really won’t better your mood. So instead, you slam another door and flop onto your bed, blankly staring at the ceiling for a while.

Surely, there’s some twisted sort of irony in this whole situation, but you’re not laughing.

Usually, before a mission, you’d get bagels together from the bakery around the corner. You haven’t done that in a while, but you’re still quietly begging your phone to show a new unread message when you look at the time however long later.

Instead, there’s just your lockscreen picture of Bucky’s grinning face that you can’t bear to get rid off, no matter how many times it stings you. It’s almost a year old, now, back when you’d taken him to go do your holiday shopping with you, insisting that "no one’s gonna recognize you, look at that great cap you’re wearing".

It’d started snowing halfway through the afternoon, and he’d kept reaching for your hand in order not to lose you in the crowd. You both gave up halfway through your list and just went to get coffee instead, strolling through Central Park and talking about nothing and everything.

That’s when you’d realized you'd been falling in love with him, laughing and fingers freezing around your paper cup, a strange new warmth spreading throughout your body.

You need to change your lockscreen.

***

Half an hour before pick-up, you leave your room with a duffle bag slung over your shoulder and almost run into Bucky. He’s leaning against the opposite wall like he’s been waiting for you, and it stings because that’s what he always used to do, back when you were still talking. When you could still pretend that maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren’t quite so hopeless.

Now, though, his easy smile is missing. Instead, an ever-present frown is furrowing his brows again, his mouth opened just a little, but nothing comes out.

"Look, I don’t want to do this any more than you do," you sigh. "But it’s a two-person job."

He nods, his tongue poking his cheek. "I know."

"Do you think you’re gonna be alright with us pretending we’re madly in love for a whole evening?"

Bucky’s jaw tightens. "I’ll be fine."

Of course he’s going to be fine.

You grab the strap of your bag more tightly. "I wish you would just tell me what I did."

"You didn’t do anything." If he’s telling the truth, though, why does he look so numb?

For a moment, you want to shout at him, cry, beg, make him tell you when and how this went wrong, but you don’t. You just stare at him in silence, hoping he’ll get it anyway, and he refuses to notice it.

"So," Bucky finally says. "You ready to get hitched?"

There’s the ghost of a grin in his eyes, and even though it’s not enough to mask the uncomfortable tilt of his shoulders, you sigh. At least he’s trying, you suppose.

"Let’s just get fake-married so we can fake-divorce and go our separate ways," you say, walking past him.

"I’ve got something for you."

You turn around again, raising your eyebrows as he holds up a ring between the fingers of his left hand. There’s a giant stone set in its center, striking and sparkling and not subtle in the slightest. Tony really went all out for appearance’s sake. Your fingers involuntarily tighten around the strap of your bag.

Bucky drops the ring in the palm of your hand.

"Quite the present," you chuckle nervously. You don’t even want to know how much this thing costs, and you feel like they're going to chop off your head if something happens to it.

"Try it on, then."

It’s a bit too large on your finger, and it feels foreign. It’s not you at all. Then again, it’s not supposed to be you.

Before you can say anything, though, Bucky shakes his head. "What?" you say with a roll of your eyes.

"That couldn’t look more fake if you tried. Wait a sec."

He turns his back towards you and rummages through his bag for a while, his jaw still set as he holds out his hand once more. With a sigh, you pull the ring off again and return it, but before you can pull your hand back, he catches it in his own.

This one slides onto your finger perfectly, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. It’s a lot subtler, with only a small emerald for decoration, but it’s so delicate and beautiful it takes your breath away.

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes, but he swallows whatever came to his mind. "That’s better," he says instead, and his voice sounds oddly rough.

"They gave you a backup?" you say, angling your hand this way and that to see how the gem catches the light.

"Mhm."

Something is off about this whole situation, but then you feel like you don’t really know Bucky anymore. Not like you used to, anyway. It used to be so easy to get a read on him.

You stand there in silence for a moment, and it’s only then that both of you realize he’s still holding your hand. He drops it immediately, and you pretend it doesn’t sting.

"How come you don’t get a ring?" you ask.

"Says who?" Bucky says, clearing his throat and activating the camouflage sleeve Tony had installed for his arm. Sure enough, there’s a ring on his hand as well.

You grab his hand curiously. When you touch it, there’s no difference between his fingers and the pseudo-platinum band, all of it just cool vibranium in disguise.

"It’s fake," you say. "It’s not the same."

"No," he agrees and pulls his hand away. "Looks real enough, though."

You notice the red splotches on his neck and wonder what it is that you’ve said this time, but it’s pointless anyway. He’s not going to tell you even if you asked.

Maybe you should be used to him icing you out by now, but it still hurts.

***

"Yes, Steve, I know," you sigh. "We’re just gathering intel, nothing else."

"I just wanted to have you say it again so we’re all clear. You both love taking risks when it’s not necessary."

"Alright, punk, we got it," Bucky says, tugging at his tie again.

You can’t even blame him for the nervous habit; you’ve been twisting your fake wedding ring around your finger for the entire drive.

This isn’t the first time the two of you had to go undercover as a couple; hell, it’s not even the first time you’ve pretended to be married. Usually, though, you could have a laugh about the whole thing together.

Now you barely know how to act around Bucky as yourself, let alone as some made up woman.

"I think we’re going to attract a lot of attention if we don’t get out soon," you say, readjusting the collar of your blouse underneath your coat.

You notice Steve staring at your hand for a moment, a frown between his brows, but his lips curve upwards a split second later. "Ready to do this?" he asks and you smile a little in confirmation.

Bucky takes another breath and then he nods curtly. "Let’s go."

The change that goes through him as soon as the two of you climb out of the car is so stark you almost turn on your heels again and beg Steve to let you off the hook, after all. His hand sneaks around your waist and pulls you closely into his side as you walk towards the hotel, all soft smiles and charm.

"Sorry for the holdup," he tells the bellman waiting next to your bags with a wink. "The missus and I just needed another minute."

You lightly slap Bucky’s chest in fake indignation. It’s quick thinking on his part, really.

When you’re checking in under your assumed names for the evening, he keeps his arm around you, and the content look stays in his eyes. A subtle glance at your surroundings tells you some of your persons of interest have already arrived early for the event tonight, looking around the sparkling lobby with the same feigned boredom.

Bucky nudges your cheek with his nose and then smiles again when you look at him. It makes your brain shut off for a moment.

When he looks at you like this, it’s so easy to forget the past couple of months and just pretend for a moment. What if there was no mission at all, and it could simply be the two of you?

But of course, that’s not possible. All of it is fake, including the way he looks at you. You know that.

So how come it doesn’t feel fake to you at all?

***

You hate this dress, you hate these people, you hate this dinner, and most of all, you hate how much you enjoy spending this much time so physically close to Bucky.

It feels so natural when he links your hand with yours, so fucking meant to be, even though he’s just putting on a show for the band of creeps you’re tasked to keep an eye on.

But damn if he’s not good at it.

It’s amazing, really, how his eyes immediately soften when you turn your head towards him, like you’re the only person in the whole room. He looks at you during this charade like you wish he’d look at you daily, even far from prying eyes around you; especially then. It makes your breath shorten, your heart pounding erratically because it thinks it’s getting everything it’s ever hoped for.

Hearts are often stupid like that.

A full night of glances and touches and the pretence of secret whispers will do all kinds of twisted things to your feelings.

There’s a lull in the conversation, and when Bucky squeezes your hand you realize he’s no longer the only one who’s looking at you.

You chuckle nervously. "I’m sorry, I got … distracted for a moment. What were you saying?"

"Ah, newlyweds," one of the investor goons laughs. He’s a particularly vile looking man whose suit is way too big on his spindly limbs.

Bucky, academy award winning actor in another lifetime, chuckles politely while the fondness in his eyes seems to increase tenfold. "We’ve been married three years, actually," he says, sticking to your official cover story.

It’d been Tony’s idea to keep your fake timeline as close to the truth as possible to avoid any slip-ups. It’s a great move on paper, really, but in reality it just adds another nail to the coffin.

Three years ago, you were on a mission in Brussels, only the second one ever where it was just the two of you. It was mostly surveillance, so one of you usually had downtime while the other kept lookout. It became customary that you’d entertain each other during those long hours, getting to know each other intimately for the first time, taking the first tentative steps towards the friendship you now share.

That mission was the groundwork of your falling in love with him in the first place.

"You seem to be doing something right if you’re both still so enamoured with each other," Spindly Arms says.

"I’m the luckiest guy in the world," Bucky responds, still looking into your eyes. "It’s hard not to do the right thing, then."

He presses a kiss to your cheek and you smile timidly. His lips linger for just a moment, and then he moves to whisper into your ear, something you’re sure looks like sweet nothings to everybody else but is actually a, "Don’t fall asleep on me."

You tilt your head, shove him teasingly as if he’d said something inappropriate, and because he’s always been quick to catch on he winks, obvious enough so that the other people that are part of this conversation can clearly see it.

It’s not long after this that you excuse yourselves, walking around the room with apparent aimlessness. Everything is sparkling with pure gold decorations and countless little twinkling lights that have been scattered around the room like millions of fireflies. You spot an actual orchestra right underneath the massive Christmas tree.

"Kind of tacky, don’t you think?" Bucky murmurs with a sideway glance at you.

"Maybe a little," you say.

The truth is, though, the room looks oversaturated and expensive and magnificent. Something straight out of a Hallmark movie, more like a movie set than a real place.

It’s the one thing that keeps this whole thing from being completely unbearable.

He must have seen the truth in your eyes, because he ducks his head and says quietly, "I’m gonna go check out the terrace."

You just nod and smile as he kisses your cheek again and then vanishes through the crowd with a few long strides. Sighing, you take another drink from the tray a waiter offers you, absent-mindedly rubbing your cheek.

"What a lovely surprise," a voice says next to you and you freeze for a moment before forcing yourself to calmly take a sip. "Miss … Winter, was it?"

"Mrs," you say with a pleasant smile. "Good evening, Director."

"Right, of course." Director de Fontaine eyes her martini warily. "I don’t suppose these olives are fresh, do you?"

Your mind is racing. If she’s here on official business, then your entire operation might be compromised.

"So," she continues, looking rather bored. "Met any interesting people yet, Mrs Winter?"

"Oh, yes," you say lightly, clinging to your role of unassuming young wife. "It’s all rather exciting."

"I’m sure. These kinds of events are all very … shiny." She looks into your eyes and there’s an almost explicit warning written in hers. "It’s surprisingly easy to get blinded."

You swallow heavily even as she smiles. "If you’ll excuse me, I think I see someone …"

You quickly walk over to the buffet table where some of the wives have formed a semi circle of gossip, trying your best to hide your sigh of relief when the director doesn’t follow you.

For a few minutes, you lose yourself in pointless gossip, until one of the women takes hold of your forearm.

"You must tell us, what’s your secret?"

"Excuse me?" you chuckle nervously.

"Your husband!" she exclaims, earning a few nods from some of the others. "He clearly adores you," she goes on. "I don’t think he’s looked away from you once since you joined us."

You steal a look around your shoulder. She’s right. Bucky’s gaze immediately locks with yours, an almost bashful grin on his lips. You caught me, his eyes seem to say, and you feel a rush of heat go through you.

He should be nominated for an Oscar with this performance.

Quickly, you turn around again to meet several expectant pairs of eyes.

"I don’t know what to tell you," you say. "He’s just … always been like this. I mean, he’s my best friend. I really don’t know what I would do without him."

There’s not a word of a lie in what you’re saying, and it elicits a round of coos and murmurs even as your heart gives a sharp pang.

"Dance with me?"

You flinch, turning to look at Bucky’s outstretched hand, at the sad, hopeful look in his eyes, and the line between reality and fiction blurs a bit more.

You take his hand, and he pulls you onto the dance floor, some cheery Christmas song ramping up to its big finale. Then, the band switches to a slower song. To you, it sounds mournful.

"That was nice," Bucky mutters into your ear. "What you said."

"I meant it, you know," you whisper, but he turns, and you don’t think he’s heard you.

Bucky places his hand on your hip and you hide a shudder. His gloved fingers wrap around yours, and then you start moving again.

You barely know the steps, but he’s a great leader, and he doesn’t say anything when you step on his toes. In fact, his gaze softens even more when he looks at you after the third time, the hand around your waist pulling you a little closer.

"How are you doing this?" you say without stopping to smile.

"Easy," Bucky says, and the way he says it almost makes you believe it’s true.

You bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from breathing him in. "I didn’t mean the dancing."

With the last note of the song, you stumble over his foot again and he snorts. "Me neither."

The melody changes and neither of you lets go. His steps are getting slower, smaller, like he’s just trying to keep both of you in motion. Your head is spinning. The twinkling lights are starting to blur into a great mass of stars in the background, like you’re at the center of a music box and everything else is just background noise.

You wrap both hands around his neck as you’re swaying, then, your foreheads only inches apart. You could stay in this moment forever, you think, as it stretches into blissful infinity. Somewhere, a clock strikes ten.

Bucky leans in a little closer and your breath hitches again.

"It’s time," he whispers, and your eyes fly open.

You’d almost forgotten about the mission.

"Val is here," you say quietly.

His expression hardens for just a second. "What?"

"She came to talk to me earlier. She knows we’re here."

"Why didn’t you say something?"

"I … There wasn’t time."

"We’re just gonna have to be quick and discrete."

You open your mouth, but then you see the distance close in again between you two, and so you just nod.

The plan is almost laughably simple, but it’s probably going to work out just as you’ve laid out beforehand. Everyone in the room has watched the two of you staring at each other for the past couple of hours, so no one bats an eye when Bucky nudges you gently and you make your way up the stairs to the fancy elevator that’s going to take you up to a bedroom.

Or, more specifically, to a bedroom that’s being used to store all kinds of evidence, but no one else needs to know that little detail.

You notice the director talking to Spindly Arms and a couple of other people, but you force your gaze not to linger on her. Instead, you grab Bucky’s hand more tightly.

He lets go of you as soon as the elevator doors close behind the two of you, dragging a hand through his hair and messing it up. There aren’t any cameras in the elevator, but you’re both pretty sure there will be on the floor you’re going. "CIA exposure, that’s exactly what we needed."

"There was nothing I could’ve done," you say, tugging your sleeves down your shoulders.

"I’m not blaming you, sweetheart," Bucky says distractedly, loosening his tie. Your heart makes a very heavy thud. "But if Walker shows up tonight as well, I’m gonna shoot first and ask questions later."

"No, you won’t," you say with a grin, mostly because you know he didn’t bring his gun because the male attendees were all frisked at the entrance.

"Maybe I’ll throw a knife. I could say it was an accident."

The conversation lasts barely a moment, but it reminds you so much of what the two of you used to be, it hurts.

You follow him stumbling out of the elevator onto the right floor with a breathless laugh. There’s no one in sight as you subtly check the room numbers before making him follow you with a coquettish smile for the security camera.

You find the right door without much trubble, pulling the keycard out of your inconvenient little handbag. "Come on now," you murmur as the lock rejects it at the first try.

Suddenly, Bucky’s hand is on your waist again, and you gasp as he spins around. The keycard drops to the floor.

He presses you against the wall, effectively trapping you in his embrace. Your hands are laid flat against his chest, his heart thundering madly underneath your fingertips. Bucky’s eyes flit around madly, like he’s trying to come up with something on the spot and, for the first time since you’ve known him, is left without ideas.

You gasp as his nose brushes against yours.

"Sorry," he whispers hoarsely. And then he kisses you.

Your body responds immediately, lighting a fire in your core as his lips press against yours, hungry, gentle, almost apologetic. You can taste the champagne on his tongue.

You arch your back against him on instinct as his hands travel down your arms, brushing your hips, your tighs, slowly parting your dress at the slit. Your eyes fly open the moment you realize what he’s doing, even though he swallows your gasp.

In one smooth motion, he pulls the I.C.E.R. out of the garter on your thigh and fires a single, silenced shot. The guy with the earpiece barely has the time to grunt before he sacks against the opposite wall, unconscious, his hand still in the pocket of his jacket.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing Bucky away from you. He stumbles slightly, the gun loose in his fingers. His eyes are almost black as he blinks at you. "You could have told me we’re being shadowed."

Bucky’s mouth is stained from your lipstick, and the sight of that alone makes your head swim. You can still feel the ghost of his hand on your leg.

"It’d have blown our cover," he replies, infuriatingly calm. "Hate me later, our window has just narrowed by a bit."

You swallow, blinking to try and gain control over your breath again, grabbing your gun back with a short nod. "Let’s finish this, then."

***

Back at the Compound, you both give an exhausted report about the events of the night, leaving out nothing but your improvised kiss on floor fifteen.

Your lips are still tingling with it.

Finally, you and Bucky are left alone in the briefing room, and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t just get up and leave as soon as the silence takes hold. Instead, you both sit next to each other, staring straight ahead.

"I guess we should talk," he says slowly, reluctantly, and you can’t help it.

Your defenses shoot up again.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say, squinting.

"Yes, you do." He’s lost the tie hours ago, but he keeps tugging at the fabric in his hands as if it could give him the words he’s looking for. "I shouldn’t have kissed you, not with … Not like that."

"Like you said, the guy would’ve blown our cover," you say, crossing your arms.

"Doesn’t make it right."

"What do you want me to say, Buck?" you say sharply. "That you should’ve talked to me before? Well, I’m kind of used to you not doing that anymore, so just forget it."

"Y/N—"

"No, really, it’s fine. Like I said, you’re leaving, anyway, so what does it matter. Didn’t tell me you were planning to do that, either. You just did it."

"You know why I’m leaving."

"No, I fucking don’t!" There are tears in your eyes now. "I have been trying really hard, Bucky, but you’ve just shut me out. I thought you needed space, which is fine, by the way, but you just—one day you decided you were done with me and that was it."

He stares at you incredulously. "You seriously don’t remember."

"Don’t remember what?!"

"That you were talking about me. To Natasha."

The memory rushes through you so violently it’s almost ridiculous you hadn’t thought about it in months.

You’d just come back from another undercover op, and you’d called her right as the door to your room had closed behind you because not for the first time, your feelings had threatened to spill over again.

"You should talk to him. Be honest."

"No, Nat, come on, I can’t—I can’t do that to him. I can’t risk … you know, he’s my best friend. And that’s all it can ever be. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I just wish he’d make it easier."

"You’re making excuses, you know. Both of you deserve a bit of happiness, don’t you think?"

"I tried," Bucky says now, barely looking at you. "I tried making it easier. But you’re so …"

"So what?" you ask hollowly, ignoring the fact that you can feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks now. "So pathetic? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? That’s why you asked for the transfer, so you can be rid of me."

"Rid of you?" Bucky starts, but you ignore him.

"You know what, Bucky, fuck you if you think my feelings for you are so much of an inconvenience that you need to leave the state. Silly me for thinking we could be adults about this."

"You’re the one who wouldn’t just tell me."

"Well, now you know anyway and I’m sure once you’re off to Cairo or wherever the fuck they’re going to send you, you can have a big old laugh about the stupid girl who fell in love with you despite the fact that—"

"Love?"

"I mean, obviously?!"

"You … you’re in love … with me?" There’s something very soft and vulnerable in Bucky’s eyes.

"Are we talking about two different phone calls?"

"I thought you hated me."

You huff incredulously. "Why would I hate you?"

"That’s why I gave you space, I thought … but then …" He grabs your hands. "Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for years."

It punches the air out of your lungs. "What?"

Bucky’s eyes are devastating as he looks at you, then. "I’m so sorry, I—I got it all wrong, I was just—I thought you know and you didn’t see me like that and that’s why I …"

"You …?" you say, still not quite comprehending what’s going on.

His thumb caresses your knuckles, halting when it makes contact with the ring you’re still wearing. "I'm in love with you," he says quietly.

"I don’t understand," you whisper.

"Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up completely."

This time, you’re the one to lean in.

Where your first kiss in the hallway had been feverish, this one is soft, almost unbelievably sweet, both of you still breathless with the fact that you’re allowed to do this. Finally, it feels like all the pieces are falling into place and you’re home again.

You press closer into him and Bucky smiles against your lips, pulling you in with his hands on your hips just like he did when you were dancing earlier.

The loudspeakers overhead crackle. "Alright, kids, we’re gonna break this up until you’re back in your own quarters, I don’t want to expose FRIDAY to the creation of your sex tape."

You break up with a snort.

"Fuck you, Tony," Bucky shouts, but he’s still smiling as wide as you’ve ever seen him do.

You giggle as you nudge your nose against his, curling your fingers into his hair. "That reminds me, you know."

"Of what?"

"Quick and discrete," you mumble, repeating his words from the hotel. "Title of your sex tape."

Bucky groans and shuts you up again.

(A few years later, you get the ring back.)

happy holidays, y'all 💛 thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

#sweet as sugar challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #almost believing

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