─── 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐛.𝐛 ───

I’m in love

Out Of Time MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Y/N Rogers got the healthier genes compared to her twin brother, Steve. But they both got an equal amount of stupidness and stubbornness. Due to this, she ends up helping in World War Two and waking up in 2008. Without anyone she knows. Y/N has to learn to survive in a different century while working with SHIELD. How will she survive in a different time without anyone she loves? Or will she find someone, but can’t figure out if they’re truly meant to be?

(The chapters aren’t perfectly organized. But I did split up the biggest chunks.)

TAGLIST INFORMATION

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THE EVE OF A CRUEL ANGEL'S THESIS

CHAPTER 2 : THE CLICHE OF THE DECEASED WIFE

Pairing : Mafia!Stucky x Reader

Summary : After years of absence, you were thought to be dead. But here you were, alive and ready to take everything that was yours, or you'd die trying. And this time, you would take both of them with you.

Warning : 18+ ONLY, Minor DNI, canon level violence, mentions of murder, guns and blood, soft!dark, angst, fluff, trauma (mental and physical)

A/N : the fact that i deleted all dialogue except one sentence to make it more emo ?? i have no business being this dramatic

The habit taken by both the mobsters over the five years of your absence all had something to do with you. Some believed that part of the grieving process meant getting back to normal, living as they used to but slowly incorporating small acts and element that reminded of the person they’d lost. They would slowly built their lives over the debris of their destroyed hearts, changing everything in their daily lives to mimic your presence. It was all fake, all of it, but it felt good.

For Steve and Bucky it was the same.

They slowly added elements of you into their lives, even more than what they had already. Slowly, everything they did had to do with you, you had them wrapped around your fingers even when you were gone. The ghost of you still looming over them, watching, controlling just like a puppeteer would.

They refused to believe that you were dead somewhere, possibly because of them. To them, you were alive and safe, somewhere hiding from them. This was the only explanation, the only one they’d take. Call it love, or maybe obsession, they needed to do this. For their safety and the safety of others. You were simply hiding from them to punish them for their sins.

At first it was more to preserve themselves that they had kept this habit, putting you in their lives as if you were still there. Fake it until you make it right ?

Here, they only hoped to survive.

It wasn’t about succeeding, they didn’t expect or want to succeed at anything. They wanted to live. They could never without you, it was simply impossible. Inconceivable even. So they lied to themselves. For the two first years of your absence, they had lied.

The lie had stopped after an additional night of going to sleep in a bed that lacked your scent. The sweet scent of vanilla, brown sugar, lemon and honey, all of it was gone. They’d buried their faces in the pillows, hoping for one last hint of you but all of it was gone now. They had gone above and beyond to keep the ghost of you for as long as possible but the lie could not go on any longer. Everything around made it clear now, you were gone and most likely to never return.

Steve had been the first to accept it, crying in silence while Bucky slowly got more and more violent. He had to watch as the man he loved, his best friend, a piece of him, slowly let it all out, the longing, the pain, the anger, all of it. The screams of pain that resonated in the house were nothing compared to the sound of them from up close. He hugged the man he loved for hours, begging for him to stop, begging for him to try and calm down, but it was impossible. Maybe it was a proof of his love for you, one last declaration before he let go.

James Barnes was not one to let himself be swallowed by his feelings, but he had no choice here. His only way out was to scream, to let his feelings explode and possessed him entirely. This was his only way of feeling you, grappling at the last bit of emotions he could remember from you. Everything that was left of you was gone, or at least everything non-tangible.

For hours they searched the house and gathered everything that you had left. They were certain that you would be back because everything you owned was here. It had actually made more sense for you to have been taken because everything was left behind. They knew you better than anyone and you never left without at least a few of the things you owned. You’d even left your promise ring here. You adored that ring, so why would you leave it behind ?

No matter what they did to you, you'd never leave your promise ring behind.

They’d been desperate to be relieved from the panic and pain from that day. The day you left.

As they both sat, completely silent and staring at the screen in front of them, they watched the last of what they had saved of you.

Pictures, audio recordings and videos, they watched it all, knowing it by heart but never feeling like they’d seen it all. It wasn’t enough, ever. They always needed to see more, to learn and understand more. Something had them convinced that in these videos and photos were hidden the secrets of your whereabouts. Maybe it was paranoia but it looked more like desperation than anything.

~

Running inside their home, they could already feel that something was wrong. The feeling of home, the warmth, your scent, it was dissipating in the air with each passing second. The house was cold, as if all the windows had been opened to let out something, to hide something. It was all so windy inside, you’d feel like the smell of the rain that poured outside would’ve spread inside but no. Nothing could hide this familiar scent they’d grown used to, a scent that symbolized the life they lived.

All around, everything smelled like blood, as if dozens of bodies were littered around the place and the smell of their rotting bodies had spread to engulf yours and make it all a memory. You were already fading in their lives, they could feel it.

We could raise that it was the blood that poured out of their own wounds or the rapid pace of their hearts, hammering so violently against their ribcage that it could be heard by anyone around. All these could be the factors that weighted the most in their current state, but they knew better. They knew something was wrong, it was evident. They could feel it trembling in their bones, their entire beings screaming for them to be quick, before it was too late.

They climbed the stairs, running and screaming your name in vain. They pleaded for you to reveal yourself, to make yourself known. They needed to know that you were still here, still with them. It took them an two hours to give up. You weren’t in the house and there was no point in wasting anymore time.

They sent a dozen different teams to look for you, search the entirety of New York and turn it all upside down. Anything that would give them an answer was good enough. Each flight, each train, each taxi and bus. They’d take anything to find you, losing you was never an option. They couldn’t accept it.

“You search all over New York. Every garden, forest, house. Everything that could be familiar to her, where she’d feel safe. You find her.” Had said Bucky, trying his best to maintain himself clear and composed.

To the normal eye, it would feel wrong. The two claimed to love her so deeply but one looked as frozen as ice while the other was absent. But Steve’s absence was enough of an answer to the curiosity of those who did not know better than to assume.

Steve was standing alone, in the room you three shared, holding a bloody cloth. Your scent coated the fabric as well as your blood. He could feel the mix between the heat of a piece of clothing freshly worn, and the freezing liquid.

His silence spoke a thousand words. Words of pure anger, betrayal, fear and desperation. These emotions he’d felt before felt new now, as he’d been reborn after you. Nothing could settle the heart of a men who’d managed to get a taste at unconditional love and acceptance after years of deprivation and self restraint. He’d kept himself and his heart safe by centering it on Bucky alone but you’d been a door to greater bliss and now that he had seen what was out there, he refused to go back in the darkness.

His grip on the piece of cloth was held tight enough to see his knuckles visibly turn white and the excess blood drip all over the skin of his palms.

Bucky stayed quiet, fist held tightly and teeth gritted together. The answer to the question he could feel ring inside his lover’s head stayed stuck in his throat, like a knot of tears threatening to jump out and explode. His only possibility was to hug the man he loved, hug him with all his might and try in vain to sooth the small shake of his large body. He was quickly rejected and watched Steve exit the room sadly.

He needed to find balance in the blond man, needed to remind himself that there was still a chance. Maybe you weren’t far, maybe you’d forgive and forget the events that preceded your disappearance. Maybe you’d be clement, generous and prove to them that you would love them no matter what. This was their hope. Because you had promised to love you with everything you had, no matter what.

But in the world they lived in, hopes were meant to be buried or they’d be crushed.

As the hours passed, the guilt and regret started to pile up over the rest. The exhaustion from the previous days, the bloody wounds and violent migraines. They were drained of life and devastated by the day’s discoveries. Nothing could save them, not even your presence, that could be felt as it slowly dissipated and disappeared with the last bits of your sweet scent and lingering warmth you

They’d lost you.

It took eight hours of search before each team concluded in the worst case scenario, you had disappeared. Above hope, true terror had made its way into their heart and grew each passing second. You could be dead just like you could be alive, but the latter was more probable. They knew the lives they lived and exposed you to, your death could be the only way but mourning was impossible. They couldn’t allow the thought of your death to cement itself in them. They refused to grieve and to move on, so they lived with your shadow looming over them.

Is This An Easter Thing?

Rating: Mature (18+ only)

Pairing: Backstage Pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x f!reader

Words: 500

Warnings: Sex toy, Bucky and Steve being competitive and oblivious

A/N: Written for this anon ask: Hello!! I know it’s kinda late, but can you do a backstage pass Easter head cannon where princess hides an Easter egg that Bucky and Steve have to find. After turning the whole bus upside down she finally starts giving them hints. Eventually they realize she hide it in her and they have to eat it out 🥵🥵

If you like it, please give it a reblog! Your friendly neighborhood smut peddler loves that shit!

Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

Bucky’s eyeing you suspiciously, and Steve just looks confused.

“An egg?”

“Yes, Bucky. An egg.”

Steve frowns, “Is this an Easter thing? Because it’s not Easter anymore…”

“And why one egg?” Bucky asks. “I mean, who hides just one egg?”

“I do. Now shh. Listen,” you pause, slowly and deliberately you count five beats of silence in your head, “are you listening?”

They both shrug. “We hear you. Obviously,” Bucky says with an eye roll.

“You hear me, but you aren’t listening. SHH,” you repeat yourself with exasperation, “LISTEN.”

Another measured five count ticks by. Still, they just look at you expectantly.

You sigh, “Okay then. So there’s an egg hidden somewhere on this bus. You find it, you get the prize.”

You flop down on the couch, and watch them ransack the bus, completely absorbed in the “contest.” Normally they’d have easily noticed the sweat dotting your forehead, the way your breath hitches, or the buzzing noise coming from your guts.

The sound would be imperceptible to anyone else, but Bucky and Steve should easily have been able to hear it.

But they’re too focused on competing right now. It’d make you laugh if you could focus on anything but the vibrating egg inside your pussy.

Just thinking about it makes your breath catch in your throat. You squirm in place, clenching your thighs together to get some pressure, some friction on your aching clit.

Bucky is in the middle of pulling Clint’s mattress out of the frame when his head shoots up, like a wolf scenting some particularly tasty bit of prey.

Which is, in essence, what has occurred.

His nostrils flare, and he cocks his head. Standing stock still, he rumbles at Steve, “Shut up a second, man.” Bucky draws in a long, slow breath and holds it, head bowed in concentration, his face hidden by the curtain of his long hair.

“I hear something… What is that?” Steve looks around curiously.

Bucky’s blue eyes are intense when his head snaps in your direction. “You,” he growls, the word rumbles out of his throat, and goes right to your cunt.

He stalks toward you, skidding to his knees at your feet. Your pants are shredded and you’re on your back with his fingers inside of you before you can even gasp his name. He hooks the tail of the toy, and pulls it out of you slowly.

Steve gasps, “Oh, that’s a dirty trick, doll!”

“I told you everything you needed to know,” you moan, “you two were too busy competing with each other to listen.” They both look down at the little black egg, shiny with your juices, and humming loudly in the open air. “See?”

“You’re just mad you lost, Stevie,” Bucky gloats. “What’d I win?”

“You get to use it on me.” Before you even finish the thought, he’s shoving it back inside of you, and chasing it with his tongue.

Steve pouts, “What about me though?”

You groan deeply, “You get to watch.”

If you liked it, please smash that reblog button so other readers can find it too!

would you do a fic for "to love" au with chris evans about one of their kids walking in on them having sex

Pairing || woc!reader x chris evans.

Summary || one of the kids walks on you and chris having an intimate morning.

Genera || fluff with slight smut

Warning || smut stuff, minors don’t interact please.

To love masterlist

Kofi

you felt him hovering over you both of his hands are on each side of you supporting him. He nuzzled his face into you neck breathing you in before giving you sweet kisses.

His lips brushed across every inch of your skin, leaving a couple of love bites on your collarbone. He licked the columns of you neck from you jaw till between your collarbone “baby..” you moaned.

upon seeing you starting to wake up he kissed your lips “the kids won’t wake up till noon” he told you between kisses before you hold his face between your cold hands pulling him away to breathe.

“Hurry up then” you told him before kissing him back again, you felt him pressing against you, growing harder with each kiss. His hands moved to grab your breast before nipping on your cold skin.

One of his hand moved on top of your panties teasing you a bit “Please chris” you moaned again wanting him to do something rather than teasing you.

Before he can respond to you the door of your bedroom opened revealing your daughter marlyn “mom where’s the- OH MY GOD”

you immediately parted from each other trying to cover up your bodies with the blanket. She pushed the twins out not wanting them to see their parents having sex.

“What do you want baby” you asked Marlyn who’s been glaring at her dad.

“I couldn’t find the pancakes mix” she told you now her eyes are facing the floor feeling embarrassed.

“Okay we will be there” you replied and she immediately closed the door,

You turned to him “seriously? they won’t wake up till noon?”

“I didn’t know those little shits will be awake at-“ he looked to the clock beside him then back at you “-ten in the morning!!”

“You owe me an orgasm” you glared at him and continued calmly “I’m just glad it wasn’t Marcus, my baby won’t handle it” you were relieved that it wasn’t your oldest boy, it wasn’t fair for your daughter or chris but that their problem.

You wore your robe and headed downstairs to the kitchen after brushing your teeth and washing your face. Leaving the room for chris to shower.

“Okay what do you want guys” you saw all of your kids except Alicia and lucas who were heavy sleepers and won’t be awake till two afternoon.

“Oh god I can’t unsee it” your daughter said slamming her head to the counter.

“Stop being dramatic, it was barely anything” you replied while taking the mix out of the drawer. You looked at your twins playing with each other “they didn’t see anything?”

Marlyn nodded “ i need to go shopping so i can forget”

Your husband came in “please i need to forget too”

Marlyn looked at him unbelieving “you were having the best of your time what you want to forget about???”

“Baby calm down, i’ll take you out shopping and we will forget about it” you told her smiling.

“That’s what you get when you don’t know your manners” Marcus interfered. You smiled at him warmly. He’s right not because he’s your favourite but if she knocked this won’t happen. “Shut up” marlyn told him covering her face.

“No he’s right, it won’t kill you to knock on the door” Chris told her.

She looked at him for a couple of seconds like they’re in staring contest. They’ve been like this since she was young, always competing with each other.

“I’m just here to inherit your money” she told him before taking the biscuits in front of her and head to her room.

“She reminds me of someone” he said looking around.

you and your son looked at each other sharing a look before looking at him “yeah you”

Everywhere You Want to Be

Everywhere You Want to Be: A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count:  1862

Rating:  E

Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo​ - Wade Wilson

Warnings: Smut (MF, oral sex, vaginal sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism)

Synopsis: Every time you and Bucky try to get close, Wade is already there.  Eventually, you decide if he really wants to watch that badly, you might as well let him.

Everywhere You Want to Be

Wade Wilson was everywhere you wanted to be.  It was like he had an innate sense of when you and Bucky were about to get a little too frisky in a public area and there he would be.  He would walk in on the two of you while you were kissing in the hall.  If Bucky was cooking and you came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, just as you started to nibble the shell of Bucky’s ear, Wade would appear and ask what was for dinner.  One time the two of you were making out on the couch and he came into the room and just dived on top of you both.  It was like he had a sixth sense for foreplay.

You had started to tick down the days before Wade went back out into the world and was no longer staying with the Avengers. Not that you disliked him.  He was pretty entertaining really. Especially when he started talking to people who weren’t there like you were on some kind of television program, but you really just wanted to be able to kiss your boyfriend and him not interrupt.

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Collateral -- JJ Maybank (Part One)

Masterlist

Summary: JJ’s stunt with Barry bites him in the ass when the angry drug dealer kidnaps you and decides you’re JJ’s collateral for the stolen money.

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, angst, mentions of child abuse and drug use

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!Routledge!reader

Word Count: 4,800+

A/N: I started writing this after binge-watching Outer Banks, and before I knew what was happening, I had written 20 pages of this and hadn’t even gotten to the climax… So, this has clearly been broken up into parts. I have part two already finished, and I’m almost finished with part three, but I’m not uploading them tonight because I want this to see the light of day first, and gain some love before I do anything. Please let me know what you guys think of this! I know there isn’t a lot of mushy-feely stuff in this chapter, and it’s mainly angst but, I had so much fun writing this, so please give it a chance and tell me what you think. Also, it’s canon divergent because I tweaked the DCS storyline and everything after John B. finds the first gold bar.

|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Final Part|

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I Am Your Fall.

Mob!Bucky x Ex-Spy!Reader

Run-through: You’re hiding from your past, in Madripoor. You did nothing wrong, other than mix dangerous business with a lot of pleasure. You couldn’t go home because… he would find you and Madripoor was the only place he didn’t do business, or had any allies or friends. But little did you know that the mob boss had finally found you after obsessively looking for you ever since you left, and left him in pieces. He didn’t want revenge, he just wanted the one thing he had hopelessly fallen in love with; who also happened to be the one who had betrayed him and hurt him more than anyone or any bullet ever did before - you. 

Themes: mob!bucky, smut, angst, fluff, Ex-Spy!Reader, slight daddy kink, guns

“The usual?” 

You nodded at the man in front of you with a faint smile as you took a seat at the bar. You kept the hood of your jacket up as you let out a quiet sigh. Moments later the bartender placed a glass half filled with whiskey and ice in front of you.

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Hi babyyyy. Congrats on the followers! I have a drabble request. How about Winter Soldier!Bucky being given a pet while in Hydra due to him listening to his orders and he decides to mark her with his knife. Could be his initials or perhaps something in Russian. Arm, leg, chest, anywhere he wants to make it known that she is his 💖

The Deep, The Dark

Pairings: Winter Soldier x Reader

Warnings: knife play, Hydra being trash, allusions to assault, dark!fic (due to overall subject matter), soft!dark Winter Soldier (he's going through a lot), pet play

Word Count: 1.5k

This is a dark fic. 18+ only.

A/N: sorry this took me so long to do. was part of my 1k follower celebration that has long finished haha. thank you for your patience. gif by me aka @steve-kemp

Pain. A novel concept. Not one that the Soldat was afforded while being Hydra’s fist.

But as he made his way back to base, the Soldat couldn’t help but feel the ache that was blooming in his side where a bullet had grazed his skin in a clean slice.

He was becoming self-aware, emotional indifference dissipating.

Recalibration required. Asset malfunctioning.

The Soldat continued to do as he was told.

He didn’t know why; he didn’t know many things.

Whenever he tried to think any different, his brain went fuzzy with a sharp sparking pain, a cinder burning in the back of his mind that distracted him from any natural function.

“Put his brain back in the blender.”

“Compliance will be rewarded.”

“Take it deeper, Asset.”

“Be good, and we’ll give you a gift.”

His Handlers said things he didn’t understand. But weapons didn’t need to understand. They just need to point and shoot. Slash and stab. Sit and take whatever was given to them.

His legs moved of their own volition, muscle memory leading him to the same room he always went to after an assignment.

The Soldat stared at the greyed concrete wall of the debriefing room as if it would grow a face and begin speaking to him. For some reason, he imagined the face to have blonde hair and a warm smile.

Another successful mission.

Another evening of watching the paint peel from the wall, decaying like his mind as his body began to heal the damage done during the mission and his last wipe.

Thoughts were starting to come back. And that meant he was going back in the chair.

The Soldat shivered at the blazing memory, as if the electricity was coursing through him already.

He didn’t want to be put back in the chair.

Want? The Soldat wasn’t meant to want. Weapons don’t get to want things.

“Mission report,” his Handler, the man he knew as Rumlow, commanded.

“Hey Rumlow, want to see the new trick I taught the Asset?”

As his Handler flipped through his case notes, he failed to notice the wildness in the eyes of the man before him as the Soldat spiralled deeper.

He felt as if he was falling into a desolate dark pit, spirits flowing past him, each providing him with a reminiscence or thought he didn’t understand. There were faces he didn’t recognise, landscapes he didn’t remember.

“You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”

The Asset exhaled, swallowing the bile rising in his throat as he desperately tried to ground himself. It was all too much. Too many memories. Too many people speaking words he didn’t understand.

“Target eliminated near Odessa. Nil civilian casualties. One possible hostile fled, not mission critical. Minor injury sustained. Asset still in working condition.” The Soldat’s words sounded stunted, practised. Because they were.

But his Handler could hear it. The slight waver to his voice. The pitch a little too high.

His Handler sighed, closing the manila folder before crossing his arms.

“Rollins, get him wiped.”

When the Asset was returned to his cell, it had changed.

Instead of a small cot, there was a proper bed and a set of clothes and towels. It was still cold, dark and damp, but it was improved.

The Soldat walked in hesitantly, unsure why he had been given something different. He didn’t remember it being like this, not that he could remember much. But he knew that Hydra did not give without an ulterior motive.

As he breached the threshold of the room, a soft floral scent entered his senses, a sniffle sounding from the corner of the room.

The Asset’s gaze turned to the girl hiding in the corner, frame curled up in the low light. She was shivering from the cold, the concrete walls and floor icy.

Civilian. Nil threat. Do not terminate.

“A pet for you, Asset. A gift from the Director for your compliance and another successful mission, an incentive to continue doing well.”

The Soldat blinked. He’d done a mission? Everything before the chair was like static on a… well, he didn’t know what made static, but something told him that electronics did.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if we could afford a television, Buck?”

“Keep dreamin’, punk.”

The Asset watched the girls form, studying her as her eyes met his. She looked at him as if he was the grim reaper, metal arm glinting in the light, matted hair shadowing his features as his body was clad in leather and kevlar.

With slow steps he approached her, ignoring her whimpers as he neared her. It was evident to the Asset the girl had not been well taken care of, a prisoner, much like himself. Bruises littered her body, and there were noticeable marks from where blood had been constantly drawn.

“You should be glad you’re worth more than a lab rat, Asset.”

He stopped a few steps away, squatting down to look at her properly.

She was undeniably stunning, and there was something about her that felt homely, comforting. Something the Asset hadn’t felt in a very long time.

The Asset’s head tilted to the side, brows furrowing slightly. Her appearance alone was like sunshine and birdsong, but the little sounds she made him want to touch her even more.

His hands had been used for blood and gore for so long it was almost foreign that there was anything else he could experience.

Cautiously, as if a child unsure, the Asset reached out and ran his flesh fingers over the skin of her arm.

Soft.

As if she was no more than a doll.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Her voice was meek and weak, the picture of pureness. She almost sounded hopeful. The Asset’s expression hardened as consideration flowed through him.

This girl was his pet. And pets need to be looked after, protected. He would never kill his pet.

Without answering her question, the Asset picked her up with ease, ignoring her protesting squeaks as he took her to the bed.

He liked that she didn’t fight him, her will already broken by Hydra.

She felt warm against his chest, and it made something shift in the Soldat’s mind.

It was as if his limbs moved on his own as he placed her down, delicate fingers running over her body as he explored her. Tears were running down her cheeks now as she closed her eyes, but the Asset didn’t pay much attention to it as he just felt her.

It has been so long since he’d been near another living human being, one that he didn’t have to kill. She would stay warm; he would make sure of it. The Asset didn’t like cold things.

His fingers stopped on her left arm, looking at the unmarred skin where in comparison his adorned a large red star.

The red star meant he was owned, a ghost in the machine that was Hydra.

And so, if he owned her, should she not have her own version?

Deft fingers pulled his ka-bar knife from its holster, the Asset’s eyes not leaving the skin of the girl’s arm as he twirled it between his fingers instinctually.

The pet’s sniffles turned into hiccupped sobs as the Asset brought the knife to her arm, her body trembling his hold.

But even with her slight convulsions, the Asset easily gripped her arm with his metal hand, stabilising her as he prepared for his next mission.

A mission he was choosing for himself.

The screaming started as soon as the Asset brought the knife to her skin, using clinical precision to skilfully carve lettering into his pet’s arm, movements not shaking or faltering for a second.

It was over as soon as it started, blood trickling down onto the bed as the Asset pulled away, content with his work.

The girl looked at her arm, gasping as she looked at the way ‘Солдат’ had been marked into her skin. Her body was branded with an ownership that ran deep, an inescapable bond.

But as the Asset looked at her, despite her tears, she didn’t seem afraid of him. There was an understanding in her eyes when she looked at him, cheeks shining with the wetness of initial anguish.

If the Asset didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was happy to have her there. But the Asset knew that happiness came at a price he couldn’t afford.

Happiness required freedom, something he knew he would never have.

But at least he had something of his own now. A pet to bring him comfort.

The Asset wrapped his arms around her, lying down so she could nuzzle her face into his chest. It was a perfect fit, as if it was meant to be.

He knew she would be in pain. He was too. But in that moment, it was serene.

The silence was broken as the Asset spoke unprompted for the first time in years.

“Teper' ty moy shchenochek.”

Now you are my puppy.

The Asset didn’t feel alone anymore.

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THE EVE OF A CRUEL ANGEL'S THESIS

CHAPTER 1 : The threat of the hurricane

Pairing : Mafia!Stucky x Reader

Summary : After years of absence, you were thought to be dead. But here you were, alive and ready to take everything that was yours, or you'd die trying. And this time, you would take both of them with you.

Warning : 18+ ONLY, Minor DNI, canon level violence, mentions of murder, guns and blood, soft!dark, angst, fluff, trauma (mental and physical)

A/N : hope y'all will enjoy this story, it's about to be a ride :) let's just hope i don't stop it earlier

The cycle never stopped. Since you left, the cycle of torture that repeated each and every night, ripping away their time to rest and to feel peace for once. Their nights had been plagued by your absence, reminding him of your absence and the mistakes they’d made.

Waking up in cold sweat, shaking against each other and freezing under their heavy covers, they clawed at each other’s skin, the sensations they felt that night fresh in their memories despite the years that had passed. Everything was still raw, still too recent. Nothing would make the wounds heal, not even time or therapy. Nothing could fix them, not when they’d been the masters of their own demise, the key element to their pain. One could even raise that they’d hurt themselves entirely on their own.

These nights brought out a sickening feeling of longing and desperation born from your absence. How could one singular being be so contingent to another’s happiness ? How was it that after years of giving up on finding love they’d found you and you, with a touch as soft as a feather, managed to turn their world around ? Making them spin so fast that each step you took towards them made their palms sweat and their faces heat up.

You made grown man feel like teenagers in love.

The dreams plagued their nights and made themselves so alive that physical pain was the only way for them to get back to reality. Pain so intense that the bloodstains on their sheets were now common and impossible to give up on. Each night for the last five years, the nightmare would change, a Russian Roulette wheel of the worst days of their lives replaying non stop. Awake or asleep there was no difference when they’d suffocate either way without you.

This one nightmare, though, it was different. This nightmare, the one that kept them paralyzed, came from a good memory. One of their best memories of you actually, the last happy one they shared with you. The last day before the hurricane came and ruined it all.

They could see you, hear you, feel you. The tender touch of your fingers on their bare skins, waking them up from a long night of shared passion and love. They remembered it all, your fingers on their hair, their own hands all over you. They gripped, kissed, sucked and bit on everything they could, as if it would be the last time before they could do it again, or ever again. They’d been played by their own intuition in a way. Their entire souls screaming for you to be cherished before you disappeared. Could it be that they’d unconsciously prepared their own pain ? It was by their own hands but never planned. How could they plan to hurt you this badly ? And selfishly, to hurt themselves this badly ?

The sound of your voice was still fresh in their mind. They could hear it clearly, the way you whispered their names in a soft laugh that made their hearts leap. The sound of pure bliss that echoed out of you was what hurt the most, what broke them from inside. Because your love was like no other but they still found power in themselves to play with it.

Remembering how you’d moan their names in a whisper, how your body would find itself pushing towards theirs and rub all of your naked parts on theirs. They remembered your hands, your nose, your lips around their necks, grazing them and bringing out sounds that no one should ever hear from them. They could hear their own blood travel around their body and expose them to you. They’d been vulnerable with you and would be again if they ever had the chance, show you how deeply they’d missed you, how desperate they were to scream their fears to you instead of letting themselves be driven into the dark and down the wrong path.

Wishing was an easy thing to do, even more when it was your last resort. The men who had it all could only wish to find you again. But would they truly be different ? Or would they even try to be different ? They had changed, became colder, meaner after you’d left. You were a compass to them, guiding them towards more light. But they had no compass anymore, only a few friends that could lead them towards a better brighter solutions and not the meaningless kill. The killings had skyrocketed after your disappearance. Ruthless was not sufficient to describe them now. All that could be concluded was that they were not the men you’d loved, these men were gone, they’d left with you.

~

Incapable of sleeping any longer, they’d woken up and started the day early. About four hours earlier than expected.

With the lack of sleep came the terrible mood, and terrible was an understatement. The terror that spread through the gigantic house they owned was to be felt from miles away. They were in the worst mood ever and made it clear than anyone looking to cross them today would not see tomorrow.

By noon, three of their men were already dead, killed on sight, a bullet of their own personal guns piercing their forehead. The cockiest ones were always the first ones to leave this world. No apology was needed for disrespecting them. They’d been generous and not force you through a public humiliation. You’d simply pay with your life.

Nothing could calm them down and nothing would, not when they refused the help that could be given to them. Therapy would do nothing but annoy them more, and bringing up the idea when the day had barely started and seemed to be headed towards a bloodier end for whomever was bold enough.

By 2PM, the sixth kill had already happened and it was time for a necessary intervention from one of the few who’d manage to get away with just about anything.

As Sam Wilson walked into the building, his regular smirk on his face, the tense atmosphere slowly dissipated. Everyone that saw him walk in let out a breath of relief. Maybe the killings would stop for the day. Maybe for the week if they were lucky.

As soon as he entered their office, he shook his head in disapproval. The image of both man lazily sitting at their desks, looking off to the distance, it was common for him. He was used to it, a vision so regular that he had stopped asking if they were okay. For five years, the response had been the same, and so had been the threats that would follow.

“6 kills. 6 fucking kills and it’s 2:26 only. You wanna explain that ?” Ask the man as he sat down on a seat to face both.

Steve was the first up, standing to his full height and walking to the tray counting various bottles of expansive liquor. Half these bottles were empty and the others close to it. It was common to drink one glass, once in a while, but Sam knew better. He’d bought two of these bottles himself, less than a month ago. It was amazing to not see these two collapse because of alcohol poisoning already.

Sam Wilson had seen you and been your friend for a while when you were still present. He’d been the first one to treat you like you were your own person (which you were) and not some grand, magical being who had managed to steal the hearts of the two coldest men in the world. You’d succeeded and made them feel all over again, after years of only relying on each other for love, honesty and passion. It was you and no one else.

The drinking was one of the few things they’d slowly got better at, letting go of it when you weren’t around. They only wanted you to see their drunk selves. You’d see them and take care of them, while giving them the usual lecture. All of it was worth it though, the love you felt was real and so was theirs. All of it was real. So why did it all have to go so wrong ?

Pouring himself a drink that was clearly too full to be healthy, Sam watched as his long time friend took a sip before walking back to his seat, presenting the glass to his lover before sitting down by his side. The brunette twirled the amber colored liquid in the glass before chugging it. He threw the empty glass to the floor, not sparing it a single glance when it shattered and spread around the room.

Sam wanted to laugh at their behavior, less amused and more in disbelief. He was surprised to see how audacious both men seemed to be despite the true rundown of the events had led to their pain.

“Sam, you’re our friend and we value you. But don’t think that because we care about you in some way you can demand explanations from us. We control this entire territory, you answer to us.” Said the blond man, looking at him with a stern eyes.

“Oh cut the bullshit power trip Steve.” Chuckled the friend.

The black man stood up to spin his chair and sit with his chest facing the back of it. The knowing smile stretching his lips contrasted with the blank expressions both the men facing him seemed to carry. He had his own reasons to look so happy while they looked miserable. He had been right the whole time and swore they’d regret not listening to him. Now, they hadn’t even listened to you at the time so it was to be expected at least.

“Do you even see yourselves ? What the fuck happened to you both ? This isn’t the men I became great friends with and it certainly isn’t them men she lo-“

Before he could finish his sentence, he was stopped by a gain aimed at him, pointing straight towards his forehead. The sound of a chair falling had followed a little after and then the sound of the safety came. A common following of events, not different from the usual, the common trend since you’d disappeared. The only difference is that unlike the puny men who followed their orders like lap dogs, Sam had been given a chance. Or, to be correct, he’d been given the win.

“Don’t fucking say a single word. Or you’ll end up in a body bag too.” Snarled the brunette through gritted teeth.

“Oh really Buck ? You’re gonna kill me ? When you emptied all your bullets in that last man of yours ? Come on now, you’re getting sloppy. Might wanna lay off the booze there Buckaroo.” Chuckled Sam, walking away from the metal armed brunette.

“You know what’s funny about this whole thing ?” Asked Sam, smiling softly at the couple. “This could’ve been avoid. Had you listened to the people who had surrounded you for as long as you could remember and who had seen you grow into this world and into who you were, she’d still be here. And that’s why I’m still alive. That’s why Nat is still alive, and same thing for Tony. Because you know that unlike the lousy pieces of shit that talk shit about her, we’re not wrong. We know what happened and so do you. You know and it eats you alive. The knowledge that you brought this all on yourselves is killing you. And you’re going to make it everyone’s problem until you find her or until you get killed stupidly. The latter being the most likely.” Says the man nonchalantly. He had been repeating and saying these words for a while now and he’d never cease to repeat them.

Maybe it was extreme cockiness of unhealthy habits, but he expected this one, a bullet being fired and piercing through the room to be stopped by the wall. Sam had dodged, a simple move the side, not even his whole body, just his head. It was enough. He kept walking away, slowing pacing around the room and throwing a look at the gaping hold in the wall, marking of a bullet, regularly piercing this exact spot. It was just jokes and taunts but Sam was right, Bucky had gotten sloppy, or he was simply accepting the fact that he’d lost this battle and would keep on losing it.

You’d been like a little sister to him and he would make sure to torment them with as much deserved truth as possible.

Walking back to his things, Sam pulled out a manila envelope out of his coat and slammed it on the desk, in front of Steve. The man looked as if he was being tortured by his own thoughts, to out of it to pay attention or maybe trying his best to seem unbothered when the dark thoughts crossing his mind where so easy to read.

Looking off to the distance, both men stayed silent, processing the words and letting them sip into their being. They were the same, all the time. The order and tone might change from time to time but the meaning was always the same : it was all on them. We could argue that other factors played a big a part in the events leading to your disappearance, but the biggest one was them and it was undeniable.

His eyes dropped to the envelope before looking up to Sam who gestured for him to open it. Quickly opened, a file was inside. It contained various pictures, receipts and other documents kept only by the highest of the highest members of the mob, only accessible to the ones in control. These documents could only be accessed by a few and Sam was one of them.

Steve pulled out two prints of the same map but with different notes added to it. His interest in the document was shared by his best friend who got closer to the desk and took a look at all the others. Sam pointed to specific points on the maps, a grave look on his face.

“See this ? This was your estimated territories three months ago. And these are the same territories as of last week. You see how significantly smaller it is ? How much potential place you’re losing ? All the deals you were about to close ? That’s because somebody’s stealing all your allies. You’re losing both space and men Steve. And with our estimations, you’ll have nothing by the end of the year.”

For the first time since he’d been here, Sam could see the couple show emotions. More than annoyance but less than rage, both seemed to settle for anger, the kind that could only come to those of a certain standing in society. The kind of anger that only those in power could feel. Because standing on top of the pyramid were both Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes. And someone bellow them, daring enough to play a game that always ended with them winning and the opponent dying, was trying. More than trying, they were succeeding, taking multiple territories from them and all that right in front of them.

This was the beginning of a war. Someone was audacious enough to start a war against them. Audacious or stupid, maybe tired of living, it didn’t matter.

“Do you know who’s behind this ?” Asked Bucky, a frown on his face as he kept staring at the pieces of paper.

Sam searched through the file, pulling out a small note, hand written neatly but bare, with no envelope.

“This was dropped with the head of one of your man. No software recognizes the writing and we can’t find any prints on the paper.”

Dropping a piece of paper on the desk, it looked nothing like any kind of indication but it was. A simple piece of paper torn off the corner of a random sheet, the words written on it could never be misunderstood, not in this world.

“Where was the head dropped ?”

“At the bar’s doorstep. We had to close early so that Natasha could get to work and try to figure something out. We’re losing profit from staying close. This is more important than some turf war. Read it yourself.”

Pointing at the piece of paper, the words were clear.

Hope you won’t mind the new neighbor. Just trying to get settled, might take a little space too. You know, to bring back a little bit of equality around here. Might also have a little change in management. Feels like it’s time for you both to get knocked out of that throne you’ve been sitting in.

“You’ve got bigger things to worry about. There’s a newcomer on their way and they’re getting closer to the center. They’re getting closer to you. I said it would take about six months for your whole territory to be taken over. It’ll take less for whoever the fuck that new boss is to get Brooklyn. So get your head out of your ass and get ready. There’s a storm coming and you’re not going to win if you keep this up.”

~

Warnings were always good, always. Being warned of the hurricane that threatened the peace of the nice villagers was the way to save everyone, to survive. This was how you lived, by preparing for what was to come, by getting ready to fight whichever battles were sent to take you down.

But how would you survive a threat that was already there ?

Watching from afar, a strawberry flavored lolipop between your lips, you observed, assessed, analyzed. Letting the wind blow through the holes of your baggy jeans and all around your lightly covered body, you felt out of place here. This all looked so fancy and proper, far from what you’d chose to wear.

It didn’t matter anyway. You’d have it bend to fit you and not the other way around, not anymore.

This was your new routine, your new life. The mob had known you before, they had played you before. And something was telling you that they were not prepared in anyway for the hurricane. The villagers would have to learn to let go of their peace.