I am Groot: Two

Summary: When you and Peter Quill started dating, nobody expected Groot to be so attached to you.
Word Count: 1,512
Warnings for series: Fluff, language, light angst, implied smut, possibly more to come as series continues.
Author’s Note: Who can resist baby Groot? I know I can’t.

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

Thunderstorms, you could handle. Hell, you had survived the terror of several tornadoes during your childhood. But meteor showers were different, while in space, that was. Peter was a great pilot, as was Rocket, but this particular storm took both of their piloting talents. Even then, it was a very turbulent ride.

You couldn’t handle being in the cockpit any longer, your stomach was pitching around, much like the ship you were stuck in. With Groot holding tight to your hair, you stumbled out of the cockpit and down to the room you and Peter shared.

“I am Groot?” he asked, his voice tight.

“I’ll be okay,” you assured him. You dropped to the bed and kicked off your shoes before reaching up to your shoulder.

Groot hopped into your palm at the exact moment that the ship rolled to its side. Acting quickly, your other hand shot out, making sure he didn’t fall off as you tumbled off the bed, landing on the metal floor, your hip screaming in agony.

Groot pushed out from between your hands with a little grunt. “I am Groot!”

You gave a heavy groan as you tried pushing off the floor. “Son of a bitch,” you ground out through your teeth.

“I am Groot?” His small hand was on your chin and he was peering up at you with wide, caring eyes.

“I can’t get up.” Pain took hold of your voice, making it thick and gritty. You kept trying to push up, but your leg was tingling too badly.

With a serious look, Groot gave a nod. “I am Groot.” And with that, he tore out of the room as fast as his little legs could carry him. You called out after him, telling him to come back, that it was too dangerous for him to be out there right then. You should have known better, he was too damn stubborn.

“Just like his dad,” you grumbled to yourself.

Still not ready to give up, you maneuvered your other leg beneath your body, turned to your stomach, and pushed up with both hands. You had just gripped the edge of the bed when Groot returned, perched on Drax’s shoulder.

“Y/N,” Drax’s voice boomed throughout the room. “What are you doing on the floor?”

You couldn’t help the frustrated laugh that burst out. “I thought it would be a nice change of scenery.”

“The floor is dirty,” he noted. “Probably has not been cleaned since we were on Xandar.”

“I am Groot.” He sounded extremely disappointed in Drax.

“She does not require assistance. You heard her, she is enjoying the scenery,” Drax droned on.

You let go of the bed and rolled to your side with a low and heavy groan. “Damn it, Drax. Help me!”

Groot jumped onto the bed as Drax bent down to haul you off the floor. “I am Groot.”

“I am being careful.” After securing you in his arms, he set you gently on the bed, watching curiously as pain flashed across your face. “Humans are so weak and frail.”

“I am Groot!” he roared angrily.

You grabbed him as he tore off after Drax. “He’s not wrong, Groot. Calm down.”

“I am Groot.” His eyes were full of concern as he looked up at you.

Forcing a smile, you shook your head. “I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“What’s happening in here?” Peter wondered as he came into the room.

Before you could say anything, Drax said, “Your mate was on the floor. Groot said your horrible piloting made her fall.”

“I am Groot,” he clarified with a grunt.

“Watch your mouth,” you and Peter said at the same time.

“I’m fine, Peter,” you said through your teeth.

He rolled his eyes and crossed the room, dropping to the bed a moment later. “You’re not fine.”

“Are we through the meteor shower?” you blurted out, noticing that the ship was no longer pitching about.

“I got us through it,” Peter said, his chest puffed up.

“I beg to differ,” Rocket announced, his nails clicking on the floor as he came to the side of the bed. “It was my advanced piloting skills that got us -”

“Oh, was it now?” Peter shot back. “I seem to remember almost getting crushed by -”

Rocket rolled his eyes. “It came outta nowhere!”

“I am Groot,” he hollered, eyes flicking between man and raccoon.

“I’m fine,” you insisted. In fact, it was quite the opposite. “I just… I think it’s a bruise. No big deal.”

Drax grabbed your hips. “I want to see this bruise. It must look so different on human skin.”

Peter slapped away the large hands that were on you. “Back off, Drax,” he warned, his voice low and dark.

“You kiddin’?” Rocket scoffed. “You can’t just go and grab her like that.”

Groot was shaking his head and racing down the bed. “I am Groot.”

“Now you’ve done it,” Rocket muttered, his paw shooting out to grab Groot. “You pissed him off.”

“What did I do?” Drax was genuinely confused, and it just made you laugh.

“Guys, stop it,” you gasped, holding your side right above your hip. “It hurts too much to laugh.”

“Rocket, go get that bottle of blue pills,” Peter ordered.

Rocket bent at the waist with a flourish of his hand. “Is there anything else I can do for your majesty?”

You snorted in amusement, slapping a hand over your mouth when Peter scowled at you. “I would appreciate a bottle of that sweet concoction you made the other night.”

Wearing his best smile and winking at you, Rocket turned to you. “As the lady wishes.”

“I am Groot,” he protested as Rocket and Drax started to leave the room. Rocket muttered something under his breath that you couldn’t quite hear. Whatever it was had calmed Groot down enough to stop him from calling for you.

Peter was lifting up your shirt a moment later, hissing at the way your skin had already started to discolor. “I don’t know, babe. It doesn’t look great.”

You hissed as he ran the back of his knuckles along it. “It’s just a deep bruise. I’ll be back on my feet in a few days.”

“You better be.” He tried to have a stoic expression, but you could read it in his eyes, in the way his bottom lip quirked to the left; he was worried about you.

With your hands stretched out and your fingers wiggling, Peter helped you to sit up. You hissed the entire way, but once you were upright, you wrapped your arms around Peter’s neck and shoulders, and gave him a sweet kiss.

“You think a bruise is going to stop me, Quill?” you hummed, your forehead resting on his.

Peter’s hand slid around your waist and rested against your lower back. “I know it ain’t. I just… I worry.”

“Worry no more,” Rocket interrupted proudly.

“What is that?” you asked loudly, making Peter turn around.

Rocket was wielding a staff, one that looked every inch like it had belonged to Ronan. “To help you get around the ship, my lady,” he chuckled harshly as he bowed.

“Isn’t that Ronan’s?” Peter ripped it away from Rocket and started examining it.

“I mean, it was,” Rocket sniggered. “It’s not like he’s gonna use it anymore.”

“I am Groot,” he added.

You couldn’t stop from laughing, no matter how bad it hurt. “Ronan did have it coming.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“I am Groot.” He stomped his foot before running over and kicking Peter’s.

“Easy there, tiger,” Rocket said as he bent over and pulled Groot off of Peter’s shoe.

Setting down the bottle of Rocket’s unnamed sweet concoction onto the table, Drax let loose a hearty laugh. “Let him have his fun with Quill. I would like to see it.”

Rocket handed you the aforementioned bottle of pills. “Take it easy with those,” he warned. “Start with one. If you need more than that, you need to see an actual doctor.”

You looked curiously around the room as you opened the bottle. “Who’s driving the ship?”

“You turned on the autopilot, right, Rocket?” Peter asked, glaring at the raccoon.

Rocket blew a raspberry before answering. “Totally.” And then he was running out the door on all fours, cursing under his breath. Drax followed after, eager to see why Rocket was skittering away.

Peter set the staff against the wall and dropped a kiss to your head. “Relax, okay?”

“I am Groot.” He looked up at Peter and was nodding.

“Thanks, pal. I appreciate it.”

After swallowing one of the pills, you yawned loudly as it began to take immediate effect. “Make sure Rocket doesn’t kill us all.”

You were already lying down, rolled to the side that hadn’t crashed into the floor, your eyes already falling closed. Groot was resting in the crook of your shoulder, your hair being used as a blanket. The last thing you could remember, Peter was covering you with a blanket and smearing a kiss to your temple.

THREE

Everything: @captain-rogers-beard @because-imma-lady-assface @mrs-squirrel-chester @badassbaker @fatalcrossbow @sunriserose1023 @alyssaj23 @stevergxrs @ssweet-empowerment @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @palaiasaurus64 @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @nyxveracity @breezy1415 @titty-teetee @melaninmarvel @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @wildefire @capsheadquaters @qnzdiamond104 @saharzek @speakinvain @diinofayce @mizzzpink @pebblesz892 @stevieang @thatgirl-xx-thatgirl @iwillwakeherinthemorning @jakaraannodine @lea—-b @redqueen1221 @brittyevans @moisttoas-t @nuggsmumreads @anotherotter @jobean12-blog @fireismysaftey @msshadowboxer @vechkinfan @prettybubblesintheair @kanupps06 @rainbowkisses31 @janeyboo @banlaochranda @ellie-bee242 @shieldsandsunsets @evanstandream @punkrockhufflefluff @winters-beauty @unlikelygalaxygiver @thirtiethnovember @sexyvixen7 @whope123 @mscaptainjones @awkward-walking-potato @memory-of-a-goldfish @somethingwitty-somethingsweet @minarawr @xserenax-13 @andiyholly @averyrogers83 @bionic-buckyb @princess76179 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @female-accountant @whitemoonstag @xxashy999xx @coffeewithjake @nerdgirljen @everythingisoverrated @angelsofalliteration @walkingtravesty97 @jbarnes87 @akamaiden @part-time-patronus @slytherin-in-hufflepuff-robes @emmawatsonbelle @joannie95 @almighty-rogers @jamesbbbarnes

Peter Quill: @tyferbebe

I am Groot: @xtina2191 @serpentbaby @holding-on-to-francis @pocmarvelworks @woodworthti666

I am Groot: One

Summary: When you and Peter Quill started dating, nobody expected Groot to be so attached to you.
Word Count: 566
Warnings for series: Fluff, language, light angst, implied smut, possibly more to come as series continues.
Author’s Note: Who can resist baby Groot? I know I can’t. GIF Credit

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

Groot was waiting for you, right outside the door, bashfully kicking his feet back and forth, one at a time. You were running a towel through your freshly-washed hair and not watching where you were going. So, when you almost crushed Groot, you gave a shriek and hopped back.

“I am Groot,” he apologized, his eyes falling to the floor.

“Jesus,” you panted, your heart hammering under your hand. “You can’t stand right there, Groot.”

He reached over to fiddle with a small twit on his arm. “I am Groot.”

Guilt started to turn your stomach. “I missed you, too.”

Given how small he was, he smiled as wide as he possibly could, his eyes wide and shining as he looked up at you. “I am Groot.”

“Just don’t tell Peter about this,” you chuckled.

“I am Groot,” he vowed, hand placed over his heart.

“Don’t tell Peter what?” the aforementioned man asked.

You gave a huff of irritation at the way your heart started pounding again. “I’m gettin’ real tired of no one knowing how to knock ‘round here,” you growled, giving Groot a wink.

“Were you guys talkin’ ‘bout me?” Peter was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, one foot kicked over the other, and you had to fight the urge to saunter over and drop your towel.

“I am Groot,” he lied expertly.

Peter gave a knowing smile. “Bullshit.”

“Language, Peter,” you warned him, bending over to pick up Groot. He climbed onto your damp shoulder and held onto your hair as you walked.

His voice was soft in your ear when he said, “I am Groot.”

“I know,” you giggled.

“What’d he say?” Peter was wearing a scowl as he stood tall.

You shot your boyfriend a wink. “It’s a secret.”

It was Peter’s turn to huff. “Y/N…”

“Peter…” you mocked him.

“I am Groot,” he growled, shoving his head through your hair and sticking his tongue out at Peter.

You moved to drop the towel, but Peter wasn’t having it. His hand shot out and stopped it just as it was about to untuck.

“No, uh uh,” he announced. “That’s not happening with Groot in here.”

“He’s just a baby,” you argued, knowing it would get you nowhere.

“I am Groot.”

Peter arched his brow as he stared at Groot. “You are, too, a baby. Now, come on. Let’s give Y/N some privacy.”

Groot glared at the hand that was extended. “I am Groot.”

You held your hand out and shook your head as he climbed off of your shoulder. “I’ll only be a couple minutes. Why don’t you go and see Rocket? He won’t admit it, but he missed you.”

“I am Groot.” He pressed a kiss to your palm before jumping down and running out of the room.

“See? No harm done,” you teased, poking Peter in the chest.

Peter caught your hips in his hands and gave you a smirk. “And on that note…”

Before you could even blink, Peter was kissing you, slow and passionate, stealing the breath from your lungs. You pulled back and gave a hum of appreciation.

“Why didn’t you just say that’s what you wanted?”

“He’s just a baby,” Peter scoffed. “I didn’t want to corrupt him… yet.” He shot you a wink before bending over to pick you up, throwing you over his shoulder before kicking the door shut.

TWO

Peter Quill: @tyferbebe

I am Groot: @xtina2191

Summertime: One

Summary: With temperatures soaring into the triple digits, it was the hottest Summer on record, and people were taking advantage of the local pool. Steve Rogers, one of the lifeguards, kept a watchful eye on the crowds, ready to dive in at a moment’s notice. Bucky had just moved to Brooklyn, and began visiting the pool on a daily basis, catching the eye of Steve, the man that was built like a god.
Will their relationship be anything more than a summer fling?
Word Count: 1,883
Warnings for series: Language, m/m sexual content, angst, fluff, hate crimes, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: Inspired by this GIFset by the talented @dailyevanstan GIF credit [x]

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

Fuck, it was hot. Like, large beads of sweat running in rivulets down Steve’s sun-kissed skin, and all he was doing was sitting there, in the lifeguard’s chair, a large umbrella doing its best to shield him from the sun’s rays. He desperately wanted to join the crowd and dive into the pool, cool off, if only for a moment. Only problem was he was on the clock, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to drown, even if it meant getting to dive into the crisp blue water.

With a heaving sigh, he readjusted in the tall chair and forced himself to focus. There was a group of five toddlers playing on the splash pad, a slightly larger group of about seven teenage girls that were giggling about something, several senior citizens were moving about the shallow end of the pool, and a herd of elementary school aged children had just been let loose from the minivan across the street. It was going to be one crazy day. Not that Steve minded, not really. It helped keep him focused, kept him from worrying about the heat index and how high the humidity was climbing.

Wanda, another lifeguard, caught his eye and rolled her eyes as she slouched in her chair, pretending to be unconscious. Steve laughed at her display, only looking away when she was ‘conscious’ again. Her brother, Pietro had just clocked in, climbing up to his seat, and blowing out a heavy breath. The consensus was in; it was fucking hot.

Several hours later and dripping wet, Steve stepped down just as the site’s newly appointed manager, Peter Quill, exited his air conditioned office.

“Think fast,” Peter called out, throwing a water bottle at Steve.

Steve caught it easily in his left hand and had the top twisted off a split second later. With four pulls, the bottle was empty and tossed into the recycling bin.

“Thanks, boss,” Steve panted, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“No problem, man,” he said as he tossed one up to Pietro. “You guys are sweating bullets out here. Gotta keep you hydrated.”

“Yeah, it’s almost a health risk being out here.”

Peter nodded in agreement. “If it were up to me, I’d close it up and send you guys home.”

Steve caught movement as someone stepped out of the men’s locker room. “Ye- yeah, that would be nice.”

The new arrival had a head full of chestnut hair that had been kissed by the sun, streaking caramel throughout the strands. He had this urge to drive his hand through it, grip the strands tight, and angle his head back as they kissed. Then there were the wide shoulders, thick biceps, and a waist that begged to have Steve’s legs wrapped around them.

Steve must have made a noise or something, because Peter was suddenly in his line of sight, wearing a wicked smirk. “See something you like, Rogers?”

“What? I… I mean…-” his voice trailed off as the man dropped the towel that was around his waist.

He was wearing a confident smile as he looked around, his eyes almost instantly finding Steve’s. After shooting Steve a wink, he dove into the water, and goddamn, was it a sight to behold.

“You should go talk to him,” Peter offered, one of his shoulders shrugging.

Steve watched as the man swam the length of the pool, admiring the way his muscles flexed. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Who cares, man.”

“I’m on the clock,” he continued to argue weakly. What he really needed was someone to tell him to get his ass back up in the chair, to focus on the task at hand; making sure nobody drowns.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun,” he muttered before walking away to hand Wanda the last bottle.

Steve stood there for several more minutes, debating with himself about what he should do. When Wanda called out to him, saying she needed a break, his mind had been made up for him.

For Bucky, besides a cold shower, nothing beat the heat like swimming, and as luck would have it, there was an water park several blocks from his apartment. So, after a long day of unpacking, he threw a towel, a pair of dark trunks, and some shampoo into a bag, and headed out.

With the heat constantly climbing, he figured the place would be crowded, and sure, there were quite a few people there, but nothing like he expected. That could have had something do with how late in the afternoon it was. Either way, Bucky was glad he found the place.

As soon as he stepped out of the locker room, he could feel someone watching him. Not to sound too cocky, but it was a feeling Bucky was somewhat used to. Both men and women seemed to appreciate the way Bucky looked, and he was perfectly fine with that. Well, if he was being honest, he wished more men paid attention to him.

He stood there for a moment, the smell of chlorine making him smile happily, his eyes roaming around, almost instantly landing on the sparkling gaze of a man that looked like a god. His blonde hair was shining in the sun, his tanned shoulders were wide enough that Bucky had no doubt the man had to turn to the side whenever he walked through a doorway. Then there was his chest and stomach, the well-defined muscles twitching in a tantalizing way, but that wasn’t what made Bucky’s mouth water. The man’s shoulder-to-waist ratio was insane.

If Bucky hadn’t needed to cool off before, he definitely needed to do now. He couldn’t help but wink at the man whose name he didn’t know, but damn it, he’d find out later. Bucky dove into the water, internally sighing as the cool water enveloped him. He stayed busy, swimming the length of the pool a handful of times before finally emerging, gasping at the humid air.

In the deep end, with his arms on the ledge, he gazed around, searching for a sign of the mystery man. It only took a couple of moments before Bucky found him, sitting in a tall chair, the whistle between his lips, scolding a group of teenage girls that had pushed a heavier set girl off the edge. That girl was now hanging onto the ledge and crying.

God, he wanted to go over there and show those real life Mean Girls a thing or two, but the slim redhead that was seated across the pool was already on it. Bucky snorted in amusement as the woman’s eyes narrowed and the girls cowered.

The very same group of teenage girls that had been giggling mere minutes ago had just pushed someone into the pool, and now, they were laughing about it, calling the other girl cruel names. Steve was seething as he blew the whistle.

What is wrong with people?

“You think that’s okay to do?” he hollered as he descended his seat. He rushed over to the ledge the girl was clinging to and helped her out.

Wanda climbed out of her seat and stormed over, rage in her eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know,” one of the girls said.

“It was fun,” the obvious ringleader declared. If she thought Wanda was going to back down, she was sorely mistaken.

“How would you like it if someone did that to you?” she demanded to know, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Better yet, how would you like to get banned from this place for the rest of the summer?”

The one girl rolled her eyes. “You don’t have the authority to do -”

“You think you’re the shit because a handful of people at your school are afraid of you? Let me tell you something, sweetheart, in the real world, you’re nothing special,” Wanda snickered.

Steve had gotten the girl, Sarah, calmed down, and she was now sitting by her parents. He jogged over to Wanda, glaring at the small group of girls. After seeing him arrive, they started smiling, as if whatever Wanda had just said would be forgotten if they flirted with him.

“Don’t even bother,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You ladies are done here. Get your things and get out.”

“You can’t do -”

“They sure as hell can,” announced Peter, a look of disgust on his face.

One of the girls rolled their eyes and made a demand. “I want to speak to your manager.”

“Oh, that’s how you want to play it. Okay, okay, I get it.” Peter turned around ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat before facing the group once more.

“How can I be of assistance?” he asked with a cocky grin.

“Let’s go, Brit,” a girl to the right said meekly.

With her eyes narrowing behind her large-framed sunglasses, Brit scoffed. “This isn’t over.”

“Oh, but it is,” Peter shot back. “Do you need help gathering your things?”

Steve could hear her teeth gnashing together as the muscle in her jaw flexed. “I got it.”

Wanda waited until the group of girls were escorted into Peter’s office before saying anything. “Bitches be crazy.”

Steve laughed heartily at that, his head thrown back, his hand on Wanda’s almost fragile looking shoulder. “They sure are, Wan.”

“Speaking of crazy bitches…” It was their idea of an inside joke, that Steve, ‘I’m bisexual, but I like men more,’ Rogers hadn’t had a girlfriend since high school because they were all crazy ass bitches.

Steve followed her line of sight, where a certain brunette was pulling himself out of the pool.

“You should go say hi,” she finished, her voice light and teasing.

“That’s two votes,” he murmured. “You got this, then?”

Wanda gave him a wink, and he knew that if they weren’t working, she’d give him a playful smack on the ass. “Go get yourself a man, Steve.”

Steve held his breath as he moved across the water park. He was just about to say something when the man before him turned around, his azure eyes sparkling in the light.

“Hi,” he breathed, his voice washing over Steve like velvet, smooth and rich.

“Hi,” Steve managed to say, hoping his hammering heart couldn’t be heard. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

Really, Steve? You couldn’t come up with anything better?

“I just moved into town,” he explained. “Finally got everything unpacked and felt like cooling off a bit.”

“I was born and raised here. So, if you need help finding the best burger in town, I’m your guy.”

The smirk pulled at his lips. “I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Yeah?” Steve coughed out. “When were you looking to go out?”

“Is tonight too soon?” he asked, his eyes flashing.

“Hell no. I mean, I should probably get your name first,” Steve said with a wink, his hand held out.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance at himself, he slid his hand into Steve’s. “I’m Bucky.”

“I’m Steve,” he purred. “You want me to put my number in your phone?”

“It’s in my locker.”

Unable to keep from smiling, Steve gestured his hand towards the door. “Lead the way.”

TWO

Everything: @captain-rogers-beard @because-imma-lady-assface @mrs-squirrel-chester @badassbaker @kiaorasteph @fatalcrossbow @sunriserose1023 @alyssaj23 @stevergxrs @ssweet-empowerment @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @palaiasaurus64 @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @nyxveracity @breezy1415 @titty-teetee @melaninmarvel @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @wildefire @capsheadquaters @qnzdiamond104 @saharzek @speakinvain @diinofayce @mizzzpink @pebblesz892 @stevieang @thatgirl-xx-thatgirl @iwillwakeherinthemorning @jakaraannodine @lea—-b @redqueen1221 @brittyevans @moisttoas-t @nuggsmumreads @anotherotter @jobean12-blog @fireismysaftey @msshadowboxer @vechkinfan @prettybubblesintheair @kanupps06 @rainbowkisses31 @janeyboo @banlaochranda @ellie-bee242 @shieldsandsunsets @evanstandream @punkrockhufflefluff @winters-beauty @unlikelygalaxygiver @thirtiethnovember @sexyvixen7 @whope123 @mscaptainjones @awkward-walking-potato @memory-of-a-goldfish @somethingwitty-somethingsweet @minarawr @xserenax-13 @keepyourheadup2018 @andiyholly @averyrogers83 @bionic-buckyb @princess76179 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @female-accountant @whitemoonstag @xxashy999xx @coffeewithjake @nerdgirljen @everythingisoverrated @angelsofalliteration @walkingtravesty97 @jbarnes87 @akamaiden

Summertime: @jazzwoman897 @vgurl18 @lets-do-get-help

Stucky: @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @autoblocked @its–fandom–darling @eshia16 @daiiybuugle @delicatecapnerd @phoenix21love @natcad @chrisevans1fan

The Haunting

Summary: After losing a bet with Natasha, Steve convinces you to spend one night in a haunted house.
Word Count: 1,058
Warnings: Language, light angst?
Author’s Note: Written for @awkward-walking-potato 500 follower celebration My Alternate Universe theme & prompt is: Ghosts / Haunted & “These violent delights have violent ends.” GIF Credit

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

“It’s only one night,” Steve, your boyfriend of three years, tried assuring you, his hands on your shoulders, fingers squeezing gently.

“One night,” you confirmed dryly. “In a haunted house. No way.”

Steve was rolling his eyes. “You don’t actually believe in ghosts, do you?”

“What? No way,” you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see through the lie.

When all he did was arch his brow, you gave a growl. “Oh, alright. Yes, I believe in ghosts.”

Steve started laughing, his head thrown back, the hearty sound grating on you. “Oh, my God, I thought you were kidding this entire time!”

WIth your eyes narrowed, you reached out and punched him in his very hard shoulder. “Shut up.”

“It won’t be bad,” he vowed, laughter still coloring his words.

“You don’t know that,” you argued, your finger aimed at his chest. “Something bad could happen to us.”

“There is only one way anything bad will happen to us if we don’t do this.”

“Oh?” you sassed. “And what, good sir, would that be?”

Steve checked over both of his shoulders before leaning close and whispering, “Natasha will never let us live it down.”

He was right. While Natasha was an amazing friend, she was also competitive to a fault. You loved her, that one flaw and all, but damn, the temptation to have one over on her was too strong.

“Okay,” you conceded. “One night.”

You were going to throttle Steve if he didn’t knock it off. He had adopted a bastardized English accent and had started quoting Shakespeare for no reason.

”These violent delights have violent ends,” he carried on, waving a hand through the air as the pair of you walked slowly through the house, a flashlight in his hand. “And in their triumph die, like fire and powder. Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness -”

“Could you, oh, I don’t know, stop?” you snapped

Chuckling, Steve spun around to face you. “Here comes the lady. Oh, so light a foot, will ne’er wear out the everlasting flint. A lover may bestride the gossamers, that idles in the wanton summer air, and yet not fall. So light is vanity.”

Your shoulders were shaking as you giggled. “Good even to my ghostly confessor.”

Steve pumped his fist excitedly. “I knew I could get you to join in.”

“You’re a fucking nerd,” you observed.

“And you love it,” Steve said with a wink, spinning back around to continue the journey.

Steve’s hand shot out for yours, his fingers wiggling back and forth. “Come, come with me, and we will make short work.” Shaking your head in amusement, you slid your hand into his and held your breath as the pair of you rounded a corner.

You didn’t like being there, in the middle of the night, spiderwebs and dust covering every surface, the air thick and stale. It was unsettling and every part of you itched to run away, and it was almost getting to be too much. Not even the comforting weight of Steve’s hand around yours seemed to settle your nerves.

“Calm down,” Steve huffed. “You’re giving me anxiety.”

“I told you I didn’t want to be here.” You were whining and you knew it, but that didn’t stop you. “Can we just go? We’ve been through the house three times already.”

He kept right on walking, pulling you with him. “And we’ll go through it another three times, or seven. As long as we’re in here until dawn.”

Cold air blew across the back of your neck, spreading goosebumps on your skin like wildfire. “Steve, what was that?”

“There’s nothing there, Y/N,” he huffed irritatedly.

“Bu- but there is,” you stammered. “It’s so co- cold.”

Steve turned around, his brow arched, his eyes flashing, hell bent on telling you to calm the hell down, but he didn’t make it that far. His eyes went wide and the color drained from his face.

“What is it, Steve?” you asked, your voice thick and scared.

“A gu- gu- ghost,” he sputtered. Your hand fell from his as he raised it to point over your shoulder.

Swallowing around the knot in your throat, you shook your head. “No, it can’t be.”

Without taking his eyes off of the apparition, Steve grabbed your shoulders and turned you around. You yelped in surprise, your hands covering your mouth, your back slamming into Steve’s chest.

“I told you,” he announced in a harsh whisper. “What do we do?”

“There’s only one thing we can do,” you assured him. “RUN!”

When something touched the back of his neck, Steve let loose a shout that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand. He hauled ass down the hall, the staircase, and through the entry room, slamming the front door behind him.

You were bent over at the waist and cackling as Natasha emerged from the dark corner. “Tell me you got that.”

She held the phone out for you to see the video she had just taken. “Every glorious second.”

“Oh, my God,” you rasped, your throat aching from the peals of laughter coming out of you. “That was amazing. How did you manage to pull it off?”

Shuri, a college senior at sixteen years old, stepped out from her hiding place, a small device in her hand that projected the ‘ghost’ into the air. “My own design.” She was grinning, beaming with pride. “Tell me, why did we just scare that man?”

“Steve needed a taste of his own medicine,” Natasha replied, a red brow arched and her arms crossed.

“He’s a giant prankster,” you added. “It was time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Speaking of which,” Nat hummed. She reached over and messed up your hair by raking her hands through it, adding dust bunnies to the messy strands and the back of your clothes. “You better get going if you want to finish this.”

You struck a pose for the camera. “How do I look?”

“Positively frightening,” Shuri laughed.

Once Natasha had taken your picture and started recording once again, you cleared your throat and gave a high-pitched scream that made your throat ache. You tore off as if the devil himself was chasing you, not stopping until you were down the block with Steve close behind.

Everything: @captain-rogers-beard @because-imma-lady-assface @mrs-squirrel-chester @badassbaker @baezen @fatalcrossbow @sunriserose1023 @alyssaj23 @stevergxrs @ssweet-empowerment @supernatural-girl97 @thefridgeismybestie @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @palaiasaurus64 @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @nyxveracity @breezy1415 @titty-teetee @melaninmarvel @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @wildefire @capsheadquaters @qnzdiamond104 @saharzek @speakinvain @diinofayce @mizzzpink @pebblesz892 @stevieang @thatgirl-xx-thatgirl @iwillwakeherinthemorning @jakaraannodine @lea—-b @redqueen1221 @brittyevans @moisttoas-t @nuggsmumreads @anotherotter @jobean12-blog @fireismysaftey @msshadowboxer @vechkinfan @prettybubblesintheair @kanupps06 @rainbowkisses31 @janeyboo @banlaochranda @ellie-bee242 @shieldsandsunsets @evanstandream @punkrockhufflefluff @winters-beauty @unlikelygalaxygiver @thirtiethnovember @sexyvixen7 @whope123 @mscaptainjones @awkward-walking-potato @memory-of-a-goldfish @somethingwitty-somethingsweet @minarawr @xserenax-13 @keepyourheadup2018 @andiyholly @averyrogers83 @bionic-buckyb @princess76179 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @female-accountant @whitemoonstag @xxashy999xx @coffeewithjake @nerdgirljen @everythingisoverrated @angelsofalliteration @walkingtravesty97 @jbarnes87 @brastrangled @jessica-bones-winchester @iamthemaskhewears @wheresthekillswitch @stangirl4eva @of-sebstan-and-chrisevans

Steve: @mjdoc90 @blxcksoulsanddxrkflowers @hides-in-the-shadows @cherrysfandom @lxdyred @jemmaisokay @phoenix21love @xingareum @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @patzammit @chrisevans1fan

Drinking Games

Summary: It was supposed to be a laid-back night; drinking and goofing around with your friends, but things take a drastic turn when someone gives you three names and the options of Fuck, Marry, Kill.
Word Count: 1,648
Warnings: Drunken shenanigans, language, embarrassed reader, explicit sexual content
Author’s Note: Requested by anon – I was watching a few of the interviews/games from the infinity war cast and it just made me think about a reader/Bucky idea of the avengers team playing fuck, marry, kill, saying she’d fuck Bucky as sort of a joke/crush confession and he takes her up on it later.

My work is not to be posted on any other sites without my express written permission

You were drunk, not sloppily so, but enough that your guard had been let down, and your tongue was feeling rather loose. Your skin was flushed and you had just shrugged out of the sweatshirt you’d been wearing when Natasha giggled.

“Your turn.” She was staring at you, her lips pulling into a wicked smirk. “Fuck, marry, kill.”

“Oh, I like this,” you giggled, wiggling in your seat. “Gimme the names.”

With her eyes flashing, she said, “Tony, Steve, and Bucky.”

This was a bad idea, whoever had come up with it should be dealt with immediately.

“Fuck Bucky, marry Steve, and kill Tony.” The words were out of your mouth before you could do anything about it.

Tony, whiskey glass in hand, was going off about how he’d give you a night to remember, that he didn’t deserve to die. Steve was blushing furiously, reaching back to scratch the back of his neck, mumbling in agreement with your decision. Then there was Bucky. His head was hung, chestnut hair acting as a veil, preventing you from seeing his features.

You forced out a laugh before drinking the rest of your wine. “Come on, guys,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “It’s just a stupid game. It’s not like I’d really kill you, Tony.”

Bucky pushed up from his spot with a disapproving grunt. “I’d fuckin’ kill him,” he muttered as he strode out of the room.

You blew out a heaving breath as your shoulders sagged. “Way to fuck that up,” you sighed, kicking yourself internally.

Everyone went on as if nothing had happened, the boundaries being pushed a little further with each game that was played. With your thoughts swirling, effectively killing the buzz, you backed away from the group, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed up to your room.

With a groan, you fell onto your bed, your arm draped over your eyes. You couldn’t believe you had just drunkenly confessed that you wanted to fuck Bucky. God, how was this your life? You had been doing a great job of keeping your feelings tucked away, locked up.

“Fuckin’ Nat,” you grumbled just as someone knocked on your door.

You weren’t up for company of any kind. “Go away.”

“Come on, doll.” It was Bucky, and his voice was sinfully low.

A shudder worked down your spine as you pushed yourself up. “I’m tired, Buck,” you protested weakly, the sight of him stealing the air from your lungs; his eyes flashing, jaw clenching, towering over you.

“We need to talk,” he declared, stepping into your room.

With a roll of your eyes, you waved your arm about. “Please come in.” The breath you sucked in was tainted with his cologne, and it made your stomach flip lazily.

“Did you mean it?” Bucky asked as he paced back and forth, a hand raking through his hair.

“What are you talking about?”

He gave a scoffing laugh before clarifying, “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to fuck me?”

The door fell closed after your hand fell away from the handle. “Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that,” he huffed, stealing a glance.

“Is it important?”

Bucky stopped his pacing and stole your breath with the intensity in his eyes. “It’s very important, doll.”

Sure, you could expand the lie that you had told downstairs, that it was just a game, that you really didn’t mean it. But, standing there, with the man of your dreams before you, the air between you thick and palpable, you found that you couldn’t lie to him anymore.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, too long. I had to be sure before I did something stupid,” Bucky growled, crossing the room in two long strides.

“I meant it,” you admitted, your voice thick with lust, your heart jack-hammering painfully in your chest.

In less time than it would have taken you to blink, Bucky had his hands on your hips and he was hauling you off the floor. He dropped to the edge of your bed, pulling you with him. You landed with your legs straddling his, thick thigh muscles twitched against yours and his hips jerked up as he pulled you down. The kiss was frantic, tongues and teeth smashing together, furiously fighting for dominance and neither of you willing to let the other have it.

Bucky tore at your clothes, grunting angrily when it became brutally apparent that his need to fuck you greatly outweighed the thunderous, dangerous, self-deprecating thoughts running rampant through his mind. With every inch of you that was exposed, Bucky made this noise in the back of his throat that made your pussy clench. His cock was hard and throbbing in your hand, cum-weeping tip crimson and velvet soft, vein on the underside throbbing with every heartbeat.

Fuck, he was huge. Proportionate, yes. Huge, nonetheless. You briefly wondered if you could take all of him, but Bucky’s fingers were three knuckles deep in your pussy, driving all logical thought from your brain.

In a silent attempt to get your point across, you whined and rocked your body against his. As badly as you wanted him to fuck you, you wanted… needed to feel his hands and mouth on you. Answering your almost silent wish, Bucky rolled over, covering you with his body, teasing you with the thick weight of it before kissing his way down your body, his teeth and fingers leaving marks on your skin.

With his nose buried in your short curls, he shot you a wink before pressing his nose against your clit, his tongue working against your slit, pushing the tip of it into your entrance. He repeated the process several times before finally driving his tongue in and fucking you frantically, almost as if he were a starving man and you were his last meal.

Your hands scrambled for purchase on the bed as you grunted his name and pitifully begged for more. So, when he pressed your clit and circled it tightly with his thumb, you were gone. You came on his mouth and hand, the delicious bite of his stubble on your inner thighs adding some pain to the pleasure. He stood, wiping your juices off his chin and then sucking them off his fingers. The buzzing in your ears hadn’t completely gone away when he spoke.

“So sweet, doll,” he praised, his eyes dark and hooded, his chest heaving.

If your legs weren’t shaking, you’d push up and help Bucky out of the clothes he was wearing, but all you could do was lie there and watch as he exposed himself. It felt as if he were doing it in slow motion, and it was driving you crazy. By the time he was completely naked, the heat between your legs was almost unbearable.

Wearing a smirk, he reached down and pressed his hand against your pussy, dragging two middle fingers through your folds. He spread your slick over his cock and licked off the rest, rolling his eyes as he groaned.

“Bucky… please,” your voice was wrecked with need.

“Please what, baby girl?”

You shimmied your hips, his cock brushing against your pussy as you did. “Fuck me, Bucky.”

With lust blown pupils, he grabbed your hips and crashed into you, driving the air from your lungs when your hips connected. There was no waiting for your body to adjust to him, no giving you time to catch your breath, because that’s not what you wanted. You wanted to be fucked and Bucky gave you exactly what you asked for.

Bucky snapped his hips tightly, driving your ass into the mattress, his knees spreading wide, opening you wider, echoed by the slap of sweat-slicked skin connecting. Snarling, Bucky’s metal hand slid under your back and held onto your shoulder, using you for leverage to drive himself harder, deeper. You almost came right there, his cock buried so deep you would swear on a stack of Bibles that it was in your throat.

Bucky was swearing in a strangled shout, a string of fuckfuckfuck and shitshitshit tumbled out before he kissed you. It was a searing, bruising kiss, one you wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon. Not that you could forget anything about James Buchanan Barnes, but there was something dark and dangerous about this kiss. The edge of desperation that you could taste, feel as it burned into your skin with every heavy drag of his cock, every squeeze of his calloused hand.

Your orgasm rammed into you like a tidal wave; sucking the air from your lungs as it pulled you under the surface. With your hands scrambling for purchase, your back arched arduously and every muscle went taut, burning as if seared with lava. With his mouth on your breast, Bucky bit and sucked your salty and soft skin as he came. His hips stuttered as his cock pulsed and deep grunts of your name blew against the deep purple bruise on your breast.

The pair of you were reduced to grunts and groans, gasping for air as you parted, your skin sticky and shining with sweat.

“That… that was…” you panted, your brain still reeling.

“Fuckin’ amazing,” Bucky finished, chuckling as he watched you from the corner of his eye.

Gnawing on your bottom lip, you nodded your agreement. “Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah, doll?”

“Wanna play a game?” you asked, rolling to your side, resting your head in the palm of your hand.

Bucky mirrored you before answering. “What have you got in mind?”

“Truth or dare.”

“Alright,” he murmured, shifting closer to you. “Truth.”

You pulled in a breath that made your shoulders shudder. “Did you mean it, when you said you’ve wanted this?” you motioned at the small gap between you.

Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you sweetly, , tangling his fingers in your hair, taking his time. “I meant it.”

Bucky: @inumorph @eclecticninjapenguin @angryschnauzerwrites @me-a-hopeless-romantic @thinkwritexpress-official @sarahp879 @blxcksoulsanddxrkflowers @wecanburntogether @britty443 @barnesbestgirl @demonspawn2468 @nuvoleincielo @bexboo616 @prospathww @chrisevans1fan

Scar Tissue

Summary: Bucky is extremely self conscious about his scars.
Word Count: 505
Warnings: Self conscious Bucky, fluff
Author’s Note: Requested by anon. Could I request one where Bucky is really self conscious about the scars around his arm? And eventually the reader figures out what his deal is and it’s real fluffy? GIF credit

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

Bucky had come to accept a lot of things about himself, but the angry red scars on his shoulder and chest wasn’t one of them. They did nothing but remind him of the day he died, falling from the train while Steve was helpless to stop it. They made him remember the countless hours, days, weeks, months of torture, of the hack jobs HYDRA called surgeons and the numerous surgeries he was forced to undergo.

He did the best he could to ignore them, to look the other way, to always have them covered, but he could feel them, the pulse of blood under the thick tissue, the way his shirts would rub against them, irritating them. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of them, but no matter the technological and scientific advances Bruce and Tony discovered, nothing worked.

For every part of himself that Bucky hated, Y/N loved. Every mark and imperfection was beautiful in her eyes. He never let on how much he disagreed with her, how his scars repulsed him, but she caught on fairly quickly.

“Bucky, baby,” she cooed, sitting up in bed, the sheet falling around her waist. “Come to bed.”

With a resigned sigh, he dropped down, prepared to sleep fully clothed. Y/N’s hand was on the hem of his shirt, tugging it up, baring his back to her.

“Doll, no,” he argued gently, his voice thin and tired.

“I want to see you, feel you,” Y/N insisted.

He glanced at her over his shoulder and felt himself fall deeper in love. Never had he felt more safe, than when he was by her side. Nodding his head once, he reached back and tugged the shirt over his head. While she held up the sheet, he slid in next to her, his arm draping over her waist as she turned into him, their legs tangling together.

“Talk to me.” Her voice was whisper-soft, barely there, imploring.

His shoulder bobbed under her touch. “Nothing to say.”

She traced over his scars with her fingertips and nails, sending a wave of goosebumps down his chest. “I know that isn’t true.”

What could he say, that he hated something she accepted about him, that she loved? He shook his head with a sigh and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“They’re a part of you, your scars,” she breathed, now using the back of her knuckles to touch him. “They’re proof that you survived. You’ve been to hell and back, but, goddamn it, you survived, Buck.”

There were tears clouding his vision and clogging his throat. He never thought about it like that. All they did was remind him of the life he had lost. He had been so caught up in the negative, he never once thought about all of the positivity in his life.

She was smiling warmly, curving her body into his. “I love you, James, all of you.”

Dipping his head, he smeared a kiss to her lips. “I love you, too, doll.”

A Long Time Coming: Six

Summary: It feels like every other day you’re in Frank Adler’s garage while he looks under the hood of your beat-up vehicle, trying to diagnose the newest problem. He’s always been sweet about it; you coming in at the last second because you’re running late for work, always slashing the prices so you don’t go broke.
One day, on your way into work, your radiator overheats, leaving you stranded on the side of the road. Knowing he won’t let you down, you call Frank. Ever the gentleman, he gives you a ride, but when he drops you off at work, he discovers a secret you had worked so hard to keep.
You promised your boyfriend you’d never cheat, but now you’re not sure what you have could even be called love.
What happens when Frank finds himself falling for you? Will he be able to keep himself from intervening in the toxic and tumultuous relationship you and your boyfriend have?
Word Count: 1,798
Warnings: First and foremost, domestic violence; emotional, verbal, & physical. Language, heavy angst, insecure female reader, PTSD, no cheating, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: A huge thank you to @captain-rogers-beard for allowing me to steal some of her thunder. Your unwavering support has left me speechless.

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

Fresh out of the shower and wearing some clothes that had belonged to Marge’s daughter, you were seated at the small kitchen table, a hot cup of tea in your hands, and your knee bouncing.

“He’ll know I’m here,” you mumbled under your breath, fear making your scalp itch. “This was a bad idea.”

Marge shook her head for the hundredth time. “He won’t,” she insisted sternly. “Only a handful of people know about this place.”

‘This place’ was a one bedroom, one bath, nine hundred square foot, one level cabin. It wasn’t far from town, but it was hidden, out of the way, trees and bushes obscuring the view from the road. The doors had several locks on them, strong and sturdy ones, ones that made you wonder if Marge had walked a mile in your shoes.

“He always finds out,” you continued to argue, though weakly. You let out a sigh that turned into a yawn. God, you were tired. Your eyelids were heavy, your muscles were weary, the bruise on your face was pounding. It felt like you needed no less than four days of sleep.

Frank sat down, his hands clasped together, inches from your own. “He’s at home, Y/N. There’s no need to worry about him right now.”

“How do you know?” you choked, tears spilling down your face once again. You desperately wanted to believe Frank, but past experiences trumped everything else.

His fingers flexed, the urge to console you becoming almost too much for him. “A buddy of mine just drove by. He said the lights are on, the truck is parked out front, and he could see James through the windows.”

“Probably drinking.” You ran a hand over your face and groaned. “Fuck, I should go back.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Frank growled, a scowl on his brow.

“Over my dead body,” Marge said at the same time, her hand on your shoulder. “You’ve already taken the first step by asking for help.”

Your chin was quivering as you melted into the woman standing next to you, your cheek on her stomach. “I didn’t know it was going to be so hard.”

Frank grabbed the box of kleenex from the counter and handed it to you. “We’ll be here with you, Y/N, every step of the way.”

For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why anyone, let alone someone amazing like Frank, would want to help you. You were an overweight waitress at a diner, you weren’t anything special. Hell, you weren’t even anything mediocre. You were nothing, less than nothing –

“No one deserves to be treated that way,” Frank answered your unspoken question, anger flashing in his eyes. “No one.”

Sitting up, you wiped your nose with a kleenex. Frank was right; nobody deserved to be treated the way James had been treating you. Deep down, you knew that you deserved better. But, years of abuse and negativity sure had a way of deforming your thought process.

“If I had just lost the weight,” you murmured.

Frank’s hand was on yours, squeezing, his thumb sweeping over your pulse point, and God, did it feel good. “You are not to blame for any of this. James is the one that has a problem, not you. You… Y/N, you’re beautiful and smart and sweet, and… and if James can’t see that, can’t treat you like a queen, then that’s his problem.”

“What?” you croaked, disbelief weighing on your voice. Had he just called you beautiful? No, you had to be hearing things.

Marge rested her hand atop yours and Franks’. “Frank ain’t wrong, sweetie. The way James has abused you, has twisted your thoughts into something negative… it ain’t right.”

You were still staring at Frank, heart hammering in your chest, your mouth going dry. He thought you were beautiful. What was wrong with him?

“We’ll be with you the entire time, doing everything in our power to get you away from that animal,” Marge continued. “It ain’t gonna be easy, trust me.” Her weary chuckle snagged your attention from the man in front of you.

“Who was it?” you rasped.

She smiled sadly before answering. “My ex-husband, Danny. God, he was a mean drunk, controlling, possessive; just like James. Took me fifteen years to get away from that man, and not a day goes by that I ain’t thankful to the ones that helped me. If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here today.”

You let out a soft sob at that. There was no doubt in your mind that James would be the one responsible for your death if you didn’t get out.

“What’s the next step?”

Frank sighed in relief, his hand flexing on yours. “First, you need to go to the police.”

You swallowed around the knot in your throat. “But, you’ll be there with me, right?”

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” he assured you with a warm smile.

Who knew filing a police report would be so damn exhausting?

The questions were seemingly endless, their almost accusatory tones grated on you, fueled your anxiety, turning on the fountain of self-doubt, making you shrink back. If Frank and Marge hadn’t been there, sitting in the waiting area the entire time, you would have bolted hours ago.

You were currently showing them the scars and bruises James had adorned your soft body with. You winced as fingers prodded gently at the marks, as the camera flashed brightly, as several sets of eyes scanned over you, judging you, ridiculing you. When you were told you could cover up, you about cried out in joy.

Four hours later, you were signing your name at the bottom of the report.

“Is there someplace we can reach you at?” the officer asked.

Fear surged through you. “Why? I uh, I mean, he won’t… James won’t get that information, will he?”

“No, of course not,” she assured you. “But, we need to know how to get a hold of you for follow up questions.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you murmured, your hand shaking as you wrote down the phone number and address for where you were staying. “What about a restraining order?”

The officer was nodding. “We need to talk with the other party first.”

You were shaking your head. “You don’t understand. If he finds me, he’s going to kill me. I need that restraining order.”

“Okay, it’s okay,” she said, her hand on yours. “Give me a few minutes, let me see what I can do.” She grabbed the file and stood tall, giving you a warm smile before heading across the precinct to make a call.

You liked her, she was the first officer you had talked to during your time there that didn’t make you feel like she didn’t believe you. She had been kind and understanding, using a soft tone to keep your already-frayed nerves somewhat calm.

Glancing around the room, your eyes fell on Frank. Well, the silhouette of him. He and Marge were still in the waiting room, probably flipping through magazines or looking at their phones, their patience wearing thin, wishing they were doing something productive, dealing with someone that wasn’t you.

Tears clouded your vision once more and it made you groan in frustration. You hated crying, especially where people could see you, more so when those people were strangers. You knew they thought you were weak, that you deserved the bruises you were sporting, that you pushed James to hit you.

“Sorry about that,” the officer said upon her return, making you jump.

“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath, hand over your heart.

You could tell she felt bad for chuckling. “I didn’t mean to scare you. So, I was able to get you a temporary restraining order until we can talk with James.”

“Oh, thank God,” you sighed wearily.

She handed over the order. “He can’t call you or be within five hundred feet. If he breaks this, you call it in straight away.”

Nodding, your eyes roamed over the piece of paper. “I can do that.”

“Good. Now, do you have anyone staying with you?” She asked, her eyes flicking up to the doors that led to the waiting room. “Someone safe.”

Only a handful of people know.

“Yes, I do.”

She gave you a warm smile. “That’s good. Is there anything else you need at the moment?”

A stiff drink.

“Not that I can think of,” you answered, returning her smile, standing a moment later, restraining order clutched in one hand.

“I’ll be in touch.”

You gave her a small wave before turning away and heading out the doors.

Frank wasn’t sure how much longer he could sit there. He wanted to swoop in and make sure the cops were doing everything within their power to keep Y/N safe. It was irrational, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop his heart from hammering, he couldn’t keep his mind from racing, he couldn’t stop remembering the way it had felt to hold her close.

Damn it, he was too emotionally invested.

Marge’s hand was on his knee. “It’ll all work out, Frank.”

“I just want her to be safe,” he huffed, dragging a hand over his face.

She gave a soft chuckle. “That ain’t all.”

“No,” he agreed, shaking his head. “It ain’t. But, I ain’t gonna do anything about it. I can’t.”

“That’s true, for now.”

“Marge,” Frank sighed, turning to look at the older woman.

“Oh, come on. You like her,” Marge pushed. “Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

She was right, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way he felt about Y/N.The only thing that would be considered wrong was if he acted upon those feelings. She was going through a hard enough time without Frank admitting that he wanted to spend the rest of his life making her happy.

The doors opened then, and Y/N emerged, clutching a sheet of paper and looking like she wanted to do nothing more than cry, or go to sleep. Possibly both. Frank was up and giving her a hug, hating the way her shoulders were shaking as she cried.

“What’d they say?” he asked, his voice low and soft.

It took her several long moments before she could answer. “They have to talk with him, get his side of the story.”

“His side of the story,” Frank growled. “Fuckin’ ridiculous.”

Standing back, she held up the paper for him and Marge to see. “They also granted me a temporary restraining order until everything is sorted through.”

“That’s more like it,” Marge said. “Now, let’s get you home, get some food in you.”

Y/N gave a wear chuckly as they made their way out of the police station. “I could eat.”

SEVEN

Plus Size Reader: @angryschnauzerwrites @akfonkin @captainsherlockwinchester110283 @nissametanatural @onecatshort @arrowswithwifi @sixweekcure4dreams @raychic26 @rubynationwins @supernatural508 @lilacprincessofrecovery @missmeganrachel @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @mizzezm @sophster1881 @halcyonrogers @hufflepuffle97 @barnesbestgirl @jemmaisokay @anemetz @tyferbebe

A Long Time Coming: @kimmiestrawberrykiwi @hopeless-renegade @armybb5396 @csrfavs @captialrogers @timeladylaurel @logan8546 @justrae9903 @yes-this-is-doggo @missxavenger @shaleen015 @zuretha-metal @nycktmcginn @princess-unicorn124 @dragontearsandunicornfears @keri1423 @bucky-stan-031017 @guera31 @jazzyjazandthejasminetrio @listensweettea @motheroftwosnailies @fangirl-and-medstudent-help @the-lachrymose-one @i-should-probably-be-asleep-rn @sincerelymlg @uh-this-is-jake-from-statefarm @xtina2191 @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @anything–marvel @bornfortherainydays @0dobi0 @chrisevansisdaddy13 @nicholasbich @kozmicrock @abrunettefangirlnerd @nuvoleincielo @sophster1881 @encounterthepast @nerdyfunland @ladysergeantbarnes @capisicles @queenspade2113 @everwhovian @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @chrisevans1fan @sarahsassafras13

Wreak Havoc: Two

Summary: Your lineage is a mystery and your powers can be downright scary. You had been on your own since you could remember; saving some lives, taking others, doing what needed to be done in order to survive. And then one day, a man with a metal arm saved your life. From that moment on, you worked with the Avengers, saving lives, not only on Earth, but in other galaxies as well.
Word Count: 1,683
Warnings: Heavy angst, language, violence, blood, gore, there could be some smut, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: The main idea for this was inspired by this song by Skylar Grey.

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

”Dealing with Wanda is one thing,” Steve argued with Tony.

Tony was already shaking his head. “You only say that because we don’t know anything about Y/N.”

“Can you blame me? She isn’t exactly forthcoming with that information.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” you chuckled.

Steve groaned and gave his head a shake. “Get outta my head,” he demanded, hands balled into fists at his sides.

You stepped out from the corner of the room. “I ain’t in your head, Captain.”

Irritation slammed into you like a tidal wave. “What are you doing here?”

“Telling Tony a little bit about myself,” you answered, hands on your hips, eyebrow arched. “Perhaps you’d like to sit in, be one of the first to know all the nitty gritty details. That way, you can run off and tell all your little friends about the freak.” You couldn’t hide the bitterness in your voice no matter how hard you tried.

“That’s not how things work here,” Tony tried to say, turning to face you, his eyes kind and curious.

You rolled your eyes and huffed. “That’s how things work everywhere, Stark.”

“Have you even met the other people?” Tony said, exasperation heavy on his tongue. “We work with The Hulk, for fuck sake. You’re not the only freak here.”

“Tell that to him.” You waved your hand at Steve, green sparks dancing along your fingertips.

Steve was glaring at you. “No powers unless you’re training or in the field.”

“Fuck off,” you sneered, the sparks growing brighter.

“Alright, you two,” Tony interrupted, standing directly in front of you, his anxiety swirling around you. “Perhaps you should leave, Captain.”

Steve stormed off with a growl, grumbling under his breath.

That was six days ago. From that moment on, Tony and Bruce kept you pretty busy, putting you through every test their collectively insane IQ’s could conceive. Numerous vials were filled with blood, you’d undergone multiple stress tests – physical and mystical. It seemed like it was never going to end.

You had just stepped off the treadmill, wiping sweat from your face when Steve and Bucky came into the room.

“Hiya, boys,” you purred playfully, taking mental note of the way Bucky’s eyes darkened just the slightest.

“Y/N,” Steve greeted gruffly, his shoulders tight.

“Oh, you’re actually talking to me today,” you joked. “What an improvement.”

Don’t push it.

You shot him a wink. “I’ll do my best.”

Bucky let out a snort of laughter at the silent exchange, stopping only because Steve jabbed him in the ribs. “Come on, punk,” he argued, wincing. “If the roles were reversed -”

“She wouldn’t fuckin’ be here.”

That was it. You’d had enough of Steve’s attitude to last a lifetime.

“What’s your problem, huh?” you demanded, power surging through you, sparking along your hands.

“You’re my problem,” was his blunt answer.

“No shit,” you snarled.

Bucky was between you, a hand seeking out yours, shooting daggers at his best friend. “Back off, man.”

Steve kept glaring at you over Bucky’s shoulder. “She’s too reckless, Buck. She’s a goddamn liability.”

“That’s what they said about me,” he shot back, voice low and rough.

“It’s not the same thing, and you know it.” Steve tried arguing.

“Like hell it ain’t,” Bucky scoffed.

The cool wave that had been washing over you, slowly putting out the flames surging through your veins, started to pull back. You’d dealt with not being wanted ever since you were born, you could deal with it a little longer. You wrenched your hand from the super soldier in front of you and gave Steve a tight smile.

“You win, Steve,” you ground out, doing your best to keep the emotion from your voice. Before either of the men could say anything, you ran from the room, a blur of emerald and a breeze that blew the papers from Bruce’s desk were the only sign that you had been there.

Bucky pushed Steve in the chest, making his friend stumble back. “Put your dick away and stop pissing on everything like you fuckin’ own it!”

“Excuse me?” Steve snapped.

“You heard me,” Bucky ground out. “From the moment you met Y/N, you’ve been treating her like shit, like she doesn’t belong here, like she’s evil.”

“How do you know she’s not?”

Bucky took a step back. “Wow,” he murmured. “I never thought I’d see the day. You sound just like them.”

Steve was shaking his head. “We know nothing about her -”

“She is literally thousands of years old,” Bruce calmly interrupted Steve’s argument. “Predates anyone… anything I’ve ever seen, anything Tony’s ever seen. Like Wanda, she’s a mind reader, has telekinesis, and mind control. She’s also one of the strongest empaths on record. Then, there’s her power. It’s… raw and immense, fierce and extreme, resplendent and vicious. I… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “She took out an army with her mind with that power, Bruce.”

“Like you wouldn’t do the same, Steve,” Bucky scoffed. “You, who took on the United States government because of me.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“It never is with you,” Bucky sighed heavily. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see if I can clean up the mess you made.”

Wanda was sitting on your bed when you blew into the room, the rush of air blowing her hair back.

“You can’t leave,” she murmured, her eyes flashing red, one leg pulled up, her chin resting on her knee.

Leaving Wanda was the last thing you wanted to do. In the short time you’d been at the compound, the two of you became close, the bond between you greater than friendship. It was as if you were sisters, separated at creation, willing to do anything for one another. Just the thought of not seeing her again made tears prick your eyes.

“I’m not wanted here.” You stode over to the closet and pulled out the clothes you had been wearing last week.

”I want you here.” Wanda’s voice rubbed inside your brain like velvet, soft and soothing, warm and inviting.

You couldn’t face her. ”It feels like you’re the only one that does.”

”Is that a bad thing?”

”It is when the man in charge would rather see me dead than accept my help.”

Wanda pushed up from the bed and hugged you from behind. ”Steve is… protective and passionate. He doesn’t mean to come off like a dick.”

Despite the emotion in your chest, you chuckled. You turned in her grip and gave her a squeeze. There was a knock on the open door just then.

“Don’t leave because Steve’s an asshole,” Bucky pleaded, entering your room without an invitation.

You hadn’t told Wanda you were staying, and part of you wanted to, if only to spite Steve. Then there was the part of you that had gotten used to the solitude of not having to worry what everyone else thought of you, how they judged you, how they talked about you behind closed doors; it was exhausting. But, if you left, you’d have less of a chance of finding out where you came from. Combine that with the fact that you weren’t ready to part from Wanda, there was only one choice to make.

“Alright,” you conceded happily. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Later that night, sitting on the roof, your legs hanging over the side, you gazed up at the stars. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t… hate you,” Steve muttered, crossing the roof slowly.

“Yeah, you do,” you argued, shuddering under the immense weight of negativity flowing off of the super soldier.

He pulled in several ragged breaths and tried again. “I don’t hate you, Y/N.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. “Can’t lie to an empath, Captain. Think you would have figured that out by now.”

“And with as old as you are,” he countered, “one would assume that you could tell the difference between hate and suspicion.”

“So, tell me, Captain,” you stood and leveled Steve with a cold stare. “What are your suspicions.”

”That you’ll use us, manipulate each and every one of us.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You tell me. You annihilated those men without hesitation.”

“They killed the only family I’d ever known,” you shouted, your voice thick and heavy. “Besides, you were on your way to do the exact same thing.”

Steve blew out a breath through his nose. “That’s not the point.”

“It is,” you ground out. “Face it, looking at me is like looking in the fuckin’ mirror, and you don’t like what you see.”

Dark eyes drilled into yours. “If it were up to me -”

“Well, it ain’t,” you interrupted, a heaving sigh leaving you. “Look, I get it, you don’t trust me. But, it’s a two way street, pal, and you’ve given me absolutely no reason to trust you either. You don’t have to like that I’m here, but I ain’t leaving because you’ve got a bug up your ass about it. The way I see it, this place is plenty big, and with all these tests I’m taking, I’m only ever in the lab or my room.”

“What’s your point?” His irritation was exhausting and you’d already been through the ringer.

You scraped a hand over your face and groaned. “I’ll stay in my corner, out of the way. Once Bruce and Tony are done with their tests, I’ll get outta your hair.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What do you want in return?”

“Besides not being treated like I’m the harbinger of death?” you scoffed loudly. “I don’t want a goddamn thing, Steve.”

The pressure inside your head started to lessen, and it had everything to do with the change in Steve’s demeanor. The muscle in his jaw clenched hypnotically as his mind spun. You wanted to listen in, to see what his thought process was, but you refrained.

“Okay, Y/N,” he agreed.

“Truce?” you inquired, holding your hand out.

Steve pulled in a deep breath before shaking your hand. “Truce.”

THREE

Wreak Havoc: @dewy-biitch @kornerstone234 @lilypalmer1987 @encounterthepast @xtina2191 @wecanburntogether @learisa @2s0uls @part-time-patronus @jfrank1048 @ramen-tically @storyteller-le

Clean & Sober: Four

Summary: After years of struggling to overcome his seemingly endless list of addictions, Steve Rogers has been clean & sober for one year. In an effort to remain clean, to prove to himself that he can overcome his demons, he takes on the responsibility of becoming a sponsor. It’s wrong for a sponsor to feel a personal attachment to the ones they are sponsoring, but apparently Steve didn’t get that memo.
Bucky Barnes’ downfall was cocaine, he couldn’t keep his nose clean if his life depended on it. After overdosing for the third time, a judge ordered him to ‘get clean, or go to jail.’ Narcotics Anonymous wasn’t really Bucky’s thing, that was until he saw the blonde haired, blue eyed God that was going to be his sponsor.
Will Steve be able to separate his feelings from the addiction? Can Bucky overcome his primal urges and keep things professional?
Word Count: 1,536
Warnings for series: Illicit & casual drug use, explicit language, alcohol abuse, explicit sexual language, male receiving anal sex, male receiving oral sex, explicit sexual content, heavy angst, masturbation, possibly more to come
Author’s Note: This is going to be strictly a Stucky fic. There will be no reader involved. I wouldn’t be writing this without the unwavering support of @captain-rogers-beard & @climbthatmooselikeatree I love you. GIF Credit.

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

Going into the next meeting, Steve was a bundle of nerves. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Bucky, and it was becoming problematic. He could hardly concentrate at work, on the football game, on simple conversations; Steve wanted Bucky all of the time. He wanted to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, to straddle his thick thighs, to feel Bucky’s cock pulse –

“Hey, man,” Clint called out, brows furrowed. “You alright?”

Clearing his throat, Steve adjusted the way he was standing. “Yeah, brother,” he lied. “All good.”

Clint didn’t believe him, but he didn’t push the matter. Not yet, at least. Between the pair of them, Clint had been sober the longest, and he knew when his friend had started a new addiction. He knew the signs all too well, and Steve looked strung the hell out, but Clint knew that if he stepped in too soon, he could push Steve further.

Steve ran a hand through his hair before announcing the start of the meeting. “Welcome to Narcotics Anonymous,” he droned on, doing his best to keep his eyes from meeting Bucky’s. He stammered his way through how his week had gone, completely omitting the part where he wanted to fuck Bucky’s brains out, that he had made himself cum until he almost blacked out. By the time he stepped down, a cold sweat had broken out over the back of his neck and forehead.

Wanda was the first to take a stand behind the microphone, but Steve wasn’t listening, he couldn’t hear a thing, not over the roar of his own heart.

With his back pressed to the wall, Steve sucked down several glasses of water in a futile attempt to rid his mouth and throat of the cotton-like texture and taste that had been there the past forty-eight hours. Steve was grinding his teeth, shifting from one foot to the other, trying to keep from looking at Bucky, but with each second that passed, Steve had a harder time resisting the urge.

When his neck started aching, the muscles protesting loudly at being kept still for too long, Steve groaned heavily and gave the tight muscles a squeeze. He felt people’s eyes on him, their curiosity piqued, their worry heavy on their brows, but Steve managed to ignore them, barely. It wasn’t until he heard Bucky’s voice that Steve’s eyes flew open.

“I don’t remember all of it, but this week was a tough one,” he started, tucking some hair behind his ear. “The withdrawal was really bad this time, and I know that if I hadn’t snagged someone to be my sponsor, I wouldn’t be here. Steve came to my apartment and stayed there until I was able to crawl out of bed on my own two feet. Hell, he even cleaned up the joint.”

Chuckles worked their way through the room, but the only one that Steve could focus on was Bucky. The man was chewing on his bottom lip and started blushing, and fuck, did it send a surge of lust through Steve.

“I just wanted to get up here and say thanks, man,” Bucky murmured, ducking his head, smirking playfully.

Steve watched Bucky like a hawk as he strolled through the room, a cocky swagger on his hips, thumbs hooked into the loops on his jeans. It wasn’t until the man sat down that Steve pulled in a breath, deep and ragged.

“Alright,” he announced loudly from the back of the room, still leaning against the wall. “Thanks for sharing your hardships and successes tonight. We’ve all got a long road ahead of us, but if we stick together, we’ll uh… we’ll make it uh… to uh….”

Bucky had turned around and was looking at him, his dark eyes boring a hole through Steve, making it hard to focus on the words he was supposed to be saying.

“We’ll make it through,” Clint announced loudly, a fake smile on his lips. “God be with you.” After that, the room started to fill with friendly chatter.

Steve couldn’t stay there, in the same room as Bucky, for much longer. His jeans were too tight, his blood was pumping too fast, and his heart was fluttering painfully against his chest. Jesus… it was like being high all over again. Before he could tuck tail and run, Clint was in front of him.

“Hey,” he asked gently. “You don’t look so hot. Is there something I should know?”

“What do you… are you talking about?” Steve stammered, the knot in his throat becoming bigger.

Bucky was at the table, pouring himself a cup of shitty coffee, fifteen feet from the men. Steve could smell the spicy cologne that streaked down Bucky’s neck, the pack of Marlboro Reds tucked inside the leather jacket, the peppermint gum he had been chewing from the moment he walked in the door… he smelled good enough to fuck.

“Are you using again, man?“ The question took Steve by surprise.

His eyes went wide and he took a step back. “Wow,” he breathed. “You may as well have asked me to piss in a fuckin’ cup, man.”

“I didn’t say -”

“You didn’t fuckin’ have to,” Steve snarled angrily.

Clint arched a brow as he looked up at his friend. “Hold on one good goddamn minute, Steve. You’re my friend and I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” Steve stepped around Clint, their shoulders smashing together in a way that made Clint wince.

Steve stormed out of the building, down the stairs, around the block, and disappeared down a dark alley. Every inch of him was thrumming; anger, lust, frustration, desire, resentment, all of it was getting to be too much. He wanted to punch something and fuck someone, preferably at the same time.

“Hey, man,” someone called out from the mouth of the alley.

There was no pretending he didn’t know the voice. “Heya, Buck,” Steve said, tugging out a cigarette and lighter to keep from punching the brick wall.

Bucky strode through the shadows, his eyes never leaving Steve’s. “Got a little intense back there. You all good?”

Steve’s hand was shaking too bad, he couldn’t get his lighter to catch. “I will be,” he ground out through his teeth.

“Here, lemme help,” Bucky purred. He covered Steve’s hand with his own as he worked his thumb over the ignitor.

Steve watched as the flame ate at the end of his cigarette before pulling in a deep breath. His eyes flicked up to Bucky’s and it made the smoke catch in his throat. “Thanks,” he rasped.

“So,” Bucky pushed. “Do I need to be worried?”

“Worried?” Steve choked, his eyes wide. “Worried about what?”

Bucky chuckled as he reached for the cigarette between Steve’s fingers. “You’re my sponsor. If you’re off the wagon…” his voice tapered off as he pulled in a lazy drag.

“No,” Steve argued. “No, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m not in danger of falling off the wagon.”

Screwing your brains out, maybe.

After pulling in another drag, Bucky handed Steve the cigarette. “If you say so, Steve.” His voice was thick and low, sounding very much like the other day when he was jerking off in the shower.

Fuck.

The last of Steve’s resolve dissolved like sand in the water. He flicked the cigarette to the ground and stepped into Bucky’s airspace, two sets of stormy eyes searching the other, tongues darting out to dampen a bottom lip. With each step Bucky took back, Steve took a bigger one, and by the time Bucky’s back was against the wall, their chests were pressed together and their mouths were a whisper apart.

“What the…” Bucky rasped.

Neither of them moved for a minute, they just stood there, their hearts hammering, their breath mingling, their chests heaving.

“Tell me to stop,” Steve implored, nose brushing against Bucky’s, using a finger to tuck a lock of chestnut hair behind Bucky’s ear.

Bucky was shaking his head, pushing his cheek into Steve’s palm. “I won’t.”

“I’m your sponsor,” he argued weakly.

“I don’t care.” Bucky’s hands were on Steve’s waist, fingers squeezing.

Double fuck.

Sucking in a ragged breath, Steve crashed his lips into Bucky’s, kissing the man feverishly. The sounds that Bucky was making in the back of his throat when their tongues tangled were dark and sinful, sending electric pulses of arousal along Steve’s spine. With Bucky’s hands on Steve’s ass, Steve’s hips rocked into Bucky’s, trapping him against the wall. Steve’s hands itched to rip the clothes from Bucky’s body, to feel the heavy weight of his pulsing cock, and judging by the way Bucky was fumbling with Steve’s jeans, he knew Bucky felt the same way.

Bucky’s fingers had just crept into the waistband of Steve’s boxer briefs when there was a squealing sound at the mouth of the alley. Steve all but jumped back, sucking the cool air into his oxygen-deprived lungs. Once he realized what the sound was – a homeless person pushing a dilapidated shopping cart – he looked at Bucky and felt his heart sink.

“I uh… I should go,” Steve blurted out, regretting the words the moment they were out. He quickly adjusted his clothing and strode away.

FIVE

Clean & Sober: @mistjif68 @pieceofsupersoldiertrash @imgonnaregretthisusername @river-night @raychic26 @colorful48 @neoncat1216 @imbiowaresbitch @papi-chulo-seb @lets-do-get-help @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @chaythegay @vgurl18

Stucky: @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @autoblocked @its–fandom–darling @eshia16 @daiiybuugle @delicatecapnerd @phoenix21love @natcad

A Long Time Coming: Five

Summary: It feels like every other day you’re in Frank Adler’s garage while he looks under the hood of your beat-up vehicle, trying to diagnose the newest problem. He’s always been sweet about it; you coming in at the last second because you’re running late for work, always slashing the prices so you don’t go broke.
One day, on your way into work, your radiator overheats, leaving you stranded on the side of the road. Knowing he won’t let you down, you call Frank. Ever the gentleman, he gives you a ride, but when he drops you off at work, he discovers a secret you had worked so hard to keep.
You promised your boyfriend you’d never cheat, but now you’re not sure what you have could even be called love.
What happens when Frank finds himself falling for you? Will he be able to keep himself from intervening in the toxic and tumultuous relationship you and your boyfriend have?
Word Count: 1,169
Warnings: First and foremost, domestic violence; emotional, verbal, & physical. Language, heavy angst, insecure female reader, PTSD, no cheating, possibly more to come.
Author’s Note: A huge thank you to @captain-rogers-beard for allowing me to steal some of her thunder. Your unwavering support has left me speechless.

Series Master List

My work is not to be posted on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my express written permission. Reblogs are fine.

Fear was a great motivator.

Your muscles were cramping up, sweat was running in rivulets down your back, and you knew that the people you ran past were staring at you, but you didn’t care. If you stopped, there was no doubt in your mind that James was going to catch you. But, if you kept moving, if you kept putting one foot in front of the other, that meant you had a chance to get away for good, to survive.

When the garage where Frank worked came into view, you choked on a sob. You honestly didn’t think you were going to make it another step. Hell, you felt as if you were going to pass out, but you kept pushing, straight through the front door, and into the bathroom. You threw the lock and rushed across the small room where you dropped to your knees and threw up into the toilet.

Once your stomach stopped rolling, you flushed the toilet and drug yourself off of the floor. You didn’t dare look at your reflection as you turned on the water and splashed your face, making sure to rinse your mouth out. It didn’t get rid of the taste of vomit, but it would have to do the trick.

“Y/N?” It was Frank that knocked on the door, his voice low and worried.

Before unlocking the door, you wiped the water from your face with a paper towel. Frank was standing there, his eyes flicking over your face, especially the bruise from James’ fist. You watched as anger flashed across his face, and you couldn’t help but flinch at the way it darkened his eyes. It lasted only a second, just long enough for Frank to see the way you reacted.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, taking a step back, giving you room. “Are you okay?”

You thought you had run out of tears, so when your eyes filled up once again, you let out a groan of disappointment. “No, I… I’m not okay, Frank. I… I need your help.”

“Let’s go to the office,” he offered softly, a tip of his head as he lead the way.

Frank sat back and watched Y/N as she drank glass after glass of cool water. Her legs and hands were shaking, and she kept looking over her shoulder to the door.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he assured her gently. “You’re safe here.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I ain’t safe anywhere. He’ll find me, Frank. He always finds me.”

Frank wanted to sit next to her, to drape his arm over her shoulder, and comfort her in any way he could, but he wasn’t going to. The main reason was that he didn’t want to scare her more than she already was, and the other reason was that he didn’t completely trust himself not to do something stupid.

He was about to reassure her, to swear that he’d die before anything else happened to her, but he didn’t get the chance. The door burst open at that very moment. It was Cole, and he looked scared.

“He’s here, Frank.” The words left him in a rush and his eyes fell on an already-crying Y/N.

“I’ll be right there, Cole.” Frank ran to his desk and pulled out a key from the top drawer, pulled Y/N off the couch, and shoved the key into the door handle. “As soon as this door is closed, you lock it, and you hide under my desk.”

“Wha- what about yo- you?” she stammered, her eyes wide with fear.

“Lock the door,” he repeated sternly. “Do not open it for anyone other than me, okay?”

When she nodded, Frank slammed the door behind him, thankful when he heard the key turn. Pulling in a deep breath, he rushed out to the lobby and almost crashed into a very drunk and belligerent James.

“There he is,” James accused, a snarl on his lips. “The man that’s fuckin’ my girl.”

Frank was shaking his head. “James, I’m not sleeping with Y/N. All I do is fix the car.”

James laughed loudly. “You don’t even fix cars! Your spe- specia… you fix boats.”

“You’re right,” Frank agreed, taking several steps closer to James, hoping that would steer the man away from the hallway. “But I do know how to pour water into a radiator.”

Cole, who was nineteen and had never seen James in the flesh, was holding the shop’s phone in his shaking hands as the color drained from his face.

“So you are fuckin’ her.” James stood to his full height, which was a solid three inches taller than Frank. “Where is she?”

To his credit, Frank remained calm, though his heart was hammering wildly in his chest. “She ain’t here, man. I haven’t seen her lately.”

“Bull-fucking-shit,” the drunkard slurred. “I know she’s here.”

“James, I’m telling you, you’re wasting your time,” Frank insisted, continuing his journey towards James.

Despite being hellbent on finding Y/N, James’ body acted on its own and started backstepping. “I’ll find her, Frank.”

“Not here, you won’t. Now, either you leave, or I call the cops.” Frank held his hand out for the phone, which Cole handed over quickly.

James scoffed painfully loud. “And tell ‘em what?”

“I’ll tell them that you’re drunk and threatening the staff,” Frank answered coolly. “I’ll tell them that you’re violating your probation by drinking and driving. I’ll tell them that I’ve seen the bruises on Y/N.”

Rage flashed in James’ eyes. “It’s her word against mine.”

Frank pushed a button on the phone, filling the space between them with the dial tone. “You have a history in this town, James, and it ain’t pretty.” The number nine was pressed, making James grind his teeth.

“I know people on the force,” he threatened under his breath.

Frank pressed the number one while holding James’ dark gaze. “Not as many people as I do. Now, what happens next is all up to you. Go, or I finish calling the emergency line.”

James stood there, glaring at Frank, his hands balled into fists, his chest heaving, for all of thirty seconds. Sneering, he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to crack the glass. Cole let out a groan as he hunched over the counter, and Frank watched to make sure James actually left. Only after the car had disappeared down the street did Frank march back to his office.

“Y/N, it’s me, it’s Frank,” he announced, knocking on the door with his knuckles. “James is gone.”

A moment later, she was opening the door and lunging at him, hugging him and weeping openly, staining his shirt with her tears. Frank held her close, yet refrained from kissing the top of her head.

It was several minutes later when he said, “We gotta get you out of here.”

“I know,” she sniffled. “But, where am I gonna go?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Frank promised.