Erinallene - 1982 Baby

drifting (6)

[cw!bucky barnes x female!reader]

summary: bucky saves the life of a woman when she’s buried in an avalanche. faced with the possibility that his cover might be blown, bucky must keep the woman alive, and try to keep her from finding out who he is… or what he’s done.

how long can he hide?

warnings: angst. reader is hurting. bucky is an idiot* (*scared).

word count: 2.5k+

a/n: some of you called the angst coming... here it is, babes.

series masterlist

***

I’ve been compromised.

She sits on the porch, wrapped up in Bucky’s coat with the sheepskin lining, and his hat jammed over her ears. Her phone is propped up on the railing, so she can see if the notification pops up, but she can’t hold it in her hands anymore. She sent the message ten minutes ago–the chat indicated that he had seen it, but he isn’t responding. If she were out on any other mission, he would already have deployed emergency protocols and replied in seconds. He’s slacking.

But she’ll wait, because she can hardly look Bucky in the eye. He hasn’t been able to manage more than a grunt in response to her since she told him her theory about meeting in the Red Room. He just got up, put the kettle on, and smoked a cigarette in just his sweatpants and a light t-shirt. So she did the only thing she could think of (or at least the only thing that needed to happen, according to her training), and she reached out for help.

Steve was vague about what should happen if she and Bucky ever crossed paths, because that wasn’t on the agenda, so it’s not like there was some grand plan if he found out who she was working for. Usually in this case, she would take her principle out. That was so far from an option that the thought of having to kill him makes her dizzy. The frigid air helps her stay focused, but she can’t feel her fingers.

The feeling of Bucky’s hands on her face is still present on her tingling cheeks. The way he clutched at her, wordlessly begging it all not to be true.

The phone buzzes, finally. Steve is calling.

“Steve.”

“What happened?”

“He found my phone,” she admits, casually leaving out the part where he discovered it because he was in bed beside her.

“Okay. Are you safe?”

“Yes, I’m safe,” she scoffs. “He’s not a monster.”

“I’m just trying to assess–”

“I know how this works, Rogers.”

“I’m sorry it took a moment to get back to you. Fury has declared you AWOL. I just got out of a meeting—”

“Did you know?” she demands, and then she curses herself for not quelling the anger which is rapidly bubbling to the surface. The man on the other end of the phone sighs.

“--action will begin shortly for your recovery.”

“I don’t care about a fucking desertion designation–did you know that I knew him?”

“...Yes.”

She laughs wryly. “You sent me on recon knowing it might compromise us both–”

“Y/n, I sent you because you are the only person who has ever broken him out of his programming, and if he gets triggered, you’re his best chance to stay in control. I didn’t know that you didn’t remember.”

“That wasn’t in my assignment!”

“It was the worst case scenario.”

“I walked around that compound thinking I was being ridiculous. I slept with his photo next to my bed, feeling like such a creep–”

“Is he stable?”

“He is great, no thanks to you. Might never speak to me again after finding out I’ve been lying to him, but in my defense, I didn’t know how covert the lie was.”

She glances over her shoulder. Two clear blue eyes are watching her through the window. He doesn’t even try to play it off like he wasn’t listening in. She nods to the door. If he wants to listen, he might as well hear it all. She presses the speaker button as the front door opens. Bucky stands there stiffly, hands in his pockets.

“What do you remember?” Steve asks.

She sighs. “Not much. I think… I think they forced him to hurt me.”

Bucky huffs.

“That is consistent with what information Nat found.”

“I can’t believe that you sent me here without figuring out what I knew.” she peers at Bucky out of the corner of her eye. “Before I got to know him, I just thought I was feeding off your concern for him, but all this time I’ve been acting on muscle-memory–how well did I know Soldat?”

“Does he remember anything?”

“Some,” Bucky murmurs.

“Very little,” she translates. “I swear to god, Steve.”

“Is he there?”

Bucky shakes his head.

“No.”

“Alright. Just thought I heard something. Nat could be more specific–”

“I don’t want to talk to her.”

Steve takes far too long to respond. Enough time that she looks up to Bucky in panic, but he nods, like reassurance. Like he’ll tell you, just give him a second. It occurs to her then that Bucky still knows Steve, and that’s why she’s here. Isn’t it? At least in part. But she isn’t ready for the breadth of this secret which Steve has unknowingly kept from her, and when he still doesn’t answer, even after Bucky holds up his hand to stay her, she sighs.

“Steve–”

“I don’t know everything,” Cap says softly. “But you knew him better than most people. Maybe even me.”

“You’re not serious…”

“Apparently when Nat found you, you were being treated for a stab wound in your abdomen, in a small hospital outside of Bucharest. You didn’t know how you got there, but you kept asking for him. You didn’t even recognize Nat at first. All the nurses could get out of you was ‘my love.’ She didn’t suspect his identity until she found reports about the Asset breaking his programming for a top-level trainee at the Red Room. He was pulled from active service and HYDRA discontinued his involvement in the Academy, but not before he was given the order to kill the woman to whom he showed preference.”

She runs a hand over her face. “Why don’t either of us remember? Steve–I went through six months of rehabilitation and I never had one flicker of a memory. I don’t even have a scar.”

“Self-preservation? I don’t know. Maybe it was too painful.”

Bucky is nowhere to be seen when a hot tear splashes on her hand. “More painful than finding out I loved someone I don’t even remember?” she murmurs, and she prays that Bucky isn’t listening around the corner. Super-soldier hearing is a plague on this conversation, in more ways than one.

“I’m sorry. I–Nat made it seem… you weren’t even going to meet him.”

“Unless he was triggered. Which it seems like you expected. Did neither of you think about what would happen to me?” She huffs. “

“Your mission, now–”

“I’ll make sure he’s safe, but I’m not doing it to make you feel better. You compromised me. If something goes wrong, worse than both of us having to cope with this, it’s on you. Okay? Great. I’m going to go try to persuade him to eat something. Be sure to send me more information about who’s coming after me so I know whether to use the pocket knife from World War 2 that Bucky loaned me–” her voice wavers on the name she hasn’t called him the entire time she’s been here– “or a fire poker, because my pack is at the bottom of this mountain with my gun. Which of those things do you think would be best against Iron Man, or whoever Fury’s about to send?”

“I’ll have a supply pack airdropped–”

“And compromise us more? The psychological damage was generous enough, but thanks anyway. I’ll contact you once we’re safe, but… I don’t know if you’ll see me again. I can’t speak for Bucky, but. I wouldn’t blame him for disappearing, too.”

“Y/n… you have every right to be upset, but there’s reason to assume that HYDRA is still looking for him. Let me help you.”

“You think I haven’t considered that? What’s going to happen if they find us together? Or did it slip your mind that they ordered him to kill me? I said I’d keep him safe. I can’t–I can’t talk to you anymore. Leave me alone. And Steve? Tell Natalia that she broke my heart.”

She hangs up the phone and tosses the basically indestructible thing onto the wooden slats. She puts her face in her hands and screams.

“Come inside.”

She starts. Bucky is back, at her side, hand outstretched like he’s going to touch her shoulder, but he stops just short. He stares at the ground.

“Please look at me,” she whispers. “Jamie–I’m so lost, here…”

“It’s supposed to snow,” he replies. He reaches for her phone, and hands it back.

“Are you angry?”

Bucky cards a hand through his hair. “Not with you.” When he looks at her finally, his eyes are glassy. Her heart is in her throat. “Come inside,” he asks again. His silvery fingers extend to her. She sets her hand in his, and just for a moment, he squeezes. Bucky tugs her behind him, and into the house. He leads her into the kitchen, and releases her. She lays his coat and hat on the back of a chair, and then pushes herself up onto the counter; Bucky has pulled a few things from the cabinet like rice, and some dried mushrooms, and there is water gently simmering on the stovetop. He puts the rice into the water like she taught him, and fits the lid on the pot, and sets the timer on his watch. He braces his hands against the oven and sighs.

“So.”

“Yeah.” She pulls her legs to her chest, and lays her cheek on her knee. “I–should I have let you talk with him?” The question comes out before she can stop it.

Bucky shakes his head. “No.”

“Should I have kept the call private–”

“Y/n–” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just… tell me. About your mission.”

“What it was meant to be…”

“Yes.”

“Alright. I work… with special forces most of the time,” she says, though that feels like an insufficient place to start the story. “Steve had been searching for any sign of you, after Insight. He got his pardon, so he had access to Shield’s data again, and there were rumors through the intel community that you were somewhere in the American West. But he couldn’t look into it himself without drawing Shield’s attention to you. Which is when Nat suggested… Me.” She closes her eyes, because she can’t stand to see him there, in arm’s reach, still as a statue.

“I read through about three boxes worth of files from Nat’s contacts about the Winter Soldier–mostly records of how you usually appeared when HYDRA had a new job for you, patterns of behavior. Like how often you went MIA after a job, and where they found you. Like–you would ditch your handlers on a busy train platform, and show up a hundred miles away working on a dock. Or one time, you hitched a ride on a box truck and they found you because you got into a bar fight. They always found you because something would happen, a–a fight or an accident that brought a little publicity. So. I built a profile.

“You weren’t intercepted by HYDRA after the destruction of Insight, so it was safe to assume they thought you were dead. Which meant you probably felt safe enough to go into more rural areas where people would notice you. There was a ping in Albuquerque’s small paper about a George Barnes being pulled over for driving without a license, in a stolen van, and–”

“That’s how you found me.”

She opens her eyes again, and he’s closer now, leaning his back against the counter beside her. He’s not watching her anymore, but she’d only have to breathe in a little deeper for her arm to brush against him.

“I tracked you from Santa Fe,” she confirms. “You couldn’t stay away from the draw of other people. I told Steve once, it was like you were so lonely that you wandered into a bar, only to realize that drunk men are the worst. He said that made sense, considering–well. That you often had to pull drunk bullies off of him. You stayed on my radar because you were doing the same for other strangers. I had a conversation with a bartender in Pueblo who described a tall man, blue eyes… longish brown hair… who ordered a whiskey he didn’t drink, and then took a guy down for touching a woman before the bouncer could even react.

“But then you headed into the mountains, and I could tell you were slowing down. I was days behind you, and then I saw you walking down the street in Breckenridge.”

He frowns. “Before I bought the truck.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

“I put a tracker on it when you were inside the guy’s house making the deal, so that’s how… yeah. But along the way, I was doing my best to erase your trail. Technically Shield owns that truck you abandoned five miles from here.”

Bucky nods. “I… I was hallucinating.”

“Hmm?” She touches his shoulder. He flinches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Thought I was being followed.”

Bucky leans into her. She grips his shoulder as if to say… I’m sorry for making it worse. I–I did this to you. He covers her hand with his own.

“I was going to ski down the back side of the mountain, and wait you out a while in town. I had gotten visual confirmation that you were here, and it seemed unlikely anybody else would find you out, if you stayed put. I did not know how dangerous it was to ski in the back country this time of year, given how much the temperature yo-yos. So. That’s the whole of it.”

“Other than… what you said. You had my picture.”

She bites her lip. “God. Um. Yeah, your enlistment photo. I carried it around with me like a war widow.” War widow–fuck. She presses her eyes closed. What a fucking horrible choice of words. She can’t think. Everything is cloudy. “Not remembering a thing.”

“That first time you woke me up, I was dreaming about it. What Soldat did to you. It’s the only thing I remember about it, but… I told you you were safe in the dream, that I wouldn’t hurt you. But he–I did.” He shakes his head like it might clear up his own foggy memory. “You don't remember anything else?”

“No,” she whispers. “I’m not even sure how… this–” she gestured between them– “would’ve happened in there. I was watched like a hawk.”

Bucky nods once.

“I’m sorry. For not telling you about Steve.”

He shrugs. “You were doing what you thought was right.”

“I know now, why I felt like I had to help you.”

He digests that for a moment, but what she wants is for him to respond like… I’m glad you did. I’m glad you’re here. But he doesn’t.

“You’re AWOL?”

She laughs painfully. “Yeah. Feels like I never got a chance to know what being safe felt like, it… it was supposed to be Nat who kept me safe, that was her promise to me when she brought me home. But I don’t know why I trusted her. Turns out I’ve only had one good thing which meant anything to me, and I don’t even remember. Why didn’t she tell me? God, Nat kept warning me not to let it go too far.”

She folds herself, pressing her forehead to her knees. It feels like a betrayal so deep that some little string inside her has been severed, and now she’s bleeding internally. For herself, and Natasha’s betrayal, and what happened with Bucky… in such recent history in her life, causing such ripples through her unconscious mind, and yet–with no memory to bring it into focus. She weeps.

“I wish I didn’t know,” she whispers. “I wish this was the first time I met you.”

Bucky’s hands find her shoulders, and he’s coaxing her feet down until he can stand between her knees. She curls her fingers into the front of his shirt–the very henley he loaned her when she first arrived. He doesn’t pull her closer and it feels like a rejection. Like he’s comforting her because he has a heart, and not because he wants to help her through it. This is not how he wakes her out of a bad dream. This is a stiff touch with no warmth in it. Still, she presses her forehead to his chest.

“You told him it was muscle memory.” His voice rumbles between his ribs.

“Yeah,” she laughs through thick emotion. “I just know you. I know you in a way that my body is adamant about, and I can’t explain it, it’s like this phantom pain every time I look at you, and it’s getting worse the longer I’m around you…” she trails off, forcing herself to look up at him. Her cheeks are hot, but she can’t help but babble. “Do you feel it, too? Am I crazy?”

“No.”

His eyes say otherwise. They’re glassy again, so blue that it hurts, and his mouth is twisted up like he can’t afford to say anything else or he’ll admit it. He shakes his head, and stands back from her, but she won’t let go of his shirt. Please don’t run, she pleads in her mind. I need you to help me figure out what’s real. Slowly, Bucky raises his hand and works her fingers free. He squeezes her hand. Then, he turns away.

She chokes back a rush of pain. The tears renew themselves, and she covers her mouth. She is nauseous. She pushes off the counter and runs into the bedroom–hardly making it into the washroom and kicking the door shut before her stomach heaves. She clutches the porcelain… and sobs. There’s nothing else to do but cry, because… this man who her whole body seems to reach for, who she loved in another lifetime, who every day seems to let her in a little bit more… She cries because the woman who was supposed to be her family kept this from her, and sent her on an assignment she was destined to fail. She can’t go home now, and this certainly can’t be it. The man who she’s spent two weeks with, held and been held by–he doesn’t want this. And there is a whole host of people about to come looking for them both. What is there for her, now?

And is this going to ruin The Hobbit for her? She chokes out a pained laugh at the stupid thought, wiping her mouth with a piece of tissue. She stands so she can wash her face, and she remembers her father’s words again. Not the ones about Gandalf, and powerful men. But what he said to her every night when he pulled her blankets up to her chin.

You’re loved, honey bee. By a lot of people. Everybody’s love looks a little different, but every form is good if it’s honest and kind.

She cries, and it’s all her body has left to give.

Later, her phone chimes. She checks it when the curiosity gets the best of her. It’s from Natasha, and it makes her blood go cold.

I’m sorry. I thought I was protecting you.

***

Bucky stirs the mushrooms into the rice, and takes his punishment like a stab to the stomach, as every sob of hers rips through him.

Listening to her demand answers over the phone from the only person Bucky has ever considered a friend, the pain in her voice–she was heartbroken. She was an innocent agent sent to help him, first of all. Innocent people shouldn’t get mixed up with Bucky Barnes. That’s how bad things happen.

She couldn’t be another tally he carved into the back cover of the book she loved so much.

“You’re not what I expected,” she had said, holding that book in her hands. He didn’t know that she meant it compared to the photograph she carried around, from when he was just a bright-eyed boy from Brooklyn. Bucky can’t even fathom it. It’s such a sweet thought, absolutely tainted by the way she’s been manipulated. On the other hand, the thought of her laying in a hospital begging for моя любовь… he came back to lucidity in Bucharest, while she pleaded for him. Wouldn’t he have remembered someone calling him that? Did they use that kind of language, or was their connection made from fleeting moments in that hellish school? Did she know his body the way his seemed to know hers, that first night he held her for warmth?

Wait... that's not what Steve said. He said 'my love.' From what dark corner is Bucky's brain pulling out 'моя любовь'? Shit.

He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s felt something for her before. Every fiber of his being is pulled towards her, like he breathes because she breathes. He wants to give in, and hold her while they both come to terms with the reality of their shared history. All of it, maybe even more. But if Steve is right, he was ordered to kill her, and that part of him still exists alongside the phantom pain of her. He can’t make any space in his heart for hope, knowing that it was ripped away from him before. If HYDRA took her from him once. They can do it again. Ten words, and he will be the one to kill her. Losing her again will kill him.

No more bedtime stories, or gentle touches to soothe her awake from a nightmare. No more pretending like this is something either of them were going to be able to keep.

Now that she’s healed, they have to part ways.

After this snowstorm. The weather band said to expect up to two feet. He can’t leave her unless he knows she’ll be safe. The roads are about to be even more encumbered. The only chance for a quick getaway once they’re clear is the truck five miles down the hill, like she said. If he leaves now, he strands her alone, and very likely dies himself from exposure. He sighs.

He doesn’t sleep that night, because she doesn’t come out to eat. She shuts the bedroom door, and locks it… he relieves himself outside, and he can’t help but feel like he deserves it. When she screams in her sleep, he tries to knock, to wake her up if nothing else, but she doesn’t stir from her whimpering episode. He could break the door, but then there wouldn’t be anywhere for her to go. To get away, and shield herself from him. He sits in the hallway until her voice gets hoarse, and her breathing turns soft again.

Bucky wants to be angry with her for hiding that she came on Steve Roger’s errand, but after the way she reamed Steve out, all he can muster is worry. Between three and four in the morning, he stares at the bedroom door, bouncing his knee anxiously. When was the last time you worried about another person, Barnes? And why did he tell her ‘no?’” She has that laser vision–she always sees right through him. He expects to go on about his life as if he hasn’t spent the last few weeks becoming addicted to reaching for her, and she will know, the whole time, that he is lying.

She centered him. He finally started feeling like he had some semblance of control over his mind again, all because of her. What the hell am I doing?

Protecting her, right?

And Steve… if the time comes where Bucky sees him again, as this relentless search proves is likely, he will have to answer for this. Because even though it’s best if he’s not with her, he’ll be damned if anyone gets away with hurting her. What was Steve thinking? Of all the stupid things that he had done, this was up there. Trying to find him–Bucky doesn’t want to be found, least of all by Steve Rogers. Then there’d be another person he used to care about who’d have to see what he has become. He’s spent this long trying not to think about the last time they met.

The door unlatches. Bucky jumps. She peers at him, frozen for a moment. Her eyelids are swollen from crying.

“Just getting some water. Excuse me–”

He gets up. “I’ll get it.”

“No. I–I don’t need your help. It’s okay.” She skirts around him, ducking under his arm.

Bucky follows her slowly; there’s not far to go in such a small cabin, but he jams his hands in his pockets and watches her fill a cup at the sink. She’s shaking. She must be starving. The rest of the rice is still in the pot, staying chilled on the porch. He can warm it up for her, easily.

“You should eat,” he murmurs.

“No thank you.” She knocks back the small cup’s worth of water, and refills it. She crosses towards the bedroom and he can’t help himself–Bucky reaches out and grabs her elbow. A bit of water sloshes out of the cup in her hand, but she doesn’t move to pull away. She doesn’t even look at him.

“‘M sorry. That I don’t remember.”

“Hmm. If that were true… that you’re sorry… I think you’d let yourself try, now. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to say that you’ve been acting like you feel something. But. I can see that you don’t want to. I’ll get over it.”

She isn’t angry as she says it, and that makes it twice as cutting. She’s resigned to it. When she pulls her elbow free, Bucky feels like somehow he’s made everything worse. He’s hurt her, too. And even apologizing didn’t fix it.

Why does that feel so much worse than actually putting a knife in her belly?

***

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Oh my god! Sebastian Stan! Man, you’re looking good!

It’s here!!

The One Where They Agree To Make A Romcom

Seb and Jen on Variety’s Actors on Actors

Relative Dating Part Eighteen

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Indiana Jones x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: Welcome back to the latest garbage fire!

The artifact mentioned in this chapter is a fake one.

Warnings: Cursing; period-typical sexism; period-typical expectations of women; some angst; fluff

Summary: It’s been three years since she left him to spend his last night alone in Cairo—three years of living in New York; three years of half-heartedly wondering what might’ve been; and three years of wondering if she, wherever she is, thinks of him, too.

“I don’t want a lot of tears tomorrow.”

“Then don’t cry.” She gives him a sly look, even as his eyes narrow in irritation at her.

“I meant from you,” Indiana clarifies.

“I won’t cry. I’m not leaving Cairo empty-handed.”

“Right,” He drawls, eying the black Abyssinian kitten in the carrier in her hand.

“Isn’t she cute!”

“You name her?”

“Bastet, of course.”

“Of course.”

Keep reading

Chris Evans as Frank Adler in Gifted (2017)

gimme an M, gimme a U (4/?)

Pairings: Yenzy (Jensen) x itty bitty (platonic) and Hockeyplayer!Ari Levinson x female reader (Levs x itty bitty)

Warnings: explicit language, physical violence- minor and not in detail (male towards male) excessive legal age drinking, heartache, angst, idiots in love and ruining it, bonehead Levs, MU team, itty bitty acting out of character, explicit sexual content implied- possibly a little dub con-ish depending on how you look at it, size kink- itty bitty is short and it’s making all the boys feral (must be 18+)

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: not beta read. All mistakes are my own.

I know she’s not here anymore but a thank you to my sweet friend Siri for reading though this and spitballing ideas with me ❤️

Levs (Ari) x itty bitty: hockey AU

Lucky Charms: hockey AU

So, just because there’s been some buzz around this part in particular- could I ask that you kindly put any spoiler comments/reblogs under a cut, please? 🙏❤️ Thank you for all your support! I appreciate all of you so much!

"He's freaking out, y/n... can you at least let him know you're OK?" Yenzy sighed, tapping the pencil on his notebook as he swiveled in his desk chair. He took his glasses off and rubbed at his tired eyes before replacing them.

It had been nearly a week since you left Ari at the arena and ever since the boys won, Ari had been calling you non-stop. Your mailbox was full and he had even accosted your roommate, drunk and begging for your whereabouts.

You had left- not even telling your roommate where you planned on going. You didn't have a plan. You just needed a place where he wouldn't find you. And he would never think to look for you... here.

"How 'bout an I'm OK, now fuck off text?" Yenzy smirked.

"No" you snorted stubbornly, "he can eat shit" you double hiccuped and then giggled.

Yenzy heard a muffled male voice in the background of wherever you were, you pulled the phone away and held it to your chest as you spoke to the unidentified male, Yenzy only hearing bits and pieces of a garbled conversation.

"Hey, bit..." Yenzy called into the phone.

"You're dumb... it's not a catchphrase..." you scoffed, bringing the phone back to your ear, "anyone can say that..." you said, addressing the male voice.

"Bitty..." Jake tried again, louder this time.

"Yuck..." your hiccuped was a squeak, "don't call me that... I hate it... I hate that stupid nickname... who cares if I'm short? He's a big dumb giant" you harrumphed.

"How much have you had to drink?" Yenzy asked, concern laced his tone.

"Dunno" you sighed into the phone with a shrug, "but I need a refill..." you sang out to no one in particular.

"Are you at least being safe?" Yenzy asked with a heavy exhale, "where are you?"

"I'm fine" you assured, "I just need to not feel for awhile, Yenz" you dropped your voice so only Yenzy could hear you, "and I'm not telling you... cause then you'll tell him and he'll come find me... and I'm not... ready" your voice was growing watery again as you thoughts drifted back to Ari.

You couldn't think of him for too long- you wouldn't let yourself- or it would start the spiral of devastation all over again. He had been your everything for the past two years and you were his... nothing.

Why did it take you so damn long to realize that? You felt like a joke.

You were nothing but a good time for him. A stop  in between his revolving door of partners. Maybe he had been sleeping with others all along- even when he said he was waiting to score with you.

You felt like you were going to be sick. Clearing your throat as you wiped the tears with the back of your borrowed sweater.

"Y/N..." Yenzy blew out another exhale -completely over being in the middle of all of this- he had clearly been trying to get your attention as you were lost in thought, "just be careful, please? And call me if you need anything... I won't tell him if you don't want me..." but Jensen's words were cut short when there was a loud commotion on his end of the phone.

"What the hell?" Yenzy huffed when his bedroom door flung open with a force that rattled the house.

"Is that bit? Where is she? Gimme the phone" Levs' demanded as he rushed across the room.

Ari looked disheveled; bloodshot eyes, hair tossled from racking his hands through it one too many times and he smelled like booze.

"Levs... she doesn't want to tal..." Yenzy started before Levs yanked the phone from the goalie's hand.

"Bit?" Levs tried to keep his voice even but it trembled. The line was dead.

"Fuck" Levs yelled, nearly cracking Yenzy's phone when he closed his fist around it with a snarl. His face flushed pink as he seethed down at his teammate.

"Why didn't you tell me she was talking to you?" Levs barked, "I've been trying to get a hold of her for days..."

"Jesus, man... get a grip" Yenzy said, standing and maneuvering around Levs as he tried to leave his room, "she doesn't want to talk to you."

"Get a grip?" Levs spun around, "she's my... my..."

"Your what, man?" Yenzy goaded, "you're a mess 'cause she left and you still can't fucking admit what she is to you..."

"Fuck you, Jensen" Levs growled.

"That's it... keep deflecting..." Yenzy scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"SHE'S MY FUCKING EVERYTHING" Levs yelled in a drunken rage as he threw Yenzy's phone to the floor.

Yenzy's jaw ticked, his fists clenched at his sides- he moved to pick his phone up, but Ari took an aggressive step towards the goalie, boxing him in against his bookcase.

"Then why don't you fucking tell her that?" Yenzy shot back, matching Levs' volume but not his bite.

"Watch it" Levs' anger was barely contained, boiling just under the surface.

"You've been stringing y/n along for how many years now?" Yenzy asked, "she's gone, pal..."

"I'm not your fucking pal" Levs loomed over Jensen with about 4 extra inches.

"She's too good for you" Jensen scoffed under his breath, standing his ground.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Levs growled.

"You heard me" Yenzy said, glaring at the brute.

Cappy, Sam and some of the other boys had made their way to the bedroom hallway from downstairs after hearing the yelling.

"She's too good for me, 'cause what?" Levs snorted harshly, "you wanna fuck her, Yenzy?"

"You're drunk" Yenzy glared at him.

"And you wanna fuck my girl" Levs countered.

"No... y/n and I are just friends... became friends the last time you were a massive dick to her in fact" Yenzy said, bluntly.

"What the hell does that mean?" Levs snarled.

"When you went home for the summer and hooked up with an ex..." Yenzy continued, "y/n found out... she saw it all... some video on TikTok or something."

"What?" Levs asked, "how? She never told me that..."

"Because she was humiliated..." Yenzy scoffed, "she had just told you she had feelings for you and you go and fuck some other girl?"

"I never fucked her..." Levs growled, taking Yenzy's shirt in his fists and yanking him close.

"Hey" Cappy yelled, getting in Levs' face, "walk it off, Levs" he said as Sam and Johnny rushed in, each grabbing a shoulder of the Canadian powerhouse.

Levs easily shook off his teammates' holds, glowering down at his goalie just as Yenzy's phone buzzed to life. Levs glared at Jensen, shoving him one last time before letting go of his rumbled t-shirt.

"If this is fucking broken..." Yenzy threatened as he bent down, picking up the phone and answering it when he saw your picture flash across the screen.

"Yenzy, is he still there?" you asked, your voice was steady, but inside you were trembling.

"Yes" Yenzy snarled, glaring at Levs who had backed off but still looked menacing in his current state of beast mode.

"Give him the phone" you instructed.

"You sure?" Yenzy asked.

"Please, Jake..." you blew out a heavy exhale.

Jensen sighed, reluctantly offering Levs the phone as he shook his head, throwing his hands in the air as if he were washing himself clean of the whole damn thing. Yenzy turned, storming out of his bedroom with a curse.

"Bit?" Levs asked, turning his back on his teammates as they also decided to leave the room.

"Stop calling me" you snapped.

"What? Bit, please..." Ari's voice was pained as he paced the small space, "I'm so sorry... I..."

"And leave my roommate and Yenzy alone. I'm not even at my place and I'm not coming back... They don't have anything to do with this..." you continued, ignoring his pleas.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"That's none of your concern anymore" you said.

"Bit... I scored... I scored" he slurred, "just come home, baby... please?" Ari begged, his voice watery now. You could tell he was drunk.

"Oh, that's great" your sarcasm was thick, "have fun with Kimmie..."

"What?" he snorted, "no, bit... it's you... it's only you... I scored for you..." Ari paused his pacing to emphasize every word.

"I don't care" you spat, "none of it matters... it never mattered, Levs..."

"Bit... don't say that..." but Ari's words were choked off with emotion, "don't do this to us, baby..."

"You did this... you did this to us" your tone was surprisingly calm, "you fucking did this to us... I was right there the whole fucking time and it never mattered."

"That's not true, bit" Ari's voice cracked again as he fought back the tears.

"Stop fucking calling me bit" you screamed into the phone, "I'm not your bit... I'm not your fucking anything..."

The phone went dead as Levs sank down on Yenzy's bed with a sob.

You stared at the phone for a long minute, eyes prickling with tears. The sound of someone clearing their throat startled you back to the present.

"Good girl" Ransom goaded, walking back into his bedroom and handing you an imported beer. You'd been getting drunk off this fancy shit ever since you showed up on his doorstep that night.

"Shut up" you whined, "I don't even know why we’re doing this... he's never gonna care..." you wiped a tear with the back of your hand.

"A guy like Levinson? Thinking he missed out on that tight little snatch? He's gonna fucking care" Ransom hissed, tossing you a jersey as he sat opposite you in his expensive oversized Italian leather chair.

"You're gross" you cringed, "why did I get drunk and tell you everything?"

"Cause I'm a good listener" Ransom snorted, not even believing himself.

"Are you just being nice to me so you can get in my pants?" you wondered out loud.

"Think that's been pretty clear from the start, little bitty kitty..." Ransom smirked.

"Ew! Don't call me that" you hiccuped.

"Why?" Ransom's eyes twinkled with delight, "she's obviously little, Ransom leaned forward, taking handful's of your soft curves and yanking you to the edge of his bed. You gasped, almost spilling your beer before squirming out of his hold as he frowned. Ransom leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated eye roll.

Trying to ignore the tension building in the room, you set the beer bottle on his bedside table and grabbed the jersey he had thrown at you.

"I'm not wearing this..." you frowned, holding up Ransom's MU knit. Even their jersey's were menacing.

"Sure you are... to the game with those assholes and Coach Barber" Ransom hummed, before standing up again and grabbing his giant hockey duffle from his bedroom floor, "Levinson will go balistic... and you want him off your back, right?"

You blew out a heavy sigh, but remained silent.

"Y/N... I'm not running a fucking bed-and-breakfast here..." Ransom narrowed his eyes at you, "and I'm not a nice guy... figure your shit out with that goon or wear the jersey..."

"It's not that easy, Ransom... I..." you started, but Ransom cut you off.

"Look... I don't give a shit what you do... but after we win tonight, I'm fucking whatever cunt ends up in my bed - even if that's your pretty little kitty... bet you're so fucking tight... and that it's been way too long... you're just begging to be stretched by a fat cock, huh?" his eyes darkened, staring at you hungrily.

You chirped, opening your mouth to protest, but your throat had gone completely dry.

"Wear it" he pressed, a satisfied smirk curling the corner of his mouth as he turned on the spot, leaving his room without another word.

A bad feeling sat heavy in your gut as you watched him go. Following through with some half-baked plan that you schemed up while drunk with Ransom last night- now suddenly sounded like the worst idea ever.

You stood, holding up Ransom’s jersey before deciding better of it and draping it over the back of his leather chair. You quickly tugged his sweater over your head and proceeded to hang it neatly next to his MU away uniform.

You left Ransom's room, in a pair jeans and a tank top, making your way through the house- on a mission.

It wasn’t long before you found another jersey, hanging from a rack near the kitchen. Taking that one off the hook, you held it up, admiring the quality red white and blue stiching. Your fingers traced the "Tucker" across the back. Lance boasting, just last night, that he was the only one from MU that had ever been invited to play for Team USA at the Olympics. They took gold that year- Lance had the tattoo to prove it.

You shook your head, hanging the jersey back up on its hook. That one wasn't going to cut it either.

Making your way through the kitchen to the other side of the house you stopped right outside his room. You felt like a modern day Goldilocks, not necessarily in looks, but in determination to find a jersey that was just right.

In a moment of panic, you faltered. Could you really be this mean? Did you want to be this mean? Levs had hurt you. Shattered your heart into a million pieces and you were ready for him to feel some of that heartache.

As you stood there, agonizing over everything that had happened in the last two years to lead up to this moment, the bedroom door in front of you swung open.

"Why hello there, dewdrop" his unconventional choice in facial hair made him look at least 5 years older than all the other players on MU as he glanced down at you with, mischief in his eyes,  "what can I do for you?"

His words and tone were deceivingly sweet, but you knew he was anything but kind. And he was exactly what you needed to get Ari off your back.

"You mind if I borrow your away jersey tonight?" you chirped before you lost your nerve.

"Thought you'd be wearing Drysdale's'?" his lip curled into a sickening sneer. You weren't sure what it was exactly, but he made your skin crawl.

"No" you said, crossing your arms over your chest as his gaze bore through your thin cotton tank top until you felt exposed.

"An' what do I get in return?" he smirked, leaning in his doorway, his larger than life frame taking up as much space as possible. Could he possibly be taller than Levs?

"I... um..." nervous laughter bubbled up your throat as your arms fell to your sides.

"Don't worry, sweetheart..." he smirked, smoothing his hand over his facial hair, "sure we can work something out..." he turned, disappearing into his room and returning a few seconds later with a dark MU jersey.

He licked his lips before extending the jersey to you, but instead of letting it go when you took it, he yanked you forward, crashing you into his hard chest with a growl as he wrapped a thick arm around your waist.

"Been dying to get a taste of that sweet nectar, dewdrop..." he whispered hot in your ear, "gotta see if that tight little honeypot lives up to all the hype... I got a feeling both holes are just achin’ to be stuffed."

All you could do was whine as you braced your hands against his broad chest. He let you and the jersey go with a snicker, humming to himself as he left you there alone, his jersey in hand.

You stood, frozen on the spot, until you knew he was gone, leaving for the MU arena to get ready for the game tonight. You blow out an exhale, holding the jersey up to read the big block lettering across the back.

"Hansen" you said aloud to yourself. A shiver snaking up your spine. This was a very bad idea.

A/N: so I’m going to post this and run 🫣 I don’t want to know if you hate it 😓🤐

The hockey divider is made by the lovely and talented @firefly-graphics ❤️

As always, thank you for all the love and support. Please check out my archive blog where I only post new fics @drabblewithfrannybarnesfics ❤️

Chris Evans as Frank Adler in Gifted (2017)