#cancer? sure maybe but again—no different than anything besides pure air that you breathe

[theimpossibleg1rl]

Five Years

AU!Bucky x Reader

Sequel to Twenty Years and The Right Thing

Warnings: angst

“Buck would never want to hurt you.”

Well, that had been a lie, hadn’t it? No, he took your already broken heart and ripped it to shreds in front of you. Like he literally pulled it from your chest, showed it to you and then stomped on it. You felt like you’d never forgive him.

“You ruined everything! Literally everything, Y/N! Flipped my entire life upside down! Why? Why in the fuck did you call me, huh? On my goddamned wedding day! What were you thinking?! You were supposed to be standing beside me for fuck’s sake! Supposed to support me! I trusted you!”

You couldn’t breathe. You’d never once seen him this angry. This upset. This torn up. He’d never raised his voice to you. But then again, you’d certainly never done anything like this to him either. And there was absolutely no going back, no way to fix this. And it made you sick. You’d lost your best friend.

“I can’t even look at you,” he spat. “I can’t. I walked away. I gave up every fucking good thing in my life. Because of you. Because you just had to call me and lay all of your shit on me. On what was supposed to be the biggest day of my life. I gave up the woman I love. Gave up a life. A family. Because. Of. You. I’ll never get that back. It’s gone.”

He barely looked at you, his hand on the doorknob. He shook his head. Tears streamed down your cheeks. His too. Out of anger. Frustration. Pain. Confusion. And yours was just pure, unadulterated pain. Pain that you had just lost everything you loved too. He walked out without a word.

Out of your life.

****

Five years.

Bucky had moved on. Dated again. Tried to fill the void. But it was pointless. That day still haunted him. The things he’d said to you out of hurt. He hadn’t meant it, not really. But he knew when he walked out your door that he had sealed his fate.

He asked Becca about you occasionally, just to make sure that you were doing well. He’d never really gotten over you, but she assured him you were okay, never really giving him much detail. You’d asked her not to. The day Bucky walked out, you cut the cord.

But he missed you. There was an ache in his chest, a void that couldn’t seem to be filled no matter what he did. So instead, he threw himself into work, keeping as busy as he could. Anything to not think of you. But you just kept coming back. Invading his thoughts and dreams. Imaginary scenarios where everything has gone differently. That he’d made a different choice.

Bucky loved you. He missed you so badly that it physically hurt him. But he’d walked out. So he had to let go. Five years. It was time.

****

You sighed softly, adjusting your dress and makeup. The mirror showed the truth, the pain that was still evident behind your eyes. Five years of it. Five years of missing the love of your life. The only man you’d ever loved.

You’d cut him off, completely and totally. It hurt too much to hang onto something that was never going to happen. And his last words to you had cut like the sharpest knife. You felt like you’d never truly recover from them. The raw pain you felt. Pure ache.

You grabbed the bouquet off the sofa and braced yourself. Five years came to a head today. You’d see him again. Five long years. Today, you’d have to see Bucky. And it scared the hell out of you.

****

The music swelled and your heart was in your throat.

“It’s okay, it’s going to be fine. I promise.”

Becca looked stunning. She should have been focused on herself, but instead she worried about you. She had ever since she’d asked you to be her maid of honor. You’d been unsure, but she’d be adamant. You were like a sister to her. She leaned on you for everything.

“He knows you’re here. He’s had time to prepare himself, Y/N. He’s a big boy. He’ll live.”

Five damn years.

****

Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

The pale gold dress hugged every curve. Your hair curled over your shoulders just right. Your red lips were so inviting. How in the hell had he never kissed them before? Where was his mind?

Your eyes avoided his and he could admit that it stung. But he deserved it after the way he spoke to you, the horribly painful words that came from his lips. He hadn’t meant a word of it, but he knew he couldn’t take them back.

You danced with Sam at the reception, laughing. Carefree. Happier than Bucky ever remembered seeing you. Smile on your beautiful face. You glowed in the light, like some kind of ethereal, supernatural being. Like an angel, he thought.

He wanted to say something, anything. Ask you to dance maybe? A chance to hold you. Feel you. Show you how painfully sorry he was. Make up for a lost five years. Could he? Was that even possible? No. It wasn’t,

Bucky had lost the chance.

****

You stepped out into the garden, the night air cooling the bare skin of your shoulders. The stars shone brightly, reflecting in your bright eyes. Willing the tears away, the ones you’d been fighting all day, you tried to think of something else. Anything but Bucky Barnes.

Anything but the painful stab in your chest.

He’d been watching you. You felt his gaze. His hesitation. His need to say something to you. Like it was on the tip of his tongue. Like he was desperate to do something, anything to get close to you. Your heart hurt so badly.

Five years.

Five years of sheer pain. The ache of loss. The loss of your best friend. The man you leaned on. The man that held you together. The man who you trusted with your entire life. The man you needed. Wanted.

The man you loved.

You still loved.

God, it hurt. It hurt so much. Raw, pure, awful pain. The kind that burnt. Like some kind of raging fire that would never die out. It was always there. Just beneath the surface. Like an itch. Like a cancer.

You needed him.

****

He stood in the doorway.

You were illuminated by the moonlight. Clutching yourself. Arms tight around your chest. Shaking, shivering. No, crying. You were crying. And fuck, he wanted to hold you. Hold you and make it better. Hold you and take the pain away.

He wanted to tell you he loved you. He missed you. He couldn’t breathe without you. That he positively ached for you. That part of him was missing. The best part of him. His other half, the one that made him whole.

He wanted to hold you so badly that his own tears spilled over.

Could he? Would you let him?

He took a cautious step forward. One after another, slowly gathering his courage. He needed it. Needed you. Needed to lay it all on the line. Say everything that had been building up inside his head. Every word.

Every word for five years.

His hand reached out carefully, brushing over your bare shoulder. So soft, cool from the evening air. Your sobs ceased. Tensed. Hesitant to turn around. He knew you knew it was him. Finally, you turned slowly, tears streaming down you face as he smiled down at you.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #marvel au #bucky barnes one shot

[lallemcnt]

but all i see is him right now — 2.8k (ao3)

let's call this eliott and lucas hanging out in an unknown location, in an unknown setting, in an unknown time; lucas' head is muddled by thoughts of how much he wants eliott.

or, the one where lucas sighs dramatically (several times) and they talk about soulmates.

-

if he closes his eyes, and just .... thinks back on tender hours of hands brushing and cheeks flushing and red lips and warm breath, he —

“where are you?”

lucas squints his eyes open against the afternoon sun, blinking rapidly, and, perhaps, frowning because the person before him let’s out a light laugh, their silhouette changing from pure light to brown, fluffy hair, indiscernible grey-green-blue eyes and pink lips spread in a teasing smile: “you did it again.”

eliott is sitting there, smiling in all his breathtaking glory, staring directly at lucas who, in turn, grows warm in the cheeks and looks down at his hands. he did it again — the daydreaming seemed a prerequisite to hanging out with eliott recently. in lucas’ case, anyway. recently, he thinks, they haven’t even known each other that long.

“i should put that on my resume: interesting enough to bore lucas lallemant out of his intelligent mind.”

that’s because i spend every single minute of every day thinking about you, making up stupid fantasy scenarios about us; being in your company makes my brain overload, but lucas can’t say that. so, he narrows his eyes and kicks out a leg against eliott’s ankle, because he’s an emotionally mature adult who knows how to respond to digs no matter how lighthearted they are. eliott responds by grabbing lucas’ ankle and squeezing it. lucas tries to kick his leg out of eliott’s grasp, but soon stops — he’s tired and there’s no heart in it — lets out a dramatic sigh before lying down on his back and looking up at the sky.

seconds later he feels light fingers on the bare skin of his ankle where his jeans must have ridden up, his leg jerks in response to the soft touches, the fingers stop and when he relaxes once more, they pick up again.

no words are uttered, contrary to the rush of thoughts that consume lucas’ mind as eliott tattooes lucas’s ankle with his soft, calloused finger tips. the thing is, lucas has never had a friend quite tactile as eliott. someone who hugged everyone he met; he would hang his arm around your neck in a group circle; instead of pointing out you had something on your shirt he’d pick it off himself or take a piece of fluff out of someone’s hair. lucas couldn’t name the number of times he and eliott’s hands would brush when they walked side by side after school, but lucas always put it up to eliott and his cuddly demeanour. he was, by nature, a soft dude. his presence was magnetising; to be at the centre of that attention that everyone, whether they knew him well or not, craved, was sublime. so lucas didn’t question that moment, where others would see it as something more, he knew it wasn’t, and yet against all reason and logic he couldn’t quite help himself, knowing what would follow, he still let himself dream it was. it hurt when he thought about it too much which was all the time, but soaking up eliott’s presence and being with him, even in only a platonic way, seemed to ease the pain, but when lucas was on his own that was a different matter. the nights when he couldn’t sleep because of his insomnia, he would lie there in bed and dream, he would pull back his yellow curtains, encouraging the moon spread her light, initiating thoughts of that drawing. the greek on the moon. lucas liked to think of the moon as selene; ever since he’d learned that greek name, and ever since he’d seen eliott’s drawing, that name seemed to give it a new life — they were both ruled by the moon, after all, being cancers and all.

“i was thinking about the moon.” lucas spoke, volunteering his thoughts for no other reason than he felt like it.

“what about her?” eliott’s interest was palpable, he even stopped tracing patterns on lucas’ calf. lucas yearns for the touch, almost to the point he forgets what he was speaking about, but not quite.

“about your self-portrait on the moon.” he glances at eliott who looks thoughtful, waiting for lucas to continue. “and i was thinking how would you draw me? what animal would i be?”

eliott’s silent for a few seconds, contemplative. then he says, “sit up for me.”

lucas complies, suddenly feeling nervous in that i’m-in-love-with-you-and-it’s-so-obvious way, believing that his eyes will give him away so he gives himself a second before meeting eliott’s eyes. eliott is sitting by his feet, considering lucas. he tilts his head and gets a faraway look in his eyes, picking up the beer resting beside him: “i’d have to think about it.”

okay, lucas thinks, okay.

eliott is fiddling with the label on his beer bottle, so lucas proceeds to lie back down and sigh once more. sometimes he thinks it’s not one sided — the feelings, that is. in the mornings after having drank too much at a party and inevitably retreating back to one of le gang’s homes, and walking home together at 11am because they live only a street away from each other in the opposite direction to the other three. in the mornings when it’s tipping towards a warm afternoon, but they’re both decked out in their jackets, messy hair and morning breath and slow gaits, wishing to be home but also wishing for just a second longer in the other’s company. maybe there’s a hand brush or two, a few glances out of the corner of the eye, playful shoving because can one really be around eliott without some kind of physical contact that somehow leads to slightly longer touches, followed by avoided glances and painful hearts and close tears. but as soon as he’s had a few eliott-less hours logic returns and reprimands lucas for being so naïve because no one ever loves the person who craves love due to severe abandonment issues. no one could ever love the boy who turns spiteful when he’s angry and spits out harsh words he doesn’t mean.

lucas feels himself getting agitated by his ceaseless negative, spiralling thoughts and so he ditches that train of thought to prevent the casualty he can see himself creating. he sits back up, tugs his knees to his chest, tilting the side of his head to rest on them. he glances at eliott who is already staring back at him.

“are you sure you’re okay?” eliott inquiries, concern etched on every plain of his sun-kissed face. summer is almost over. eliott brushes a hand through lucas’ hair once before cradling his beer bottle once more. “you don’t seem yourself today.” he concludes.

lucas shrugs his shoulders and decides to be honest for once. “i don’t feel in the best mood. sorry for my terrible company.”

eliott shakes his head, but before he can come up with what lucas believes would be a placating response, despite no times of this before, lucas interrupts, changes the subject. “i’ve never met anyone guy who is so comfortable around their male friends.”

as soon as it’s out of his mouth he regrets it. eliott’s hand retreats, his body language immediately becomes closed-off: shoulders hunched, no eye contact — eyes squeezed shut before glancing off to the side. lucas wants to hit himself, badly.

“no!” lucas yelps. it’s instinctive because he adores eliott, and hurting the people he cares for is the last thing he wishes to do despite the recent regularity of it. sometimes lucas thinks he hurts himself this way on purpose, punishes himself for being this messed up boy, any time he’s reached the light. he doesn’t find eliott’s tactile nature weird. if anything, he yearns for it — his heart almost craves it. “i-“ love it. he takes a breath, because he can’t say that. “i didn’t mean it like that. i meant- it’s you. that’s just how you are. you’re warm and you-“ lucas stops. he can’t believe he- he can’t look eliott in the eye — doesn’t know if he could conceivable do so anyway because he hasn’t looked at eliott’s face since he retreated into his shell — so he does the next best thing instead. he, ungracefully, pushes eliott’s legs down and flops down on them, resting his head on eliott’s thighs and raising an arm to shield his eyes from the glaring sun which has begun to set.

“it’s just different to all our other friends, you know? but it’s nice. it’s beyond nice,” and he goes rambling on, because he’s nervous but he wants to make sure eliott knows for certain that it’s not weird, that’s it’s good, in fact. “it’s comforting. especially for someone who didn’t grow up with that kind of ... familial affection.”

eliott relaxes after those words, disrupting his own silence with movement. carefully brushes a strand of lucas’ perpetually errant hair behind his ear and he’s smiling, full teeth and beautiful crinkled-eyes, causing lucas’ stomach to drop.

how is he supposed to breathe normally around that? lucas’ mind conjures up paintings from the few museums eliott has successfully managed to drag him to. he pictures contrasting harsh and soft lines, bold colours and soft tones. but his mind lands on muted, yellow flowers- sunflowers, which he’s sure were once bright and confident in their own beauty, dulled by time and the constant attention of roaming eyes: from breathless awe to complete apathetic glances. now, lucas has never actually see the painting in real life, rather, only through the fractured screen of eliott’s phone, but they stole the air from his lungs the first time he laid eyes on them. lucas has never been the most artistic, preferring the practicality and logic of science, he thinks years of unnecessary school trips to galleries tainted art for him, forever, until he met a certain someone. he’s not sure why these sunflowers have this specific affect on him, and whether it’s actually the painting itself, or rather how the moment he was shown them still compels feelings of joy and unbridled laughter from him, especially in his most desolate moments. eliott was practically standing on top of lucas, buzzing with excitement, phone shoved directly in lucas’ line of sight — definitely too close, because lucas had burst out laughing, grabbed eliott’s hand with the phone in, and pulled it back from his eyes, which had closed from the brightness and nearness of the screen to them. his head had fallen back against eliott’s shoulder and he’d looked up at him, shaking his head:

ok, ok, ok!

ok, lucas lied. It’s definitely the feeling of that moment that made him love the painting so.

“look at the sky, lu.” eliott’s quiet voice disperses lucas’ thoughts.

lucas glances up. he hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten; the sky was a gradient of beauty: magenta, easing into a violet, dripping into a cerulean blue. there is something magical about dusk, as the sky is no longer dominated by the burning sun, is left to its own devices, unraveling its perpetual blue to reveal a masterpiece of colour.

eliott glances at lucas whose face must mirror his own feelings because he responds. “yeah.”

“i like this.”

“me too.”

“i’m surprised you’ve been single this long.”

eliott snorts out a laugh, tipping his head back. “four months. all of which you’ve known me for.”

“huh, four months?”

“yep.” a hand brush through lucas’ brown locks.

“feels like forever.”

“i know.”

-

a few hours roll by, the daylight hours cycling at a rapid pace, it’s almost time for them to leave each other, but that’s not what’s on lucas’ mind, he’s found himself getting all heated over a topic many find nonsensical — that he wouldn't dare raise with le gang in fear of being laughed out — but he’s with eliott and they often find themselves getting all kinds of existential about fate and relationships and people.

“this idea that there’s only one person on the planet who your soul connects with is bullshit.”

“you don’t believe in soulmates?”

“no, it’s not that. i just don’t believe that there’s only one person out there ‘meant’ for you. i think you can connect with more than one person like that. every relationship is different, right? you talk to each friend about something different, or maybe the same thing but in polar-opposite ways. like, yann is definitely my soulmate. i love him. no one gets me like he does. he’s my brother. but i also have arthur who knows science like me; we can discuss new and old theories or articles we’ve read — that’s a passion we both share and i don’t get quite the same feeling when i’m speaking with someone else. then there’s basile who, yeah, jokes around a lot, is inappropriate 85% of the time, but what most people miss, because they don’t take the time to get to know him, is that he’s a fucking brilliant listener, you know? so if someone’s gonna sit there and tell me there’s only one person on the planet for each person then i’m calling bullshit because i have these three great dudes in my life who are without a doubt, my soulmates.” lucas is breathing slightly harder than normal, almost like he’s just finished a 200m sprint. he didn’t mean to get so passionate and worked up. he’s almost embarrassed again. but he didn’t say anything stupid, he’s sure of that, and he meant every single word.

“i always thought the idea that there’s only one person you really fall in love with was romantic as fuck, but...what you just said...your conviction proves that feeling wrong,” eliott responds, licking his dry lips once. “i never thought about friends as soulmates, but it makes complete sense.”

“i don’t know about love...” lucas teeters off. “i’ve never really felt that before.” he admits, looking down at his hands and turning them over, because he’s insecure on this subject matter — the expectations that everyone is young when they first experience it, and if you haven’t you’re automatically deemed an outsider. is it a lie though? has he never felt it, what are these feelings he gets around eliott? he loves hanging out with him but does he love him? can lucas love in that way?

“it’s strange. it’s the most consuming emotion. it’s one of the best and worst feelings...i miss it.”

“you miss being in love or you miss your ex. aren’t they kind of the same thing?”

“i don’t miss my ex, but, yes, i miss being in love.”

lucas doesn’t respond and eliott, it seems, doesn’t feel the need to expand on that, despite lucas’ brain wanting it more than anything — for eliott to explain why and if there’s someone he likes... another few minutes pass by in their companionable silence, no daydreams for lucas, just the sounds of traffic, pushchair wheels bumping over fallen twigs and a cold, subtle breeze — a harbinger of the night — it comes and it goes, much like their conversations that day.

“so, what about me?” eliott inquiries with a teasing smile on his lips. the breeze, though seemingly gentle, has carolled his hair into a wilder state — it brings a smile to lucas’ face, who only tilts his head in response.

“am i a soulmate?”

they’re sitting only a few inches apart, and the question feels personal — almost too much, but lucas has been spiralling on thoughts of eliott all this time, and he can’t help himself any longer.

“are you a soulmate?” lucas ponders, crossing his knees to sit directly in front of eliott who nods in askance.

“hm.” is all lucas replies as he raises his palms and indicates for eliott to do the same, which he does, placing his palms against lucas’. warmth blooms, and they both let out light sighs, masked by the other’s; it’s a cobalt-blue sky now, and the noises of the lives of the people around them are muted to the feeling of their contact.

lucas swallows and puts on a grin, “dear world, is eliott demaury a potential soulmate for i, lucas lallemant?” he felts warm breath ghost out in a chuckle.

lucas raises his eyebrows with a mock reprimanding look in his eyes. “what’s so funny?” eliott rolls his lips in, trying to prevent the smile and laugh from escaping before opening his mouth to sincerely apologise, but lucas interjects. “this is serious. i mean, if you don’t want to find out if we’re destined to know each other for life, then, i don’t know why i’m wasting my precious time.” all this he says, while trying to maintain his raised eyebrows, but eliott’s cheeks are puffing out and lucas’ head is becoming slightly sore from exercising his eyebrow muscles, and they’re looking each other dead in the eyes now — blues and greys and greens dark with no light to illuminate them — trying not to crack up. eliott clutches his stomach, falling forward, his forehead resting on lucas’ shoulder.

it’s a bliss no words can name, no language lucas knows can describe this feeling.

#mine #elu fic #this is scary but i posted this a while back on ao3 and i hope u enjoy :) #skam france #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #elu

[that-writer-who-never-posts]

A second chance

Hello! I got this beautiful request from @imnotusedtobeingloved thank you for trusting me with something so deep!

Prompt: The reader’s chances of surviving a family decease are small, but Tom is not giving up on her. (I changed a bit, hope you don’t mind!)

Warnings: Mentions of cancer, death and lots of angst. But it does have a happy ending!

Ps: when I say football, I mean soccer, call it whatever you want, but Tom is british, so...

like 3k words of pure drama.

---

       Looking at your kids, your 6 year-old daugther Elena and your 4 year-old son Gael, you could only find genetics awesome. How your love could create a perfect mixture of you and Tom... But you prayed every second of your life they wouldn't have to deal with some of your genes.          

         -Flash back on-

         Before you could get over your grandma's death because of stomach cancer, your mother had to start treating the same problem.

           Her situation was pretty stable. The doctors believed she would be cured easily. When she came back home, your family threw a party for her.

          It was a small family reunion at the living room of the house where you grew up. Your mom really seemed healthy, specially after she saw her grandchildren.

          But when you came in, you saw some of your relatives looking at you with an worried expression. Some asked if you had lost weight and some decided it was better not say anything. You told them you were just tired, it was a busy year at work and dealing with your mom's decease after losing a person you loved wasn't easy for you. You heard Tom talking to someone and telling them he worries too, but he just can't get you to eat.

          But you pretended you didn't hear anything. All the people around you knew about your family situation, they should understand.

          You were sitting with Tom and watching the kids play on the floor, surrounded by your family, when you started to feel nauseous. You stood up and went to the bathroom to wash your face with some cold water.

          But on the way, you felt that wouldn't be enough, you had to throw up. You got on your knees in front of the toilet and tried to think of something you ate that could have caused that. But you realized you haven't been eating anything different... You had barely been eating, you never felt hungry anymore.          After throwing up two or three times, you opened your eyes to find a pool of blood in front of you. You stood up and looked in the mirror. You looked absolutely terrible, the color of your skin disappeared and had blood on your lips.          You started to panic. You couldn't let your mom see you like that, you didn't know what was going on, but couldn't be good, and the last thing she needed right now was to worry about you.

          Taking a deep breath, you washed your face until there was no blood left, but your color wouldn't come back.

           You headed to the living room and was relieved everyone was watching the kids run around the place, so they didn't notice you. But Tom did.          "Y/N?" Tom standed up and went to meet you because you were walking too slowly. He grabbed your hands and touched your colorless face. "What happened, love? You're so cold!"

          "I have to get out of here." You whispered weakly.

          "What?" He could barely hear your voice.

          But when you tried to speak again, your vision started to go black and the last thing you felt were Tom's arms not letting you hit the ground.          You woke up on the hospital and started to cry.

          "Y/N..." Tom was sitting on the chair beside the hospital bed, and when he heard you crying he joined your side in one jump. "Shhh... It's okay, darling. I'm here."

          He sat on the bed with you and brought you to his chest.

          "I ruined everything." You cried. "How is my mother?"

          "She was really worried. Everyone was " He knew he couldn't lie to you. "But now we're here, you're going through a few exams and you're going to be okay."

          "The kids?" You tried to calm yourself down, but you kept remembering how many people saw what just happened.

          "They are at your mother's house. They will be fine." He kissed your forehead. "Y/N... You have to tell the doctors exactly what is going on."

          "I just felt nauseous."

           "Y/N... There was blood in the sink, if you don't tell the truth, the doctors won't be able to help you."          You spent the rest of the day on the hospital, Tom insisted the doctors should do every exam they could.

          But you started to become anxious. Your kids were probably scared after seeing you pass out like that, and taking that long to come back would make it worse. You just wanted to leave, but Tom was there, holding your hands and trying to calm you down.          Seemed like hours passed, when a nurse entered the room, followed by the doctor who had the results in hands.

           The doctor seemed a little upset, and was definitely choosing each word carefully. As he spoke, your heart started to race, you knew where he would end up. You heard all that before.

          "I'm really sorry, it's never easy to say this." He said with a sad smile. "But you have a stomach cancer. It's a genetic condition. The good news is that we discovered it really early, so the treatment is more likely to work."

          You felt you would pass out again. Why? Why was your family cursed like that? You were so young and had so many plans. You had two beautiful children to raise and a dream to grow old with your husband that would never come true.          Tom was really strong, though. The doctor left the room and you stood there in silence for a while, but he was holding you the entire time.

          "You're going to be okay. Your mom is doing great, I bet you can do even better, you'll see." He said, but you could hear he was holding the tears.          "No, Tom." You replied emotionless. "It's fine, I think deep down I knew it. I just... Didn't think it would be so soon. Maybe I get to see Gael learning to read, he will be so proud when he does. But I won't be able to help Elena when a boy breaks her heart. Oh, Tom... Please, never let anyone break their hearts..."          "Stop saying that..." He can't help but cry now. "You are going to be here for them. You are going to be right here beside me. You are going to fight this and win, okay?"

          "I'm scared." You whisper.

          You never saw that man so deeply hurt in your life. But he would be strong for both of you if he had to.

         -A few months after-

         You stood in front of the mirror, finishing to get ready to take your kids to the park.

          "Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning with short hair?" Tom's head appears on the bedroom's entrance.

          "Pretty much 5 times everyday." You smile at him. "At least I'm not bald anymore."

          When you had to shave your head for the chemotherapy, you felt horrible. You already looked sick, but without your hair, you thought you would feel the ugliest woman alive. But you really didn't, it was a lot easier than you thought. Only because Tom would compliment you whenever he laid his eyes on you, he would also proudly talk about you on interviews, saying how strong and beautiful you were.

          Your treatment made you very weak and you lost even more weight. Was hard making small children understand that some days they wouldn't be able to see you, some days they would, if they wore a mask and didn't touch you, or you would get sick. When you had to stay at the hospital, you would recieve drawings and homemade gifts to tell you how much they missed you. All that only gave you more strenght to survive and be the mom they deserved again.          Tom's fans were also important to you. Even the ones who didn't like you would send support messages and tell you they really hoped you would get over all this. There were hashtags trending on almost every social media to let you know you weren't alone.          "Are you sure you want to go, love?" Tom asked on a serious tone.          "I'm just going to sit there." You smile at him. "I can do this. I could use some fresh air."

          He was worried because on the last few days you would get breathless really easily. Simply going from your bedroom to the kitchen would obligate you to sit down to recover. But you would see your doctor in 2 days, so there wasn't a reason to run to the hospital at that moment.          It was a vey beautiful day. You placed a towel on the grass and sat on it.          "Let's play football, mommy?" Gael said excitedly and it broke your heart. You used to play football with them all the time, now you could barely stand up and he didn't understand why.

          "Gael..." Tom said when he noticed your sad expression. "We have to let mommy rest as much as we can so she will be good soon to play with us, remember?"

          The little boy was disappointed, but nodded.

          "I love you, mommy." Elena said wrapping her little arms around your shoulders. "I would wait a miiiiiiillion years to play with you."

          Gael joined the hug and you smiled widely. Tom watched the scene absolutely in love.

          "Alright..." You say wipping a tear that escaped. "Then you better go pratice, cause when I get back, I won't let anyone win."

          "Let's go!" Elena gasped and grabbed the ball, running with her brother. "Come on, Daddy!"

          Tom looked at them, then looked at you a bit lost, he thought he should stay with you to keep you from getting sad and lonely.

          "Go, have fun." You winked at him.

          He laughed.

          "You better get well soon, our team needs you." He smiles and turns around to join the kids.

          The sadness for not being able to play with them disappears soon. This decease taught you to appreciate more all the things. Just being able to leave your bed and watch the three people you love the most having fun was enough to warm your heart.

          It was funny watching they play, Tom was so much taller than the kids, you were afraid he would kick them, instead of the ball. At some point, the game became just the two kids running around your husband. Pretending it was a very hard task, he grabs one kid with each arm and starts tickling them.

          You couldn't help but laugh at their adorable laughs. You kept laughing until you started coughing. You got so angry, it was like no fun was allowed for you. You began to cough harder, covering your mouth with your hand. When you looked at your hand, you felt a shiver on your spine.

          Blood. Again.

          That was the day you received the news that the cancer was now on lungs. You weren't getting better, it was just spreading so fast the doctors couldn't detect it.          -Flash back off-          And there were you. Having to live with a heritage your family never wanted to give you.

          Ten days passed since that day at the park. On the first day, the doctors told Tom that your only chance at this point was going throught the strongest treatment they had. But for someone who was already fragile because of several sessions of chemo like you, the side effects could kill you even faster. The chances of success were near 5%, but without it, they are 0%.

          And since the process was so dangerous, you couldn't get a single visit. The time you weren't knocked out because of the medicines, all you did was cry because you wouldn't be able to say goodbye to your family.

          The doctors didn't know if the treatment was working so far, but they knew your body wouldn't be able to take much more of that. And that's why you decided to do something.

          When the nurse entered the room to serve you dinner, always the same tasteless soup because that's all you could eat, you asked her a favour.          "Please..." You asked with tears in your eyes. "Can you bring me a pen and some paper?"

          "Do you want me to give someone a call?" She offered kindly.

          "No..." You reply. "I need to write this. On my own."

          The nurse nodded and did as you asked.

          You looked at the blank paper for a moment. You knew what you wanted to write, but you also knew you would have to use an amount of energy you didn't have. You didn't care, they deserved it. You wouldn't go anywhere without a proper goodbye.          Dear Tom,

           I could write a million pages and still not be able to tell you how sorry I am for breaking your heart. I tried. You know I did. But know that I would never be here writing this if it wasn't for you. And know that the last forces I have I will use to think about you. The only better way to go would be if I could see you one last time, but I prefer that you remember me in a completely different way.When our babies grow up, tell them that we didn't have much time together, but I loved them for a lifetime. Let my mom know that she was a far better mother than me, because she survived all this, while I left my children.I hope you keep your promise, and never let anyone hurt them, like I'm doing right now.Tell all your fans that it was a huge honour to have their positive thoughts. Don't be sad for Tom, guys. He will find someone and be happy again. I mean it, my angel. I love you more than I could ever tell you, and that's why I don't want your life to end when mine does. The day that smile of yours cease to exist, all the beautiful things in this world will lose their magic. You were the most beautiful dream I ever had. But now I have to wake up.

Yours even after my heart stops beating,

Y/N.          ---          You wake up in a different room. Was it afterlife? Did you die? You start to freak out. Did you finish the letter? What if the nurses found it but didn't give it to Tom? And is this heaven or hell? Looks like an hospital bed to you.

          You stared at the ceiling for a while. Whatever reality this was, you liked it. You didn't feel any pain.

          A few minutes after, you heard the door opening and the nurse who gave you the paper came in.

          "Mrs. Hiddleston?" She called excitedly. "Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

          You looked at her confused and nodded.

          "Tom." That's all you could say.

          "He's outside, darling." The nurse's smile fadded. "I... I entered your room the other day and found a letter with his name on. I thought I should give it to him."

          You sighed relieved.

          "He was absolutely devasted when he read it." She continued. "He tried to come into your room, we had to call security."

          You watched her with wide eyes, waiting for more information.

          "He lives in the waiting room now." The woman adds. "Everyday when I arrive he is already there, the other nurses were saying that he leaves around 7pm to see your kids at your mother's house then comes back a few hours later."

          You felt tears rolling down your cheeks. You hated to imagine how much he was suffering, and the kids had lost both their mom and dad at once.          "Don't cry!" Her smile came back. "You'll be able to see him today, right after the doctor sees you." 

         "What happened?" You ask weakly.

           "You passed out because of the medication. The doctors realized it was attacking your healthy cells, instead of the cancer cells." She explaned. "But that's because you don't have them anymore. The treatment was a success. When the exams came out, nobody believed it. Doctors from other hospitals came to hear about your case."

          "I'm cured?" You smiled widely.

          "For now, your exams don't show anything wrong." The nurse confirmed. "But we'll keep you here for a while, just to make sure."          ---                    A little more than a year passed since you left the hospital. You joked you never really left, because you had to come back every now and then to make sure everything was fine. But you couldn't complain, hearing the doctor say you were cured a hundred other times felt as good as the first.          "Mom, you're a lot better on football than dad." Elena commented as your family arrived at the park.

          "Ohhhh did you hear that?" You laugh.

          "She's just happy you're going to play with us today, darling." Tom rolls his eyes. "She doesn't mean it."

          "It's true, sometimes daddy tickles us and that's cheating." Gael added to his sister.

          "Sorry, babe." You shrug. "You clearly lost this one."

          "Lost the discussion but will win the game. All three of you against me." He positions the ball in the middle of an imaginary field.          The match started and you felt nothing but pure happiness. You could run with them, feel the freedom that was back to your life. You could stand still and watch your happy family. You could even help Tom tickle the kids and be accused of treason because of that.

          But most importantly, you could be the wife and the mother you thought you wouldn't live to be.

---

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[moonbeambucky]

The Price of Gold (Part 12)

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 4500 Warnings: mention of cancer, angst, fluff, smut (NSFW 18+)

Summary: As a sports journalist you’ve traveled the world interviewing famous athletes. You’ve loved your job up until you find out your next article is on the last person in the world you ever wanted to talk to, Lance Tucker.

A/N: This doesn’t follow The Bronze canon though some film details are mixed with real world events. Written for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction Dragon’s 3k Follower Creative Content Challenge. My prompt was “I can’t be in love with you!” gif source (x)

PART 11 | THE PRICE OF GOLD MASTERLIST

Lance’s tears drenched your neck and you held him tighter as your mind was thinking the worst. He broke away from you to grab a tissue from the bathroom, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose before he sat on the bed. He looked so small, hunched over with his head hanging low.

He explained that the cancer is spreading to other parts of his mother’s brain. Walking in front of him you ran your fingers through his hair gently and felt him ease into your touch.

Lance looked up at you with sad, tear filled eyes, “I don’t want to lose her,” he sobbed, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his face against your stomach.

You held him close, rubbing his back not quite knowing what to say. At some point you ended up laying beside him on the bed as he clung to your body, eventually falling asleep out of pure exhaustion.

Once again you found yourself waking up together, this time with Lance apologizing for disturbing your sleep last night though you insisted he didn’t trouble you. Lance needed some fresh air, stepping out on the balcony he leaned against the railing, breathing in the scent of fresh cut grass. You came out beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Lance straightened up, allowing you to slip your arm around his waist and lean your head against him. “What are you going to do now?” you asked.

“They mentioned hospice care but I know she doesn’t want that, she wants to be at home.” You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together as you gave him a look of solidarity. “Plus there’s no telling when.”

Lance always knew that treatment would only prolong Dorothy’s life but it was never a cure. With the cancer spreading it could be days or weeks or a month or two if they were lucky.

Rubbing your thumb against his you asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I’m gonna get Nadia so we can bring her home. After she’s settled maybe I can see you?” he asked, putting his sneakers back on.

You asked again if he was sure, you wanted to help him anyway you could and staying here made you feel a little useless.

“She’s not in the best head space. I think the less stimulation right now the better.” He said, giving you sad smile. You understood, he wanted Dorothy to be comfortable.

“But I’m glad you’re here,” he added, kissing you softly before leaving.

Your stomach was rumbling so you quickly threw on a bra and a baggy shirt, leaving your pj’s on and made your way down to the breakfast area. Thankfully it wasn’t very crowded and most of the people sitting there were occupied by the TV. You filled your plate with some toast, grabbing a small packet of butter and a mini muffin. After pouring batter into the waffle maker you sipped on your coffee as you waited for it to cook.

You had a view of the front desk from your table and watched as people were towing luggage in hand to check out. You recognized the family that you sat beside in this very dining area over a week ago during your first encounter with Lance. My how things have changed.

Since you were going to be alone today you decided to grab your bikini and sit poolside. You had intended to do this on your birthday but Lance’s surprise had changed your plans. Back upstairs you ensured the side strings were securely fastened on your purple bikini and threw on a loose cover up dress.

Laying a towel against plastic lounge chair you sat back and relaxed. It was nice to take in this moment. New York was always go, go, go! From the people to the work, it was a constant rush. Laying down with the sun warming your skin and music in your ears you were finally able to just do nothing. It made you think about the last time you took a real vacation. You’ve been to amazing places because of work but to go somewhere and do something for yourself was something you really needed to do again, hopefully sooner than later.

It was still early in the afternoon when Lance texted to let you know that he was on his way back. Putting your cover up back on you gathered your things and went back upstairs to wait for Lance. Soon after he was at your door and you wrapped your arms around him for a much needed hug.

“How is she?”

Lance sighed, “Better, for now.”

After his stressful morning he could use a break, and eyeing you up and down was the perfect distraction from his thoughts. “And what are you wearing?” he said, twirling you around, eyes widening at the deep v opening in the back that exposed the ties of your bikini top. He bit his lip, “I like it.”

Your cheeks grew warmer and you looked away from him, “I was down by the pool when you called.”

“You went to this pool but not mine?” he feigned hurt, “Oh no, we have to fix that. Come on.” Lance took your arm and began to walk you towards the door.

“Wait, wait!” you laughed. Lance seemed like himself again but you were still concerned for him. “Are you sure you want to…” You didn’t quite finish your sentence, unsure of what you would have asked him– Have fun? Pretend your mom isn’t dying?

He answered as if he could read your mind, “Trust me, Y/N, with you is exactly where I need to be right now.”

His eyes pleaded with you and you understood. After a long day in the hospital, with uncertainty around the corner Lance deserved a moment to enjoy himself.

You packed a change of clothes and headed out with Lance to his house. Neither of you had eaten lunch yet. Lance had been too preoccupied this morning so you stood in his kitchen, working in tandem to make a salad. You were rinsing the kale, blueberries and raspberries as Lance took out precooked quinoa, feta cheese and began slicing an avocado. You mixed the ingredients together in a large bowl and Lance added slice almonds on top.

“Can’t forget the nuts,” he said with a suggestive smirk on his face that had you bursting out with laughter.

“Oh my god you’re such a child!” you joked, playfully shoving his arm.

Lance topped off the salad with a lemon poppy seed dressing and you mixed everything together before dividing the contents into smaller bowls. You sat at a table on the veranda talking about the grand opening in two days.

“I’m definitely excited. I have to order banners with the USAG logo on it now that I’m on board with them again, I just didn’t have the time with everything going on.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help? I know your mom has Nadia but maybe a familiar face would be nice?” you suggested.

Lance chewed his forkful, shaking his head. He was worried, Dorothy’s mind was still fragile and he didn’t want anything to push her over the edge. You didn’t push the issue anymore, respecting his wishes. When the bowls were empty Lance got up, pressing his lips to yours for a quick kiss saying he would be right back, and taking them into the kitchen.

His phone buzzed on the table and you glanced over, checking the notification incase it was Nadia or something related to Dorothy. The moment you saw a different woman’s name your heart sank. Since you’ve been down here the only text you’ve received from a guy was an automated message from your dentist’s office, and while Dr. David was cute he was also married.

You and Lance were growing closer as you reconnected but to be fair nothing was official, and despite all of the texts you hadn’t actually seen Lance respond to these women, not in front of you at least. It still hurt though, and you really wanted to throw his phone in the pool out of spite but maybe there was another way you could get your frustration out…

Walking towards his pool you stared at the pristine water and upon hearing Lance walking back outside you lifted your cover up dress over your head and tossed it aside. Lance held his breath staring at you from behind, biting his lip as he took in your form.

“Jesus,” he said under his breath. Walking next to you, his eyes were bulging as he caught a glimpse of your front, staring at your breasts in the bikini top and wondering what he’s done to deserve such a beautiful sight.

“Reminds me of my parent’s pool,” you said, staring straight at the water, though you could feel Lance’s gaze on you. “Except theirs didn’t have a crack in it like yours.”

“Huh?” Lance was pulled away from his sinful thoughts and back to reality. “Where?”

You pointed towards the bottom of the far side of the pool, “Don’t you see?”

Lance squinted, leaning forward to follow the direction of where you pointed. He suddenly felt two palms against his back that propelled him forward and into the pool. Lance wiped the water from his eyes, standing up in disbelief that you pushed him, in his clothes, into the pool!

Your laughter floated through the air as you saw his shocked expression, which only made you laugh even harder.

“You think this is funny?” he asked, “My sneakers feel so weird,” he chuckled, the hem of his shirt floating on the surface of the water.

Walking through the water closer towards you Lance laid his arms against the edge of the pool, resting his chin upon them and smirking at you.

You squatted down, giggling at him, “I can’t believe you fell for that!”

You smiled widely at Lance watching a bead of water trail down his cheek and onto his soaked arm and what looked to be an expensive watch.

“Oh shit! Your watch!” you exclaimed, your mouth covering your face as you felt terrible at the thought of ruining it. The white band stood out against his tanned skin and how you didn’t notice it before is beyond you.

Lance stood up again, looking down at his wrist he pressed his lips together with concern, letting you continue to apologize knowing full well the watch was waterproof.

“Hmmm I’m not sure if it still works. Do you know what time it is?” he raised his brow looking up at you.

Your own phone was beside his on the table and before you could get up to check Lance’s hand clasped around your wrist, and with a determined look in his eyes he said, “It’s payback time!”

With that, he pulled you into the water, laughing hysterically that you were caught off guard. It wasn’t as satisfying considering you were already wearing the appropriate attire but still, he surprised you.

Rising up above the water you wiped your face, laughing and double checking that everything was still covered by your bikini. Lance took notice too, his eyes were drawn to your hardened nipples through the fabric. You took deeper breaths watching as he stared at you. It felt familiar and yet you were scared; if you let go of the past with Lance Tucker then what would that mean? A future?

Doing the only rational thing you could you splashed him to break the tension. It wasn’t the same as when you were kids, the former skinny beanpole was now a tall and muscular man who was able to create much stronger splashes in his retaliation.

Holding your hands up you yelled, “Okay, okay! I give up! Truce?” you innocently asked.

Lance agreed but with all your might you whipped up the water throwing it in his face and swam away to the other side of the pool. Lance followed behind you, awkwardly kicking as his sneakers begun to weigh him down. He swam up beside you, caging you in his arms at the edge of the pool.

“You thought I wouldn’t follow you?” A quick chuckle fell from his lips, the blue of his eyes retreated and you were trapped under his sinful gaze. “I’m not scared of the deep end anymore sweetheart.”

Your heart was fluttering wildly as you heard it beating in your ear. Being trapped between Lance’s arms and hard body made you feel warm all over. You were in the deep end now in more ways than one and it was time to sink or swim.

Pushing your head forward you captured Lance’s lips in a searing kiss, pressing yourself closer to his shirt covered chest and wrapping your arms around his neck. Opening your mouth you deepened the kiss and Lance matched you with equal fervor, your tongues reuniting with each other after being apart for so long.

Lance let one hand go to wrap around your body, wanting to keep you close and never let go. He swallowed every moan that fell from your lips, wanting to swim in a sea filled with sounds of your bliss. You pulled away for air, smiling as Lance kept stealing small kisses from you.

Motioning with your head to follow you Lance swam to the stairs, feeling the heaviness of his saturated clothing weighing him down as he climbed out. You were toweling off your body, bending over to dry your legs and giving Lance a perfect view of your ass. He took a deep breath as he felt a twitch in his pants, the soaking wet pants he was about to take off and he really did not want anything to pop up and make you uncomfortable.

You laid down on his extra wide chaise, adjusting a pillow under your head as you waited for him to come over. You heard the squelching of his sneakers before he was even near you. Lance had slipped out of them, feeling the relief of no longer being suctioned into his shoes. His socks were drenched and smelly so he laid them out to dry far away from you.

His white t-shirt clung to the cuts of his muscles but you eyes were fixed while watching every muscle flex as he pulled himself out of the saturated shirt. His firm body was on display and you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth watching him. Unbuttoning his jeans Lance stepped out of them, revealing his black boxer briefs that showed off a prominent package.

Lance ran a towel along his body, soaking up as much water as he could before laying beside you, both of you letting the warm sun do the rest of the drying. Trees provided a barrier between him and his neighbors so it was quiet and serene. Being together again was nice. It was comforting to lace your fingers together or steal a kiss before you turned onto your stomach, being with Lance felt like home.

When you finally sat up you moved your neck from side to side, groaning a little at the stretch.

“Still sore?” Lanced asked and you confirmed. “I owe that massage, ya know.”

You sat cross legged in front of Lance, making sure your hair was out of the way. His thumbs rubbed small circles upwards on the side of your neck, sweeping down your shoulders. He increased pressure with each pass but kept his touch firm but light, wanting to warm up the muscles before working out the tension.

Lance was well acquainted with the physical form, sometimes having to step in and help a gymnast work through a knot before a competition. Tight muscles were inevitable when you pushed your body as physically as gymnasts do, you on the other hand just hold your tension in your neck and back. When you’re not travelling you’re either sitting at a desk or on your couch with your laptop, with terrible posture as you write your articles, breaking only for coffee refills.

Lance made painful noises as he felt the large balls of tension that pulled at your muscle fibers.

“When was the last time you had a massage?” he asked, as he was adding more pressure to his kneading motions.

“Uhhh….”

Your lack of a real answer spoke more words than you could say. Now that you’re thinking about it you rarely had time to treat yourself to anything. Having your dream job meant sacrificing a lot. Between days at the office and travelling the little time that you had for yourself was filled with menial tasks like laundry and cleaning, and since New York was so expensive you were not able to afford the things you wanted like massages and facials.

Lance’s skilled fingers continued to work your muscles and soon you were melting into his touch, forgetting to curb your moaning because everything felt so damn good! A satisfied smile spread across Lance’s face, he was not only helping you but making you feel good and that’s all he’s ever wanted to do.

“That good, huh?” he chuckled.

A wave of embarrassment washed over you. Turning your head back to face him you smiled shyly when you caught a glimpse at his smirk. Lance leaned in to press a sweet kiss to your lips before continuing to work on a particularly tight spot on your back. Satisfied hums continued to leave your mouth as you became putty in his hands.

Your head lolled to the side as Lance began to work both hands on your shoulder though he was becoming distracted. It was hard not to notice the way you reacted to his touch, watching your chest swell when he worked on a particularly tight spot and then release with a breathy moan.

The column of your neck was calling to him, like a siren singing out to a sailor and he was ready and willing to crash. Licking his lips he leaned in placing a gentle kiss at the top of your neck. Caught off guard by his actions you held your breath as Lance continued to slowly kiss his way down. When he reached the spot where your neck and collar met he licked his lips, sucking on your skin and making you gasp. He soothed the area with his tongue, kissing down further until he was at the curve of your shoulder, placing one last kiss before pulling away.

“Was that good?” he nervously asked.

“Real good,” you affirmed.

Lance’s hands began to rub up your back and down your shoulders, stopping himself to plant kisses at the back of your neck, grazing his nose along your skin. You were squirming with delight, feeding your body to his hungry mouth. His hands began to roam, caressing up and down your arms and wrapping around your waist.

Whether Lance had inched closer to you or you had moved towards him you couldn’t say, all you knew is that you were now flush against his chest feeling his firm arousal pressing against you. He continued his assault on your neck, the wetness left by his tongue matching that in your warm center.

His hands grazed your sides, gently rubbing up and down, getting closer to the curve of your breasts with each pass. Heat began to radiate from your core as delicate fingers slipped beneath your bikini top. Lance traced your hardened peaks before cupping your breasts and you gasped. Kneading them with his hands he nipped at your neckline and you couldn’t take it anymore.

Your head turned back to kiss him, letting your tongue slip past his lips while rocking your hips against him. Lance moved with you, deepening the kiss and pinching your nipple harder. His touch became too much and not enough at the same time.

You broke your connection briefly, turning around to face him before your lips were together again, tongues dancing with each other, teeth clashing together. You were both hungry with need, starving and yearning for desire and as you felt his hardened arousal pressed against you your thighs clenched together to quell the hot burning of your core. Your eyes were dark and filled with determination; you needed Lance Tucker like you needed air to breathe.

Lance’s hands were wrapped around you, pulling you as close to him as possible, worried that if he let go you’d be gone, that this was a dream. When he felt your hands cup his bulge he gasped. Fuck. FUCK! This is real! His moan is swallowed by your lips and Lance is smiling through his kiss, in absolute disbelief that his dream was coming true.

Pushing against his chest Lance laid back, slowly palming his aching cock tenting though the material. He looked perfect, biting his bottom lip as he stared at you lustfully. As much as you wanted to draw this out you couldn’t wait any longer. Your hands went down to the hem of his briefs to tug them down. Lance lifted his hips, bringing them down his legs and kicking them off.

You felt your heart pounding, hearing the steady beat like a drum in your ear. You could almost feel the drool slipping out of your mouth as you stared at his impressive size, something you hadn’t forgotten, now accentuated by the ribbon tattoo. You were never an athlete but right now you were going for the gold.

Your hands wrapped around his length, pumping him as your tongue teased his balls, sucking them into your mouth and growing wetter at the moans that fell from his lips. Your tongue ran along the thick vein of his cock, teasing him before swallowing him, humming in delight as you bobbed up and down. Lance caught your gaze, watching himself disappear into your sinful mouth.

“Oh, fuck Y/N, just like that.”

Heat was building steadily inside of him as Lance began to lose himself to a pleasure he never imagined feeling again, not with you. He tried to control himself but it was becoming too much to handle and Lance was certainly not ready for this to be over before it began.

“C’mere,” he said through a ragged breath, and you bit your lip, legs straddling him. You moved your hips, teasing his cock though you were really only torturing yourself, feeling your wetness grow. Your hands quickly undid the straps of your top exposing your breasts and Lance smiled as they bounced above him. His tongue came out to swipe at his lips, reaching out to grab them but them but you brought his hands to your hips instead, guiding his fingers down to the strings that held your bikini bottom together.

The blue of his eyes were replaced by dark, ravenous rings, his chest breathing heavily as he pulled one string until it was taut, undoing the knot. He undid the other side, agonizingly slow as you mewled above him.

“Fuck, Lance, I need you!” you whined, begging for him.

Finally, as he removed the loosened fabric you adjusted yourself, rubbing your wetness on his length and slowly sank down on his cock; your breath stilling as you felt the stretch of him fill you completely. Lance’s eyes shut tight as he moaned, struggling not to blow his load immediately because of the incredible way you felt around him, as if you were made for each other, like a lock and key coming together to unlock a gateway of never ending pleasure.

Bracing your hands on his firm chest you began to rock your hips, your head rolling back as you were overcome with the blissful sensations. With the sun’s glow casting around your body you looked heavenly, but the sounds falling from your lips were pure sin. Lance’s hands made their way to your breasts, grabbing them as you rode him with all your might.

You locked eyes with Lance, moaning and panting above him as your hips swiveled in a desperate need for more friction. Lance dropped his hand down rubbing your clit with his thumb as you cried out, bringing you closer to the edge. 

Lance felt the way your walls began to clench around him. Fuck, he thought, between the beautiful way you looked taking your pleasure from him to the incredible way you felt around his cock he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, the tightening in his balls proving him right.

His stomach muscles tensed as he sat up wrapping his arms around you bringing your sweat covered chests closer together. Your movements slowed as his lips found yours desperately, moaning when he trailed wet kisses down your neck until he reached your breasts, taking them into his mouth and flicking his tongue around your nipples.

When he felt your hips begin to rock again he knew he couldn’t deny you of your release. Carefully he cradled you against him as he turned to lay you on your back. Bracing himself above you he entered you again and began to thrust into your heat. Lifting your leg up around him he reached your sweet spot, quickly bringing you to the edge.

“Oh, fff, Lance… I’m gonna…” you began to cry out as your walls fluttered around him, your fingers digging into his biceps as waves of pleasure washed over you.

He held out for as long as he could but feeling the way you came around him set Lance off. With a strangled moan he pulled out, emptying himself on to your stomach.

Lance hovered above you panting, his cheeks flushed with color. He smiled widely seeing your spent face coming down from the heavenly journey you took together. You looked so fucking beautiful. Lance captured your lips in for a languid kiss, resting his sweaty forehead against yours, wanting to stay pressed against you, being connected for as long as he could.

His softened dick twitched against you, reminding him of the mess he painted on your stomach. Regretfully he got up, grabbing the nearest towel to clean you up, sharing an awkward smile as you watched him. Throwing it off to the side, he laid back down pulling you beside him and wrapping an arm around you to keep you close. You were hot and sticky from the sun and the sex but they way Lance held you made any discomfort fade away.

You laid together trying to catch your breath basking in the aftermath of what transpired. You smiled when you felt his lips kiss the top of your head, hearing him hum with delight as his arms squeezed you closer.

When your heart rate steadied your mind had finally broken free of the lust driven cage you locked it away in making you realize what just happened, you had sex with Lance Tucker. Your mind was now screaming at you. What have you done?!

PART 13

#dragon’s3k3c #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker x you #lance tucker fanfic #lance x reader #lance x you #the bronze fanfiction

[desroundtree]

The Diagnosis Dance

During the years I have battled depression and everything that contributed to it, I began to realize that there may very well have been something wrong with my body.  That maybe it wasn’t only my mind.  

I figured the aches and pains after a night out on the town were normal, they were punishment for over doing it.  It was when I stopped drinking and these aches and pains stayed that I realized something might really be wrong.  When the pain began settling in my bones then in my heart, I knew something was really wrong.

My body hurt me in so many ways, every touch was agony. The fatigue was awful, the sadness was deafening. I was so sluggish with the slightest bit of exertion I felt like I immediately wanted to nap.  Let me rephrase, I didn’t want to nap, I needed to nap.  I began to hope I would feel better sooner rather than later because right at that point it was unbearable.  When it was at its worst, it took no prisoners.  It left me feeling like all I wanted to do was cry. And to be honest, I didn’t even know where to begin.  

I felt like all at once I couldn’t handle life and the pain was kicking my ass.

There were plenty of people who came on this long and arduous journey with me and for those that had, they spent most of their time wishing me well.  They were hoping and praying for the best.  I was almost happy (yes happy) to say I was about to figure it out.  I was happy to finally find someone that was willing to work with me to find an answer.  I was happy to find the right doctor to help me through it, to teach me what to do, to show me the way.

But I had gone through some of the most intense physical pain I had ever had to endure.  Anything that painful will almost always turns emotional and mental with me.  It seemed like I couldn’t go through a bout without having a complete breakdown of the person I was before it.

Years had come and gone.  Doctors upon doctors told me numerous things, some ridiculous (maybe you’re depressed – which I told them originally) to certain diagnoses that I hung onto when the pain was just bad enough to believe it.

The things that made me happy before the pain were still in my life - my husband and daughter, my family and friends, my somewhat health, love - yet during it I almost couldn’t see any of it.

And what I did see, I felt as though I didn’t deserve it.

It’s hard to explain but really easy to feel.

But there I was, three months into seeing a new doctor and testing was done and I had an answer.

And that answer was Lupus.

It was amazing that just like that the world could drop from underneath your feet.  It was amazing that just like that the sound from a room can be sucked out, making the air seem too thin, too fragile.

The truth was I knew for so long something was wrong. I knew in my heart I wasn’t imagining it, the pain was very real and I wasn’t making it up. Yet after hearing him say: “Desiree, you have lupus.” I couldn’t believe it was happening to me. I sat there wearing a mask of disbelief.

“Do you need a minute?” In that moment the question was loaded.

I couldn’t speak and all I did was nod.  Furiously.

Because I did need a minute, quite a few to be honest.

When he left the room, I actually had time to process the fear that choked me in that first 30 seconds. Because when he said I had lupus, I heard something totally different. The fear settled in and choked me - I heard "You’re going to die a painful death, you’re going to leave your husband to raise your daughter alone, you won’t have another child, you’re not going to see your daughter graduate from high school or college, you won’t ever dance again without pain and you won’t ever meet your grandchildren”.

I was paralyzed. My thoughts swirled and I had to stop myself from curling into the fetal position and giving up.  I had already cried, the minute the door closed and the lock clicked, the tears began to flow.  And I suspected he was standing just outside, wanting to come back in, just not sure if I could handle it.

He came back in and I looked up at him with a tear stained face.  And he smiled.  And more than anything, I needed that smile.  Because even though I couldn’t smile – his smile showed me that he was ok.  And if he was ok with it, then I would be ok.

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t know, am I?  I am relieved, in a weird sort of way.  I knew it was something and I am kind of happy to know I’m not crazy.”  I chuckled and wiped at my face with the sleeves of my sweater.

He handed me a box of Kleenex and rested his hand on the seat beside me.

“You’re going to be ok.  This is something we can treat.  The medicine is very good with very little side effects, we just have to get your dosages right.  Be patient with me and I promise you will feel better.”

I smiled.

And something happened for me.  I thought for just a minute about things really being mind over matter. And I considered the container in which I placed my pain.  I remembered something I read in “The Book of Awakening” by Mark Nepo.  It was a passage about an aging Hindu master who had a young apprentice who complained all the time.  He sent him for salt and when the apprentice came back he put a handful of salt in the water and made the apprentice taste it.  The master asked him, “How does it taste?”  Of course it was horrible and the apprentice replied that the water was bitter.  The master laughed at him and took him to a lake.  He did the same thing but this time instead of a glass, he poured the salt into the lake.  He made the apprentice taste the water and asked him, “How does it taste?” The apprentice said, “Fresh.”  As I looked into the hopeful face of my doctor, I remembered: “The pain of life is pure salt; no more, no less.  The amount of pain in life remains the same, exactly the same.  But the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the pain in.  So, when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is enlarge your sense of thing… Stop being a glass.  Become a lake.”

I was strong.

In that minute I felt like I was going to handle this differently than I had handled any other diagnosis I had ever received. I wasn’t going to let my fear of what I know nothing about consume me.  I was going to know what I was dealing with and handle it accordingly.

When I called my husband, I decided to do it while walking to the train station.  I figured I wouldn’t break down crying in the street, I would be fine.  I would let the sentence escape my lips and he would make it better.  He would comfort me, I would head home and we would battle this together.

“Hey Babe, how’d it go?”

Before I could get one sentence out, tears caught in my throat, making my voice thick, I swallowed hard and said, “I have lupus.”

The silence was charged.  I waited for him to say something, anything, to respond.  And just like I felt with the doctor, he needed that moment so he could give me the moment I needed.

He said, “I love you.  One day at a time, one step at a time, I am here and I will hold you when no one else can or will.  I will always love you.”  

And I cried.  Right on a corner in Brooklyn, I cried my eyes out.

And for the second time in one day, I had that moment.  The moment when it all becomes clear.  When you finally get it, the moment that changes it all.  His love.  His support.  That was what was different about this battle in comparison to all the other battles I had already fought.  I was with him now, he was leading the charge.

He gave me the strength I couldn’t find.  The words that escaped me flowed freely from his mouth.  He loved me, regardless and what I needed, he would find, what help I needed, he would give.

So I knew I was going to take whatever steps I needed to ensure that those fears that crept into my brain at that moment didn’t have two seconds to linger in the universe. I was going to take control. I was not going to be a victim, I was going to try to put and keep things in perspective. And when I need help, I was going to ask for it. And when I was overwhelmed I was going to learn to admit it.

But above all else at the end of the day I knew one thing was true, I was going to try my hardest to beat this.  I was going to remain vigilant in the cause, I wasn’t going to give up.  I wasn’t going to give in.  I couldn’t give up because he never would.  He would fight until his last day just to be with me.  And I owed him the same fight.

We quickly began to realize on my bad days the hardest thing for me to do is believe I am going to feel better.  Because in those moments, since you try to live in the moment, I don’t believe it.  And it goes even further than that, it is almost impossible to believe.

I am thankful that I am alive and breathing and able to move and talk, my husband reminds me of that often.  

But there is always a “but” which I reminded him of as well.  He walked towards me, his hands clasped my face.  “I know this is hard to believe.  But you are going to get better.  Both my parents died of cancer, I know what pain looks like.  You are in pain, you are sad.  I know.  But please hold on.  We have a kid to raise and I can’t do this without you.”

Tears ran freely down my face.

“I am trying.”  I sobbed hysterically.  “All I can do is try.  But you have to let me feel what I am feeling about it.  Because you feel a certain way doesn’t mean I have to automatically be on super high energy positive mode.  I am not.  I am sick.  I feel sick.  I look sick.  And I want you to go somewhere else with all this positive over negative nonsense right now so I can breathe in a way that doesn’t leave me wincing or nauseous.”

I knew he was trying.  But the truth was I was trying too.  Being married, working full time and having a child had their own tolls to pay.  But this, this just added to the pile of crazy shit that I thought was my life.  

He shook his head at me.   “Be grateful, Desiree.  Always be grateful.”  As if he read my mind.  I sat on the edge of my bed and let what just happened between the two of us sink in.

He walked out of the room, leaving the shame to burn my cheeks.  There was no doubt I was sick and in pain.  It was very obvious in my waddle of a walk since my hips hurt too much to sway them.  It was also pretty clear in my labored breathing when walking up the steps to just about anywhere.  It was also evident in my inability to sit at my desk for too long without being in agony.  I had an awful upper respiratory infection every other month because of the immunosuppressant drugs I am on to keep the Lupus at bay by shutting down my immune system.  I had constant stomach aches from the antimalarial drug that helps my body to allow my organs to fortify themselves against my immune system.  Since that is their enemy.  Everything hurt.  All the time and I couldn’t handle it.

He came back in and hugged me and I placed my face on his chest, “I will try harder, I know it could be worse but it could be better.  Can you admit that at least?”  He laughed.  Then I laughed.  And we were quickly back to our way.

I won’t lie to you, I am not at the point where I can just accept that I will feel better.  I exist in a space of wanting something that isn’t possible to have and I am measuring everything up to that standard.  So when I do feel better, I often find myself wondering when I am not going to feel good.  Almost preparing myself for it, I live in the good moments anticipating the bad which is obviously not what I want to do.

So in other words, in my mind if I am not pain free, it is just not good enough.

And most everyday something hurts.

I know that I have to accept that living a pain free life may not be in the cards for me. I’m going to have good days but there will also be bad ones. It is the nature of the disease. It is all in the way I approach it.

The passage in the book ringing through my brain again, like a song.  Become a lake.  I have to become a lake.

I was very honest when I said “There isn’t a day that I wake up and I have no pain, it’s hard to stay positive through that” because it really is hard. There are emotional things I have been through in my life that have broken me and I have always been able to gather up the pieces and put it back together. But when you struggle with normal mundane things like typing, sitting for too long, walking down the stairs - it can wear your spirit down.  When you have to learn to become another person, it is a really hard decision to make when you are in love with the person you already are.

You begin to feel old, defeated and sad.  You feel broken.  Irreparable. Lonely.

I found myself in full pity mode. I wanted to stay in bed and cry. To curl up and just shut the world out.  I couldn’t become a lake, I didn’t have it in me.

There are days when my first thought of the morning is THIS IS NOT FAIR.  Of course this doesn’t set the tone of the day as anything but negative. So I get up. And I push.  One step in front of the other, one breath after the next.  Breathe and proceed, just breathe and proceed.  I chanted this at times in my head and on particularly bad days, I still do.  But usually after one crying fit and one much needed hug from my husband, I wrap my head around being BIGGER than this and about not letting this define me.

I put it into perspective.

I am going to live this day. It was given to me so I am going to take it. Even if it is not perfect, it is still a gift and I should treat it that way. Maybe today I am not 100%, no one was promised good health and there are plenty of other people out there who are worse off than me.  There are plenty of people who didn’t get to see this day, who are in more pain than I am in.  

There are people who live and breathe and still have the strength to dance.

And I want to dance too.  So when my husband wraps me in his arms and we waltz around the living room to a song only we hear, I go for it.  And when our daughter jumps in – we dance.

Here I am, taking the baby steps but wanting to leap and soar…

I guess I have to learn that I will one day again.  Someday soon.  And then we can really dance…

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