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saintrocklee · 2 years

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title: Need prompt: I’ll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you pairing: itachi x reader publish date: 09.08.22 non-massacre AU

“Why are you here?”

“To see you.”

dedication: to anon; who asked for this prompt like three decades ago. i love you dearly & i am so sorry. i hope the wait was worth it. warnings: none! just pure fluff & a sprinkle of angst. itachi is, in my bestie @chanfictions words, “an aloof house cat.” we love that for him.

The chill from the early morning’s air has the hair on your arms rising, but you don’t move. You’re waiting for the sun to fully come up, so you can climb back into your apartment window and sleep. Sleeping in the dark was difficult after missions; the weight of the things you’ve done seemed heavier at night.

There’s an irritating itch on your neck and you distantly think it might be some blood you missed, so maybe you’ll shower before you crawl into bed. Your latest mission plays back on a loop and you can barely hold in the cringe that comes with remembering what you did. Typically an assignment like that would require some form of comfort from your team afterwards. A quick lunch. A light training session. But they’re all out of the village and you don’t think you have the required energy to go and find anyone else to lean on.

Someone specific came to mind, but you quickly dismiss the thought. You hadn’t seen your old friend in weeks and you know clan duties on top of whatever the ANBU required of him left him out of the village for days at a time. You were busy as well, and you didn’t seek him out as much as you used to. There was a confusing swell of feelings in your chest regarding the man in question and you weren’t in the mood to try and sort them all out. So you let the divide between you two fester. Grow.

Maybe one day you’d process your feelings. Maybe you’d even speak to him about them. Not today though. Not for awhile.

You’re not sure if you’re being protective of yourself, or a coward. Probably both.

It’s crippling, the loneliness that seems to gut you in this moment. You’re not used to sitting still like this, to being stagnant. Just a rare moment, that you’re separated from your teammates and friends, with nothing pressing to attend to.

And your successful mission, replaying on a loop.

The blood, the pleas. This one will haunt you for awhile. Your brain is starting to buzz, to tune everything out, and you think you’ll get a moment of peace while the sun finishes rising.

You hear him before you sense him.

“I didn’t know you’d be back so early.”

The silk in his voice is deeper than you remembered. As always, it settles right under your lungs, and you can already feel the warmth start to spread through your chest. His arrival was completely silent, and you idly wonder how long he’d been standing behind you.

“Keeping tabs on me?” You ask dully, your eyes not once leaving the view in front of you. The sun was just about to peak above the surface and you didn’t want to miss it. You’d been waiting for awhile for it to come up.

Itachi settles himself down next to you and it takes more control than you thought for you to not immediately turn toward him. You’ve found that your last few encounters have been more heartbreaking for you than you’d anticipated, and the storm of feelings you’ve kept a lid on for years begins to swirl.

“Your mission was successful, I take it?” He evades your question easily, which typically meant that he had information he didn’t want you to know. That he was keeping something from you.

If you were less tired, you’d dig your heels in. Instead, you shrug.

It’s quiet between you two for a moment as the sun continues to rise, until Itachi breaks it with another question.

“What do you need?”

He asks it quietly, seriously, and it blooms butterflies in your chest. It’s a question that defines your friendship, a question that is only asked when the other is in visible need of help. You’ve lost count of how many times Itachi has saved you from yourself by asking. There’s a lump forming in your throat and it hits you, right then, how much you’ve missed him.

You wished it was strictly platonic.

“I can’t stop seeing them.” You whisper back, hating the way your voice cracks. You’re greeted with more silence before Itachi stands. The sun has now broken through the surface so you turn your head to finally look at him. He’s devastatingly beautiful as always, and the early morning hues only add to it. He doesn’t have his Sharigan activated, and his hair is tied back at the base of his neck like always. The soft look he’s giving you leaves you feeling a bit breathless, and you find yourself trying to memorize him in that moment.

He reaches a hand out to you and you take it, sliding your fingers along his palm before he tightens his hold and helps pull you up. You wait for him to drop your hand, but he continues to pull until you’re standing close; too close to be socially appropriate. His eyes flick to your neck, to the dried blood that’s no doubt spattered there, and they trail down slowly. You think he might be looking for more, all while his thumb starts to lightly rub the skin on top of your hand.

“You need a shower, and then we’ll have breakfast.” He states and you frown in response. Itachi, of course, notices immediately and his thumb stops it’s slow caress.

“You don’t need to stay.” Your words are still quiet, like your voice has forgotten how to be strong. Loud. The look you receive is borderline chastising.

“But I will.” He counters, and you feel your lips tug upward without your permission. He drops your hand and takes a step back, to give you room to climb down. You look at him for a moment and nod, feeling very grateful and not as lonely as you did before.

“Thank you.”

A few days go by before he comes to you again. This time you’re inside your apartment, deep cleaning your horribly disgusting kitchen. You hardly used the damn thing, yet dust seemed adamant on collecting there, and your fridge was a disaster. You’re almost done when you hear your window opening and turn with a frown, only to be met with Itachi climbing into your living room. In his ANBU uniform. Covered in what you hope is dirt.

“Itachi?” You call out, moving from the small space of your kitchen. His feet meet your carpet and he stands, only to sway slightly which sets off warning bells in your head. You move to his side immediately and steady him with your arm around his waist. He leans into you, furthering deepening your panic, and you move him to your couch. Itachi sits down harder than normal, almost like he’s collapsing into it, and tilts his head back with a soft groan. There’s blood and dirt caked to him and his uniform like a second skin, and you crouch down in front of him.

“Are you hurt?” You ask hurriedly, looking for any signs of fresh blood to signify that he was actively bleeding. You’re answered with what sounds like a negative grunt and you frown, eyes flicking upward to look at his face. He’s still got his head resting against the back of your couch, eyes closed, leaving his neck completely exposed. It’s a rare sight indeed, to see Itachi Uchiha so open like this, and his voice is slow when he speaks again.

“I overexerted myself.”

Okay. That explained why he practically stumbled into your apartment. It didn’t explain anything else.

“And you’re here and not at the hospital because ... ?”

Itachi finally moves his head up, only to look down at you with a cocked eyebrow. Like it should be obvious. Like you were the one being ridiculous.

You’d strangle him if you thought you could move fast enough. But you’re still concerned, because if Itachi came to you then that meant something was wrong.

“What do you need?” You ask, your tone dipping into something more serious. The cocky brow relaxes itself and Itachi stares at you with a tired, almost numb look. He doesn’t answer, and if you’re being truthful he never really did when you asked. But you know what he needs. He needed to stay, to not be around his clan or doctors or the Hokage or anyone else.

He needed to be left alone.

You nod once you understand.

“Okay. I was just about to heat up some dinner, but if you’re going to be here you need to shower. You smell horrible.”

You stand and can’t help but smile when you’re greeted with an amused snort. Good. Normalcy. You move back to your kitchen, missing the way Itachi’s eyes follow you and the small, tired smile on his own face.

It strikes you as odd, when you run into Itachi yet again only a couple days later. This time you find him, standing on top of your apartment building. You’d sensed him when you were walking home, and if there was one thing you knew about Itachi - he only let someone sense him when he wanted them to.

He’s giving you a choice you realize as you maneuver yourself to the roof. You could have easily gone into your apartment and ignored him, but that was silly.

You’d never do that.

His back is to you when you finally see him and you stop when you’re only a few feet away from him.

“Hey.” You call out, and he turns his head to glance at you. He raises that elegant brow expectantly and you shake your head as you continue to move forward, till you’re standing next to him.

“Hello.” He greets and you shoot him an amused look.

“Care to explain why you’re on my roof, Itachi?”

He glances around, brow furrowing, before turning his full body to face you.

“I didn’t realize you owned this building.”

His retort pulls a chuckle out of you and you watch as his mouth curls into a smirk.

“Funny. You should quit your day job, take your jokes on the road.”

Amusement sparkles in his eyes.

“Would you join me, if I did?”

You’re taken aback by his question and try not to show it on your face.

“Can’t. I’m too busy owning the building.”

Your comeback is lame and a bit breathless. Itachi hums, cocking his head ever so slightly as he considers you. You’re not sure what exactly he’s looking for or even looking at, and decide to try and question him again.

“Seriously though. Why are you here?”

“To see you.”

The bold bluntness of his statement sends you reeling. You blink dumbly and swallow at the way his face changes. Almost as if he’s relaxing. His eyes turn softer as they meet your own and the butterflies you kept carefully hidden were starting to escape and make a mess of your insides.

“We’ve seen each other a lot lately.” You murmur, hoping he answers the unspoken question. Why? Why did he want to see you? Why did he seem to be around more? Did something change?

But Itachi never did anything unless he wanted to, never answered a question he didn’t feel like answering, and his next smile shows teeth.

“Yes.” He agrees easily, much to your disappointment.

Your face falls into a deadpan and you shake your head in amusement as well as frustration.

“Come on in then, you can make yourself some tea. I’ve got laundry to fold, so don’t expect me to be very entertaining.”

Itachi hums and follows you down, that smirk still present on his face.

You’re so tired you think you might collapse before you can open your door. The keys in your hand are fairly uncomplicated but your fingers aren’t cooperating and you watch as they slip out of your hands and fall to the ground. You’d just finished another mission and had to spend what felt like hours at the hospital. One of your teammates was exposed to a toxin and they needed to do blood tests on all of you, as well as scrub you clean, before you could leave. Your hair was still wet and the borrowed clothes you had on were too big, leaving you uncomfortable and cold.

And now your keys were on the floor.

You bend to pick them up when your door creaks open. You freeze and snap your head up, only to be greeted by Itachi standing in your doorway. Inside of your apartment. His hair is pulled back but he’s missing his forehead protector and is dressed in what you can only describe as civilian clothing. Your brain and body feel like they’re lagging as you stand slowly and the noise that comes out of your mouth is confused. Itachi arches a brow and moves to the side, allowing you entry, and you walk in before turning to watch him close and lock your door behind you.

“What are you ...” Your questions trails off into nothing as he carefully takes your keys and pack from you, setting them on your kitchen counter like he did this everyday. You blink, your brain still trying to catch up with everything, and Itachi speaks - his voice like sweet honey in your ears.

“You’re exhausted.”

It’s a question that wasn’t a question. You blink again.

“Long mission.” You reply distractedly as he moves toward you, hands coming to rest on your back and elbow.

“You were due back sooner.”

You frown in response. How did he know that?

“Got held up at the hospital. Why are you here?”

Itachi hums in that annoying way of his as he presses you towards your bedroom, his thumb beginning to slowly stroke the small of your back through your thin, borrowed shirt. He hadn’t bothered to turn any of your lamps on and the setting sun shining through your blinds is the only source of light throughout your small apartment.

“To see you.”

You’d roll your eyes if you were positive they’d stay in your head.

“Did you break in?”

There’s a snort from somewhere behind you.

“You’d need adequate locks to define entering your home as breaking in.”

You snort tiredly and feel your shoulders sag when your bed comes into view. Yes, yes, yes. Perfect.

“Still.” You mutter, kicking off the sandals you loaned from the hospital into the corner. Itachi lets go of your elbow but keeps his hand on your back, thumb still stroking you through your shirt. It felt nice and grounded you enough to press him again for some kind of answer.

“Why are you here to see me?”

His movements stop and you turn your head to look at him. His gaze is focused on your bed, his head turning towards you before his eyes do. The hand on your back moves to the side of your face, and you freeze as he curls a finger through your damp hair. It sends a jolt of electricity through you, offering you clarity where you previously had non.

Itachi was in your apartment. Itachi had been waiting for you. Itachi had, once again, sought you out. You bring your own hand up to rest on his forearm.

“What do you need?”

His shoulders settle at your question, as if he’s been waiting for you to ask. His hand leaves your hair to hang limply at his side, causing your own hand to drop.

“To stay.”

You inhale slowly at his words, their meaning settling heavy on you. Your hand twitches forward, brushing his own, and you find yourself searching his eyes. They’re so dark, bottomless, and tired. You nod slowly, realizing that his request is something you both need.

“Okay.”

Your voice cracks and you swallow, taking a step back toward your bed. He follows, as if on autopilot, and soon you’re both under the comforter facing each other. It’s not as awkward as you thought it would be, and the annoying flutter of wings in your tummy is beating a ferocious rhythm inside of you. You’re physically tired, but your brain has woken itself up since arriving back home, and you consider the man in front of you carefully.

“What’s going on?” You question softly and Itachi regards you with a serious look. The darker oranges and reds coming from your window bathe him in a soft light and you can pick out each individual hair on his head, each individual lash above his eyes. He’s truly beautiful, handsome in a heartbreaking sort of way, and you almost miss his response.

“I had a dream you died.”

It takes you a full second to register what he said, and your mouth parts in surprise.

“When?”

“Several weeks ago.” He pauses, eyes unfocusing like he was remembering. “It was ... unpleasant.”

You frown and move your hand to cup his face. He lets you, even closes his eyes at the contact, and your chest swells.

“I’m sorry.” You offer quietly, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone. This dream obviously disturbed him deeply, and you wonder if that’s the reason for all the sudden visits. He hums and you’re distantly reminded of a cat purring while being pet. It makes you smile.

“It’s my apology you should be accepting. I’ve been a coward.”

Your thumb halts it’s movement and your smile fades.

“A coward?” You echo, confusion evident. Itachi opens his eyes, holding your gaze with a serious look.

“I purposefully distanced myself from you.”

The warmth in your chest halts and you feel what feels like ice start to prickle at your fingers. You had just thought he was busy, that you were both just busy, and to know he did it on purpose ...

“Why?”

You want to keep the hurt from showing but you can’t hide the way your voice wavers. Itachi doesn’t move, doesn’t turn his gaze away, and his tone turns to honey, to silk wrapped in velvet.

“Because of my feelings for you.”

Oh.

You open your mouth to ... respond? Gasp? Laugh? Yell? To do anything but freeze, which was what you were currently doing. Your brain had turned into mush, your body was collapsing in on itself, and your heart and lungs were somehow tightening but also moving at an impossible place.

Because of my feelings for you.

Itachi seems minutely amused by your reaction and turns his head to brush his lips against your fingers.

“I have dreamt of you often, these past few months. It was foolish to avoid you, to try and create distance where none was needed. It took seeing you broken and dying to realize my mistake. My hope is that you will forgive me, with time. I have tried to make it up to you, to ease back into the friendship we once had, but I find myself wanting more.”

You’re pretty sure you’ve stopped breathing. He turns his head to meet your gaze again.

“It’s becoming increasingly difficult, to be away from you.”

Okay, yes. You’ve definitely stopped breathing.

Itachi pauses, to give you time to absorb his words, before speaking again.

“If I am being too forward, you may tell me.”

You blink.

“It’s not ...” You start, frowning at the way you’ve just decided to lose all ability to think. Or talk. You pull your hand away to rest on the bed in between you and start again, fingers digging into your sheets.

“I’m ... processing.” You answer, lowering your gaze. You can’t keep looking at him if you want to be able to formulate actual words. He says nothing in response, giving you time to think, and you eventually speak again.

“I think I’ve loved you for a very long time.” You start, still unable to look at him. You feel him stiffen next to you and find yourself taking a deep breath before continuing.

“I understand, though. I’ve been avoiding you too, I think. Caring for someone in our line of work can be damning. It can end horribly, or never even begin. I think we were both cowards, in a way. I also think you’re a bit of an ass, but that’s more of a fact than an opinion.” A breathy chuckle interrupts you and you smile softly, eyes floating upwards to meet his again.

“I think that you can stay … however long you’d like.”

Itachi’s eyes flick down to your mouth and stay there as he responds.

“I’d like that.”

You smile and try to fight against the heavy weight currently making itself at home on your eyelids. Sleep was calling your name urgently and you fight back a yawn. There’s another breathy chuckle in your ear and it takes you a moment to realize Itachi had moved closer, even going so far as to loosely wrap an arm around your waist. His fingers are trailing soft patterns against your back and you press yourself into his chest, deciding that anything else can wait until tomorrow.

“Sleep.” You murmur into his collarbone with a smile, “I’ll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you.”

Itachi hums a tired laugh and you feel something soft brush against your forehead as you drift off into an easy sleep.

#i love him your honor!!!!#itachi uchiha x you #itachi uchiha x reader #itachi uchiha fanfic #itachi x reader #itachi x you #itachi drabble #itachi fanfiction #ask prompt #anon bby this is for YOU

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stuckybarton · 2 years

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Day X: Night Out

Summary: Lee giving you a night to your self with friends was a rare instance that you make the most out of on any given day, but being caught over speeding wasn't part of that plan. But it was in Lee's plan to punish you because of it. Words: 2,186 Warning: Dub Con. Fingering. Forced Orgasms. Hair Pulling. Soft Dark! Lee Bodecker. Characters: Lee Bodecker x Wife!Female!Reader Prompts: Uniform Kink. A/N: Yeah. things happen in life and the backlog would be posted when I have the free time. Lol. Welp, enjoy.

KINKTOBER 2022 || MASTERLIST || Join the Library

Knockemstiff was a shit hole that gave you but three reasons to remain in the hell hole of Ohio. Your family and friends, the decent business you've made for yourself selling baked goods, and the fact that you were married to the town's Sheriff, Lee Bodecker. The pros and cons of being married to him always weighed on you on a day to day basis, how you wouldn't even leave the house without the townsfolk getting wrong ideas about you and your marriage to the man.

So you'd be utterly surprised that he gave you the night to yourself after winning the election to spend time with your friends.

"Gotta make my night rounds anyways." Had been your husband's explanation for allowing you out for the night. But you knew better, he wasn't as clean as he let anyone else believe him to be. There was nothing clean about his under the table work and you will always turn a blind eye on it for as long as he doesn't bring it into your home nor would he try to cheat on you with any of the whore at the bar (not that he would, with how fixated he was of you).

"Sure I'm allowed out to the bar tonight with Darla and Patty?" You inquire again wanting to be sure that this wasn't another one of his tricks to try and punish you.

"As long as you don't break any of them rules, Honey. You can go to town for all I care." He teased, hands cupping your cheeks. "Follow the town's rules and no gets to touch you, okay?"

You smiled, relishing this softer side of your husband. You craved it, almost. It was a side no one else but you could see.

"Okay." You smiled, going on your tiptoes to kiss him softly against his pouty lips. No longer could you taste the alcohol in him as you once find yourself doing, he was cutting off as much when he comes home to you and you appreciate the small gesture. Your hands find their way towards the belt loop of his pants, pulling him closer to you and earning a dangerous growl from him in the process.

"Don't." He warned.

"I'm not doing anything." You smirked pecking his lips again, hands sliding up towards his soft stomach before settling on his chest. Heart beating profusely against your hands. "Unless there's anything you'd want from me, Sheriff?" You teased him.

Before your husband could take you up on your offer, the sound of the car honking had interupted the both of you. Peaking through the window, you smiled at the sight of Darla and Patty already waiting by the car they had with them. Turning back to your husband, the disapproving frown already rested on his lips because of your best friends antics of repeatedly honking on the horn just to get you to finally come out.

"Don't make me regret letting go with those hooligans." He pleads now.

"Sheriff Bodecker," You feigned offense, "that is no way to call ladies."

"There is nothing ladylike about those two." He quipped right back accepting the gentle slap on the chest from you--but you know he was right. "Be careful, those two mean trouble and I don't want you to be apart of that trouble too."

"I promise I'll be good." You reassured him for the nth time.

"Good girl." He smirked kissing you on the forehead and letting you head out for the night

"My husband is going kill me." Those had been the words you had muttered the moment you had stopped the car and the far too familiar blue and red lights kept flashing from behind you.

You three had had a swell time together, Darla and Patty buttering up numerous patrons at the bar for free drinks--while you just got them for free because of your husband. No one would like to get on your bad side without facing your husband's wrath. So you had your fun, minimizing the number of shots you've had, you made sure you were sober enough to be able to drive and hopefully drive your already knocked out friends back in their shared apartment.

But things just don't go as planned.

Keeping a straight face, you waited for whoever was in the patrol car to make their way towards you. From the sidemirror, a momentary sigh of relief had lingered into your body knowing it was your husband before you fully sobered up and realized it was your husband that caught you instead of his deputies. They were easy to butter up with sweet words or underlying threats, but to have Sheriff Lee Bodecker himself catch you, that was hell.

"Had a fun night, Mrs. Bodecker?" The stoic inquiry sent a shiver down your spine.

The anger your husband had was unfathomable to say the least, he could have his outburst or his sass, but nothing was more dangerous that the silent anger brewing deep in his core. It would explode--it always explodes when it comes to him, but at times it would be towards you, spanking or angry sex were his favorite method. But what was scarier was how he addressed you.

"It doesn't happen quite often so we make the most of." You explained turning to take a good look at him from the window. He showed no emotion, his face laid passive as he looked down at you.

"Do you know why I stopped you, Mrs. Bodecker?"

"I don't believe I do." Playing the innocent card will do you no good, but there was no other way for you to do in the moment.

"You were hitting a sixty in a fifty speed limit." He explained as calmly. "I'm afraid I need to write you a ticket and take your license."

"Lee." You began but halted by the glare that now lingered in your husband's face. How his hat further darken his features in the darkness of the night.

"Rules are rules, Mrs. Bodecker. I'm gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle."

Watching his hands now settle on his waist, you had no other choice but to relent, stepping out of the car, you stood a foot shorter in front of the man. The man stood in his full height dauntingly overtowering you even in the heel you wore. He always had such an effect on you and from the start of your relationship it scared you to have him like this--but more and more you know better. It was just a matter of picking and choosing when it comes to him.

"I can smell the alcohol from where I'm standing Mrs. Bodecker."

"We've gone drinking, Sheriff." You quipped, tired with the games he was trying to play.

In one swift move, his hand had gripped your jaws, holding you in place. He loomed towards you, eyes burning blue as they settled directly at you. Your eyes moved down towards the back of the car, both Darla and Patty still passed out at the back of the car. Neither would be able to witness the crueler side of your husband.

"Smart talk me again and we'll see where it leads you."

It was not a warning but a promise of anything and everything he was capable of doing to you if you were not careful.

"Not here, Lee." You plead now, breaking what little resolve you still had in your system. You were far too tired, far too drunk to be playing this games with him anymore.

"Didn't have rules, Mrs. Bodecker?" He inquired again, nudging you back until you back was glued against the car door. "Remember the rules?"

"Follow the town rules and no one touches me." You repeated his words like a mantra. A decree of his own making and of your own demise.

"But the fuck did you do?" He barked now.

"I oversped and I was driving under the influence." You admit wincing as his hand now move towards you neck, not tight enough to cut your airway but just tight enough to have you feeling the blood pumping through you.

The static of the radio sounded and had you tense in front of your husband.

"Stay here"

Letting go of you, he swaggered back towards the car and responded to whoever was on the other line.

From the few stern words thrown you were certain another deputy would be making their way here--for reasons you were still uncertain of.

"Let's go." He orders and you were quick to make your way towards him--halting just a few steps away and turning back towards the car.

"What about the girls?" You asked, the worry of having them defenseless worried you more than your husband wrath at the moment.

"The newbies will take them home safe and sound."

You frowned doubt about the Deputies in his rank, they were pigs and it scared you more than it reassured you that they would be home safe and sound.

"Your friends, as much of a menace they could be, is still under my jurisdiction. They lay a hand on any of them, they answer to me and it will most likely be a bullet to the head. Understand?"

You nodded, not fully convince but as you followed your husband back into his patrol car, you couldn't help but wonder if you could be assured as much about leaving them like this.

"Ten!" You whimpered.

Lee Bodecker was a sick fucking man, but he was also a madly and irrevocable obsessed man for his wife. The sight of you on his knees, accepting every slap he made on your ass. It was beautiful, the redness that painted each cheek, the mess of what makeup still remained on your face, and the tears and spit that also came with his punishment. He loved you in this state, a state of his control. To mold you in whatever image he deems you to be. His wife, the perfect wife that every single men in this forsaken town lusted over and every single woman had envied.

"Learned your lesson yet, Mrs. Bodecker?" He inquired, patronizing you for all that it was worth.

"Yes, Sheriff."

He pulled you up until you were settled on top of his lap. Your bare pussy already soaking his pants. A filthy sight, all his. He smiled at the discomfort painted plainly on your face. You will feel him and the lesson he has had you partake for a long while. He will make sure of it. His hands had now found their way against your neglected lips, prodding but never truly entering. Your hips moved following his finger like a thirsty man, the whimper growing louder on your lips.

Your hands now rested on his shoulders, holding onto him for dear life.

"You think you earned this?" He growled, shoving an index finger inside of you, miserably bring you to the first of many orgasms you were certain to have for the next few hours.

Which he did, with you on his lap, his fingers which you doubted to still function at this point continued on with their assault of your hole. Never once did he allowed you to touch him, you didn't deserve it but that was all you truly wanted from him. To touch him, to hold onto him as he still had his uniform on, how he was still the Sheriff of the town and not the man you had married all those years ago.

It was the power dynamic that you never truly took to account when you had married the man, but something you had grown to appreciate as time went by. No longer did you truly need to be the strong and independent woman that always had to keep a straight face, in the confinements of your husband's mercy, you could be anything he wants you to be.

"Fuck me, Lee." You plead for him at this point.

"Did I say you could call me by my name?" He barked, his fingers cracking on and bringing you back into your release just as the last one had finished. Free hand had now held onto your hair, pulling until you exposed your neck to him. The stinging ache on your scalp could never compared to the weeping need of your cunt for him. "Maybe you need another punishment, Mrs. Bodecker?"

"No, Sheriff." You sob closing your eyes as your husband's attention now focused on marking the column of your neck. Any other day, he kept clear of places where the general public could visibly see--but not tonight, it was part of your punishment after all. "I'll be good."

As the coil once again tighten, all you could do was watch helplessly the punishment your husband has set for you and the lesson that was forever ingrained in your mind from now on because of it.

"I'll be good." You gasped, shaking as your release flooded you, painting his fingers and his pants.

"I'll be good." You whispered as darkness consumed you.

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker fic #kinktober 2022 #kinktober2022 #lee bodecker oneshot #lee bodecker one shot

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i-am-robie · 2 years

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Hi robie, I've been making my way through your fics and I was wondering if you've got anything new cooking? No pressure, jut hoping to read more of your wonderful words!!

p.s. you're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow is my fave but your Alex fic is a close second

Aaaahh Morning Glory au my beloved. Thank you for the low-pressure ask, friend, and it's good timing because I do actually have something coming up: a sequel to the banks of certain rivers.

If you want, you can take a sneak peak at it below? It picks up just after Kara leaves Alex's apartment when Alex kinda gently confronts her about her feelings for Lena.

“I’m in love with her, Alex, and I wish I’d never figured it out!”

Kara turns over in bed, uncomfortable even with the windows open and her sheets thrown back—she’s not hot exactly, just restless and overstimulated. She keeps playing the confession over and over in her head, torn between being glad that Alex finally knows and the fear of what it could mean now that she’s put this out into the universe. In truth, Kara had been looking forward to sister's night precisely because it was supposed to be a reprieve from that particular train of thought, one she’s found impossible to derail since Lex banished her to the phantom zone.

Once she’d said her feelings out loud, though, the words were impossible to stop.

Being in love isn’t supposed to feel like this. She rubs the heels of her hands on her forehead, rolls onto her back.

Kara thinks she should want to shout it from the rooftops; love should make her want to dance around her kitchen, make her want to fly. And in truth, for the briefest of moments in the Fortress, the realization that she’s in love with Lena did make her feel like she was soaring.

It was the cascade of fear about everything that love could break which tugged her back to earth, made her blood freeze in her veins and a terrible tightness radiate out from the center of her chest as if she’d plunged herself into icy water.

It’s like she explained to Alex: it’s always been near impossible for her to stop thinking about Lena, that’s been a constant since they first met.

But historically? Historically she’d focused on her best friend in ways that managed to keep herself out of the equation; the constant, repetitive questions intruding into every waking moment were always along the lines of is Lena safe, does she need something, is she under attack…

Now all Kara can seem to think about is what Lena might do if Kara were to kiss her.

And there are consequences to thoughts like that. She’s only just gotten Lena back; why would she put their relationship at risk? What if she hurts Lena, what if she breaks everything, again, only this time it’s the end of them…?

She flips onto her stomach, pulls the pillow away to lay her cheek on the cool sheet.

Tonight, instead of sinking further into her fear, Alex’s words from earlier come back to her, reminding her there are no guarantees they won’t hurt each other again, no matter what shape their relationship takes.

There’s something strangely freeing about that.

Kara’s been so focused on trying to get back to how things used to be—minus all the lying this time around—that she hasn’t spent much time thinking about whether getting back to how things used to be is even possible. The way she feels about Lena…it’s as if she spent five years flying through clouds, unable to see the ground below her but assuming it would be familiar, and suddenly everything is clear and she doesn’t recognize the topography at all.

Maybe that’s the point.

She takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and then releases it. She loves Lena—there’s nothing new about that—but she’s also in love with Lena and that feels very new indeed. And despite spending the last weeks after getting back from the Phantom Zone terrified that the latter will in some way compromise the former, it’s possible the reason she’s feeling so scared is that she’s been so focused on getting back to a relationship she’s only ever understood at the surface level.

Lying in bed, restless and uncomfortable, turning the conversation with Alex over and over in her mind, it occurs to Kara that this being-in-love piece that’s been throwing her for such a loop, this thing that’s so scary because of all of the ways it might change her and Lena—what if the only change is that she’s aware of it now?

Okay, she takes another deep breath and lets it go, maybe being in love with Lena doesn’t change anything at all. She turns her head, smooshes her face into the mattress, because her feelings aren’t the only variable here.

Alex seems so sure, so certain that Lena feels the same way; even the possibility is enough to catch somewhere in Kara’s chest.

Kara spins onto her back again, pulls a pillow to her chest and wraps her arms around it. Her sheets are now hopelessly tangled. She kicks at them to free her legs.

There’s a straightforward way to find out how Lena feels, of course. They’ve agreed that honesty is the only way forward, so, in theory at least, Kara could just ask.

The idea of asking Lena directly, which would mean confessing to her own feelings, makes Kara want to scream into a pillow.

But.

But if Alex thinks she can tell how they feel about each other just by looking, and if she was right about Kara…then maybe, if Kara pays more attention to Lena and less attention to how scared she is, maybe she’ll be able to see something too.

She’s always found herself looking at Lena whenever they’re in a room together, can’t stop herself in fact, but Kara resolves that come tomorrow, she’s going to try watching with a question:

Do you love me the way I love you?

#i hope you like it. there's a lot of totally gratuitous totally gay touching in the scenes I just wrote.#this is the first scene but I’ve got about 3k written in total so far #i think it’ll come in at 5-6k #ANYWAY #thanks anon #what’s an anon #ask robie #robie writes

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siremasterlawrence · 2 years

Text

Freeing Steve

Flashback

Bucky Barnes shows up at the Sam Wilson’s apartment at the stroke of midnight on a rainy day.

Sam Wilson jumps up from a deep sleep as thunder strikes over them, and Bucky lifts up the window sliding in.

“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?”

Sam yells.

“Calm down Wilson, we have a few major problems.” Bucky stone cold as ever.

“Like what Barnes?” Sam states arms are crossed.

A shadowy figure walks out of the darkness of the room and in to the light of thunder currently hitting the room.

“Steve is that you?” Sam asks confused as to what is happening.

“Yeah! I can’t stay out of trouble.” Steve admits as his hand glides through his hair.

“You look….” Sam fails to say totally stunned.

“Young again? I know”…..

“We have to go…NOW” Bucky howls.

“Relax Buck, wait for us outside” Steve orders.

Sam gets up to hug Steve but instead slams in to him as they fall on top of each other.

They both laugh uncontrollably trying to do a simple motion to untangle failing.

Steve accidentally pushes forward landing on top of Sam as they kiss slowly, steady and frantically.

“Oh God, I can’t…” Steve gets up to run from his almost confession.

Sam had enough leaping forward he tackles Steve to the ground and kisses him intently.

“Sam, I’m sorry I keep asking for your help.”

“I want you with me, I mean us together”

“This is weird”

“I love you too Steve “

“Will you two get it on already geez”

“What?”

“We need to go “

“Right! I almost forgot about John Walker”

“That asshat is back”

“What about him?”

“His team The Thunderbolts”

“They are coming to find us”

Sam rolls his eyes sighing at the absurdity of his life at this point, and what that means to him.

He does a mad dash trying to figure out if his house will be fine and a loud crash of smashing glass erupts around him.

The three of them are surrounded in a circle with guys who are amassed with multiple types of weaponry.

“Hold your fire Walker”

“Why should I?”

“Taking down the man himself”

“It’s a dream come true”

“Say Goodnight Cap America”

“They said I was a mere imitation of you”

“I am better “

“They will see”

“They will all see”

John raises some sort high technological super sonic weapon Stark patent and aims it at Sam”

“Noooo” Bucky races to block him as the

pure sound left a gaping hole through him and took out Steve in yet same breath.

End of Flashback

Sam woke up in a sweat from that horrific show of a nightmare the third time that week since it happened.

He wipes the sweat from his forehead when he heard the sound of someone breaking in.

Shadows bounces all over the house as Sam leaps off the stairs on to the scene as he ran out.

He flips the light on to reveal a letter under a brown paper bag and freaks out.

He takes a few deep breaths in absorbing all the hell that occurred over a few seconds.

The stench of a familiar scent purveys the room, a sense of familiarity hits him.

The outline of those sexy think lips felt so

real and hardcore on a deep level.

Locking the door Sam can’t stop his eyes from watching the letter he scoops up the bag.

Opening it he peaks inside to see a picture of Bucky, a broken necklace of Peggy Carter and nothing else.

The card only reads I love you Sam in bold letters sending Sam in to a tail spin of madness.

Sam quickly dawns his Falcon costume in a matter he soars to the night sky.

On a building far off from his home a odd tall figure awaits him with a bag of jewels.

All stolen goods from the museum Sam can never deny the truth when it’s clear as day.

“Steve”

“Hey babe!”

“How are you still alive?”

“My suit is more protective but Bucky was hit head on.”

“He is gone”

“No”

“He was your best friend”

“I love you Sam”

“Wait! Stealing? Breaking and entering my home.”

“That’s not like you”

“What are you doing Steve?”

“I’m not Captain America anymore”

“I am my own man now”

“So are you”

“Fuck them”

“Be my partner in crime and Justice”

“Be my antihero and I’ll be yours”

“Yes”

The end

#Anti Hero

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katsukisprincess-archive · 3 years

Text

need | kiribaku x reader

a/n: jo asked me to reupload this from her birthday last year! for @lady-bakuhoe

summary: kirishima is hit with an aphrodisiac quirk on the job and bakugou knows exactly who can help him out.

pairing: mostly kirishima x reader, slight bakugou insert

word count: 2.3k

warnings: nasty. dubcon, rimming, fisting, implied pegging, dirty talk, squirting, slight threesome

“Shut up, shitty hair, you’re going to wake her.”

“I can’t help it, dude, look at her.”

The voices peaked through your consciousness, followed by a cold whisp of air that caused bumps to rise on the exposed skin of your leg. You let out a groggy noise, finally allowing your eyes to blink open to the scene in front of you. You tried to focus in and when the spinning shapes of morning turned into figures, you found it hard to believe that what you were looking at was reality.

Katsuki Bakugou, your husband, was sitting across the room from you in a chair. His arms were crossed against his chest and he had a classic smirk on his face, already alerting you that something was off. What it was, you discovered, was the grown man in bed with you- one that smelled like battle and sweat and everything you didn’t want against your sheets.

Eijirou Kirishima was someone you were very familiar with. He had been your friend alongside Katsuki since the Yuuei days and up through the present; he was at nearly every house function and worked in the same agency as Ground Zero. Kirishima was no stranger at all, but you just weren’t used to him in your bed.

“W-What? Eijirou? Katsuki?” Your voice was so innocent, so meek, that it went straight to his already-stiffening cock. His reaction made your head snap to him, and then to your husband, and back and forth until Katsuki finally stood up at joined you at the side of the bed.

His hot palm brushed your hair back while the other cascaded your stomach, easing the goosebumps from the open window. His lips came down to your forehead where he pressed a rough kiss before speaking. “Got hit by a quirk on the job today.” He motioned to your friend, who was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of your bare torso.

“And?”

“Help me.” Eijirou rasped. “We joke about it all the time- fuck- right?”

He wasn’t wrong. Conversations about your sex life were in no way private and in no sense of it all had Katsuki ever been closed off to the idea of his best friend joining in on the fun. You had just figured that when- if- it had happened, it would have happened on… different terms.

But how could you say no to Red Riot on his knees for you, thick cock straining through his shorts and leaking through the fabric?

You crawled over to Eijirou as Katsuki sunk back into his chair on the other side of the room. Leaning back and legs spread, he watched as you closed the distance, your grabby hands urging Eijirou’s massive length out of his shorts. It was so large you could barely wrap your fingers around it, truly. He was bigger than Katsuki was, but you were sure that he had much less experience using it compared to his belligerent best friend. As you took in the sight of his meat, Katsuki was pulling his own out of his pants across the room.

One upward tug on Eijirou was all it took for his first orgasm to hit him- and it hit him hard. Thick ropes of cum shot across the mattress and over your thighs, marking you up for the first time that night. He came with a guttural grunt, but by the time he was finished, you could tell he was in no way even close to being satisfied.

“Fuck,” Eijirou exclaimed, toppling you onto your back and laying his weight on yours, attacking your neck with his teeth and drawing blood on the first plunge. “This quirk. I’m sorry, shit, I can just smell you from here-”

Eijirou pulled himself off of you to yank your lacy panties off of your frame. With a yelp your hips landed back on the bed and you watched in shock as he brought them up to his nose and smelled your essence that was dripping against the material. A visible shiver ran down his spine and you caught yourself rubbing your thighs together, strangely turned on by the sight of Red Riot sticking his tongue out just to suck on your panties.

“Taste her, Eij, it’s like fucking candy.” Katsuki’s voice was strained, and it only fueled your lust further to see him lazily jerking his own girthy cock in his hands. It was one thing to fuck your partner, but it was near etheral to watch them pleasure themselves with an outside perspective. With his hair fanned back and dirt still sticking to his skin, Katsuki looked delicious.

You didn’t have much time to think on your husband as Eijirou quickly tore your legs open, dipping his head down to lick a clean stripe up your folds. You gasped at the sudden intrusion and your thighs moved down to clamp around his head, but they were immediately slammed back open and shoved back against your chest by two large, hot hands.

While unexperienced, Eijirou was passionate. He was moving so quickly and so harshly against your sensitive skin that you couldn’t keep up, instead deciding to crane your neck to watch him suck and slurp. His eyes would come up to meet yours occasionally, shooting you a desperate look from under lidded eyes. Mewls and whimpers fell from your lips like a song, and you were unable to stop yourself from bucking up against his face and forcing your juices to coat his cheeks and chin.

“Get her ass, too. She’s a dirty little slut, aren’t you, princess? You want Eij to rim you?”

Both of you on the bed groaned instantaneously at Katsuki’s lewd notion. Since Eijirou’s hands were planted flat on your thighs, it was easy for him to push you up and use his thumbs to spread your cheeks apart, your back arched into the air and your ass leveled with his mouth. His tongue moved to prod at your tight hole before he began running circles around it. One hand moved to rub at your clit at the same time, and before you could react, you were cumming. Eijirou groaned as your asshole flexed against his tongue and waited for you to settle down before dropping your back onto the bed once more.

“You felt so good Eijirou, let me feel your cock~”

Before you could continue, he had slipped three fingers at once into your cunt. It was tight, and it hurt, but he looked absolutely desperate above you, holding his weight on one arm and pummeling his hand into your heat to chase you along.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He muttered, his cock twitching as he watched his fingers disappear inside of you. A fourth finger was slipped in and you cried out loudly, your hands flying down to grab at his wrist. Pain soon fell into pleasure and Eijirou climbed up on the bed, resting his forehead on yours and fucking you until he was sure you were warmed up enough for his thumb as well.

“Gotta stretch you out, babe.” He was so deliriously lost in lust that he was unable to form full sentences, but you got the gist of what he was saying. Under him, his cock looked dauntingly thick, and you wondered how it would feel inside of you compared to what was now his entire fist inside of you.

Tears broke the surface and cascaded down your face as Eijirou’s pace picked up, burying himself wrist deep inside of you. Katsuki couldn’t keep his eyes off of the scene- it was so fucking dirty and something he had been dreaming about for so long. Watching his best friend wreck his little princess was a fantasy buried deep in his brain that was finally breaking the surface.

“Please, please, please, Eijirou, please-” Your begging turned into sobs, unable to hold back when he was stretching you further than you had ever been before. “Please give me your cock, Red Riot. Ple~”

The use of Eijirou’s hero name snapped something inside of him.

You had never felt an orgasm hit you harder than your third of the night, almost immediately after you began swiping at your clit in time with his thrusting. Eijirou didn’t slow his pace as you began to gush over the sheets, squirting all over his torso. “That’s a good girl, fuck, babe. Fuck.”

The feeling of his fist pulling out from you left you feeling empty. His hand was covered in slick and your stomach churned as he brought it up to his mouth and sucked off as much as he could before bringing it to your mouth and making you taste yourself. Dizzy and overstimulated, your eyes drifted to Katsuki, who was covered in his own cum and panting heavily.

Eijirou was reaching a breaking point. He wanted- no- he needed to cum again, and while the idea of him shoving his length down your hot throat sounded like a dream, he couldn’t pass up the way your gaping cunt was currently clenching around nothing.

“Fuck her, Eijirou, or I’m going to do it for you.” Katsuki hissed from the other side of the bedroom, already growing hard again at the thought of either option. There was something so fucking sexy to him about watching you get thrown around and used like a fuck doll, not being able to say anything to complain with his friend’s massive frame towering over yours.

“I haven’t done this much.” Eijirou muttered as he positioned his cock to your entrance and adjusted himself accordingly. When you gave him a questioning look, he continued. “Haven’t been able to fit it in.”

His words partly made your stomach flip while also sending you into desire overdrive, causing you to help pull your legs apart to give a better view. You wanted to watch his girth stretch you once again, this time helping his current problem and getting your husband off at the same time. He already knew you’d be getting him back for this all at some point, especially when your eyes drifted over to see that it was just past three in the morning, but you were going to enjoy it while it happened.

Eijirou pushed the tip in slowly, watching your face for any signs to stop. You only dropped your jaw and whined, pulling your legs closer to you and trying to get a better view of it. His cock was fucking insane, truly, and it was an thought in your mind that was finally being satisfied. “You are huge, Red Riot.”

With a grunt, he thrusted himself all the way in. You should have known that your games were misplaced, especially during a time where Eijirou was in a completely different state of mind. He didn’t really know that his dick was so fucking thick that is was going to split you in half, and when he crawled forward and slammed you into a mating press, you knew he really was completely oblivious.

“Tight fucking pussy.” His words were sloppy, but the force in his thrusts made up for it. His thighs felt enormous on either side of yours and you wondered how much cock he couldn’t stuff inside of you as you felt nearly overwhelmed with the sheer weight of it. “Gonna fucking tear you apart.”

Animalistic was an understatement. His thrusts were so loud that it rang through the room and between his noises and yours, you were sure you could be heard down the street. Katsuki had moved over to you, watching and jerking his cock. He slipped his fingers into your mouth, watching you suck down on him as his hand moved frantically.

“Fuck her harder, Eij, she’s not crying.”

You would be crying if you could breathe. He was so close to you, radiating so much heat and so much force that you were lost for movements. You laid limp as he took you, his cock dragging against your walls and stuffing you beyond repair. His mouth found your nipple and soon his hand found your other tit, giving both so much attention and bruising while still tearing away with his thrusts.

Katsuki pressed his hand down onto your forehead, giving him access to see your tear-stained cheeks and watch as your face morphed into one of serious pleasure. He was bearing his teeth as he came closer to you, signaling that he was about to cum and it was going to be all over your fucked out expression.

Eijirou pulled out at the same time, crawling up your body to angle his swollen cock at your face and join Katsuki in covering it completely. You stuck your tongue out to catch both of them as white strings coated you, both of their scents mixing and both cumming enough to leave you overwhelmed.

After he was finished, Eijirou fell back on his heels before crawling off the bed and over to your dresser. You watched in curiosity, still covered in cum but realizing that Katsuki must have mentioned that was where your toys were kept. You didn’t know what you were expecting him to pull out of there, but it definitely wasn’t a strap-on.

“It’s our turned to be fucked, don’t you think, babe?”

#kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #kiribaku #kiribaku x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #tw: dubcon #tw dubcon #tw:dubcon

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Plum Cobbler

Steve x Barnes!reader, Bucky x platonic!reader

Summary: What happens when Steve confronts the woman who's been sitting outside the compound every Saturday for a month?

Warnings: mentions parental death, some cursing

Word Count: 6315

a/n: This really took on a mind of its own. I was going to make it a series, but I feel like this is the whole story.

Masterlist

Nervous didn't even begin to describe how you were feeling. Sitting in your car, just outside of the entrance gate to the Avenger's compound was never somewhere you thought you'd be. Not until two months ago, when you found your grandmas old scrapbooks.

Of course, you don't know how to get inside. Honestly, you should have seen this coming. Why would just anyone be able to walk up to their door?

"Who are you?" The sudden question startled you, causing you to jump and hit your head on the roof of your car. You turned to look at the source of the voice, shrinking under her watchful gaze.

The one and only Natasha Romanoff was standing outside your car, glaring at you as if she was ready to drop everything to take you out.

"Oh, um. My name is Y/N L/N. I just wanted to talk to Bucky..." Her glare only grew stronger as you revealed why you were there.

"Barnes doesn't talk to strangers." Before you could explain why, she was gone. You watched her walk into the compound until she wasn't in your view anymore.

"Well, that went horribly." You mumbled to yourself. Now what? Should you just sit there until someone else comes out? Will anyone come out?

"So who is she?" Clint asked as soon as Nat got back inside.

"Why is she here?" Sam added on.

"Said her name is Y/N L/N, and she wants to talk to Bucky." Nat rolled her eyes.

"Friday, run a background check on F/N L/N." Tony asked of the AI. "What? You can never be too careful, and people shouldn't know how to get here." He explained given the questioning looks from the rest of the group.

"Y/N L/N, 27, daughter of the deceased Kathleen and Grant L/N. She owns a bookstore in Brooklyn, passed down through her family. No criminal record." Friday responded quickly.

"Sounds normal enough, probably a fan?" Tony suggested, looking around the room.

"A persistent one. She's been here for hours." Steve looked out the window, still seeing your car just outside the gate. "How did she find the entrance?"

Everyone shared similar looks, unsure how a seemingly normal civilian found the gate.

"Excellent question, Capsicle. Friday, got any ideas?" Tony, as usual, turned to the AI for answers.

"Based on GPS data from her car, she drove around upstate New York for eight hours every Saturday for the last 6 weeks until she came across the side road leading to the compound."

"Either she's really good at looking normal, or she's just normal." Nat added on, still slightly suspicious.

"Well, she just left. I guess we're not getting any answers today." Steve said from his position still looking out the window.

You came back every Saturday for a month. You didn't know if anything would come of it, but you'd be damned if you didn't try. After your parent's deaths, you thought you had no family left. Finding out you were related to Bucky gave you a lifeline. Something to cling to when you felt alone.

So far, nobody else had come to talk to you. You didn't even know if Bucky knew you were there for him.

The fifth Saturday, you pulled your car up to the gate at 9 am, sticking to your makeshift schedule of waiting outside for the entire day. They had to at least be curious as to why you kept coming back.

Unfortunately for you, the weather upstate today was not the same as the weather in Brooklyn.

Around 10:30, it started to rain. Just a sprinkling, nothing you couldn't handle.

You listened to music, read, ate the lunch you packed, played games on your phone, anything to pass the time. You weren't going to force your way inside, but you were definitely going to show that you were interested.

Typically, you would leave at 5:30. It gave you enough time to drive home and heat up dinner, plus you had to check in on your cat.

Today, however, was a different story. Around 5:15, it started pouring. Sheets of water were coming down around you, completely cutting off any visibility through the windshield.

You figured you'd just wait out the rain, but when it didn't let up by 6, you were getting nervous.

"She's still here." Steve walked into the kitchen, announcing his news to the room.

"I'm not surprised. It's not exactly peak driving conditions out there." Sam easily responded, glancing out the window.

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to why?" Steve asked again, pushing the same conversation as always.

Nearly everyone in the room rolled their eyes, sick of repeating the same things.

"Look, we figured if we ignored her, she'd eventually stop. Clearly, that might not be working. If you're so curious, feel free to go ask her." Tony gave in, eager to move on from the discussion of you.

Steve contemplated his choices for all of 2 seconds before grabbing an umbrella and walking down the driveway.

You had your head leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed, listening to the rain. Of course you would get stuck here. Why didn't you ever check the weather?

You shrieked when a knock sounded on your passenger side window, not having expected anyone, especially in the rain.

Mr. America himself pointed to the door, gesturing for you to unlock it. You sat up quickly, rushing to hit the unlock button.

He quickly opened the door, shutting his umbrella and lowering himself into the small car.

You were utterly speechless. After your brief encounter with Natasha, you didn't really expect anyone to come talk to you.

Sure, you came back every week, but it was more so to fill the lonely hours you would have normally spent with your parents at the bookstore.

You had other employees to run the shop on Saturdays, allowing you to come here instead.

"Why are you here?" He sounded more curious than anything. Clearly he didn't perceive you as a threat, which was good because you had zero fighting experience.

"To talk to Bucky." Your voice was quiet, unsure how much you should share.

"I know that. Why?" He had fully turned in his seat to look at you, his large frame filling nearly the entire car.

"Well, I found something a few months ago that I thought he should know." You stuttered through your response, mildly intimidated by the man in front of you.

"And that something is?" He questioned further, genuinely curious as to what you want to tell his best friend.

You hesitated, eyes flitting around the car, looking at anything but him. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair before speaking again.

"Look, if you ever want to actually talk to him, you should tell me. Buck's been through hell, he won't just talk to anyone. Especially if he has no reason to."

During your conversation, the rain finally let up. You decided to take that as a sign.

"Can I show you something?" You finally looked him in the eye, nearly forgetting why you were even here at the sight of his bright blue eyes.

"Is it the reason you've been out here every Saturday for over a month?" He joked with you, helping to calm your nerves.

You nodded in response, unsure if you could even speak while still looking into his eyes.

"Then please."

You tore your eyes from his face, throwing the car into reverse and backing out of the spot you've claimed as your own. You turned around, heading back to your apartment in Brooklyn.

"Wha- where are we going?" He's clearly surprised by your actions, but he doesn't seem worried.

"I'm going to show you what I found, and hopefully you'll let me talk to Bucky." You paused for a minute, thinking. "Although, really I guess it should be his choice. Maybe you can just give him a message for me, and if he doesn't want to talk I'll leave you all alone."

The idea of never getting to know Bucky, you're only remaining family, hurts, but it's got to be his decision.

Steve just nods in response, still slightly wary of your reasons for wanting to talk to Bucky.

When you're a few minutes away from your apartment, you decide to give him some context.

"You probably already know a lot about me, but let me explain a few things." He silently nods, encouraging you to continue.

"My parents died three and a half months ago." You immediately felt like crying, but did your best to hold it in. Of course, Steve didn't miss the break in your voice. "It was a car accident. The weather was bad. They lost control of the car. They were both pronounced dead on the scene." You parked the car, turning slightly to look at him.

"They were the only family I've ever had, and the were both just gone." You turned and opened the car door, taking a moment to wipe the tears from your eyes. You gestured for him to follow you, locking the car and heading inside your apartment building.

"We were really close. I spent every Saturday at the bookstore with them." You wiped the tears again as the elevator doors closed.

You didn't chance looking at Steve, knowing you would break down at the look of pity.

"I had to go through the stuff at their house. You know, decide what to bring here, what to put in storage, what to get rid of. I found some old scrapbooks, I think from my great grandma."

You lead him into your apartment, locking the door and immediately heading to the kitchen to feed your cat. After you set down the food, you moved to the couch. You had the scrapbooks on the coffee table, having taken every opportunity to look through them.

"I never knew her. My parents didn't talk about her either, I'm not sure if they knew who she was. Her name was Rebecca." You waited a beat, to see if he would understand. When he remained quiet, you handed him one of the books, open to a page with a picture of Steve, Bucky, and Rebecca. "Rebecca Barnes."

You waited again, letting the information sink in for him. After a few minutes he smiled.

"I remember this day." He looked at you, a wide smile on his face. "It was a few days before Bucky was enrolled. We had a picnic." He continued to reminisce, looking through the other pictures in the scrapbook.

"Maybe it's selfish, maybe he won't want to know me, but when I found out I had more family, I wanted to find him." Again, tears pooled in your eyes. "I, I just don't want to be alone."

Steve's smile faltered as he realized what you've been going through, and how you've been doing it alone.

"Hey, I'm sure he'll want to talk to you." He reached out to place a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you.

"Really?" Your eyes were still watery, but a small smile grew on your face.

"I think so. Bucky was really close with his sister when we were young." This time, Steve's eyes grew watery, memories of his youth playing through his mind.

You couldn't take the sight of him being sad, so you pulled him into a hug. He came willingly, letting you bury your face in his chest. He lowered his head so it was overtop of yours, relishing in the comfort of your hug.

You pulled away a few minutes later, not wanting to overstep, but the feeling of his arms around your waist didn't let you go far.

"Thank you for coming out to my car." You laughed, trying to lighten the mood. His face was so close to yours, you could make out the individual shades of blue in his eyes.

"Thank you for sharing your story with me." He whispered back, not wanting to break the moment.

You're not sure how long you would've stayed like that, but a loud crack of thunder jolted you apart.

"What the-" You mumbled, walking over to the window to look outside. Steve followed close behind you, also curious about the weather.

It was now pouring, lightning and thunder cracking overhead.

"I guess the storm followed us to Brooklyn." He joked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I guess so." You looked at the clock, taking in the late hour.

Steve must've followed your line of sight, because he spoke up. "It's getting late, I should probably go."

You immediately shook your head, your fear of travelling in bad weather shining through. "I can't let you leave when it's like this. It's not safe. You, um, you can stay here tonight. You can sleep in my room. I'll sleep on the couch." You grew more confident as you kept talking.

"I couldn't impose like that." Steve shook his head, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"Steve, it's not safe to travel when it's raining like that. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you." Your voice grew tighter, trying not to flashback to the day your parents died.

Steve seemed to realize why you were so worried about the weather, ultimately deciding to agree to stay so you wouldn't worry about him.

"Okay, okay. I'll stay here, but you sleep in your bed. I'll be fine on the couch." He refused your offer, not wanting to force you to spend a night on the couch.

"First of all, thank you. Second of all, you are sleeping in the bed. You're like two feet taller than me." You exaggerated your height difference, but you were trying to make a point. "You won't even be able to lay down on the couch. I take naps here all the time, it's super comfortable." You argued back, unwilling to allow Captain America himself sleep on your tiny ass couch.

"You know, I should've expected you to be this stubborn. You spent five weeks waiting outside the compound with no contact. Plus you're related to Bucky" He laughed to himself, slightly shaking his head. "Fine, I'll sleep in the bed."

You smiled victoriously, jumping up from the couch. "Yay! Do you need anything? I have spare toothbrushes under the sink, and I can probably find you some clothes to sleep in. There's some snacks in the kitchen if you get hungry. Oh! And Carrot might try to lay in the bed with you, but I'll try to keep her out here." You rambled, trying to make sure he was comfortable.

"Carrot?" He smiled at your rambling, finding it adorable.

"Yes! Carrot is my cat. She's a cuddler, so consider yourself warned." You paused, eyes growing wide. "You're not allergic to cats are you? I think there's probably cat fur all over my room."

He laughed again. "No, I don't think the super soldier serum left any room for allergies." He quipped.

You smacked a hand to your forehead. "Duh! Anyway, do you need anything?" You asked again, trying to calm your beating heart.

"Some clothes would be great, thank you." The way he smiled at you did nothing to soothe your nerves.

"Okay." You breathed out, finally taking a deep breath. "I'll go grab some, the bathroom is right here if you need it." You pointed it out on your way to your room. "I'm just gonna get changed real quick, and then I'll be back with your clothes."

He nodded again, watching as you turned and walked into what must be your room.

You quickly changed into a t-shirt and sleep shorts. It took a few minutes of searching through boxes, but eventually you found an old pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt for Steve to sleep in.

You made your way out of the bedroom, handing him the clothes.

"Here ya go. Like I said, there are extra toothbrushes under the sink in the bathroom, and don't hesitate to grab anything you need from the kitchen."

He eyed the clothes in his hands, wondering where they came from, but not wanting to ask.

Luckily for him, you could tell what he was wondering. "They were my dad's." A sad smile graced your face. "I- I sleep in them sometimes when I really wish I could talk to him."

"Thank you." Steve turned to go to bed, but changed his mind last minute. He set the clothes down on the couch, pulling you into another hug. "You know, I can tell your related to Buck. He always looks out for people too."

You blushed at the compliment, grateful he couldn't see your face. "Thank you, that really means a lot." You stayed like that until Steve pulled back to talk to you again.

"I can take you back to the compound tomorrow, if you want. Maybe introduce you to Bucky."

"Really?! You don't want to talk to him first? Or double check anything I told you?" You were shocked at how willing he was to introduce you to Bucky.

"I trust you. Plus, I think you should be the one to tell him." Steve didn't say it out loud, but he also thought you and Bucky would be good for each other.

Bucky had Steve to connect his past and present, but another person for him to rely on wouldn't hurt. And you clearly were looking for a family connection.

"I would love to. Thank you!" You hugged him again, although quicker this time. You jumped back, excited to collect everything you wanted to show him. "I have to find all the scrapbooks to show him!"

When you turned to start collecting things, Steve put a hand on your shoulder, essentially preventing you from moving.

"Why don't we get everything together in the morning? It's getting late and you should get some sleep." He understood how emotionally and physically draining it could be to relive a loss like yours.

"You're right. I should sleep." You tried to slow your mind down, but the prospect of meeting Bucky tomorrow filled you with a mix of excitement and nerves. You gathered your extra blankets and pillows, setting up a bed for yourself on the couch while he went into the bathroom.

You were snuggled in bed, ready to sleep when he came back out.

"Goodnight, Steve."

His heart contracted at how adorable you looked buried in blankets on the couch, but he did his best to ignore it. He'd only just met you after all.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

The next morning Steve woke up at 5, per usual. He didn't want to wake you up though, so, despite his natural tendencies to run 10 miles every Sunday morning, he stayed in bed.

That is, until he heard you shuffling around the apartment.

He poked his head out of the room first, trying to verify that you were indeed awake. When he saw you in the kitchen, he fully emerged intent on helping you with whatever you were doing.

"Good morning, you're an early riser?" His question was completely ignored. Granted you couldn't see him yet, but he didn't know why you would be ignoring him.

He made his way closer to you, tapping you on the shoulder to try and get you to interact with him.

You, in a mixture of surprise and fear, turned and threw an egg at him.

He looked at you in shock, while you stared in horror at what you had just done.

You took headphones out of your ears, explaining why you hadn't heard his question.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" You reached toward him with a dish towel, trying to wipe the egg off his (your dad's) shirt. "You just surprised me! I can get you another shirt!"

"It's fine, don't worry-" You ran out of the room anyway, grabbing another shirt of your dad's from the box in your room.

He couldn't help but laugh, oddly relieved that you weren't ignoring him.

When you reentered the kitchen, a shirtless Steve Rogers was washing your dad's shirt in the sink. You froze, taking in the sight of the man before you.

When he turned back around, your eyes took on a mind of their own, soaking in his toned chest and arms. You cleared your throat, shaking yourself out of your stupor to hand him the other shirt.

"Thanks." He smirked, but still blushed slightly before he put it on, ringing out the other shirt before handing it to you. "I didn't want the egg to stick to it since it was your dads, so i rinsed it off..." he trailed off, unsure if it was the right thing to say.

"That's really sweet, thank you. Especially because it was my fault there was even egg on it in the first place." You laughed, trying not to blush with embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it, really. I shouldn't have snuck up on you." He laughed as well, clearing any lingering tension. He took a look around the kitchen, taking in just how much stuff you had out.

"What are you making?" He smiled when you blushed again.

"Oh, I was making plum cobbler... I just, I read online that Bucky likes plums, so I thought I would bring him a cobbler." You blushed again, embarrassed by the admission.

"He does." Steve smiled, completely enamoured with your personality. "Did you want some help?"

"Actually, the cobblers are in the oven already. I was going to make breakfast next, though, so you can help with that." You smiled, noting how easy it was to spend time with him.

"Cobblers? I know Bucky's a super soldier, but one would have been plenty." He joked with you, moving to help scramble some eggs.

"Well, yeah. One is for him, but then I thought the other Avengers might be there and I didn't want to not have enough so I made three."

"You're too cute." The words slipped out before he could even think about what he was saying.

You blushed again, a frequent occurrence it seems when you're with Steve.

You uttered a quick thanks, trying to change the subject. "Do you always get up this early?"

He chuckled again. "Yeah, typically I don't need much sleep. I usually run in the mornings, try to clear my head."

The two of you fell into easy conversation, moving around each other effortlessly to make eggs, sausage, toast, and smoothies for breakfast.

When you finished eating, you collected the scrapbooks Bucky might want to see. You added his mom's wedding ring, the one your mom wore as well, to the box.

"What's that?" Steve pointed to the box, unsure if his assumption was correct.

You pulled out two scrapbooks, pointing to the near identical pictures of Bucky's mom and your mom after having been proposed to.

"My mom always told me her engagement ring was a family heirloom. I think it was his mom's ring too. I thought he might like to have it. As something to remember her by, ya know?"

You got teary eyed again. Thinking about how much he must miss his family combined with how much you miss your own parents was too much to handle.

You finished gathering everything, putting it all in a box to make for easier transportation. You took the cobblers out of the oven, packing them as well.

With a deep breath, you followed Steve back out to your car, ready to talk to Bucky.

"Where the hell is Steve?" Bucky nearly stormed into the kitchen.

"Whoa, calm down tinman. What's up?" Sam replied casually, pouring cereal into a bowl.

"Where is Steve? I was supposed to run with him this morning, but he wasn't in his room when I went to find him. I don't even like running this early. I literally only do it because it's what he prefers."

Sam laughed, enjoying anything that annoys Bucky. "Dude, chill. He probably just forgot you were going with him."

Tony walked into the kitchen as well, trying to tune out the whines coming from Bucky, but failing.

"That's what I though, but he's always back by now." Bucky huffed, annoyed with Sam for laughing.

"Who?" Tony asked, now slightly intrigued.

"Steve. I haven't seen him since yesterday." Bucky replied as he angrily ate an apple.

"Really?" Tony sounded mildly concerned, immediately alerting Sam and confusing Bucky.

"You don't think?" Sam asked, ignoring Bucky for the time being.

"I don't know!" Tony looked bewildered. "Friday, where is Capsicle?"

"Captain Rogers left yesterday evening with Y/N L/N." The AI easily replied.

"Who?" Bucky questioned the room, never having learned your name.

"You know the woman who's been sitting outside every Saturday?" Bucky nodded to Sam, unsure why he was bringing it up. "Well, Steve went to ask her why she was here last night."

"Nat told me she was just some fan, wanted to see you all." Bucky furrowed his brow, thinking over the new information on Steve's wearabouts.

"Well, yeah that's what we thought. Look, she said she wanted to talk to you specifically." Sam explained, ignoring the pointed glare from Tony.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Bucky rose from his chair, annoyed at everyone now. "Now she's got Steve?"

"Relax, Steve can handle himself. She cleared her background check. We really don't have any reason to believe he's in danger." Tony's words were more to convince himself than anyone else. He's the one who said Cap should go check it out if he was so curious.

"Steve's too trusting. What if it was a trap?" Bucky questioned, glaring daggers at the other two men.

Before they could respond, Friday chimed in with more information.

"Captain Rogers just entered the elevator from the parking garage."

"See, he's fine." Tony glared back at Bucky, secretly relieved that Steve was fine.

Bucky just rolled his eyes before leaving, heading for the elevators to yell at Steve for ditching him this morning.

When the elevator doors opened, however, Steve was not alone.

"Hey, punk, why'd you ditch me- Oh. Who are you?" Bucky eyed you suspiciously, looking between you and Steve.

Before Bucky interrupted, Steve was trying to reassure you that everything would work out. He had a hand on your back, rubbing up and down to soothe your nerves.

His other arm was occupied by the box of scrapbooks, or else he probably would have hugged you again.

You were holding a large sheet pan, three pie dishes sitting on top.

Steve was blushing, a surefire sign Bucky had seen something he wasn't supposed to.

"Oh, um. Hi. My name is Y/N L/N." You froze, not thinking you would have to see him so soon. You could see the family resemblance between him, your great grandma, and your mom.

"The car girl." He nodded, trying to piece together the events of last night.

"Yep, that's me." You laughed nervously, unsure of what he already knew.

"Buck, do me a favor? Let us out of the elevator." Steve eyed him, mildly annoyed with the ambush.

Bucky moved to the side, allowing you and Steve to exit the elevator. You followed Steve down the hall to the kitchen, where you put the cobblers on the counter.

Sam and Tony were still there, eating various foods.

"Well, hello there." Tony greeted when he spotted you, intrigued by the development. He looked at Steve for an explanation.

"Y/N made plum cobbler." Steve said instead, moving his hand back to the small of your back.

Bucky's eyes lit up at the mention of plums, enough to momentarily distract him from Steve's actions.

"Oh, right!" You took a cobbler out of the dish, moving toward Bucky. "This one's for you, because I read that you liked plums." You handed him the dish, quickly moving back to the others. "I also made a peach and an apple for everyone else." You smiled at Tony and Sam, unknowingly leaning slightly into Steve.

"Why does he get a special cobbler?" Sam whined, eagerly reaching for the other dishes.

Suddenly, all eyes were on you. Well, except Sam's who were on the peach cobbler.

"Oh, um, well, I was hoping I could talk to you." You looked at Bucky nervously, unsure of how he would respond.

"Anyone who bakes me a plum cobbler can talk to me, Doll." Natasha chose that exact moment to enter the room.

"Who made plum cobbler?" She looked around the room, eyes narrowing in your direction. "How did you get in here?"

"I brought her." Steve smiled at you before walking over to Natasha. He whispered in her ear, just loud enough for her to hear, but nobody else. "She's not a threat to your relationship, trust me."

Nat nodded her head, trusting Steve, although not for the reasons he thought. She could clearly see the blonde's affinity for you.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Bucky asked between bites of cobbler.

"It's really a private conversation." Steve answered for you, seeing how unsure of yourself you were.

"Then why do you know, punk?" Bucky countered.

"Well, I had to tell someone so I could finally talk to you. Steve's the one who asked." You smiled at Steve again, trying to convey how grateful you were with just a look.

Steve smiled back at you, while everyone in else just shared a knowing look.

Eventually, Steve cleared his throat. "Buck, can you just come with us?"

Bucky nodded, moving to follow Steve while still eating the cobbler. You followed the two of them as well, growing more nervous with each step.

Steve lead you to his room, placing the box of scrapbooks on the bed.

"Do you want me to stay?" Steve looked to you for an answer.

You took a deep breath, in all honestly you would love for him to stay, but you think you should probably just talk to Bucky first.

"No, that's okay. Come back in like, 30 minutes?" You scrunched up your face, unsure if 30 minutes was long enough, but knowing you would need the deadline if you were ever going to explain it all to Bucky.

Steve nodded, squeezing your shoulder as he passed you to leave the room.

"Um," you turned to Bucky, trying to think of where to start. "I don't know what you already know about me, but-"

"Nothing really. Except that you make a delicious plum cobbler." He smiled, helping to ease your nerves. Food really was the way to this man's heart.

"Oh, I guess I'll start where I started when I told Steve." You smiled at the mention of his name, unaware of your own actions. But Bucky noticed.

"My parents died a few months ago." Bucky's eyes went wide, trying to think of what this could have to do with him. "Um, it was a car accident. They both died on the scene." You took a deep breath, trying to push through the sad parts.

"I had to clean out their house, and I found some scrapbooks that lead me to you." You shifted closer to the bed, looking through the scrapbooks you brought.

You pulled out the one with the first picture you showed Steve, opening it and gesturing for Bucky to take it.

He set the cobbler on Steve's nightstand, cautiously reaching for the book. He looked at the picture for a long time before saying anything. And when he did talk, it was a whispered "Becca..."

He ran his fingers over the picture slowly, just staring. A few minutes later, he eagerly flipped the page. He spent a good 10 minutes just looking through all the books you handed him.

"Where did you get these?" He questioned, although not accusingly.

"I found them in my parents house. They were with a bunch of my grandma's stuff that she had from her mom." You wanted to ease him into it.

"So your great grandma..." He trailed off, disbelief clear across his face.

"Was Rebecca Barnes." You finished the sentence for him, nerves clear in your voice.

You weren't sure what to say next, so you waited for him to make the next move.

"So you're my... great-grand niece?" You nodded at his question, still unsure if he was happy with the news. "God, that makes me feel old."

You nearly cackled, surprised by the joke. He smiled when you laughed, glad to have cleared some of the tension.

"Why did you want to find me?" He questioned, the mood turning more serious again.

"Well, I was really close to my parents. They were the only family I had. When I found out you are family too, I just... I knew I needed to at least tell you." You shrugged at the end, unsure if you really answered his question.

"You wanted to tell me so badly that you sat outside the compound every Saturday for five weeks even after being ignored?" He was in shock that anyone would spend that much time and effort just to talk to him. You started panicking immediately.

"I'm so sorry if you didn't want to know! It was selfish of me to force this on you. I can go, if you want. You don't have to talk to me." You started questioning everything. You moved to put the books back in the box when he stopped you.

"Oh, um. I'm sorry, you can keep those. If you want!" Tears were threatening to fall down your cheeks when you remembered the ring. You froze with your hand in the box, not knowing if you'd want to part with it knowing you'd never see Bucky again.

"Y/N..." Something in the way he said your name made you look at him. "I- I'm glad you told me. Really glad. I, uh, I never thought I would have family, well besides Steve. You know what I mean." He ran a hand through his hair, and you noticed the tears in his eyes.

"I don't want you to go. It's just hard for me..." he paused, trying to figure out his emotions. "It's hard to believe that someone would care about me that much."

"Bucky, I don't know you." He frowned at your statement. "But, I would love to get to know you." You smiled at him, trying to be reassuring.

"I'm not so sure you would." His face was hard, staring at the ground.

"Bucky, you aren't a bad person. I mean, sure you've done bad things, but it wasn't your choice. You were forced to do those things. You can't let yourself be defined by them. You're here aren't you?"

"Here?" He questioned.

"Working with the Avengers, I mean. You go on missions to help save people. That's your choice. That's who you are. I would be honored to get to know that person."

You smiled, waiting for him to say something.

"Are you sure?" He still looked unsure.

"God, maybe I get my stubbornness from you." You both laughed at that. "I am 100% sure."

"Wow." He shook his head, still in shock.

A knock sounded on the door before Steve came back in. "Is now a good time?" He asked, still standing in the doorway.

You nodded appreciatively. "Thank you." You pulled him into a hug, needing the emotional support.

"Of course. I'm happy I could help." He rubbed your back, reciprocating the hug. "Did you give him the ring yet?" He asked when you took a step back.

You shook your head, reaching into the box for the last item. "I, um, I thought you might want this." You handed him the box, nerves peaking through again.

He opened it, a soft smile on his face when he recognized it. "My mom's engagement ring."

You smiled, happy that he recognized it. "It was my mom's as well."

The two of you stared a the ring for awhile, reminiscing on time spent with your parents.

Eventually, Bucky picked the cobbler back up, not wanting to let it go to waste.

Steve couldn't help but roll his eyes at his friend. "Wow, jerk. You're just gonna go back to eating."

"Yes, punk. My great-grand niece made me a plum cobbler, and I tend to fully enjoy it."

"Great-grand niece. Ha, that makes you sound so old."

It was fun for you to see the two interacting like this, especially after the emotional hurdles you just ran.

"It's fine, Stevie. Let him enjoy the cobbler." Your face went red, not having meant to use the nickname.

"Yeah Stevie, let me enjoy the cobbler." Bucky couldn't help but poke fun, knowing there was an unspoken attraction between the two of you.

Somehow your face got even redder. Steve just rolled his eyes.

"Fine, eat your cobbler. Only because I had some of the apple one and it was delicious. It would be a shame to waste any."

You smiled at the compliment, embarrassment subsiding a bit. Steve sat down on the bed between you and Bucky, eager to ask his friend about some of the pictures. Steve put his arm around you, squeezing your shoulder as he spoke to Bucky.

You felt your eyes growing heavy, exhausted since your nerves kept you up most of the night. You rested your head on Steve's shoulder, soaking in his warmth as you cuddled closer.

Steve just rubbed your arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the interaction, realization dawning on his face.

"Oh my god. My best friend likes my great-grand niece. And she likes him." He said it so matter of fact, the two of you didn't bother denying it. You just smiled, and cuddled closer together.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x natasha #bucky barnes x natasha romanoff #tony stark #sam wilson #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel fic #clint barton #Bucky Barnes x platonic!reader

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asweetprologue · 3 years

Text

me lámh le do lámh - Part I

Ahh I can’t believe it’s finally done! After a year of working on this beast, it’s finally ready for me to share. This is something I started way back last summer, and I decided to finish it as my project for this year’s @geraskierbigbang. It will be ten parts in total, and I will post one part per day until it is complete! There are several art pieces that were created by the wonderful @herostag and Miranda.draws for this story, which I will link when the appropriate section is posted. For a summary and further links, please see the masterpost.

Next | Ao3 | Masterpost

“Alright,” Geralt said. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Yennefer looked up at him with bright eyes, curious and already mirthful. She was sitting across from him in his quarters, reading through a tome she’d found in Kaer Morhen’s disheveled library. Geralt had just come from a bath after hours spent training Ciri in the yard, and the room was filled with the warm evening light, supplemented by the fire crackling in the hearth. Yennefer had insisted on carting dozens of tapestries and drapes to hang around the drafty keep, and the room was nearly stuffy with their bulk keeping the heat in.

Yennefer gave him an amused smirk. “I will make no such promises before I even know what you’re going to say.” The gentle teasing brought a fond smile to Geralt’s face. After the events of the mountain all those years ago, things had been understandably tense. Yennefer had been reluctant to join them when she had finally met up with Geralt after Sodden, but had eventually agreed to seek refuge in the witchers’ keep and teach Ciri to control her magic. Once she’d met the girl it had all been a wash; it was clear as soon as their eyes met across the room that Yennefer was as much a part of Ciri’s destiny as Geralt was.

Geralt had expected that to either mend the rift between them enough for things to go back to the way things were, or make things even more awkward. Instead, they found themselves in a sort of in-between. Over the years his affection for Yennefer had only grown, but he found himself looking to her more and more as a friend—maybe his best friend. After Jaskier, of course.

Speaking of. “I was thinking about Jaskier.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes obviously. “As you are so frequently wont to do. The thaw will come soon enough, dear, and you can run off in search of your bard.”

Geralt felt his ears grow warm. Witchers couldn’t blush, not truly, but he still felt the tingle of it as he fidgeted with embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, absently tracing a finger against the grain of the wooden table. There were two goblets of wine sitting between them, but so far neither of them had begun to drink. “Do you know how many winters it’s been since I found Ciri?”

If she was confused by the odd turn in subject matter, Yennefer didn’t show it. Instead she looked thoughtful. “Two, perhaps three? You know I don’t follow the seasons with diligence.”

“Neither do I,” Geralt agreed. “I was thinking the same though, two or three years since the fall of Cintra. Which means Jaskier is…” He paused, trying to do the math. “He was a few years past forty, during the dragon hunt, I think. He must be closer to fifty now than not.”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow at him. “I recall mentioning something about his crows feet. What of it? Humans age. Are you only just discovering this?”

Geralt forced himself not to grumble. In a way, he was only discovering it. He’d known humans across the years, of course, and knew that many that he’d once been acquainted with were no longer alive or were in their twilight years. For decades Geralt had wandered through the world, changing no more than a ghost would, touching the lives of regular mortals for a brief instance, maybe a few times if they were particularly unlucky. No one had stayed by his side, dedicated themselves to a relationship with him, the way that the bard had. The amount of devotion that Jaskier showed to him had made Geralt antsy, in earlier years, and then confused and angry by turn. He had hated the idea of someone needing him, had hated needing someone in return. The way his chest felt heavy when he and Jaskier parted ways had left him furious with himself and the bard.

And then Ciri came into his life, and everything had changed so quickly.

With Ciri, it didn’t matter whether Geralt felt like he should care for her, or if he wanted to. He needed to. Without him, the girl would die, or be kidnapped by Nilfgaard for who knows what purpose. He had to feed her, and clothe her, and teach her, and he had to love her for her to thrive.

She made it very easy. It was only afterwards that he realized how much of an idiot he’d been to Jaskier, and the thought of how he’d treated the bard over the years had plagued him. It had been months before he could find him to apologize, but Jaskier forgave him almost immediately—which Geralt found both relieving and infuriating at the same time. This was the first winter they’d spent apart since. Geralt left the keep more rarely now, heading out on the Path only when the months grew truly warm and returning at the first hint of falling leaves. Ciri was safe on her own, he knew, but he missed her when he was away. And he could admit now that one of the forces driving him back into the world over the last few years had been the itching desire to find Jaskier again and settle the yearning in his chest for another year. He was less inclined to venture forth when his bard, his daughter, Yennefer and his brothers were all in one place.

This winter Jaskier had begged off, saying that he had “work in the south,” which could mean anything from spending a decadent winter in the court of some noble or sludging through the front lines as a Redanian spy. Geralt had learned not to pry too deeply into Jaskier’s business when he wasn’t around. It was often either too explicit for him to stomach or too confidential for Jaskier to share freely.

It worried him, being away from the bard for so long. He could get hurt, or captured by Nilfgaard, or worse. But what really terrified Geralt was the idea that he would find Jaskier in a tavern along the Path and realize that the bard had grown old, to find silver in his hair and wrinkles beside his eyes. “He’s getting too old,” Geralt said to Yennefer, who looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

“You must have known when you started travelling with him that he would eventually leave you,” Yennefer said, not unkindly. “Humans are so short lived.”

“I didn’t exactly get a choice about becoming his muse,” Geralt said with a huff. Despite his improved relationship with Jaskier over the past few years, he still found it difficult to admit that he had always been more than willing to let the bard tag along. If he’d wanted to travel alone, he would have. But he never had. “I just didn’t realize…”

“It always comes sooner than you think it will,” Yennefer sighed. She set her book aside and picked up her goblet of wine, turning to look out the large window their table sat in front of. It faced west out of the keep wall, towards the mountains and the forest beyond. The sun had set below the craggy peaks, throwing the snow covered valley below into darkness. Geralt could just make out the ruins of the old tower, its stones dark against the white landscape. “You can’t cure his mortality, Geralt.”

“We did.”

The look that Yennefer gave him was sharp, almost angry. The firelight in the room turned her violet eyes darker, like mulberry wine. “At great cost,” she snapped. “I can’t imagine you would put him through the Trials.”

A stab of panic shot through his gut at the thought. “No. Of course not. He wouldn’t survive it anyways. Only children stand a chance at all.”

Yennefer nodded, apparently satisfied that Geralt hadn’t completely lost his mind. “The boy hasn’t got an ounce of Chaos in him, in spite of his rather chaotic nature, so I highly doubt they’ll accept him as a late trainee at Ban Ard.”

“There must be other ways,” Geralt said, feeling petulant. “Less conventional.”

“I cannot believe we are actually discussing this,” Yennefer said, rising to her feet. She picked up her book from the table as well as her glass. “There is no way to achieve immortality, especially not without sacrifice. You know that, Geralt. Drop this foolish line of thought.”

Geralt rose after her, reaching out to catch her retreating wrist. A grasp loose enough that she could break it, if she wanted, but Yennefer paused. “Please, Yen. Just… look into it for me? I can’t—the thought of—” He cut himself off, dropping his hand away from her arm. The look she gave him was more pitying than he would have liked.

“I’ll do some research, but nothing more. Don’t get your hopes up, Geralt. There’s a reason there are so few of us,” she said. Her face softened slightly, as much as it ever did. Despite Ciri, Yennefer was still made of more glass and fire than anything else. “I know you love him, even if you can’t admit it to yourself. I promise, I will do my best.”

Geralt nodded wordlessly as she left and wondered if Jaskier's eyes would be as bright next time he saw him.

For weeks Yennefer said nothing about his request, and Geralt refocused on spending time with Ciri and preparing to depart for the spring. Lambert and Eskel had already left a month before, as soon as the road down the mountain began to thaw, but Geralt had hung back. The roof needed repairs, a difficult job to do in the midst of winter, and it was a hard task to leave for Vesemir alone. It was always like this, now—him looking for odd jobs to keep him at Kaer Morhen, with Ciri, making excuses until Jaskier’s jitteriness or Vesemir’s raised eyebrows forced them on the road again. Some of that was mitigated this season by the silence he heard when he found himself listening for the sounds of lute strings strumming gently in the background, and Geralt’s increasing anxiety about Jaskier’s wellbeing. Even so, it was hard to leave Ciri behind.

The girl was progressing rapidly as she entered her teen years, the chubbiness of her youth morphing into lean if awkward muscle as she continued to work on her swordsmanship. When Geralt and his brothers weren’t pushing her through drills, she was studying monsters and alchemy with Vesemir, or practicing her magic with Yen. She never seemed to tire, eagerly absorbing any lessons passed on to her and desperate to prove her worth. The only person she seemed to let her guard down around was Geralt, who found himself often goading her into mock wrestling matches (which he refused to throw on principle) and humoring her when she became restless and wanted to explore beyond the keep. Kaer Morhen was dangerous in the winter, but as spring approached and the deep snows on the surrounding mountains began to thaw, the duo spent more and more time trekking through old ruins and sleeping beneath the stars.

He could put off his journey south no longer.

“I’m going to be fine, Geralt,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. He wondered if he’d been this petulant as a teenager. Certainly Lambert had. “I can take care of myself, and Yen will be with me.”

Geralt tapped her wooden training sword with his own, indicating that she should prepare to go again. When he was a boy he’d trained against the other foundlings, stumbling around like pups through drills and sparring matches. Ciri trained against full witchers, and only Eskel ever faked a misstep here or there to allow her to get in a good hit. When she won a fight for the first time, it would be on her own merit.

The girl raised her sword into a decent fighting stance, and Geralt moved to correct her footwork. Her sword work was exceptional above the belt, but she consistently forgot her stances, throwing herself off balance. They’d begun putting her on the pendulums to force her to focus, dancing between posts to attack the dummies. Geralt had spent many a night rubbing salve into her bruised shoulders, gained from taking fall after fall from the low poles. No one forced her, but if there was one thing Ciri hated, it was admitting to weakness in herself. “Sword up,” Geralt said, and launched into his attack.

He stayed on the offense, forcing her to practice the defensive drills they’d started going over recently. “I know you’ll be fine,” he said, continuing their conversation. His breathing was relaxed, almost meditative through the slow exchange of blows. “Just seems cruel to leave you with only the old man and Yennefer for company.”

Ciri giggled despite herself, and Geralt found himself grinning back before he smacked her lightly in the ribs with the training sword. She swore—Lambert, Geralt thought with chagrin—and danced back a few paces. “Gotta focus,” he said, still smirking at her.

She poked her tongue out at him childishly and reposted off of one of his blocked attacks. He easily swayed out of the way, but the movement was fluid and smooth, which meant someday it would be fast, faster than he could dodge. He gave an encouraging nod.

They continued to spar for another half an hour or so before breaking, heading to the well to fill their water pouches. Geralt sat on the short ring of stones and Ciri slumped on the ground beside him, leaning against his leg. The simple trust and familiarity she exhibited around him still took him by surprise, sometimes. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said, rubbing a hand over the top of her head. Her hair was almost as white as his.

She sighed, wiping dripping water from her chin as she tossed her water pouch down. “I figured,” she said. “Say hello to Jaskier for me, when you find him? I missed his songs this time.”

Geralt’s caress turned into a playful ruffle. “I will. Any requests for books?”

“Ones about Elves,” she said immediately, “and Skelligan alchemy. It’s different from ours, did you know? The Druids—”

Geralt chuckled. “I know. You’ve said half a dozen times. No fairytales this time?”

The girl hummed, reminding him for a brief and touching moment of himself. “Just bring Jaskier back. He tells about your adventures so much better than you do.”

“He’s certainly made a career out of it,” Geralt grumbled, feigning annoyance. “I’ll do my best. You know how he is.”

“You missed him too,” she said, hitting his knee with one closed fist. “I know you did. You get all…Well, more grumbly and mopey than usual, when he’s not around.” She wrinkled her nose up at him in exaggerated disgust. “It’s gross. But I do want you to be happy.”

Geralt knocked back against her gently with his knee, swallowing around the feelings that rose in his throat. “You just think I’m a boring old man who won’t help you put toads in Eskel’s bed. But you never even ask. I’m the expert, not Jaskier.”

Ciri laughed, bright and crisp in the morning air, and Geralt felt warm despite the fading winter chill. Tomorrow he would leave, and he would find Jaskier, and next winter he would tell Jaskier that he had to stay at Kaer Morhen. For Ciri, if nothing else. And if it was more for Geralt’s sake than anything, well, no one had to know.

Yennefer found him before he left, saddling Roach in the stables.

“Go to Triss,” she said by way of a greeting. Geralt knew what she meant by the gravity in her tone and the tension sitting in the corners of her mouth. “Ask after Ida. I don’t know where she is or if she’ll speak with you, but a Sage is the only one that might be able to give you anything.”

Geralt reached out to grasp her hand firmly in his own. “Thank you, Yen,” he said honestly.

The sorceress sniffed. “Well, you owe me one, I suppose. I hope you find what you're looking for. But be careful.”

“I won’t do anything that might put him in harm’s way,” he promised. “I swear it.”

“Good.” She gave him a slight smile before leaning in to brush a kiss over his rough cheek. The simple touch warmed him from inside out. “Say hello to the bard for me. Tell him I heard about that disastrous competition in Vizima. Ought to have him stewing for a good long while.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I’ll give him your love as always.”

“Goodbye, Geralt,” she said, patting his arm lightly. “Be safe. You know how to reach me, if you have need.”

“I do,” he said. “I will. Take care of Ciri.”

“It’s more the other way around, I’m afraid,” she said with a soft smile, and Geralt understood exactly what she meant. Ciri had saved them both, in more ways than one. Every time he left her was more painful than the last. Someday, he knew, they might travel the Path together, a witcher, a sorceress and their daughter. Maybe even a bard, if he was extremely lucky.

Geralt hoped he would be.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #big bang #geraskier big bang 2021 #multichapter #fic #fanfic #the witcher #witcher #writing #my work #geraskierbigbang #me lamh

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beomcoups · 3 years

Text

His Muse | KHJ

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: fashion designer!Hongjoong (Ateez) x reader

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛: Flashing Lights collab hosted by me

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, smut, established relationship au, fashion industry au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, masturbating, fingering, oral (f receiving), missionary, nail digging, dirty talk, nipple play, creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.4k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It was definitely fate at Fashion Week the way you and Hongjoong met. Inseparable ever since, Hongjoong likes to practice his craft with you as his favorite subject. When the sun goes down he never fails to express why you're a constant source of inspiration.

AN: Thank you to @sugasbabiie, @eatjeanjin, and @hobipaint for looking over this for me. I really appreciate it 🖤

The sky has reached the golden hour, with the sunlight shining through the windows in your penthouse. You sit on the stool in nothing but a satin button-up shirt. Behind you is a plain white background, and you are patiently waiting for your photo to get taken. You aren’t a model by any means, but you can’t tell your fashion designer of a boyfriend, Hongjoong, that. He is constantly taking pictures of you and adding them to his mood boards. He calls you his muse, his excuse being that you are the most beautiful thing that has ever been created on this Earth.

You met at a New York fashion week while visiting a show you were invited to by your best friend Seonghwa, who showcased his latest collection. It’s not the first time you went to a show that Seonghwa held, but this event was a collaboration between his and Hongjoong’s, and it was a massive event for him. You came in dressed in your best, expecting to support your best friend on this huge achievement and maybe go to an after-party. But the moment you locked eyes on Hongjoong, you knew you were in trouble. Your plans quickly changed, and you ended the night in Hongjoong’s hotel in his bed, riding him until the sun rose.

You two have been inseparable ever since; you moved in with him a month later on his insistence, and you started working together as his accountant. You have a masters in accountancy, and his business is ever-growing, so it made sense for him to have someone he trusts looking over his books. You both fell in love fast and hard, and there’s not a day that goes by that he doesn’t shower you with gifts or adore you. Everything he designs has been tried on you first, and he always seeks your approval. He lights the furnace in your heart and fills you up with a love that you’ve never had before.

“Okay, baby, are you ready?” Hongjoong comes out of the room, his expensive camera in hand.

“Mmhm,” you hum.

He holds his camera up and the flash goes off before you are ready, your vision temporarily blinded from the brightness. You hear him come over to you and you feel him rub your eyes gently, alleviating the slight pain in your eyes. Hongjoong kisses you on your forehead and waits for you to be back at your 100% before taking more photos of you. You pose the way you usually do, giving your best Naomi Campbell, as they say. He is focused on the lens, making sure he catches you at every angle.

“Unbutton your shirt for me,” Hongjoong instructs, still clicking away on the camera.

You do as you're told, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, revealing your stomach while covering your breasts. This new level of exposure starts to turn you on, and you have the idea to have him take your pictures while you get totally undressed. You continue to take off your shirt, watching him bite his lip and take his eye off the camera.

“What are you doing, doll?” He asks, moving closer to you and lifting your chin to meet his face.

“I want you to take some different kinds of pictures tonight,” you murmur, fiddling with his belt on his pants.

Hongjoong leans down and kisses you, his cool hands massaging your breasts. Finally, you manage to unbuckle his pants and slide them down, his member growing hard by the minute. You are tempted to wrap your mouth around his cock, but you have a plan, and you are sticking to it.

“Come with me to bed,” you direct, getting up from the stool and sliding your panties off.

You take them and stuff them in his mouth, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head. Then, you walk to your massive bedroom, crawling on the bed on all fours, waiting for him to be fully ready to pounce. He comes in shortly after, undressed with his camera in hand, his other hand palming his shaft softly. You watch him approach you from behind, his fingers leaving his shaft to brush against your clit before he gives it a soft kiss. Your breath hitches, and you cling to the sheets as his tongue slowly licks up your center.

“Please, don’t stop,” you beg, riding his tongue with his rhythm.

You hear the camera clicking as he continues to tease your clit and now has two fingers stuffed inside of you. You’ve never been able to last long with this mouth and finger combo, and tonight is no different. You scream his name as your orgasm bursts through you, your sweetness gushing everywhere on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out just to flip you over and lick you dry, your legs buckling from overstimulation. He doesn’t stop until you cum again, his soft lips humming against your clit so softly that you can’t help but give him what he wants.

“I really want your pretty lips around my cock,” Hongjoong groans as he strokes himself harder.

Though his tone is dominant, his words come out desperate and needy. The way he bites his lip as he focuses on your body, imagining all the ways he wants to have you tonight. You want him just as bad, but you decide to make him wait just a little bit longer. Just to be a minx, you decide to tease him a little. You slip your fingers down to your sweet nectar, playing with yourself softly without breaking eye contact with him. Hongjoong grabs his camera, taking pictures of you in the moment while he still strokes himself.

“You look so pretty baby,” he cooed, taking one more picture before setting the camera down. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Before you can react, he spreads your legs apart and slams himself inside of you, lifting your head up so you can see him pummel you.

“You like this, don't you?” He gloats, slapping your breasts. “You like teasing me until I snap and fuck you to sleep huh? This is what you wanted all day. I know you, my dirty whore.”

His harsh words send you into overdrive, and you kiss him feverishly, grinding your hips to match his pace. His hands grab your throat and squeezes it slightly as he whispers more dirty things into your ear, adding more highs to your already close peak. His face is reddening and you feel yourself reaching your peak, so you grab his camera and set it to record, watching him thoroughly fuck you through the lens as he murmurs your name.

“Hongjoong… baby I-,” you choke.

“Are you going to cum for me doll?” His tone is velvety and your stomach coils into knots, feeling yourself about to burst.

You nod frantically, begging for him to coat your walls with his load. Your nails dig into his arms as you dissolve into pleasure, screaming his name into his shoulder. His legs sputter and he releases shortly after you, filling you up with his load like you asked. You can feel yourself pulsing, your legs shaking uncontrollably as they are still being held in the air. Hongjoong slowly pulls himself out of you, kissing your sweaty face and making his way down to your nipples.

“I love you,” he leaves one lasting kiss on your right nipple before returning to your lips.

“I love you more,” you pull him on top of you, wanting to be held.

Hongjoong holds you tightly, stroking your hair as he watches you fall asleep in his arms. You sound peaceful, your light snores tickling his insides, as he always found that adorable. He slowly gets up and grabs the camera, wanting to take pictures of you in this serene state. He realizes that the camera was still recording, catching everything that happened from the moment you grabbed it.

“I guess I’ll have to add the pictures we did manage to take into our own little mood board,” he chuckles, sending the pictures to his backup drive.

Hongjoong turns around and takes one last picture of you, covered in a white sheet like the angel he always thought you were. A lightbulb goes off in his head, and he grabs a notepad, sketching you while you sleep. He decides that his next collection will be a soft collection with a lot of white and soft colors that will be perfect for the summertime. He takes his time, curating the ideas he has onto his notepad, not wanting to forget a single detail and to get this going as soon as possible.

Hongjoong looks over to you once more, amazed that you came into his life but a year ago and have been the source of all this creative energy. He loves you more than you will ever know, the apple of his eye. His forever muse.

#kwritersworldnet #kpopficsnetwork #ksmutclub #kpopscape #kdiner #noonasinnetwork #ateez fanfic #hongjoong fanfic #ateez fluff #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong x reader

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wkemeup · 3 years

Text

Sunrise (4)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.2k warnings: symptoms of depression, PTSD, anxiety, some really sweet moments to balance it out, more book recs 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“You’re staring at the doors again, sweetie.”

Chin resting on your hands, arms folded out on the countertop of the library’s front desk, you tore your eyes away from the entrance to find Mrs. Jefferson peering over at you from over the bridge of her glasses. She smirked as she returned to her book, knowing she’d caught you in the act.

“Have patience,” she said simply.

“Book club is tomorrow and—” you sighed, a heaviness returning to your body as you slumped back against the counter, stare drifting back to the doors at the entrance. The sun was beaming outside, reflecting in beautiful rays as it illuminated the walkway and touched over old oak and the colorful bindings of novels.

You frowned. “I really thought he was going to come.”

“This James Barnes... he’s a soldier, yes? Like my boy?”

You nodded, disappointment burning like a lump in your throat, though you swallowed it back. “A Sergeant. Sam said he came home a little under a year ago.”

“Then he’ll come,” Mrs. Jefferson pressed confidently, sliding her glasses up her nose, the chain of purple beads clicking against the gem stones on her sweater. “Boys like that don’t break their word. Even if he is a bit of a hesitant one.”

You knew what she meant by that. Hesitant.

No one liked to talk about the dangers of a soldier post-war. It was uncomfortable; the idea that they could still be fighting a battle long beyond the absence of a weapon in their hands and the threat of present danger. Heroes weren’t supposed to have chinks in their armor. They weren’t supposed to crumble and break under the weight of what happened beyond borders and the guilt they carried.

They were supposed to be strong; a symbol of a great country and a willing tribute to place upon a pedestal. It was unacceptable to be a burden, unacceptable to do anything other than seamlessly integrate back into a society that they never really knew to begin with.

It was all a farce; a rigged game set to line the pockets of the rich and exploit everyone else in its path – sent off to fight for a cause no one really understood or believed in. It left behind good men and women to the rubble; Bucky Barnes among them.

Sam hadn’t told you much about Bucky before you met him, but you knew enough to tell that it was a struggle to get him to leave the apartment. He was isolated and quiet and hardly recognizable from the man you’d seen in photos. Only, it wasn’t the lack of his left arm that drew your attention when you first saw him, but the lingering sadness in his eyes.

Sam had a picture hanging in the office that often pulled you in. Bucky stood on his left side, smiling so wide it left lines on his face. He was bright, light as a feather, only weighed down by Steve’s arm slung around his shoulders. You wondered if the man in the photo would have flirted shamelessly with you, if he’d have corny pickup lines or offer to take you dancing. He looked like the sort of man who had girls chasing his tail, a line of heartbreak in his wake. He was beautiful.

It was strange to see him like that, comparing him to the man he was today. Now, it was like a cloud lingered over his head, draining the color from his skin and chipping away at his soul until it dimmed and crumbled and faded away.

But you’d seen glimpses of the man in the photo. He was still beautiful; a little hurt and dragging his feet, but beautiful. His smile wasn’t quite as wide and the cloud was still present, but there was a peak of sunshine peering through. A single ray puncturing over stormy skies, but it was something. He’d laughed and teased and it was more than Sam had known him to do in months. You were determined to see the sun touch his skin again. If only he’d let you guide him there.

“I’m going to go restock on the second level,” you conceded, pushing yourself up from the counter and sauntering over to the cart lined heavy with books.

“Alright sweetie. I’ll be sure to page you when your Sergeant shows up.”

You felt a heat burning in your face at the very idea of ‘your Sergeant’. Mrs. Jefferson chuckled to herself, eyes still down on her book. She waved you off, not giving you a chance to object, even if you could string together a coherent sentence.

***

Bucky couldn’t get out of bed.

He’d been in this predicament hundreds of times before; staring up at the ceiling, wasting the days away as the curtains blocked the light and shielded him from the reminder of another sun daring to rise beyond his window. His energy would be drained and his willingness to so much as brush his teeth was obsolete. He’d known what it felt like to not be able to get out of bed.

This was different.

He had somewhere to be. He actually wanted to get up. He really fucking wanted to.

But the pain in his arm had flared to one of the worst episodes he’d had in months and it rendered him useless; the arm that was both there and not there. He could feel his left hand curl to a fist, could feel the itch on his palm, but when he tried to scratch it, he was only met with thin air, his right hand sinking to the mattress in search of the sensation that didn’t exist.

It was infuriating.

The nerve endings in his shoulder were going haywire. It felt like his arm was being ripped from his body and it took nearly all the energy he had not to let it consume him. He’d even gone as far to bite off a piece of his cheek in an effort to suppress the lump in his throat.

Sam would have frowned at that, spewed him some bullshit about how crying can be therapeutic and Steve would nod his head annoyingly in agreement, but Bucky was tougher than that. He had to be tougher than that. If he allowed himself to unlatch that gate, it would consume him whole. He’d drown.

Hinges squeaked at the front entrance as the door swung open and a pair of heavy footsteps came rushing into the apartment.

“I’m coming, buddy! Hold on!” Sam called, the plastic swish of the grocery bag handing off his arms dropping to the floor. Bucky tried to concentrate on the sound of running water, the bottle of pills shaking in the small orange bottle, and not on the pain threatening to tear him in half.

The door to his bedroom flung open and Sam rushed in with a glass of water and his fist closed around two red capsules. He paused in the frame, a frown pushing down at his mouth, and Bucky could only imagine what he looked like; disheveled, sweating, laying in day old clothes and muddled sheets. His right hand was shaking.

“Alright, help me out, Barnes,” Sam said, setting the glass down on the bedside table. He placed a steady hand on Bucky’s back to help push himself upright. Bucky swung his legs off the side of the bed, finding his balance before Sam placed the pills in his hand.

Bucky threw them back into his mouth, holding his hand out for the glass of water that would come next. It landed in his grip and he gulped down the medication. There was no instant relief with pain like this, but the knowledge it would soon wear off to something manageable was enough.

“Thanks,” he mumbled out, voice tense as he struggled to find it.

“Insurance companies are assholes,” Sam scoffed, shaking his head, though he patted Bucky on the knee. “Cutting off coverage for a fucking vet with no warning like that? Can’t believe you’ve been without this stuff for almost a week. It’s messed up.”

Bucky had come to expect it. He knew something had to go wrong eventually with how things were starting to turn around. He’d actually been looking forward to seeing you at the library and almost went that next day if it wasn’t for the sudden attack on his own body. He'd tried to deal with it on his own, thinking he might sleep it off, but then it became unbearable. Insurance wouldn’t budge and he didn’t have the energy to argue on the phone with them all day. Thankfully, Sam did.

Except now it was a day before the next book club meeting and Bucky didn’t know how he was supposed to face you. Part of him wondered if you'd be disappointed, if maybe you’d steal a glance over the doors and hope that it was him walking through, only to be let down as each day passed by. The other half wondered if you’d care at all.

But he’d seen the way you’d smiled at him, how you’d lit up at the idea of him stopping by.

You’d care.

He wasn’t sure if that hurt worse, seeing as he never showed up.

“You could still go.”

Bucky sighed at Sam’s suggestion. He wasn’t teasing him, wasn’t wearing that shit-eating grin. He was being serious. It was the kind of look that reminded Bucky that under it all, Sam was one of his closest friends, one of the few that stuck around when everything went to shit.

“She’ll want to see you,” Sam continued, nudging Bucky’s side with a soft smile, but Bucky shook his head, unconvinced.

“What am I supposed to say to her, Sam?” Bucky groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “’Sorry I stood you up, but I felt like my hand was being sawed off on an arm I don’t even fucking have?’”

“Why not?” Sam shrugged, earning a glare in response he let roll off his shoulders with ease. “She’d understand, Buck. She knows what comes with the territory here. She’s a lot more familiar with this stuff than you think.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a pang of jealousy burning hot in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe you should ask her why she got involved with the VA in the first place.”

Bucky pressed his lips to a thin line, a silence coming over them. That was an immensely personal question; one akin to someone asking him how he’d lost his arm. He wasn’t sure that was an answer you’d be willing to share.

Sam exhaled a heavy breath, patting Bucky three times on the knee before he stood up. “Let the meds kick in, but promise you’ll try to go, alright?”

Bucky stared up at Sam for a moment before he conceded with a short nod. The pain in his shoulder was starting to lessen, at least. It didn’t feel like his arm was being torn from his body or a knife was plunging into a part of him that didn’t exist anymore. It would likely get back to a place he could deal with within the hour.

“I promise,” Bucky said. “I’ll go.”

***

A brush of warm air filtered in through the vents as Bucky stepped inside the library. It was bigger than he remembered with large stain glass windows on the outer walls, filtering in a colorful sunlight onto the aisles upon aisles of books. At the center, just ahead of the entrance, was a reception desk. Bucky exhaled a tense breath in an attempt to rid himself from the nerves rattling in his veins and made his way to the woman sitting behind the counter.

She was reading quietly in her seat, a pair of glasses on a beaded chain perched at the very tip of her nose. She didn’t look up in his direction until he stood at the edge of the desk, and only then, she caught glance of him over the top of her glasses before a smile rose on her lips.

“Can I help you, young man?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “I’m supposed to meet someone. She, uh, works here. Y/n.”

The woman nodded. She wore the kind of smile on her face Bucky was familiar with. He’d seen it in Sam about a dozen times in the last week; the kind of smile that said ‘I was right.’

“You must be Sergeant Barnes,” she said as she picked up the radio from the desk.

Bucky nodded quickly, glancing over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he felt jittery. He tried not to let the fact that you’d clearly talked to this woman about him throw him completely off his game. If he even had game to begin with…

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied with an even tone. She smirked.

“Y/n,” she called into the radio, “you have a guest at the front desk.”

The woman held up a finger to him though it trembled with age, signaling for him to wait a moment. Bucky nodded, tucking his hand into his pocket as he silently made his way over to the series of chairs lined along the wall.

He gripped his fist tight inside his pocket, trying to ignore the pulsing in his shoulder. It had lessened considerably since Sam brought him his meds, but it hadn’t gone away completely. Showering had taken longer than usual and it took him nearly four minutes just to pull a shirt over his head. His army jacket hung over his shoulders, wrapped in a protective layer, loose sleeve at his side.

“If you’re pulling my chain, Mrs. Jefferson…”

Bucky perked up at the sound of your voice. You were crossing the main entrance from the staircase, half jogging to the counter where the woman, Mrs. Jefferson, was grinning to herself from behind her book.

You draped over the counter, toes barely keeping hold on the tile floors as you attempted to reach for her book, but she snatched it from your grasp just in time. You huffed, sinking back down the floor.

“It’s not funny!” you whined and Bucky almost felt a little guilty for not making his presence known yet, but you were just so cute the way you slumped your shoulders and glanced back at the entrance.

Mrs. Jefferson pointed over to where Bucky had slowly begun to make his way towards you, but you folded your arms over your chest. Bucky cleared his throat when he stood a few paces off your shoulder, but you didn’t seem to hear him.

Mrs. Jefferson caught Bucky’s eye before she turned her attention back to you. “Sweetie, he’s—”

“He’s not coming, okay?” you groaned and Bucky felt a stone drop into his stomach. “I—I thought he would but… I was wrong.”

Bucky parted his lips to speak but suddenly his throat was dry. Mrs. Jefferson’s smile started to fade. Clearly, Bucky wasn’t the only one who heard the disappointment in your voice, the sliver of heartbreak, too. He tried to speak, to call your name, to say something, but he was marbled stone.

“I’m going back to work.”

There wasn’t time to pull his words together before you slammed head first into Bucky’s chest. He stumbled back a few paces, surprised, and you gasped, hands flying to your mouth.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t—” You stilled, taking in who was standing in front of you. “Bucky?”

He pressed out a smile, though his ears were burning red. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No! N-no, you’re totally fine! I didn’t—I didn’t think you were—” You blinked a few times before your eyes darted back at Mrs. Jefferson who only smirked from behind her book, adjusting the glasses on the tip of her nose. You turned back to Bucky, brushing out the hem of your skirt and wrapping the thick layer of a lavender colored cardigan tightly around your waist, almost like a blanket.

You exhaled a nervous breath, a nervous smile lifting into your cheeks. “I’m happy you came.”

“It would have been sooner, I swear,” Bucky replied quickly, watching helplessly as your smile brightened into a laugh. “But, um, my uh—”

He chewed on the edge of his lip. Was he really going to tell you what kept him held up in his room for days on end? Would it bitter the sweet way you looked at him to know that he was a mess under a poorly constructed surface, tied together with string and scotch tape? But you were looking at him so fondly, he wondered if there was anything he could say that could take that away.

“My arm,” he admitted, waiting for a flash of disgust on your face that never came. You softened a bit, but your eyes never left his. He cleared his throat. “It, um… It was just acting up. I ran out of meds and the pain it—it got bad. The kinda pain that sorta makes me wish I had the arm just so I could saw it off myself.”

Shit. He hadn’t mean to say that much but there was just something about the way you looked at him that made him feel like he couldn’t say a damn wrong thing. You pursed your lips, nodding in as much understanding as you could offer. You gestured to the staircase and Bucky followed you without question.

“I would have been here last week,” Bucky finished because he needed you to know. He couldn’t stand the idea of you being upset, of that sliver of disappointment in your voice when you’d accepted he wasn’t going to show. He needed you to know he’d tried.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you said simply, though he could tell you appreciated it nonetheless. You offered him a smile, one that washed away any feelings of doubt that crept up to the surface. The pain in his shoulder was long forgotten when you looked at him like that.

“I just wanted you to know.”

I just wanted you to know I’m trying.

He had something to look forward to now, a reason to get out of his bed and open the curtains and look at the fucking sun for once. He had reason to shower and go outside and shove away all the thoughts of self-doubt and paranoia because there was something incredible waiting for him beyond the door.

I just wanted you to know you’re the reason I’m trying.

“Come on,” you grinned, leading him to the staircase. “I have a few books in mind you might like.”

Your hand extended in his direction, but you caught yourself when you realized what you were doing. It was seamless enough that you easily played it off as you tugged your sweater tight around your body, but he noticed. It was an intimate gesture, a closeness he hadn’t known in years.

He hadn’t remembered what it felt like to crave something like that.

***

It didn’t take long for Bucky to settle on The Martian by Andy Weir. It was the first book you pulled from the shelves, one amongst a series of alternatives you had ready in the event this one didn’t appeal to him. All it took was a single glance over the back cover, a slight incline in his brow, and he was sold.

“I trust you,” was all Bucky had said; so simply, as if it didn’t take the breath straight from your chest.

Bucky didn’t have a library card you realized as you brought him back to the front desk. He’d sheepishly asked to check it out on your account, but you were determined to see more of him and you hoped that by getting him his own card, he might be more inclined to come back. Not that you explained it that way per say, but he didn’t object at least.

It had taken a lot less time than either of you anticipated and you found yourself following him to the exit, both of you dragging your feet.

“So, um…” he started, a nervous chuckle in his voice. “That was easy.”

“Yeah,” you scratched at the back of your neck, glancing to the clock hanging high on the eastern wall. “I hope you like it after all this trust you’re putting in my judgement.”

“I’m sure I will.”

A short silence swept over. Neither of you moving to leave. A couple swerved around you in an effort to get to the doors. The silence wasn’t awkward, but there was a nervous energy in it, like you were both waiting for the other to make the first move. Only, you both did it at once.

“Would you want to—”

“I’m off at four—”

You bit down on your lips, suppressing a laugh. You gestured for him to go first. His looked so sweet with the pink in his cheeks. A man who had been once rendered as a weapon and he wore a blush in his cheeks. Your stomach held butterflies in its cage.

“There’s a coffeeshop nearby,” he continued nervously. “I was thinking I could replace that coffee of yours I spilled last week…”

Your cheeks were starting to ache from how wide you were smiling. “Give me five minutes? I just need to wrap things up with Mrs. Jefferson and then I’m yours.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a second, a flash of something unreadable on his face. He shook it off quickly and nodded, telling you he’d wait by the chairs along the wall until you were ready. It wasn’t until you were halfway to the desk that you’d realized what you’d said.

I’m yours.

A harmless saying; one people used every day in passing. Still, you felt that same surge of energy at the thought. From the twists in your stomach and the stammer in your heart, you knew that if he’d asked, it would be true.

***

Bucky watched as you scurried back to the main desk, a few quick glances back over your shoulder in his direction like you were making sure he was still there. You were smiling so wide, he wondered if it ached in your cheeks. He’d never known anyone to smile as much as you did, like you had this limitless supply of joy eager to be tapped into. He couldn’t help but feel a twist in his stomach, knowing he had been able to syphon some of that joy and bring it to the surface. It was him you were smiling at. It felt like a dream.

He glanced down at the book nestled into the sleeve of his bag; a stunning ombre in shades of orange to red to black, a lone astronaut in the center – like he was floating adrift. You’d told him it was a story of survival, of the intricacies of humanity and human connection. It was funny at times and filled with science beyond your pay grade, but it was mesmerizing.

There was an unspoken hope he could read in your eyes that he might connect to the main character, Mark Watney in his search for connection, in his desperate hope to free himself from the isolation, in his resilience. You’d said Mark was an exceptional character, one with courage and determination to be admired.

Bucky wasn’t sure he could stand up to the likes of Mark Watney, but he would certainly try.

The glimmer in your eye as you spoke about the book, almost as if it were an old friend, was enough to convince him. For the first time in years, he felt the urge to read when he got home, just so he could see the look on your face in book club when you realized he’d already started it. He wanted to make you proud, wanted to see more of your smile. It was his new drive.

A few minutes later, you came jogging back up to him. Your purse hung over your shoulders, a few new books of your own tucked under your arm. You’d done more than finish your shift at the desk though, he realized, because his eyes flickered to a reflective shine on your lips, one that hadn’t been there before. You’d put on lip gloss.

His heart flipped.

“Ready?” you asked, gesturing to the doors. All bright eyes and sunshine as you looked at him.

“There’s a café called Luciana’s not too far from here. I’ve heard good things about it. Might be quiet,” Bucky offered and a flash of something unreadable crossed your features. “Do you know it?”

“I go there every Sunday before book club! It’s my favorite,” you replied, nearly skipping in your steps. “Replacing my coffee and getting it right down to the same shop? I’m impressed, Bucky.”

He chuckled, hanging his head as he followed you down the descending staircase and into the heavy flow of pedestrian traffic. He’d forgotten how busy the sidewalks could get at rush hour and the smile quickly drained from his face, though he wouldn’t let you see.

Bucky tried to focus on you as the strangers circled in around him, how you were laughing at the coincidence of it all, starting on a tangent of your favorite donuts at the shop. Your voice was like a beacon and he did his best use it as a guide.

But he could feel the quicken pace of his heart inside his chest, how it thumped through his ribs and pulsed into his head the closer strangers got to him. He swerved out of the way of a tourist who was too busy looking down at his phone to notice Bucky in his path. He kept his head down, hand clenched tightly in his jacket pocket, eyes staring at the concrete.

Teenagers were whispering behind him, snickering under their breath, and Bucky could hear the harsh ‘shhh’ of a father at wit’s end. His lungs felt tight, certain that the boys were mocking the loose sleeve hanging down by his side. He could have taken it if here were on his own. His ears would flush red and a wash of shame and embarrassment would flood his senses, but he could have taken it.

Not with you by his side. Not when you could be privy to the harsh stares and the cruel voices, the validation to a fear he’d known to be true long before he met you – that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and he would never find that sense of normalcy again. He was kidding himself into thinking that you could ever want someone like—

“Bucky?”

When he looked up at you, your smile had fallen away, replaced with concern. It must not have been the first time you called his name. He didn’t know what to say. He felt small, like a child, embarrassed that even on a good day the influx of people still rendered him to a state of panic.

“Come on,” you said quietly, glancing around to an alley off your shoulder. “Let’s take the scenic route.”

He followed gratefully, staring at your shoulder blades as you led him away from the busy hustle of the crowd and along empty side streets and residential neighborhoods. It would take longer this way, but you didn’t seem to mind. You were too busy admiring the architecture of the brownstones and the beautiful array of plants and flowers hanging along the windows. In the open space, you skipped a few paces ahead, arms out wide and twirled around, simply because you could. You laughed and it echoed up along the buildings.

Bucky could have handed you his heart right then. He could have pulled it straight from his chest and set it into your palms. He wondered if you would handle it with the tender sort of care he hoped you would. His heart was fraying and damaged, after all. It required a gentle touch.

You fell back in line with him easily and you checked to make sure the next block wasn’t too busy before you led him down another side street. He tried to ignore the voices telling him he was a burden, that his baggage was dragging heavy at your feet, but it crept to the surface no matter how many times you smiled at him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled out, willing his voice to be stronger than it felt. “I don’t know why this is such an issue for me. I was fine on the way over.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Bucky,” you said gently, slowing your pace until you came to a stop.

Bucky dragged his feet, stopping along a bush of pink hydrangeas planted outside a stunning brick townhome. From the corner of his eye, he watched as your hand reached out to him instinctively, almost in slow motion, and you only paused as you realized what you were doing and pulled back. You cleared your throat.

“I’m not ever someone you have to apologize to about this stuff, okay?” you continued with a kind of sincerity in your voice, Bucky didn’t have a choice but to believe you. The way you looked at him nearly pulled him to pieces. “It comes and goes. Waxes and wanes. There’s no fault. No blame. Just tell me if something’s wrong, so I can help. That’s all I ask.”

Were you speaking from experience? Did you know someone who had been as shattered as he was? Was it the reason Sam wanted him to ask about why you were involved with the VA to begin with?

It was quiet on the side street; the only sound the distant footsteps from traffic up ahead and the low rumble of car engines in the distance. A bird chirped from a low handing branch above.

You shoved your hands into your pockets in an effort to keep yourself from reaching for his. He was surprised at the twist in his stomach when he wished you would have tried just one more time. Maybe he could have had some courage to take it.

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, feeling a weight lift from his chest. When you smiled again it was small— a little heavy— but it touched your eyes. There was a relief in it, maybe an appreciation, too. It swept away some of the anxiety from his veins.

“Okay.” Your smile widened as you continued to walk down the sidewalk. Bucky found himself feeling a little lighter as he followed behind.

When the two of you approached the main street again along the block Luciana’s was tucked away in, Bucky didn’t feel as though he was suffocating anymore. He could sense his reflexes picking up, a subtle increase in his heart rate, but he walked a little closer to you, your hip bumping against his every so often and he found that it grounded him. It kept him firm on the surface when he felt like he was floating up into a distant unknown. He wondered if you knew the extent to which you affected him.

Luciana’s was quiet inside as Bucky jutted out ahead of you to reach for the door. A soft strum of an acoustic guitar and a Spanish speaking singer’s intricate melody hummed over the speakers. He felt a solid breath of air fill his lungs, tasting of coffee beans and fresh pastries.

“Welcome to—” a voice called from behind the counter before she paused, eyes falling on you. “Y/n!”

A woman ran out from behind the counter, dressed in a stained apron and a long, bright pink dress, and held her arms out to you. You laughed as she enveloped you to her chest.

“My darling! It is not Sunday, you know. You’re getting your days mixed up!” she exclaimed, wagging her finger at you. She didn’t even give you time to explain before she turned to Bucky, who suddenly felt a burn of heat on his face. “Ah! You finally brought me one of your boys!”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, turning to you quickly. His stomach dropped.

“She means at the VA,” you explained, a little embarrassed at her implication as you shuffled your feet, eyes darting at the floor. Bucky raised an eyebrow in realization, eyes flickering back to the woman – who he assumed to be Luciana herself – as she scurried back around the counter. He noticed then that she was wearing slippers on her feet.

“Come, come!” She called eagerly, waiting with a tapping toe at the register.

You and Bucky exchanged a glance, a breath of a laugh escaping before you stepped up to the counter. You didn’t hesitate in your order, though you took some extra time in looking over the pastries and donuts after Bucky told you to pick something out for him. You put so much thought into it, it was really quite sweet. He waited until you reached down for your purse to slip his card over the counter to Luciana.

She wore that same smile he’d seen on Mrs. Jefferson at the library. That smirk. Like they knew something he didn’t.

You heard the ring of the cash registered and looked up at him, agape. You swatted his arm without thinking twice about it and there was a comfort in that. He laughed, taking his coffee and settling in at a table by the windows as you followed behind.

As he watched you across the table, your eyes glancing out to the pedestrians as they walked back, nursing the steaming mug of coffee between your hands, that morning suddenly felt like it was a life time ago.

Had he really been paralyzed with pain, unable to move from his bed, just a few hours earlier? It felt like a century had passed in between. In a rare indulgence, Bucky let himself wonder what it would feel like to spend all his time with you; if maybe time moved so fast it swept him off his feet or if it moved slow enough to allow him to catch every second.

All he knew was that he wanted more.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic

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just-a-really-tall-girl-tbh · 3 years

Text

Grounded

Summary: Y/n is kidnapped and forced to reveal secrets of the pack

Pairing: Derek X Reader

Warnings: Blood, torture, swearing

Word count: 2605

Original piece please don’t copy

The school bell rang for the final time that day, a collective sigh of gratitude echoed in the room, the teenagers grateful to be released from the maths teacher’s class. Gathering your books, you stacked them in a neat pile before exiting the room, offering a small smile to your defeated teacher. It wasn’t her fault maths sucked and no one enjoyed it, you did feel bad for her on some level but also who the hell would willingly dedicate their life to teaching numbers?

Entering the hallway, you made your way through the sea of teenagers, everyone desperate to go home for the weekend. Reaching your locker, you grabbed the couple books you needed, shoving them into your backpack, thinking about the homework you had due on Monday you sighed. The door to your locker slammed shut before you could close it.

“Hey, you ready?” Stiles smiled.

“I told you I can walk home.” You rolled your eyes, walking away from the boy. Surprised by your quick movement, Stiles jogged to catch up to you, throwing an arm lazily around your shoulders.

“I know you can walk home but why would you when you have me?”

Exiting the main doors of the high school, you welcomed the fresh warm air, the smell of angsty teens left behind you. Reaching the end of the pavement, you saw the jeep parked a few cars away.

“Stiles I want to walk.” You turned to face the boy.

“Y/n, you heard what Derek said okay? All these recent attacks? The break ins and thefts? He doesn’t want you alone.” Stiles tried to reason with you. Knowing the recent spike in criminal activity was less than likely to involve the supernatural, you felt safe walking the 20-minute trip home. In fact, you enjoyed the peace it brought you. Half of the walk was through the woods, a quiet haven from the busy high school, and being autumn, you relished in the yellow and orange leaves that swept through the small woodlands.

“Stiles. It’s 20 minutes. I’ll text you when I get home okay?” Stiles sighed.

“You know Derek is going to kill me if I let you, you know, that right? You like the idea of alive Stiles because I do! And I am not letting you be the reason I don’t make it to my 20’s okay?”

“Derek doesn’t have the balls to kill you.” You turned on the heel of your foot, headed towards the woods, leaving a defeated Stiles in your wake.

“I’m telling Derek you said he has no balls!” He called after you. You let out a small laugh, grabbing your headphones from your backpack, and your phone from your pocket, you scrolled through your playlist, deciding today was the perfect day for (Your current favourite song).

Entering the woods, you felt a rush of calm wash over you, the stressful week was pushed to the back of your mind, your thoughts centred on the surrounding woods. You stepped over exposed roots and around large bushes, glancing up at the sky you watched as the wind swept through the foliage, the ageing leaves dancing in the light breeze. The sun peaked through the cracks, determined to reach the forest floor, providing the perfect amount of light for your stroll. The floor of the woods had been coated in fallen leaves, leaving a blanket of red and orange below your feet. Taking a moment to stop and appreciate the tranquillity the forest provided you, you felt your phone buzz in you pocket.

Home yet? I’m this close to sending out a search party!

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head you began typing a response.

You need to…

Before you could finish you felt a knock to your head, your vision distorted, the soft sound of music playing through your headphones which were now next to you on the forest floor, was the only thing you could hear before everything went black.

***

Another blow straight to your stomach knocked the wind out of you. Coughing and spluttering you attempted to regain your breath, each inspiration hurting more than the last.

“Oh, you are so going to regret that.” You mumbled.

Leaning to the side of the chair you spat a mixture of saliva and blood to the ground, you couldn’t tell where the source of the blood was coming from, maybe your lip, or maybe the inside of your mouth. Too many lacerations to your face meant it all blended into one.

You raised your eyes to meet your rival, struggling to see through the blood you saw one man wiping his fists on an old rag, your blood coating his knuckles. He faced a woman to your left, who sat with one bent knee up on a bench. Her back leaning against the wall adjacent to you, a smug grin on her face.

You rotated your wrists which were bound behind you, the thick rope digging into your skin. Your ankles were bound too, tied to the legs of the wooden chair you sat on.

“You’re going to tell us what we want sweetie, its just a matter of how beat up that pretty face is going to be before you tell us.” The woman commented, as she played with her fingernails, pushing the cuticles back. If she was trying to look disinterested, she was doing a great job. But you were ready for this. You trained for this. You knew what was coming, and if it meant keeping your friends, the pack, safe, then you would gladly take whatever they threw at you.

The mans fist connected with your jaw once more, snapping you out of your daze. The room began to spin around you, and your vision blurred. Trying to recenter yourself you pulled at your wrists, the pain of the rope grinding into your skin giving you something to focus on.

“Alright careful there, big guy, we need her conscious if we’re going to get that information.” The woman stood from her seat, striding slowly over to you, before bending at the waist in front of you. She reached out to grab your face, but as soon as her fingers made contact with your skin you pulled away. A stern look, on your face made the woman let out a small laugh.

“You’re a tough one aren’t you.” She turned her head, almost admiring your battered body before her. “Too bad that doesn’t mean shit around here.” Grabbing your hair, she yanked your head back, exposing your neck to the room. Moving to stand behind you she held out her other hand, gesturing towards the man in front of you. Without a word exchanged, the man grabbed a knife from a nearby table, its blade glinting in the moonlight the small window above you allowed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea who you are dealing with do you?” The woman whispered in your ear, her grip on your hair only tightening as she neared the knife to your throat. You felt the cold edge, lightly cross your neck, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough for you to avoid swallowing.

Taking a deep breath in you closed your eyes. Grounding yourself was apart of your training, something that was drilled into you from the beginning. Breathing in again, you picked up on the different smells the room produced, sweat from the man in front of you, poorly masked by his cheap cologne. The sweet smell of the woman’s hair from behind, her locks dangling beside your face. The overwhelming metallic smell of blood being the most potent. You changed your focus to your heartbeat. Feeling it pounding against your chest begging to be released you pictured your heart slowing, its contractions reducing with every breath you took. Steadying your breathing was next. Cautious of the blade still connected to your neck you breathed in through your nose, holding in for a few seconds before releasing softly through your mouth. Repeating those steps, you were able to regain some stability. You were still in the same crappy scenario but at least now you were calmer. A panicking person is an interrogators wet dream. A calm person, their nightmare.

Sensing your self-control increase, the woman let go of your hair, moving the knife from your neck to the table beside the man. Standing before you once more, she knelt in front of you, keeping one knee up for balance, she waited for your eyes to open once more. Regaining the control, you almost lost, you felt strong enough to open your eyes once more. Staring at you the woman barely moved, she was searching your eyes for something, her expression a mixture of shock and impressed.

“You’re not afraid.” Her words barely above a whisper. Your only response was a return glare. A small smile creeping on to the face of your kidnapper. “They trained you well.”

Standing, she turned to the man behind her, whispering something in his ear before turning back to face you, her arms crossed against her chest. The man dropped the rag he was still holding and left the room, the sound of the door locking behind him.

“Let’s cut the bullshit honey. You have information I need. And I know I’m not going to break you, not by torturing you anyways. So, let’s try something else, shall we?” The woman began to pace back and forth in front of you, the small room only allowing her a few steps before being forced to turn around again. Your eyes followed her, left and right, before she stopped in front of you once more, still facing forward.

Taking in a sharp breath, she spoke. “How’s your sister doing?” She turned to face you. Refusing to let her know she was finally making some progress with you, you remained staring at her. Resuming her pacing she continued speaking.

“She’s what 5 now? Gosh so young. But you know what they say right? They grow up so fast.” Your eyes tracked the woman, more intently than before. This woman knew your family. Something that was always off limits when the pack was involved. Your attempts at shielding them from the supernatural had been successful, keeping that part of your life private even from Derek. And here this woman stood, threatening them. Threating to take away your motivation to make the world safer. Unfazed by your lack of reaction the woman carried on.

“Soon enough she’ll be going to high school, making friends, maybe even realising who her sister really is.” She stopped before you once more, bending at the waist she placed her hands on the arms of the chair you were bound to. “You didn’t think you could protect them, forever did you?” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. No amount of calm breathing could ground you now. “Aw babe.” Her hand raised to your cheek, ready to wipe away the falling tear. You only pulled away from her once more, hating the way her skin on yours felt. “Don’t tell me I hit a nerve, did I? Sucks doesn’t it. Well, there is one way of ensuring your little family stay naïve to the world around them.” She stood tall once more, her voice now deeper, more sinister than before. “Tell me what I want to know.”

You had no choice, right? She threatened your family, your sister. You protected them from so long, only for you to be the reason they are in danger. Looking down at your lap, tears hit your thighs unable to control them you simply let them fall. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at the woman before you, a smirk present on her face which made it so much harder to say what you were about to. But the images of your sister raced through your mind. The way her hair shone in the autumn sun, the way her smile reached her eyes when she was really, truly happy, the way she greeted you after school every day by running down the front path directly into your arms. That was the highlight of your day, finishing school and-

Wait

You never responded to Stiles.

You never texted him back, and the kidnappers were kind enough to bring your phone into the room with you – hoping to get some information.

Your eyes moved to the door behind the woman, a loud crash followed by a heavy grunt sounded from behind the entranceway. The woman whipped her head around, only to be met by silence. She slowly approached the doorway.

“Adrian…?”

Silence

The woman turned back to you, unsure of herself. You only had a small smirk as a response. Before she could question you, the door busted open, barely remaining on its hinges, a rush of dust filled the room. Watching ahead as the dust clouds engulfed the woman, you heard a deafening roar followed by a petrified scream. Small thuds followed, as the dust reached your eyes you began coughing, the sudden pain in your ribs swiftly returning.

Two hands were placed on your shoulders, looking up you were met by two green eyes.

“Hey, you okay?” A worried Derek scanned your face, concern riddled him as he saw the multiple cuts and bruising before him. You could only nod, the dust denying you the ability to speak.

Moving behind you, he effortlessly cut the ties that bound your hands, then your legs. Using the arms of the chair to stable yourself, you attempted to stand, wincing when the pain became too much. Derek moved to your side, wrapping your arm over his shoulder. Carefully placing his arm around you, resting his hand on your hip he accepted most of your weight, attempting to make standing and walking easier. As you took a few steps forward, the dust cleared from your eyes and you were able to regain focus. Looking forward you saw the woman who threatened you, her back against the same wall the door was, her skin now covered in blood, her chest still rising and falling rapidly. Scott stood before her, looking down at the defeated woman, his eyes still red and his claws still present.

Clearing your throat, you stopped walking, causing Derek to pause and look over to you. You peered down at the woman, no longer in a position of power, she looked smaller, more gaunt than before. Her eyes showed she was petrified, providing some comfort to you after what she did.

“Sucks doesn’t it?” a whisper of a smirk present on your lips.

Proceeding to step forward through the doorway you were met by a panting Stiles, his arms stretched out in front of him, you couldn’t tell him to stop before his body connected with yours. You inhaled sharply, grimacing as pain rang throughout your body.

Derek used his free hand to grab Stiles by the shoulder, pulling him away from you, a small growl forming in his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry of course you’re hurt shit sorry.” The boy stumbled over his words, his eyes finally taking in the battered sight before him. He moved to the side of you not occupied by Derek, his help was welcomed by you, suddenly feeling lightheaded from standing.

The three of you began walking forward towards the exit of the building.

“Is now a good time to tell Derek, you think he has no balls?” Stiles piped up earning a death glare from Derek. “No? Okay we can come back to that.” You used whatever energy you had left to shake your head.

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oitommothetease · 3 years

Text

Invisible String (11/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2.3k words

Warning : fluff, angst, shitty Steve, Don’t ask me why I make Steve so unlikable in every thing I write( PS I’m still mad at endgame Steve), mention of sex

If someone had told you that you would wake up snuggled to your boss — naked — you would have told them to fuck off and leave you alone. Not that the idea of James in your bed was repulsive, no, it was actually quite the opposite. You wanted him so much that it scared you because he — well, he was so gorgeous, and you were you. And he even looked better lying in your bed while the sunlight peaked onto his face from the window, making his stubble and hair appear golden-ish. Even as hard his exterior was, everything about him, mostly sleeping in your bed, appeared soft.

“You know, watching people while they sleep is kinda creepy,” James said, his voice gruff from sleep and you felt heat rushing through your body. God, his morning voice was so hot. It took a second for your brain to register his words and when it did, you moved your gaze away from him.

“You’re beautiful,” you blurted out. You could feel him rumbling as he rubbed his still sleep-dazed eyes.

He gently lifted his hand to place it on your face, caressing your cheek softly with his knuckles as he said, “You are beautiful."

You jokingly rolled your eyes and shifted your face slightly to plant a kiss on the inside of his palm. “Don’t you have a club to run?”

“The club can wait,” Bucky’s hand trailed off from your face to your waist and he flipped you, situating you on his lap and kissed you lazily while his hands roamed around your body.

***

Bucky felt like he was dreaming, he felt as if any moment you’ll slip out of his grasp and he would have to wake up. This was too good to be true, you were too good to be true. After an incredible morning, which included him pounding into you in your bed and then on the kitchen worktop and then in the shower. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, he needed to touch you — feel you — make sure you were here with him safe.

It wasn’t just sex, it was so intimate that it felt so much more. The time when he wasn’t buried inside you, you’d talk about everything. He told you that when he was a kid, he loved baking. His mom worked, so he spent most of his time helping his sister with her new hobby. Rebecca soon grew out of it, but Bucky didn’t. He told you he’d love to open a bakery in a foreign country.

“You know, we can go to Europe,” you suggested. “You can open a bakery and maybe some chocolate whiff is all I need to break out from my writing slump.”

Bucky’s heart ached at your confession, he was delighted to know that he wasn’t the only one that was fantasizing about a future with you. He had never told his ambitions to anyone, mainly because when he did tell someone, they laughed at him. His career and exterior did not match his dreams, and soon those dreams died. But you made him desire that peaceful life. He wanted peace and tranquility in his life with you. Maybe tomorrow he would wake up and realize that this was some dream, and he was alone in his apartment and not in your bed.

“Have you thought of a name yet?” you asked, “For the bakery.”

“Did you recall that song you were humming?”

“No,” you said, “But I’m sure it will make a great bakery name.”

You curled up into his chest, you were almost asleep. He kissed the top of your head, refusing to succumb to sleep, holding you tightly so that even if this was an elaborate fantasy that his mind had conjured, he was adamant to still make the most of it.

***

After leaving your house to get ready for work, that's when he finally realized that this was real. You were his, and he was yours in a sense that no amount of words could comprehend. You hadn’t put any official labels on your relationship, but the way you moaned his name and breathlessly whispered, “I’m yours. All yours.” multiple times in his ears was enough.

Bucky hated when people called him James, it reminded him of his father, but the way you said his name with adoration filled in your eyes and tone made him content. You made him feel content and happy with everything you did without even realizing it. Bucky hoped he could do the same for you — make you feel at peace.

“I’ve been calling you since morning,” Steve commented the moment Bucky entered his office. He eyed the group of people — Steve, Sam, Clint, Pietro, Wanda, and Peter in his office before exhaling. Although Bucky was their boss, that didn't deter them from treating him like the friend he was. He didn’t mind that either, these people gave him a sense of belonging — a family, and he would give his life for them just like they would for him.

“I was asleep,” Bucky lied. And of course, his friends didn’t buy it.

“I came by your place this morning. You weren't there sleeping,” Steve retorted. He didn’t like how his best friend who he saw as a brother was hiding things from him.

Fuck, Bucky thought. Admittedly, he wasn't at his place, he was at yours. He didn’t know what to say when six sets of eyes were looking at him expectantly. He couldn’t tell the truth, he wasn't a kiss-and-tell kind of guy. He wanted to avoid telling because you met these people every day, and it would become awkward for you; but mostly he didn’t want anyone to find out because it was so new for him that he was scared to even mention your relationship, terrified of jinxing it.

Just when he was about to muster up an excuse, a soft knock on his office door snapped everyone’s attention towards the entrance. Bucky’s relief was short-lived the moment he realized it couldn’t be anyone except you. Now everyone was looking at Bucky impatiently, waiting for him to respond.

If it were anyone else Bucky would have asked them to go away, but it was you. You were knocking at his door. He wanted to see you, see the marks hidden behind the concealer or collar when he sucked your neck a little too hard the previous night and this morning. Mainly, he wanted to see you.

“Come in,” He said, ignoring the stares his friends were giving him. His breath hitched at your sight, you were really breathtaking. You weren't looking at him or anyone in the room. No, you were holding two coffees and a bag of donuts in your hand. Your eyes were focused and you were looking inside the bag, searching for a dish to put his donut in, when you said, “I knew you'd skip breakfast after you left this morning. I brought you -”

“Y/N,” Wanda cut you off.

Bucky internally thanked Wanda because he didn’t have it in him to stop you from speaking. And that’s when you finally looked up and were met with seven people staring at you. Sam, Wanda, and Pietro were looking at you with a smirk on their face. Peter looked down at his feet. Clint was clueless and confused. Steve wasn’t looking at you, he was staring at his best pal who lied to him about his whereabouts. And Bucky’s eyes were fixed on you and when yours landed on his, he smiled at you and shook his head, telling you that he got you.

“What are you doing here, Y/N? Your shift doesn’t start till night,” Pietro informed, he was clearly teasing you. And soon a sense of understanding came to Clint’s senses when he joined the dots and his eyes widened before a smirk formed on his lips.

“I… I,” you stuttered. Your brain couldn't come up with an excuse this quickly. Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but you raised your hands and the packet of donuts with it and excitedly said, “I brought doughnuts!”

“Thank you!” Bucky exclaimed, swiftly walking towards you, taking the donuts from your hand, and placing it on the table. He draped his arm around your waist before leading you outside his office. His friends knew now, he wasn’t going to tone down the PDA in front of them. He just didn't want you to feel awkward or under anyone's subjection.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” you started once you were away from everyone. “I wouldn’t have if I knew -”

Bucky’s lips landed on yours, stopping your rambling. His arms snaked around your waist, pushing you flush against his chest, and you wrapped your hands around his neck. “It wasn’t your fault,” he mumbled adjacent to your lips and you sighed in relief.

“I just wanted to bring you breakfast since we couldn’t have it,” you pouted, flusteredly thinking about the morning activities that stopped you from having breakfast.

Bucky beamed down at you and planted another soft kiss on your lips. “How about I make it up to you at lunch,” he suggested, “I'll bake something for you too.”

You nodded excitedly and were about to leave when Bucky gently took your wrist in his hand. “Doll, text me when you reach home, yeah?”

***

Bucky dreaded going back into his office, he knew he would be bombarded with questions and knowing smirks. He decided to rip off the band and entered the office. “Okay, go for it, ask away.”

“How long has this been going on?” Steve was the first one to question.

“I mean, officially since last night.”

Sam was about to drop a snarky comment when Pietro chimed in. “Who asked who out?”

“I asked her out,” Bucky answered, and was bewildered. “Why is that important?”

“I knew it!” Wanda cheered and raised her hand, palms up, towards the blond. “Pay up,” Pietro grumbled before handling her sister 20 dollars.

“You guys bet on us?” Bucky asked and was met with amused snickers from everyone except Steve. Peter stepped forwards before saying, “I had no part in this, Mr. Barnes.”

The twins rolled their eyes before Steve interjected another one of Sam’s almost snippy comments. “She is the reason you attacked Rumlow, isn't she?”

Sam raised his hands in frustration and turned towards his husband. “Come on, babe. You just had to ruin the fun.”

Bucky exhaled and answered honestly, “Yes, but I can’t tell you why. You just have to take my word for it and trust me that he deserved it.”

“Buck, I’m not saying I don’t trust you, but you have to understand where my fear is coming from,” Steve said, “I know Rumlow and I know he's planning something big. We have to be careful. You can't be distracted by this girl, pal.”

Bucky was furious. He did not expect his best bud to say that. Steve knew how much Bucky pinned for you, he knew how much Bucky wanted you. How could he just say that about you after knowing all of this? “That’s rich coming from you after you told me to be happy.”

Bucky huffed in disbelief, his voice filled with venom. “Well, guess what, pal? She makes me happy.”

Nobody dared to intervene between the childhood friends. Everyone knew that Steve was saying stupid shit out of concern, but Bucky couldn’t see it. Bucky would fight anyone for you, even his best pal.

“You attacked our enemy because of this girl that you’ve been with since what — a day?” Steve scoffed sarcastically, and Bucky’s breath was drawn and his fists balled.

“I attacked him because he-” Bucky cursed himself and inhaled sharply. He couldn’t do this to you, it wasn't his decision to tell. You had decided that nobody would find out about what Rumlow did to you, not even cops, and Bucky respected your decision. He wouldn’t do this to you, especially not out of anger and in front of multiple people you didn't even know.

Before Steve could say something, Bucky’s phone vibrated on the table. A text, Bucky assumed it was you, informing him that you had reached home. You — thinking about you made him take a breath and calmed him a bit. He decided he would text you in the privacy of his office, after his friends would leave. He would text you back or better call you when he wasn’t fuming with rage at his best friend, then he would take you out on a lunch date.

Bucky was about to reach for his phone when Clint finally spoke up, “Steve, we will be careful, okay? We will contact our sources and find out about Rumlow’s plan.”

All the heads present in the office accepted this decision. Sam scolded Steve and Bucky and made them hug out their issues like kindergarteners. Peter offered to make a drink and everyone made their way downstairs towards the bar, leaving the office and Bucky’s phone unattended.

What Bucky didn’t know was that Rumlow’s plan was already in action, in reality, he had even succeeded in his plan.

If Bucky had checked his phone, then he would have realized it wasn't a text from you, instead, it was a text from an unknown number with an attached photo. The picture was of you tied to a chair, your eyes half-lidded with drugs and tears, and a bruise forming on your left cheek.

TAGS : @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21 @emmabarnes @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407 @mybuck @priii @coffeebooksandfandom @ladydmalfoy @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic

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userholland · 3 years

Text

all for her [4]

pairing: bartender!dad!tom x female!reader

summary: a single-dad bartender, a supportive best friend and their continuous, unrequited love noticed by his optimistic daughter. is it possible to break a heart they never knew they had?

word count: 10.2k!

a/n: it’s been more than a month... again... but i really hope you guys enjoy the bow to tie this series together. i do apologize this was more dad!tom than it was bartender!tom... i wish i got to spend so much more time on it with school going on, but i’m really proud of it!!! and i’m so grateful and happy for all the feedback i’ve gotten on it. thank y’all so much and your support means so much for my love for writing! if you want a epilogue, please let me know!

— masterlist ☆彡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

There was something about the morning that was so peaceful. The warm light of the sun peered through the curtains and trailed onto the duvet and part of your arm, moving across your body until it beamed in your tired eyes. Your hair had a musty smell from the rain last night, not having the energy to shower after what happened. You ran your hand over Tom’s side of the bed, the cotton sheets soft against your palm until you pressed your weight onto it to lift yourself up.

The cracks in your back echoed the room, running your fingers through your hair to push it out of your face before putting it up to not be overwhelmed by the smell. As you stretched the rest of your body, you slid over the sheets until your toes hit the cold wooden floor. You got a jolt up your spine before grabbing Tom’s grey sweatshirt on the back of his desk chair, quickly slipping it over your body to warm up from the chilliness of the fall. You could tell winter was upon you, excited to get a light blanket of snow soon.

When you walked over to the dresser, your hands held on each of the drawer handles about to pull until you took a second look at the picture set on the top. A small smile painted on your lips, reminiscing the fond memory like the picture was moving in real life. It was Summer’s first snowfall and despite her name, she loved the winter.

You bought her a big, pink coat with gloves dangled by end of the sleeves that paired with a knitted hat that covered her ears. The three of you were stood outside of the apartment and propped the camera on a window seal as the big flurries fell. With Summer on Tom’s shoulders, you stood close to him and wore his denim jacket and black beanie. Tom liked to keep it, remembering it was one of the first times his life felt whole again since he was gifted with Summer.

After brisking through Tom’s top drawer, not believing how he didn’t organize his socks, you found white, crew socks and slipped them on before walking to the door and carefully turned the doorknob. The sounds of chirping birds could be heard from behind the windows in the living room and no honking cars to wake up the neighborhood, as if everything had fallen back into it’s perfect place.

Summer’s door was cracked open, enough that when you peaked in, you could see her and Tom snuggled on her twin bed. It made Tom look bigger than he was, seeing the pink duvet covering them and his arms were wrapped around her. You were happy to see them together, better than having to walk past an empty room again and Tom asleep on the couch.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

She sobbed when she got home, relieved to be home and she missed Tom so much. Her arms were tight around his neck and her legs were squeezing around his waist, so it was almost impossible for him to put her down. With her head tucked in his shoulder, the somber cries she whimpered broke his heart as they walked into the apartment. At first they sat on the couch and he ran his hand over her damp hair till it air-dried, forgetting that it was in the middle of the night and all of you needed to go to bed.

“Daddy, can you sleep with me? Please.” Summer asked, her voice so innocent and tired.

“Of course. Of course…” Tom trailed, kissing her temple and rubbing her back. His tears wouldn’t stop either, trailing down his cheeks as he continued to embrace her while they sat together.

They were parted for a month, but it felt like years to them.

“I’m gonna warm up some clothes for her and give her bath, okay?” You put your hand on Tom’s shoulder, rubbing it as he nodded in response.

Summer instantly attached to you when you pulled her away from Tom, uncoiling her arms from his touch and she held you like she was hanging in mid-air. You carried her to the bathroom, closing the door behind the two of you. After wrapping her casted arm in saran wrap and a plastic bag, you helped her get in the bath then shampooed her hair gently and gave her rag to wash up.

She was getting older now, wanting to already be more independent, but you wanted to make sure she didn’t drown if she fell asleep or hit her head on the side of the tub. With her small eyes heavy and body like jello, you were careful with her as she yawned every two minutes. Her sniffling made your heart tremble, but you’re relieved that she just had your number and was able to call. You admired how smart she was and couldn’t believe she was growing up so fast.

After warming her favorite pajamas in the dryer, you helped her change in her bedroom and combed through her wet hair with a comb. She was sat on the bed, but her eyes kept fluttering at the relaxing feeling of the brush massaging against her scalp. Putting some fuzzy socks on her feet, you tucked her into bed. The whole time, Tom had to stay in the living room trying to compose himself, his hands pressed against his temples and his head down.

You carefully closed Summer’s door, but not all the way, just so the hall light didn’t peak in. When you walked over and saw Tom, you slowly approached him and squated down to be face to face with him. Tom had his hands on his face, still unable to process everything that happened. His clothes were soaked and his hair was wet, but you still ran your hands through it to comfort him.

“Hey… she’s okay. She’s already asleep.” You reassured him, placing your hand on his knee.

Tom lifted his head, his eyes were red around the waterline and the whites of them were bloodshot. Your thumb gently ran on his tinted cheek, sealing your lips as you waited for him to say anything.

“I don’t know what to do.” He sniffed, running his hand over his wet curls, slicking them back.

Your eyes glossed, “What do you mean? Tom, she’s back home.”

Tom sniffled, his wrist against his nose to rub off his tears and his hand trembling, “Yeah, but, w-what if this isn’t enough? What if she… is taken again? What happens then?” His breath shaky, already overwhelmed.

Your heart kept breaking, seeing him fall even more apart. “You got her, she’s here now. There’s nothing else you need to do other than go in there because all she wants right now is her dad. Okay?” You softly told him, running your hand along his knee.

“I just can’t lose her again.”

You shook your head, “No, no, You won’t. You won’t and I’ll tell you that a thousand times more. You love her and no matter what happens, you’re gonna find a way. We’re gonna find a way.”

Tom nodded, your foreheads gently pressed together before you cupped his cheek, your lips trembling as they planted a light kiss on his nose and trailed to his lips. You felt Tom’s hand place on the back of your hair, raking his fingers through it as you nuzzled your face into his neck with your arms wrapped around him. Both of you sniffled, complete messes, but you had to pull yourselves together for Summer and be there for her now that she was home.

“Get changed then get some sleep, okay?” You told him, getting back on your feet and reaching a hand out to him. After he lifted up on his feet, you playfully pushed his back as he started walking away. A sigh of relief left your lips as you plopped on the couch, taking some time to come down from the adrenaline as well. It could be compared to the end of a classic symphony, when the cymbals rhythmic banging and high notes of the violins all come to a halt followed by the final boom of the drums. It was all over.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The warm sunshine beamed against the pale yellow walls of Summer’s room when you peaked in. You glared at the two of them in their still slumber, not wanting to disturb them this early so you carefully closed the door. You held the doorknob to the left, slowly letting it go until you heard the click of the the bolt.

Tom wasn’t able to tell you the conversation last night between him and Maggie, but it didn’t feel important since he was able to have Summer back. While you spited her and wanted to hate her, you didn’t want to butt your life into his past. You knew that if it really bothered Tom, he would tell you, but all that mattered was that your girl was home and you both couldn’t have been happier about it.

An hour later, Tom appeared from the bedroom with Summer on his hip. With her head rested on his shoulder and a pout on her lips, you chuckled as you admired their mirrored, tired expressions.

“The resemblance is uncanny.” You jeered, leaning with your back toward the counter with a cup of tea in your hands.

Tom’s lazy smile was angelic, a half-grin on his lips before he pressed a soft kiss against your temple.

“Good morning, babe.” He said in a groggy tone.

“Morning.” You grinned, smiling and running your hand gently over the top of Summer’s hair, “She must be exhausted. We’re you both able to sleep at all last night?”

“Yeah, but I think she can skip school today. I’ll call in a few minutes... I wanna stay here for the rest of the day with her or at least, until I have work.” Tom said at a whisper, setting Summer on the couch and she stirred in her light sleep. He placed the blanket on the arm of the sofa over her body, tucking it between her and the couch to keep her warm.

“I think that’s great. It was a long night for her.” You sighed as Tom walked back over to you, “God, I can’t get her voice out of my head when I heard her on the phone... When she asked for us to come pick her up, I panicked and I just-”

“You did the right thing, babe. I got it all taken care of… well, at least a bit right now… Crap, I almost forget, I have to make sure her follow up appointment for her arm is next Wednesday.” Tom comforted you, rubbing your shoulders before his hands cupped your face. He left another kiss on the center of your forehead before he sat at the kitchen table. You set a cup of tea infront of him and he wrapped his hand around the mug handle, bringing it to his lips and the strong scent of lemon waking him up.

You placed your cup on the counter, wrapping your arms around Tom’s neck from behind, still stood while he relaxed his back against the chair.

“Is your dad gonna call later?” You asked him, kissing the top of his head and laying your cheek against his hair.

He nodded as he took another sip, “Yeah, we’re gonna talk about the lawyer stuff. Maybe I can ask him what I can do about… Summer and dealing with custody.” Tom said, a bit unsure with a furrowed brow.

His hand gently came up, rubbing your forearm as you still had your arms around him. His thumb smoothly ran over your soft skin as you leaned your head down, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

“We’ll figure it all out.” You whispered against his ear, “And if all else fails, we’ll move to Europe and change our identities.”

Tom’s chuckle erupted, his smile gleaming as he bought the palm of your hand up to kiss.

“You know, I need your jokes sometimes. Just to realize how much you hold me down.” Tom jeered, but meant what he said.

As you unwound your arms from him, your hand ran across his shoulders before you looked down at him and tilted his chin up. Everything about him was taken with time, his eyes were a beautiful shade of brown and the features in his face were carved in perfectly. You loved the crinkles by his eyes when he smiled wide or laughed hard, remembering it was one of the reasons you loved to make him laugh.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower. Ready to be back in dad mode?” You grinned, rubbing his back.

“As much as I can be.”

With that, you turned around and his eyes followed you down the hall. From the way you stood on your tippy toes to reach the top shelf for linens and how you put your tongue between your lips, he could list a million different reasons to be in love with you. He couldn’t have found a fatal flaw other than being too nice when it wasn’t necessary. You had so much love to give and Tom had known that since you were kids, thinking about the times you left animal crackers by the weeping willow by the playground at school. You’d hope the fun-shaped crackers would give it some nutrients, making it not be sad anymore and Tom, only nine years old, didn’t have the heart to tell you that squirrels would steal them.

That attitude hadn’t changed as you got older, always seeing you pull through your worst and most stressful times. Especially throughout college, Tom had tried to be as much as he could to be your best friend without letting his feelings shift platonic affection. He didn’t expect you to stay around much when Summer appeared on his doorstep, wondering if you would push away from the sudden commitment he took on. But, he laid down one day and realized it wasn’t like you to keep your distance when something this drastic happened. What he didn’t know is that you were all in from the start. Since the day you met until right here and right now, you weren’t leaving each other no matter what or who tried to come between you.

As Tom finished his tea and you were in the shower, Summer slowly stirred out of her sleep and got up from the couch. In her matching, lavender pajamas, she pushed her hair out of her face before walking up to Tom. He chuckled at her lazy daze, but he opened his arms and she crawled into them to sit on his lap.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” He chuckled, kissing her temple repeatedly.

“Good morning, daddy.” She mumbled and wiped her eyes with the back of her non-casted hand.

“What are we feeling this morning? Cereal? Pancakes? Maybe that oatmeal you like, the cinnamon and apples flavor?” Tom asked her, wanting to spoil her with anything he could.

“Can I have pears with cinnamon, please?” Summer asked, looking into her father’s eyes.

Tom lifted her as he stood up, “Of course, you can. Whatever your little heart desires.” He smiled, placing her in the chair and kissing the top of her messy hair.

When he walked over to the fruit bowl by the corner of the kitchen counter, Summer shifted to sitting on her knees with her elbows against the table so she could watch Tom make her breakfast.

“Daddy?” She asked, her voice so benevolent.

“Yes?” Tom replied with his back still toward her.

“Do I have to go back there? To the lady’s house? Because… I don’t wanna go back there. That lady was mean and I didn’t like her.” She summarized, tracing her short and tiny fingers along the wood of the kitchen table.

Tom turned around, pausing his chopping and he didn’t know what to say in the first few seconds.

“You never have to go back there unless you want to, okay? I promise you. We keep our promises, remember?” Tom reminded her with a soft tone.

“You promised I didn’t have to stay there, but you left me there.” She pouted, not making eye contact with him.

A chill ran up his spine, this conversation worrying him since the day he dropped her off and made that unforeseen promise. The first promise he didn’t know he would break. He didn’t want to lie to her, but even with the sake of that being for Maggie’s benefit, he still knew he lied. Tom presumed Summer would forget that he promised not to leave her there, remembering how assured she was it was just a weekend, but it had been a month and Tom wondered what went through her mind now.

“I know, sweetheart… but, I promise. You’re here for good.” Tom walked back over and she finally looked up at him, her eyes glassy.

“Okay, daddy.” She muttered, but he had to hug her. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to second guess everything and get too comfortable before something worse could happen.

“I love you, kid.” Tom said, kissing the top of her head again.

After Tom gave Summer her breakfast, she could barely keep her head up to bring the fork to her mouth. He knew she was overtired from the night before, so he brought her back to the couch to rest and leave on some cartoons at a low volume. He laid down too, of course, her on top of him and her head was against his chest. Oddly, she laid flat against him and she was stiff as a board, her hair in her face and her mouth slightly gapped. A few times she’d twitch in her sleep and it made Tom nervous, thinking something was wrong, but it was his heightened protectiveness and he knew he couldn’t keep remaining on edge about her being taken away again. It was hard to not think that now, but Tom knew once she got used to the feeling of home again, everything will go back to normal. Blood or not, she was his daughter and he was her father and no one could take that away from them.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

A few hours pass and Tom expected a call from his dad any second so, he suggested that you and Summer go out for a bit to avoid the conversation. After she got dressed and you put on her jacket, the two of you got your shoes on by the door. Summer sat on the ground, grabbing the black and white converses off the shoe rack and carefully used the bunny ears technique on her laces.

“Loop… loop and pull.” She mumbled, pulling at the thread coils.

As you slipped on your sneakers, Tom walked out from the bathroom and smiled at Summer sat, her face contorting as she concentrated on the knot.

“Daddy, look, I did it!”

“Good job, kid!” He chuckled, helping her on her feet, “So, did you and Y/N find out what you’re gonna do?”

“We’re gonna see the duckies!” She giggled and you nodded to her statement.

“Ah, sounds like fun. I wish I could come, but maybe this weekend. We can go after your doctor’s appointment.” Tom proposed and Summer nodded frantically, her hair bouncing and moving around.

You grinned, “Alright, we’re gonna go. You need anything while we’re out?”

Tom’s eyes gleamed at the sight of your smile, “No, I’m good.”

“Okay, We’ll see you soon.” You grin, giving him a light kiss.

Summer giggled to herself before she grabbed your hand, leading the way out the door. Tom chuckled before he shut the door behind you and he sighed, starting to feel the pieces fall back together. Throughout the time Summer was away, he didn’t realize in the moment how you stayed. It was just that simple and even imagining the future, he saw your face. Everything between you two had lead up to this moment and he knew it in his heart that there was a reason for something bringing the both of you together. He wasn’t sure if the feeling was mutual or he’d let too many movies get to his head, but somehow fate seemed in his favor. He wished he could have changed some things to please others with the bridges he’s burnt through his life and with his family, but he wouldn’t change his entire life if it didn’t have you or Summer in it.

As you strolled to the park, you couldn’t stop smiling as you talked to Summer. She went on about how she wanted to make Christmas cookies already and how many people had signed her cast, almost no room to even squeeze in another. She was an extrovert by heart, just like her dad and how charismatic he could be once he opens up. You held her hand when you crossed streets and you followed her close when you wondered around the market to get the bread to feed the ducks. After checking out, you two walked to your favorite park, the one she missed so much, to the bench you always sat at that was a few feet away from the pond.

“That one’s name is… Marty.” She said, squatting by the edge of the grass.

You were sat in the grass with your legs crossed, “And that one’s name?” You pointed to the duck with a white tail.

“...Allen.” She giggled, tossing another piece of bread in the water.

You chuckled, “And which one is your favorite?”

“I like Dorothy and Duke because they’re a couple.” She said as she ripped up another piece of bread.

“How do you know they’re together?”

“Because they kiss sometimes. They love each other, just like you and daddy.” Summer replied, looking at the bread as she bunched it up and threw it in the water.

A heat rose to your cheeks, “I guess you’re right.” You chuckled a bit as you watched her keep throwing the bread, watching the ducks swoop it up with their beaks as they passed by.

She turned to you, “Y/N.”

“Summer.” You smiled.

“Are you and my daddy gonna get married? You guys kiss now and people who get married kiss too.” She said in her explanation of what love was to her.

“Well… We’re together now, but we’re not getting married.” You tried to explain in a soft tone, wanting her to understand.

“But, I want you to be my mommy.” She squinted her eyes looking toward you because the sun was in her eyes, her nose scrunched as well.

You sighed, “I’m your best friend and I’m always gonna be here for you.” You could promise her that much, but you didn’t want to say what you really thought, not wanting her to get an permanent image in her head.

She pouted, but didn’t respond at first. It’s like she was gathering her thoughts together before saying what was on her mind.

“I hate that lady I stayed with. She was mean and didn’t tell me bedtime stories.” She mumbled as she sat with you, gently pulling at the grass.

You nodded, “You don’t hate her.”

“I did! She was mean. She’s not my mommy. She’s like the evil queen in Snow White.” She protested, her eyes widening as her voice emphasized.

“Summer, she’s your mom.” You sighed.

“Cinderella’s mommy was mean.” She pointed out.

It almost made you chuckle at how persistent she was, but nevertheless, you told her, “Well, you don’t have to see her until you want to, okay? Your dad isn’t gonna let that happen again, neither will I.”

Summer got up, pushing her hands against the grass before she moved closer to you. She rested her head against your shoulder as she coiled her arm around yours, holding you tight as the two of you watched the ducks float by, some of them swimming alongside their ducklings. The light breeze kept you cool, blowing your hair out of your face, and the kids laughing as they ran around.

Meanwhile, Tom was pacing the kitchen with his phone practically glued to his ear. His dad told him about his options, laying out the routes they could take for this settlement to be as easy as it could be without there being any loopholes. With Tom’s bruises healing, he still had to go to follow up appointments for his concussion and his dad thinks it’s enough to let Tom be heard by the judge.

His court appearance was coming up, but Tom’s dad would come with him to make sure everything went as they were planning. It was nice to feel connected to his dad again, maybe not under these circumstances, but he felt supported again and maybe he was all this time. Tom’s anger had masked that his dad did genuinely care for him, it was his stepmom’s doing that wedged them apart and Tom was still trying to figure out how to deal with her, but he wanted to maintain his relationship with his dad as well as try to mend the shifty one with his mom.

“So, we’ll meet at the courthouse on the 20th, 10a.m.” Tom stated.

His dad nodded, “Sounds good to me.”

Tom chuckled, “Thanks so much… for everything.”

“I’m your dad, you don’t have to thank me. If you did, it would be your first words.” His dad jeered, sitting back in his office chair.

“Yeah…” Tom trailed, “Hey, are you guys doing… anything big for Thanksgiving?”

His dad was surprised, his eyebrows raised as he replied, “Uh, yeah. Have a few friends over, maybe your uncle Ted and Aunt Lorriane. There’s always room for more.” His dad smiled.

“Well, I was thinking that, maybe, me and Y/N came come… and Summer, of course.” Tom gulped, tucking his hand under his other arm as he leaned against the counter.

“Yeah, we’d love to have you. Of course, we’d love to have you.” His dad was surprised by how open-minded Tom was becoming.

“I think it would be great after… all this. You know? And I want you guys to meet Y/N.” Tom shrugged.

“We’d love that too… how are things with her after everything?” Tom’s dad followed up, smiling to himself.

Tom bit his bottom lip, “She’s been so… supportive. It’s crazy how supportive she’s been… I don’t think I could have gotten through all of this without her. She’s always been there for Summer and… I think I want her in my life forever.” He chuckled, finally admitting it out loud and even surprising himself.

Tom’s dad chuckled, “You sound pretty serious.”

“I really am… I’m gushing, but I don’t think I could have gotten through any of this if I didn’t have her.” Tom trailed, tracing his finger along the table.

“Well it’s nice to have someone have your back through something tough like this and she’s a nice girl… and Summer is comfortable with her?”

“Yeah, they’re actually hanging out at the park right now.”

His dad smiled to himself for a few seconds, turning in his chair to face his desk, “I remember when your mom and I met, it was the year before you were born.

Tom arched his eyebrow, “Wow, you guys got married that… fast?”

“Yeah, yeah. I took the morning train to this internship I had in Massachusetts. When I had to get home, she worked at the ticketing booth for a few weeks, but I thought she was cute so… instead of getting one of those reusable cards, I just went to her every night for the train back home. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I kept asking for a ticket that went the opposite way of where I actually lived.”

“Sappy.” Tom chuckled, surprised and not knowing this. He realized he never really asked since his parents had been separated more years than they were together.

“Once I told her, we went on a few dates, I got a card and… we got married six months later, I think. Then, we had you less than a year later.”

“But, didn’t you guys… miss out on just being in your twenties?” Tom replied, biting the inside of his cheek.

His dad shrugged, the memories all surging in at once, “Well, we knew we loved each other… at the time. We would have rather gotten married then and figured out if we were meant to be than to not do it at all, I guess… and we got a great kid out of it.”

A smile curled up on Tom’s lips, surprised by how his dad felt about his mom or at least how they used to feel about one another. He always imagined that they lived an ordinary lives, pretending that they used to be in love when they don’t talk unless it’s through Tom. He knew there was probably more to their story, but from what he just heard now, Tom believed that there’s a reason for you in his life more than co-parenting or being his best friend. There’s a reason why you’re still together throughout all this. Why it took so long to realize that he loved you more than “just platonic”. You had faith in each other.

“I’m sure your mom remembers it more than me, but we had fun.” His dad added, clicking his pen.

“Yeah, I should probably call her soon. I don’t even know where she is.”

“Paris… I talked to her the other day about the whole… well, your situation and I didn’t want to say anything but, she was thinking of surprising you... She wanted to take time off because of what I told her..” Tom’s dad spilled.

Tom felt his face heart up from the sudden announcement, “Well, that’s mom.”

“She’ll be excited to know everything’s going okay, I’m sure.”

Tom smiled, “Yeah… everything’s perfect.”

After the lengthy conversation Tom had with his dad, they eventually hung up and there was a silence that fell in the apartment. Instead of feeling the loneliness he did for those few weeks, he was anticipated for you two to come home and all three of you could have dinner, maybe talk about what your plans were for Thanksgiving and Christmas. There was so much he looked forward to now, even more so now that he was assured that you were the one for him, but he was scared that there was some chance he wasn’t the one for you. It’s not like favors worked for him through life, so it was easy to be skeptical about this, but all that mattered was the risk of taking a shot and trying not to let the universe get to him.

His wandering thoughts paused when the front door unlocked, already seeing Summer slipping through and she practically jumped into Tom’s arms while he was still sat down. She crawled on top of him and she wrapped her arms around his neck, his arms wrapped around her as well.

“How was the park?” He chuckled, glancing at you coming in.

You set your purse and Summer’s backpack on the wall hooks, “Good, saw the duckies and even some turtles… and we named each one of them.” You grinned, walking over and leaning against the counter.

“You should have come, daddy! There were so many!” Summer giggled, her loose tooth crooked on the front, bottom teeth.

“Ah, well, they’ll be there tomorrow and the day after that and even the day after that. We can go next week too, kid.” He grinned and she hugged him tight, leaning on him and their faces pressed together. Tom felt the instant warmth Summer radiated, even if it was cold outside.

“Promise?” She asked.

“Pinky swear.” He said, holding out his hand with his fingers tucked into his hand with just his pinky out.

She held hers out, carefully wrapping it around his and he chuckled, giving her a quick eskimo kiss before Summer crawled off of him.

“Hey, why don’t you wash your hands… make sure you don’t get water in the cast. Then, we can have an early dinner in front of the TV. How does that sound?” Tom suggested and you nodded in agreement.

“Okay, daddy.” Summer nodded back, her eyes sparkling and she took off into the bathroom. You two heard her take the stool out, the wood shifting against the tiled bathroom before the sink turned on.

Tom turned to you as he got up, a warm smile painted on his lips as he stood toe to toe with you.

“Why are you smiling so much? Good news, I assume.” You grinned, crossing your arms and leaning more against the counter.

“I can’t smile at my beautiful and lovely girlfriend?” Tom swooned.

As you wrapped your arms around his neck, he ran his hands down your side before placing them on your hips. You couldn’t hide your smile either, leaning in without thinking twice about it and brushing your nose against his. As your lips pressed together, slowly and tenderly, his hands slid into the back pockets of your jeans to pull you closer. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, nothing too harsh, but you could feel his warmth curling around you, squeezing your body gently and feeling this instant sense of complete comfortable.

You giggled against his lips, pulling away and he slightly tilted his head, moving your stray hair behind your ear to see your face. The two of you didn’t need words when every piece seemed to be falling back into place.

“Okay, my hands are clean!” Summer yelled from the bathroom, making you two break your kiss with more laughter. She ran from the bathroom and into the kitchen, running up to Tom and leaning on his leg.

Tom smiled as he leaned down, wrapping his arm around Summer’s torso and pulled her up as if she weighed like nothing. Her giggles sent him happiness, ever since she was a baby and could only wrap her hand around his finger. She sat on his hip, coiled around her dad like adhesive and you couldn’t help but grin and rub her back.

“Can we have mac and cheese?” She asked Tom.

“You can have whatever your little heart desires, kid.” Tom kissed her temple, setting her back down.

“Really?”

“Really, really.” Tom promised, his hand tickling her stomach and a warm burst of laugh left her mouth.

Her sneakers touched the floor, watching her run to the cabinet with the pots and pans. As you watched them collect what they needed to start dinner, their voices seemed to fade away, like they were in another room and a wall stood tall between. A muffling to their tones as they stood in front of the stove, but you leaned by the kitchen door frame with your arms crossed. You were happy, more than over the moon to see Summer back where she belonged, but how long would it be until another conflict arose? What if Tom couldn’t claim custody… would he crumble again and you would have to help him pick up the pieces all over again? If he wasn’t her biological father, where did that leave you? You wanted what was best for the both of them, but you didn’t want it to lead to arguments and more confusion for her if she couldn’t even stand her own mother.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Tossing and turning, the mattress creaked beneath you while trying to fall asleep. Your brows furrowed, trying to settle your head into the pillow but it was like trying to slumber on a rocky sea. You laid your back flat once you gave up, staring at the ceiling with the strip of light from the streetlight outside. It’s like you could hear anything from a five-mile radius, suddenly you picked up on the tiniest sound and it was like someone poking your neck with a needle. Trying to drown out the noises, you heard the deadbolt unlock from the creak you left in the door. You felt frozen, hearing the keys drop on the table by the door.

Tom sighed, a long breath passing his lips as he run his hands through soft, brown curls. The clock on the wall told 2:45 a.m., not expecting to stay out this late, but he was making such good tips that it would have been silly to leave. As he entered the bedroom, his tired brown eyes laid on you, under the covers. His hand dug into his back pocket, pulling out the wad of dollar bills and placing them on the dresser.

You still closed your eyes, hearing his belt buckle unclip and the dressers open, his hands rummaging through some of his clothes. You wondered if you should say something, anything, knowing your mind was filled to the brim with thoughts, enough that it couldn’t let you go to sleep.

The weight lifted off Tom’s sore feet, his body sinking into the bed as he carefully shifted himself under the covers, trying not to wake you. With your back turned to him, Tom got comfortable and warm with the duvet insulating him, moving his hands under his head. Silence fell in the room, nothing but the crickets chirping in the night.

You slowly turned on your other side, facing Tom with your face snug against your pillow. Seeing him made you forget all of those heavy thoughts, the ones about him and your future, but you couldn’t just make it go away from the sight of his pretty eyes.

“Hey, sorry, did I wake you?” His voice groggy.

“No, I’ve been up for a while..” You trailed, your hands by your chest.

“What’s keeping you up?”

Tom turned on his side, his hand against his head as his elbow pushed into the pillow.

You sighed, “You know I love you, right?” You sealed your lips, trying to keep eye contact with him.

He chuckled, crinkles by the sides of his eyes, “I love you too… What’s going on?”

Tom’s fingers moved your hair from your forehead, his hand planting to your cheek and his thumb brushing against your cheek, “What’s going through your head, babe?” He asked, his voice always comforting.

You placed your hand on top of his, moving your intertwined hands to your chest, “Whatever happens with Summer, I want you to know that… I’m there for you. I know I’ve said it a million times before, but… I’m not her mom. I’m her best-friend… but, I don’t know if I can be a mom.” You trailed, squeezing his hand.

“But, you’re practically-”

“I’m not. At the end of the day, I’ve helped you.. I’ve done everything I can for her. But, you’re her father. Even if the papers don’t say it, deep down and full-heartedly, you’re her father, but… she has a mom.”

Tom gave your hand a squeeze, “You want me to keep Maggie in Summer’s life?... No, no way. She didn’t care for her until now and it was all because she was selfish.”

“Exactly. I know you don’t see it now but, she needs to have some connection to her mom. If it doesn’t work out that way then… that’s fair. I think things just got off the wrong foot the more I think about it. I mean, what if I’m not enough and-”

“Hey, hey… you are enough. You’re more than enough.” Tom said, his tone soft.

You barely grimaced, still holding his hand as if he was slipping through your fingers. Suddenly, everything went quiet and it was just the two of you in your own little world. His hand securely locked yours and was against your chest, feeling your heart pound for the first few seconds until it went back to its steady beat.

“One day at a time. You and me.” Tom promised.

You replied with a nod and Tom kissed the center of your forehead, trailing to your nose before you shifted closer to him and curled up to embrace the warmness between your bodies. His arm moved behind your neck and around your shoulder, like being in a safety net.

For a few minutes, his fingers slowly carded through the back of your hair, a relaxing comfort as you fell into a deep sleep with knowing you were protected in his arms. Tom stayed up longer than he should have, watching the red-lit minutes change on the clock by his bedside, but he wanted to make sure you were asleep because you needed the rest. A few times, you’d nuzzle your face against his chest, shifting your arms around him and he adjusted his grip around you with the shift of your position.

“I love you.” He whispered, even though he knew you were asleep.

It wasn’t so scary to say out loud anymore. He was so happy about it, he lazily smiled while his eyes began to feel heavy and they fluttered as he also fell asleep right next to you. For once, his world truly was at peace and looking up. The grin on his face lost the tension on the corners of his mouth, light snores between the two of you. Until, he suddenly jolted out of his slumber when there was a light touch on his back shoulder.

Tom shot his head up, a quick breath through his nose before his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He saw Summer standing by his bed, her hair in a bun with her fly-aways highlighted from the streetlight coming in from the window behind her. Just like her dad, she had the same exhausted look on her small face and all she wanted was to be with him. As much as she thought she wanted to be on her own, her thinking six was practically grown, Summer couldn’t deny she was a daddy’s girl.

“Daddy…” She whispered.

“W-What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Tom cleared his throat, carefully leaning over to the other side of the bed.

“Can I sleep with you and Y/N? I had a bad dream...” Summer maintained her whisper.

“Of course… hop in. Get between us.”

Summer pulled herself up, crawling over Tom as he pulled down the covers between the two of you. Your sleep was deep enough that you didn’t budge but, Summer still slid in carefully and faced toward Tom. He wrapped his arm around her, facing her and you and he realized how long it had passed since that’d done this. He knew his days of checking for monsters in the closet and under the bed would run up soon, as well as walking her up to school and holding her hand. The more he thought about how much he cared about her, the less the paternity test meant to him. It couldn’t erase all the memories they’ve made and the hardships they faced. Moments like this were the reason he was her father, not some test.

Of course, he was filled with anxieties and dread that she would push away if he told her the truth, but he couldn’t worry about that now because she was and will always be his family. He’d rather him than a deadbeat be her father, happy to protect her from the evil and bad and there to sing her a lullaby if the night seemed to dark and mysterious, filled with make believe beings that she thought were so real or even holding her hand tight as she stepped over cracks on the sidewalk. Happy, sad, angry, sick, anything, Tom wanted to be there for every moment and even when she has her own family.

The thought of her growing up in the blink of an eye could make him tear up when she fit so perfectly in his arms, so small and delicate and more than ready to see the world even though Tom thought the world wasn’t ready fo her.

“Daddy, too tight.” She warned, her voice muffled in his chest.

“Sorry.” He chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

A few hours later, the sun slowly rose over the horizon and shined through the windows by each side of the bed. The birds chirped, some landing on the fire escape outside, while the cars drove on the street below along with occasional dogs barking from passing one another.

As you moved your face against the pillow, your eyes fluttered open as a small smile curled up on your tired face. Waking up to the sight of Summer asleep on top of Tom was something you could get used to. You reached out, running your hand over her back before pushing her hair out of her face. Her cheek was against his chest, making her lips a bit pursed and eyebrows rested. You leaned your head against Tom’s shoulder, nuzzling your face into his neck and giving him a light kiss on the start of his jaw.

After a few minutes, Tom stirred out of his sleep, comfortable when he woke up next to his two girls. You lifted your head to look at him, smiling with both of you sharing lazy glances.

“Good morning… How’d you sleep?” You asked him, low enough to not wake Summer.

“Perfect.” Tom grinned, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

The morning went by quickly and the next moment, the three of you were in the car and driving to Summer’s school. Tom’s knuckles were practically snow white from how tight he was gripping the stirring wheel and his back straight against the seat as if he were being tailed by someone but the roads were mostly empty.

His jaw clenched, a nervousness building up in his gut the closer he got to the school. When Tom eventually stopped at a red light, you cautiously placed your hand on his leg, “Why are you so anxious, baby?” You asked, watching him place his hand on top of yours.

“I’m not, just tired.” He faked a grin, giving your hand a light squeeze.

You tilted your head, “Really?”

Tom’s eyes moved to the rearview mirror, glancing at Summer with her headphones on, flattening the top of her hair, as she played with her iPad.

He turned to you, “Just like having her back is all.”

But you knew he was scared about having to let her go for a few hours. It may have felt overreactive, but Tom thought if it could happen once, the idea of a second time easily creeped its way up in his head.

Your eyes glossed, “Nothing bad is gonna happen, okay? Trust me, I don’t think we’ll let anyone take our girl unless they kill us over it… not to be completely dramatic.” You joked, just to see him smile.

Even though you felt like a bit of a broken record, but you didn’t blame him for worrying. What Maggie did was unforgivable, leaving Tom with an anxiety in his chest like no other, but all you could do was be there for him and remind him that abandonment wasn’t around the corner. You had to keep him hopeful, almost making Tom himself feel guilty for constantly being on his toes, but he knew you were his anchor to keep him from drifting away to drown in his own doubts.

“Thanks.” He said, glancing down at your hands.

When you got to school, you waited in the car while Tom walked Summer to the front door. Some of the parents wondered where he went, but they passed by with their friendly greetings before the two of them got to the sidewalk.

Tom kneeled down, “You have your lunch?”

“Yes.” Summer nodded.

“Water? Books? Everything you need?” He fixed the collar of her t-shirt.

“Yes, daddy.” She giggled, thinking he was acting silly.

He cracked a smile, “Okay. I’ll see you after school and maybe you can show me the duckies.”

Summer nodded with excitement, giving Tom a quick hug and his hand held hers for a few seconds until it slipped through his fingers. She ran up to the teacher escorting the kids in as he got back on his feet, his eyes not leaving her till Summer turned back around by the door frame and gave a quick wave.

Just seeing that reminded him of living in the moment now is what was important. Not the past, not the future, just being there to see her beautiful smile.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The courthouse’s walls felt like they were closing in even though the ceilings were high and the halls were grand. Well-dressed people passed by with their phones glued to their ears and others pressed tissues to their eyes, holding them to catch their tears and mascara. Sounds of heels clicked against the granite floors, loudly echoing as they sauntered by you and Tom.

“Hey, it’s gonna go okay. There’s no way they won’t give you any compensation.” You reassured him, adjusting his black tie and laying it flat against his white button up.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just kind of loud in here… and hot.” Tom looked down, rubbing the back of his neck.

You knew it was because his dad wasn’t here yet. It meant a lot to him, even if he didn’t want to admit it, but if there was some chance of it happening, you had to keep him cheery. You moved your hands down the front of his suit jacket, brushing off anything, but you looked back into his eyes.

“Hey… Tommy, look at me.” You softly asked. It was something you said to him often, trying to remind him that you were there completely. He just needed a bit of a reminder sometimes that he didn’t have to be alone in everything.

Tom glanced up at you, those brown eyes glimmering. Your glance shifted to the light bruise faded under his eye along with the scar by his cheek, almost gone but you knew it left more than a scar for him. It was just a reminder of the hardest and most confusing time of his life, maybe, but this was all you assumed. He never knew what was going through Tom’s head as equally as knowing just from the look on his face or in his eyes. Just like right now.

“It’s gonna be fine and you don’t even need to say much. That’s why we have lawyers.” You grinned, a giggle following and he cracked a smile back.

“I love you, you know that?” He asked.

You stood close to him, your heads angled at one another, “I love you too.”

Before you could say something else, you both Tom’s dad’s voice which made you turn around to the hall behind you. His dad walked up with his lawyer, obviously both of them close from how they smiled and chuckled from their conversation. Tom said his dad knew him for a long time, even helping with the separation of his parents a few years ago. Tom thought if his dad trusted this guy enough, so could he.

“Hey son, you look good.” His dad smiled, giving you and Tom quick hugs before both of you shook hands with the lawyer.

“Y/N, this is Joseph, Tom’s lawyer today.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Make sure you keep him sane.” You jeered.

“He’ll be fine.” Joseph grinned, patting Tom’s shoulder.

Tom sealed his lips, then the corners of his mouth lifting up to quickly smile. You grinned back, rubbing his back before kissing his cheek.

“We’ll be waiting out here.” Tom’s dad told him.

It wasn’t easy watching him go in without you even though you’d just spent a few minutes calming him down. You didn’t think this wouldn’t fall through, still grateful he wasn’t more hurt from this, but you didn’t know what would come after this. His fingers slipped away from yours, your stomach dropped and goosebumps ran over your skin as if a chill suddenly blew in. Hiding your distress, all you could do was sit on the bench and wait for him.

“He’ll be okay in there. There’s no question.” His dad assured you, seeing the same details in his face as Tom does like the crinkles by his eyes or the freckles along his nose.

“Thanks. I don’t know why I’m nervous.” You shrugged, crossing your leg over the other.

“You guys have been through a lot. But, this should make things smooth over for a bit while you get back on your feet.”

You nodded, “I was scared because he’s the most stable person I know, but after these past weeks? I had never seen him fall apart so quickly.”

“Well, he told me you helped him throughout that.”

You chuckled, “We help each other. I don’t know what I’d do without him either.”

“That just shows you guys care about each other. Won’t leave each other hanging… You need that right now more than anything.” Tom’s dad spoke from his experiences with his past marriage, happy to hear that his son was not only being supportive, but also being supported by someone who obviously loved him.

You sniffled, “We really do… I’ve been having to take him to his… concussion appointments and they put him in this big machine and make him do all these tests and…” You nodded, “I was already thinking of what the next step was if something bad happened. I mean, luckily, everything has been fine… I guess it’s just assuming something else can hit us while we’re already down… but, I’m okay because I know we have each other’s backs.”

He wasn’t sure to impose, but his dad still reached out for your shoulder and gave a comforting rub. You appreciated it although you didn’t know Tom’s dad that well, you can see where he got his kindness and confidence from clear as day, just even the tone of his voice was similar that you knew Tom always admired his father despite their parted relationship recently.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

After an hour or two, most of your time was spent people watching and observing them from where you sat, feeling like you couldn’t do much else. You tried not to pick at your nails or shake your leg, but you felt like you were itching out of your own skin from what was going on behind that thick door. A few times you thought it was opening, making you turn your head constantly at any noise from that way.

Finally, Tom walked out, his lawyer by his side, and his smile was bright which made you reflect one right back.

“I got the compensation.” He chuckled in relief, his arms around wrapping around you and lifting you off your feet.

Tears filled both your eyes, the small accomplishment feeling like a weight slowly being taken off your chest and giving you more hope for whatever came next.

Tom placed you back on your feet, leaning over to bear hug his dad and they shared a few chuckles.

“How much was it?” His dad asked.

“A little over $9,000. Enough to pay for some bills, Summer’s school, savings.” Tom trailed, wiping his tears with the side of his hand.

His dad grinned, “I’d say that’s a call for a little celebration for you two.”

“I agree.” Tom turned to you.

“Well, we’ll leave you two to have some fun. Y/N, it was nice to see you.” His dad grinned, giving you a quick embrace with your head on his shoulder.

“You too.”

“See you later, dad.” Tom gave a pat on his dad’s shoulder, nodding to the lawyer before the two of them walked away.

Your arm was wrapped around Tom’s waist tight as he kissed your temple, pulling you even closer. His smile painted on his lips and pressed another soft kiss to your cheek. You ran your hand over his chest, looking up at his caramel brown eyes.

“Since I’ve come into a bit of money, I think we should go on a date.” Tom grinned, biting his bottom lip to conceal how big his smile was.

You blushed, “You think?”

“Well, I mean, we should go on a date. You, me, a nice restaurant and maybe ice cream or whatever your sweet tooth is craving after.” He smiled.

“What about Summer?”

“I can cover it. My mom is gonna watch her while she’s in town. She’s said she has a lot of grandma time to make up for.” Tom chuckled and put his arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Well, as long as she’s willing to do it… I’m all in.” You giggled as you nuzzled your head against his shoulder.

“Thank God, I was scared that we were moving too fast.” He jeered back, kissing the top of your head once more.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

After the drama had digested over the past few days, you could see how everything fell into place. At least, for a bit of time until the rent bill came up in your emails again. While you hadn’t spent much time at your apartment, it was seen as storage for your clothes when you’d been at Tom’s for the past two months with Summer. Even though you had been dating for that same amount of time, you didn’t know how to bring it up without feeling like you were rushing things.

Yes, you’d known each other than most couples you were friends with, but you had never been so scared to take the next step and actually moving in together. The thought of finally clashing your lives together and attempt to start another life made your heart skip a beat. These feelings couldn’t be ignored by how strong they were, probably building up after all these years, but you knew Tom had a responsibility of Summer and starting to adoption process.

You were nervous to bring the question up to Tom, wondering how it would pan out and not wanting to assume the worst would happen when you knew in the back of your head that you loved one another more than anything in the world, but nothing has come perfect to you.

As you turned the key in the lock, you pushed open the door, but the lights were all out. You furrowed your eyebrows before your hand searched the wall, finding the switch and flicking it on only to see a few decorations put up.

You froze when you saw red, yellow and white roses scattered around in vases along with plastic, white and pink balloons hanging around the ceiling and settled on the couch and chairs. At first, you wondered if you forget about an anniversary or birthday, but Tom walked out with Summer trailing him.

“Shoot… I didn’t know you were coming home early.” Tom chuckled while Summer ran up to you, wrapping her arms around your leg.

“What’s with the party decorations?” You smiled, glancing around.

Tom sighed, a light smile still on his face before he took your hand, guiding you over to the center of the living room. Heat rose to your cheeks, wondering what he was up to, but Summer stood by his side and she looked up at you with glassy eyes.

“Do you remember when we were younger... and you said the only way you’d want to be proposed to is in a rose garden?”

Your heart dropped, losing the feeling in your whole body as your smile faded, “...Possibly...”

Tom slowly got on one knee while reaching into his pocket, keeping eye contact with you as he lowered to the ground and the tears welled up in your eyes, thinking this was easily a dream.

“Well, I couldn’t find a close rose garden but, I hope this could suffice.” Tom smiled, his cheeks tinted pink.

Summer stood next to Tom, watching him open the small, black velvet box. The ring sat perfectly in the center of it, gleaming from the light coming down and you let out a relieved sigh with a smile on your lips. You quickly wiped your eyes, your bottom lip beginning to quiver as Tom took a deep breath to say his next words.

“I don’t want another few years to go by before I notice that… I was dumb for not doing something and that I love you so much. I want you to be in my life and I want to officially make our own… together forever. I want to love you everyday and a little bit after that.” He chuckled, a few tears trailing his cheeks, “So, Y/N, will you marry me?”

You sealed your lips, not able to hide your smile, but you turned to Summer.

“What do you think, Summer?” You jeered at her, both of you sharing smiles.

“Y/N, I want you to be my mommy.” She said sweetly.

You turned to Tom, beaming at him, both of your eyes filled with tears still, “That sounds great to me.”

He chuckled, gently taking the ring and slipping it on your finger before you practically pulled him up to his feet to embrace him. The tightness of the hug didn’t give you much air, but you didn’t care. Tom ran his fingers through the back of your hair, light laughs coming from the both of you and Summer tried to coil her arms around the both of you from how low she was.

The world finally was complete.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

tags/taglist: @felicityparkers @dhtomholland @duskholland @sinisterspidey@itstaskeen @tomhollandsgirlfriend @bi-writes @infinite-imagination @honeyspidey @hollandcrush @sunsetholland @pparkersbitch @namoreno @calltothewild @spideyspeaches @veryholland @osterfieldshollandgirl @slutforsebstan @bi-lmg @sunshinepeterparkr @annathesillyfriend @madmadmilk @antigoneidk @hollandcreep @wierdflowerpower @heavenlyholland @determined-overthinker @white-wolf1940 @thexplosivegirl

#tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland x female!reader #tom holland series #tom holland fluff #dad!tom #bartender!tom

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

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this all takes place in my poly frontier universe

pairing: triple frontier guys - Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales, and Ben “Benny” Miller x (f) reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: obviously a poly relationship, which includes kissing, domestic intimacy with all of them (not just with the reader, but not in-between Will and Ben because nope), mild sexual themes

summary: scenes at the beginning of making a house with five people feel like home

The manicured grass is soft where it peaked around the edges of your sandals. Hands running over the grooves of they key in your pocket, you gaze around the little front yard, mind conjuring daydreams that fit on the weathered porch of the house.

Two bathrooms will be enough right? Your thoughts are running - creating and erasing images of the future, trying to squish them like magic into the home in front of you. The yard is big enough to extend the garage and for plenty of home projects…

Across the fence and a long stretch of field, a woman is hiking her skirts up, making a beeline for you. The neighbor’s house is a considerable distance away, being out in the countryside, but she must have been watching your tour from her garden with interest.

The others had left moments before, Santi promising to come back whenever you were done. After weeks of looking at houses, it became a little ritual of yours, to spend a few minutes looking around without the clutter of wonderful distractions.

“So which one of those strapping young men is your beau?” She asks conspiringly, eyes gleaming. It catches you off guard – the lack of introduction, but she seems harmless enough.

Your smile is equally mischievous, and your head tilts a hair.

“Well, which one do you think?”

The woman considers, boot tip tapping away at her grass. You replay the moments she could’ve seen, which were few, wondering if you’d leaned in any particular direction, and wait.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t got a clue,” her smile is wide, softer and more genuine than before - polite. “As long as you’re good neighbors,” she explains, “I guess I wouldn’t care if it was one or all of you next door.”

You smile, thanking her as salutations ring in your ears, watching with grateful eyes as she hikes back towards her home. Then you move, wandering through the empty rooms for long, quite minutes before you peak over the fence again. The woman had gone inside, and if you squint you can see who you think is her husband, sleeping with a dog on the porch.

In the other directions, there isn’t a house within a reasonable distance. A knot loosens in your chest, as an unexpected feeling of freedom from judging eyes blooms in its place.

When Santi comes back to pick you up, you take his hand across the console. His skin is warm, and his thumb automatically begins to gently move across your knuckles.

“I think it’s perfect, Pope.”

He looks at you curiously, minding his thoughts for a moment.

“Yeah, love?”

The sun was beginning to set, and you look at the peaceful little home in the rear view mirror, and smile.

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“We need to … break in every room.”

“I’m just saying -"

“Oh he’s talking about – wait are you really horny, right now?”

“There are boxes everywhere, idiot.”

You walk in carrying a single plant and a stack of pizzas and the conversation hushes.

“Ah – payment,” Frankie kisses your cheek, moving the plant by the window as Santi clears the table.

Someone makes a quip about it being Santi’s house and you wince, the utopia popping.

“We don’t get paid to move our own stuff, Catfish.” His dark hair is damp with sweat but he seems otherwise unaffected by the hours spent hauling. It was still surreal – that this is actually happening, that this unanimously became a long term desire.

He has the most money and Will has the best credit score, so they bought the house to save you all from questions. The movement isn’t lost on your Ironhead, and he rubs a soothing circle on your shoulder as he reaches for a plate. Of everyone, he was the one who most understood your anxiety – close proximity always led to arguments at first.

“You got lucky,” Benny takes the first slice, accepting a napkin for an additional piece. “You fell in love with a pretty good moving crew.”

“I think so,” you grin, trying to ignore your anxiety. He inhales the food, pulling you into his lap as he bickers with Will about whether or not more needed to get done today.

Eventually Frankie dictates that at the very least some cleaning should be started and the bedding should be unpacked for the evening. The agree with varying degrees of enthusiasm and after a handful of innuendos your loves begin to disperse, too dutiful to let work go unfinished. The bedframe practically builds itself, and a portable speaker makes Santi’s hips twitch as he floats through the half-barren rooms.

When Will rolls his eyes at Frankie’s choice of screw, you duck away, nerves thrumming.

And you wander around, fake cleaning, until you find your Benny clearing pizza plates. Even amongst boxes and bins and old blankets, he could be at a photo shoot. The evening light make his hair look like silk, and his eyes shine like he’s making you promises this very moment.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he says, drawing you into his arms as your head tilts. “We spent years in bunks and tents, and we were younger then.”

His chest was warm and you press your cheek to it, nodding. You hadn’t thought he had noticed, how anxious you’d been about the change, but you had been foolish. Even through his shirt, you can feel the thumping of his giant heart, steady as a drumbeat.

Replaying the evening in your mind, you let go of some of your worries, one by one, and he kisses the top of your head. It’s a thoughtful thing, and it never ceases to amaze you how easily he can wrap you around his finger.

“Ben?”

He makes a noise, somewhere between a hum and a grunt.

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him hard. It was a kiss that says you're grateful, and a kiss that says you love him for being… him.

He accepts it eagerly, and tiredness from the day long gone ad he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your lips. The world spins and you feel him shove something heavy off the couch before replacing it with you.

The cushions are dusty from everything but he makes space, and you stop caring as he moves on top of you.

The others would find you soon, their instincts kicking in, but you savor it. Benny, pressing into you, kissing you in the evening light.

The beginning of their conversation from earlier blooms in your mind and you grin as his lips trailed down your neck. It suddenly didn’t seem implausible that he planned this.

“Breaking in” aside, this was the first room you where you truly felt like this could be home.

You feel his hands gently replace yours on the zipper and you jump a little - he stands just outside the mirror reflection as you watch the skirts around your ankles. Behind you the big bed is made neatly, there’s a ridiculously large closet, and a tangle of phone chargers.

The bedroom: the place that set apart your home from others. The room that housed five individuals, a web of relationships, a miracle of mixed bodies and minds and hearts.

It looks big, behind you.

Warm, daft fingers tie the extra strings, a neat little bow hanging just between your shoulder blades. The silence is thick, weighted with adoration, but when he breaks it, it’s as if he can’t resist.

“You’re beautiful,” he moves closer, kissing your temple and drinking you in. Turning, your heart aches.

Will is in his dress uniform, crisscrossed with crisp lines and newly shined awards. His hair is lighter after the summer, and he tried to comb it neatly to one side. Compliments catch in your throat as you stare and he smiles, turning you gently so he can kiss you properly. His mouth tastes like mint and you can smell hints of his cologne lingering on his skin.

“Look at you,” you murmur, lips still brushing over his. Letting your hands wander over his face, smoothing his eyebrows, you feel almost in awe of him. Still, he flushes, pleased at your reaction.

“Thank you.”

His chuckle is warm, almost raspy as he tries to enjoy the quietness of your conversation, and he shakes his head. Really, you were sure he was thankful that he was been the only one free for your special evening.

“Thank you,” you correct him. “You didn’t have to do any of this.” The dinner, for your job.

In the mirror, he looked like diamonds and sapphires and gold. Will was like an action figure sometimes, solid and sculpted and stoic, but… he was looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

It made you blink, his eyes sliding over you, pupils just a little more blown than the lighting required - a gentle reset demanding your attention.

Looking back in the mirror for a moment, the room didn’t seem quite as big, or quite as revealing. It was comforting, how out of place the two of you looked, dressed to the nines because… this was your place. The softness surrounded by details perfectly woven into your life.

Turning, you slip your arms around his neck, gently musing his hair, and his eyebrows draw together, accepting, but confused.

And as you tuck your hand into his elbow and step into your heels, you resist the urge to thank him again.

“I like it better like this,” you admit, and he flushes again, beaming. Looking around, you realize you’re actually looking forward to coming home more than you’re excited to leave. It’s a new feeling, in this space with the four of them and it hits you, hard in your chest. Still, the man beside you is unwavering and you let the feeling consume you, knowing that you’re safe.

“Frankie, what is that?”

He flinches, nervousness cutting the excitement on his face.

“Rhetorical question,” Santi says, grinning at you. “He got it from a friend who was going to toss it out.”

It’s a hot tub, taking up a decent chunk of your back porch.

“If anyone can make it work like a dream, it’s Catfish.” Will’s tone is matter-of-fact, all honesty and pride.

Your sweet Francisco drops his tool and grabs your hand, his dark eyes big. “¿Cariño, por favor? From me, to you?” You can see his laptop up, replacement parts on saved tabs, and you tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He likes to have projects, needs to have somewhere to do things, fix things, create things. Maybe at one point it was because he liked the distraction, it was a … replacement coping mechanism, if you will, but it became his pride, to use his hands to improve your lives.

It doesn’t take long, two weeks at most, between his job and his loves, and his long list of honey-dos, but he does it.

“Please and thank you,” you say, and when he kisses you, slow and deep and happy, you hear cheers and high-five and you almost can’t kiss him because he’s smiling.

And it takes awhile to fill, (Will thanking the stars that the water bill is reasonable,) and even longer to heat, and then it’s ready. The boys yank on swim trunks, thanking Frankie with enthusiasm, and you watch them sink into the steaming tub with as they sigh.

You have a bathing suit, of course you do, but you pull on one of his work shirts, knowing he won’t mind the chemicals from the water making the stains blur. And you pair of shorts you caught him watching your butt in, thinking of acknowledging his hard work in your own way.

The volume of your bodies makes it overflow, hot water sloshing onto the ground, but it’s bliss. It’s big, and they shout over the bubbles, talking excitedly about the future, and your heart feels warm in your favorite way.

The others leave early, taking loud laughter with them, and it leaves you and your Catfish. You let yourself float, moving right on top of him, and his hands grab at your hips, slipping and sliding over your skin as he kisses you once, twice. Slow.

It’s late – the stars stretch, there’s a bit of a breeze, and there’s not a light on for miles.

“You like it?” his voice is raspy, quiet, intense, but almost shy. Like if you said no it would break him in two.

“Of course I do, Frankie.” He looks pleased, hand absentmindedly running under his shirt and over your side. Even with the heat of the water, his hand feels like socks warmed in the dryer some cold winter morning. Comforting, maybe a little electric.

You let out a long, happy sigh, and settle against him, content to stay with him until you’re pruny.

“I think…. This is exactly what this house needed.” He starts a little, surprised, but it’s not an exaggeration.

There was always work to do and things to change, but it was the first time you looked out, and didn’t feel a twinge of fear, that anyone was looking in. It would’ve felt vulnerable, intimate to be so exposed, but… it was perfect, because he created it for you. Confidence and pride bubble around you, and Frankie’s eyebrows dip as he smiles – understanding.

“Yeah.” Its simple, not too hot, not too cold. Just… right.

It feels like… tar and lava, hot and dark and thick, bubbling and sticky and you want to punch something. Or scream, or cry.

Your Pope finds you standing rigid, smudges of flour on your skin and clothes, pans and spatulas strewn.

“Are we out of sugar?” To your credit, you try to keep your voice even, but he knows you better than that.

Santi shakes his head, plucking it from the pantry and looking guilty. Your mind pauses it’s rampage, and you wince, because you should be the one making that apologetic face, not him. Hot tears bubble in your eyes and you hate it, hate that they’re coming for what feels like no reason.

“Baby,” he says, tone pleading, setting the sugar down and reaching for you. The afternoon sun makes his eyes like rich, deep pots of gold, his hair somehow both soft and statuesque.

When he pauses, the tears fall against your will, just two thick drops down your cheeks. His hand encompasses your whole jaw, thumb gentle as it rubs away the saltwater, and he looks a tad helpless.

And there’s understanding in his eyes and through the blur you think maybe it’s pity. He stands, and your heart clenches, knowing he’ll go get Will, or someone because you’re being ridiculous but… he doesn’t.

You’re saying something about how the kitchen is wrong, how it’s been building for days, you’ve been here almost a week and you can’t fucking find anything. Panic and frustration locked horns in your chest and you couldn’t breathe and all you wanted to do was make something nice –

Instead, he’s pulling out things and piling them onto the floor in categories around you. It’s almost comical the stacks he makes but he seems determined and in your confusion the tears slow to a stop.

“Santi –” he hushes you. The cupboard doors hang open, and he guides you, lifting you up and up and into his arms. It’s solid and grounding, and he’s not as tall as the others and you needed him desperately.

And slowly, you begin to put things away where it makes sense, to you, and he helps. Not once does he argue with you, not even a moment when his dark eyebrows knit together in judgement. Dutifully he cleans and places everything just where you tell him, and you can almost feel the steam rising off of you as you begin to cool.

The final pile is a mountain of cloth, aprons and oven mitts and… something you’ve never seen before. Or actually, something you had, just not in your house. A set of hand towels you’d wistfully looked at awhile ago, before talking yourself out of the purchase. You had dozens at this point and didn’t need more but…

The man seating on the floor, folding them into perfect squares, is the answer to the question your mind produces.

You feel like you’ve been hosed down from head to toe, almost cold from the absence of frustration in your blood.

Pushing the pile to the side you climb into his lap, as determined as he was, and he looks surprised. It’s silly: sitting in your lover’s lap on the kitchen floor, but it feels more real than a movie. It’s your kitchen, yours and his, in this moment.

You kiss him, slow and purposeful and –

He knows you like the back of his hand.

You’re sitting on the bathroom counter distracting Santi as he shaves when Benny bursts in to tell you a story.

Will trails behind him, patiently waiting for his brother to take a breathe so he can set the record straight. Absentmindedly he weaves between them to pick up a fallen hand towel, passing it to Pope to wipe the shaving cream from his jaw. They share a moment and Benny’s story stutters out. Looking up from your nails you see Frankie leaning against the doorframe, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

There’s hardly room to move – and you couldn’t have it any other way.

His eyebrows are bent as he takes in the four of you, crammed into the spare bathroom, and Ben laughs.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk

for the poly frontier:

@grogusmum

#triple frontier poly fic #poly frontier #will miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #francisco morales x reader #benny miller x reader #maybe i dont know people

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