lolawassad

[lolawassad]

This Ain’t A Scene, It’s A God Damn Arms Race

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter picks up on the fact that you have a thing for his arms

Masterlist

“Which one of you blooming onions wants to arm wrestle a god and lose?” Thor asked as he cracked his knuckles before slamming his elbow down on the table. Everyone rolled their eyes with affection while and you Peter continued your game of cards.

“Oh come on. No one’s up for the challenge?” Thor asked and flexed his arm.

Peter noticed you flick your eyes up for just a second at Thors arms before smiling shyly to yourself. This sent an unexpected wave of jealousy down to Peters stomach. He knew nobody on the team was as big or as strong as Thor but seeing you look at him like that made Peter feel like he might have some competition for your attention. He knew it was probably silly to even think about, but part of him was worried Thor would win you over before Peter had a chance to tell you how he felt. Before he knew was he was doing, he was putting his hand of cards down.

“I’ll give it a go.” Peter said and went over to Thor.

“Really? You want to compete, spider boy?” Thor smirked and out his elbow back down on the table.

“Why not? You know, some spiders can lift up to 170 times their weight. And if you calibrate that for a human in accordance to my height and weight, I can lift up to 25,000 pounds. So I’m not as weak as I look.” Peter explained as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Kids right. I’ve seen him catch a bus.” Steve backed Peter up.

“Well I’ve seen him kick Buckys ass.” Sam added with a smirk.

“Shut up. I was having an off day.” Bucky grumbled.

“Have you ever had an on day?” Sam snorted.

“He was definitely on the night he killed my parents.” Tony said casually. Everyone fell into uncomfortable silence as Tony waited for someone to laugh at his joke.

“Anyways.” You said to break the silence. “Peters stronger than you guys give him credit for. I’d love to see him take on Thor.”

Peter smiled proudly to hear you back him up and gave Thor a look that said it was up to him.

“All right. Come here and grab the hand of the mighty Thor.” Thor said and held his hand out.

“Does he always talk like that?” Shang Chi whispered to Steve.

“It’s slowly been getting worse.” Steve whispered back.

Now that Peter knew he had your attention, he wasn’t gonna waste it. He rolled his sleeves back down and unzipped his sweatshirt.

“Oooo. Jackets coming off.” Tony clapped his hands. Underneath Peters sweatshirt was a flannel shirt, making Tony stop clapping.

“To reveal a slightly lighter jacket.” Tony continued. Peter then unbuttoned his flannel and threw it at you to catch. You caught it and held it to your chest as your face heated up.

“Ohhh. Now we’re talking.” Tony clapped his hands again now that Peter was just in a tight white T-shirt. You gulped at the sight of his arms, something you knew you’d never get used to no matter how many times you saw them. You watched with a hand over your mouth as Peter and Thor wrapped their opposite hands around each others and glared into each others eyes.

“You’re going down.” Peter warned.

“The only time I go down is on a-“ Thor was cut off by the sound of his hand hitting the table. Everyone was stunned to silence as they watched Peter win with ease. You raised your eyebrows in surprised and made eye contact with Peter, who winked at you.

“No fair. I wasn’t ready.” Thor scoffed.

“All right. Then let’s go again.” Peter shrugged and held his hand up again. They started to arm wrestle and it lasted longer this time as Thor was determined not to be shown up. Peter started to overpower Thor and was just about to win when Thor sent an electric wave through Peters body. Peters body went limp long enough for Thor to pin his hand and win.

As you watched this all unfold, you were sitting on the edge of your seat, jaw dropped and eyed glued to Peters bicep. Sam was the first to noticed your face and chuckled as he got the others attention to look at you. Once Thor won, you looked visibly disappointed that the gun show was over.

“As a surprise to no one, you lost.” Thor chuckled. “But you put up a good fight, my boy.”

“You too. Damn. What’s that smell?” Peter asked as he shook out his throbbing hand.

“Your burning flesh.” Thor said with a smile. “Anyone else want a go?”

“I think Y/n wants a turn.” Sam snickered, and everyone murmured in agreement.

“Oh yeah? You dare to wrestle the arm of a god, lady Y/n?” Thor asked and flexed his arm again.

“No, but she definitely wants to wrestle with Peter.” Sam said, making you finally tear your eyes away from Peters arms.

“Huh?” You and Peter asked at the same time.

“Yeah. I saw that too. She wants to wrestle Peter all right.” Tony added with a devious smile.

“Not an arm wrestle either.” Natasha added.

“Nope.�� Sam agreed. “She wants to do the sweaty kind of wrestling.”

“Isn’t all wrestling the sweaty kind of wrestling?” Peter asked, still not sure what everyone was saying.

“Wow Y/n. I hope you’re proud of yourself for thinking such dirty thoughts about such an innocent boy.” Tony pretended to be offended as he wrapped an arm around Peters shoulders.

“What? I wasn’t.” You laughed nervously.

“What are you guys talking about?” Peter asked.

“We’re talking about how Y/n was just staring at your arms the way Bucky stares at spinach and artichoke dip.” Natasha said simply.

“Fucking love spinach and artichoke dip.” Bucky deadpanned.

“I was not staring at Peters arms.” You insisted and everyone rolled their eyes at you.

“Yes you were. The second that flannel came off, you were drooling.” Sam shrugged.

“It’s true. I saw drool.” Steve agree.

“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. I was not drooling.” You scoffed and wiped the remaining drool off your chin.

“Then why is there drool on the floor?” Steve asked and pointed to the floor where you had been sitting. Sure enough, there was a little puddle of drool on the ground.

“That’s pee.” You scoffed, instantly regretting it.

“You peed?” Sam asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“I did pee, yes.” You nodded reluctantly.

“On the floor?”

“Uh, yep. On the floor.” You confirmed and wished you had come up with a better lie.

“Let me get this straight. You’d rather let us believe you peed on the floor than admit you were staring at Peters arms?” Steve asked you.

“I guess so, yeah.” You sighed, disappointed in yourself.

“Well alright then.”

“I’m gotta go.” You said and quickly left the room. Peter stared at you as you went, wondering how much of what they had been saying was true. If you really were into his arms, it might be his way to finally get your relationship to the next level.

You ran into Peter an hour later in the kitchen and wanted to run and hide but he had already spotted you. You gave him an embarrassed smile and went over to him.

“Sorry about before. Sam and Bucky are so annoying sometimes.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“Trust me, I know. They’re always teasing me about something or another. I’ve learned to tune it out.”

“I’ll have to try that.” You smiled softly at him, glad he wasn’t making things weird. Peter returned the smile and you felt the always tension melt away. It didn’t hurt that his arms were covered up again so you could actually talk to him without making a fool of yourself.

“By the way, you totally would’ve won if Thor didn’t cheat.” You told him.

“I don’t know. I’m strong but he’s a God.”

“Yeah, well, you’re like a mini god. The spider god.” You said with a teasing smile.

“So a god that no one but Wilbur would worship?” Peter humored you.

“Who’s Wilbur?”

“From Charlottes Web. Duh.” Peter scoffed.

“Oh. Right.” You playfully rolled your eyes but felt relieved you could move past the arm incident. Just then, Peter rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands in the sink, giving you a view of his veins and-

“Forearms.” You whispered to yourself as you started to drool again.

“Did you say something?” Peter asked as he turned the water off.

“Hm? Oh, no. I didn’t say anything.” You quickly lied and wiped your bottom lip.

“Oh. Okay.” Peter chuckled and pushed his sleeves down. Peter noticed the way your eyes stayed glued to his arms and he started to wonder if there was any truth to what the team was saying before. He decided to test his theory and see if you really did like his arms.

“You know what I was just thinking about? You and I never got to arm wrestle.”

“You want to?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Only if you’re up for it.” Peter shrugged.

“Okay.” You said immediately and shoved everything off the kitchen table. Peter chuckled and sat across from you before taking off his flannel.

“You ready?” He asked and held out his hand.

“Uh huh.” You sighed dreamily and slipped your hand into his. You were so focused on his arms that you forgot you were arm wrestling.

“Come on. You didn’t even try.” Peter laughed once he pinned your hand to the table.

“Hubbity bubbity.” You mumbled as you stared at his bicep.

“What was that?”

“Humina humina humina.” You whispered.

“Are you using real words?” Peter chuckled. You snapped out of your trance and quickly stood up.

“I have to go.” You said and ran out of the kitchen. Peter smiled proudly to himself and looked down to flex his muscles. Now that he knew you had a thing for his arms, he decided to have a little fun with it.

A few days later, you were getting ready for one of Tony’s famous parties and decided to wear heels. You walked out of your room to meet up with Peter and found yourself tripping on every crease in the carpet. You knocked on his door and he soon opened up wearing a tight button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You froze when you caught sight of his arms and quickly looked away before you lost focus.

“You look nice. You ready?” You asked him.

“Yep. Let’s go.” Peter put his hand on your back and started to lead you downstairs to the party.

“Jesus Christ. I’m gonna break a leg before we even get there.” You said as you tripped on the carpet once again.

“Here. Take my arm for support.” Peter offered and presented his arm.

“Take…your…arm?” You asked slowly as you stared at his arms.

“Why did you say it like that?” Peter chuckled but knew exactly why.

“No reason. Thanks.” You smiled and slipped a hand around Peters bicep to steady yourself. Even once you were downstairs at the party and didn’t need to hold onto Peter anymore, you didn’t let go of his arm. Peter smiled to himself and patted your hand, hoping you weren’t letting go anytime soon.

A couple days went by without any opportunities for Peter show off his arms in front of you. But when you padded into the kitchen while everyone else was watching a movie, he came up with something.

“Hey kiddo. We were just gonna watch a movie. Care or join us?” Tony asked from the couch.

“Sure.” You smiled and took a seat next to Peter. Peter looked over at you before clearing his throat to get your attention.

“Wanna share my blanket?” Peter offered and opened his blanket up.

“Thanks.” You smiled shyly and scooted closer to him so he could cover you with the blanket. He noticed you sitting up perfectly straight and nudged you a little.

“You can lean on me. I don’t mind.” He whispered to you.

“Are you sure?” You whispered back.

“Yeah. Go ahead.” He shrugged. As soon as you had his permission, you rested your face on his bicep and nuzzled against it.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked with a teasing smile.

“Extremely.” You sighed happily.

Riding off the high of the night before, Peter hit the training room for an early morning workout and sent you a text shortly after to inconspicuously lure you into the room.

“Do you know where Peter is? He texted me and asked for a bottle of water.” You asked Shang Chi as you grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator.

“I saw him in the training room a couple minutes ago.” He told you.

“K. Thanks.” You rolled the water bottle around in your hands and went to go find Peter.

“Hey, Pete. I brought your…” You trailed off and dropped the water bottle when you walked into the training room to see Peter shirtless, sweating, and doing pull-ups.

“Oh hey. Come on in.” He smiled at you without stopping his pull-ups.

“Heyyyyyyy Pete.” You smiled weakly and leaned against the door frame.

“-er. Peter.” You finished his name. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just working out. It’s arms day.” He told you as he continued to pull himself up and down. Your eyes followed him as he pulled himself up and lowered himself back back.

“Is it?” You squeaked out.

“Yeah. I’m trying to grow my arms to look more like Thors.”

“Uh huh. That’s nice.” You nodded too many times without ever taking your eyes off his arms. Peter let go of the pull up bar and dropped to the floor so he could walk closer to you.

“I’ve been trying to gain muscle for a while now but I don’t think it’s working. Does it look like it’s working?” Peter asked as he flexed his arms for you to see. Your body stiffened and you felt your mouth starting to salivate.

“Oh this is definitely working.” You said in a low voice.

“What?” Peter played dumb.

“What?” You said and finally tore your eyes away from his arms long enough to look into his eyes.

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked innocently as he folded his arms, drawing more attention to them.

“Everything’s great. I gotta go. Thanks for the water.” You said and turned to leave.

“You’re the one who brought me water. And what’s the rush? I haven’t seen you all day. Come here.” Peter laughed as he caught your arm.

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t want to hug me. I’m riddled with…riddles.” You struggled to come up with a lie and took a step away from him.

“Come on. Bring it in.” Peter said and opened his arms to you.

“If you insist.” You immediately folded and rushed into his arms. As soon as you felt his arms wrap around you, your knees felt weak and your heart beat out of your chest.

“Never let me go.” You sighed against his chest.

“What was that?”

“I said how did training go?” You quickly lied and pulled out of the hug.

“Pretty good. Soon enough, I’ll be able to beat Thor at our next arm wrestling match. But I’m definitely gaining strength. Watch this.” Peter smirked before picking up the water bottle before putting it between his bicep and squeezing it until the cap popped off. You jumped when the cap flew off and let out a little whimper.

“Cool huh?” Peter asked you.

“God I wish that was me.” You whispered.

“Did you say something?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Oh, okay. I think my biceps are definitely getting bigger. What do you think?” He asked and turned slightly so you could feel his bicep. Your eyes flickered between his arm and his face several times to see if he was serious.

“You want me to touch it?”

“Yeah. Just to see if it’s gotten bigger or firmer.”

“Okay. Let me see.” You smiled weakly and put a hand on his bicep. You felt like the biggest cliche in the entire world but you didn’t care. You knew if you left your hand there for any longer you’d never be able to take it off.

“Feels good.” You said lowly. “Feels big and…firm.”

“Really?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Like a perfectly pumped up bicycle tire.” You whispered as shivered went down your spine.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” You said and quickly withdrew your hand.

“Oh, weird. I thought I heard something. Anyway, I’m hoping to get them even bigger.” Peter said and flexed his arm again.

“Uh huh. Good plan. Gotta go. Bye!” You said and quickly ran out of the room.

“Oh. Okay. Bye!” Peter called after you.

You made it outside the training room but didn’t walk away. Instead. You took out your phone, pressured record, and slowly leaned into the doorway to film Peters workout.

“This is normal behavior.” You whispered to yourself as you watched him do push-ups through the recording.

“You’ve entered your Joe Goldberg era I see.” Shang Chi said from behind you, making you jump.

“Ah! What? I don’t even know who that is.” You said and quickly hide your phone.

“You haven’t seen You?”

“I looked in the mirror like ten minutes ago. Why? Do I have lipstick in my teeth?” You asked and rubbed your teeth.

“Not you you. The show You. It’s about a dude who stalks women and then kills them. But he’s also very likable and charming and I often root for him even though if he was real he’d probably hit me over the head with a rock and burry me behind a Starbucks.” Shang Chi explained.

“Huh?”

“Do I have to worry about you killing Peter?” He asked you with genuine concern.

“No. I’m just a normal teenage girl with a normal teenage crush.” You said simply.

“Aren’t you in your 20s?” He frowned.

“I have to go.” You said quickly and ran to your bedroom. You shut your door and sighed before pulling out your phone. You watched the video you had taken of Peter and grimaced.

“This was not very cool and mysterious romantic interest of me.” You sighed and deleted the video.

“Y/n? Can I come in?” Peter asked as he knocked on your door. You panicked as he started to open the door and stayed behind it instead of moving out of the way.

“Are you in here?” Peter called out, making you slid out from behind the door.

“Hey.” You said with an awkward smile.

“Hey. What were you doing back there?” Peter chuckled and shut your bedroom door. He had a shirt on this time, but it was a skin tight grey tank top that left little to the imagination.

“It’s a girl thing.” You said with a wave of your hand.

“Oh, okay.” He smiled. “Do you think we could talk about something?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I feel like things have been a little….weird between us lately. Maybe not weird, but different? Have you felt that too?”

“Yeah. I know what you’re talking about. And I know what it is. It’s my fault.” You sighed and sat on your bed.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked and took a seat beside you. You picked at your nail polish to avoid making eye contact but were extremely aware of his arms brushing against yours.

“Ever since the arm wrestling match, I have made a personal self discover.” You said without looking at him.

“Which is?”

“That I wanna chew on your arms.”

“Come again?” Peter asked and leaned his ear towards you.

“Ugh. I’m such a freak.” You groaned and covered your face with your hands. “I have no right to objectify you like this. I just didn’t realize you were packing so much ammunition in your guns.”

“So this has been about my arms the whole time?” Peter played dumb.

“Yeah. I can’t stop staring at them no matter how hard I try. They’re like the most perfect pair of avocados. I just want to slice them open and eat the insides with a spoon.”

“You had me and then you lost me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m such a weirdo. I shouldn’t have been looking at you like that.” You said with a guilty frown. Peter felt bad for toying with you all this time and let out a sigh.

“It’s not your fault. I kinda figured you had a thing for my arms so I’ve been purposefully showing them off.” He admitted.

“You have? Why?”

“To get you to notice me.” He said without looking into your eyes.

“I always notice you.” You chuckled like it was obvious.

“You do?” He asked as a blushed spread across his face. You looked at Peter for a second before getting an idea.

“Do you want a rematch of our arm wrestle?” You asked and placed a pillow on your lap so you could balance your elbow on it.

“Now? I guess so.” Peter frowned in confusion but took your hand with his opposite one.

“You ready?”

“Ready.” Peter nodded. You started to press against each other hands and once Peter was fully distracted, you leaned across your hands and kissed him. Peters arm went limp as he kissed you back and brought his free hand to cup your face. When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his as you both laughed shyly.

“Hey. I won.” You realized once you saw your hand was on top of Peters pinned hand.

“Nah.” He smiled. “I did.”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor @tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl

@jackiehollanderr @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow

@unbelievableholland @flixndchill @sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever

@undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave​ ​ @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild

@canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman

@smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger

@electraheart-3174 @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @horanxholland

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey

[lolawassad]

My Everyday

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate. 

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining

a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)

Masterlist

~~

“What’s this punks name again?” 

The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.” 

“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?” 

“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.” 

“Semantics.” 

“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes. 

There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice. 

He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one. 

Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus. 

But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team. 

You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you. 

But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours. 

There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck. 

It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting. 

“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?” 

“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?” 

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.” 

You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.

~~

“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.

The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.” 

“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?” 

“Fuck you, man.” 

A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something. 

And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.

Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.

“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room. 

You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?” 

The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow. 

“Y/n.” 

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.” 

He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?” 

“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—” 

“We’re going home.” 

“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.” 

He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.” 

That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice. 

This was different. 

“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room. 

He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped. 

You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.

“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.” 

“It was a big deal.” 

~~

The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours. 

There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”

“Ice skating.”

The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?” 

“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.” 

“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—” 

“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt. 

“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.” 

You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink. 

A good reason. 

You didn’t date athletes. 

It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else. 

And you didn’t date athletes. 

You did not. 

You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met. 

The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged. 

So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience. 

You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.” 

He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room. 

“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room. 

“Tonight,” you answered plainly. 

The arms atop your legs tensed. 

~~

The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him. 

On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.

The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.

You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.

“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.” 

“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.” 

“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea. 

Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week. 

Definitely not. 

“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat. 

You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you. 

On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.

“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering. 

“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.” 

And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.

“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone. 

“What?” you yelled. 

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again. 

This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.

“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.” 

You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.” 

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you. 

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out. 

You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up. 

Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.” 

“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.

“Do I know you?” you slurred.

You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?” 

“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.” 

“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.” 

Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?” 

Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again. 

“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.

Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.

“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled. 

The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.” 

There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left. 

Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal. 

“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked. 

A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.” 

“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?” 

You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream. 

Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack. 

He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.” 

“Who?” Your head swayed with the question. 

Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went. 

“What the fuck?” you blurted out. 

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?” 

“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied. 

“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.” 

Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.” 

He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men. 

After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently. 

“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door. 

You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.” 

The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.” 

“I can take you just fine.”

“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?” 

Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”

His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent. 

“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created. 

“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation. 

“Yeah, but—” 

“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.” 

You blinked, and then slid into the front seat. 

The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.

“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.” 

Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.” 

He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look. 

“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.” 

~~

Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news. 

After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade. 

“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively. 

Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.” 

“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.

You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink. 

“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow. 

“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.” 

“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.” 

“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?” 

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room. 

Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift. 

You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed. 

“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.” 

You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes. 

And nothing at the same time. 

“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.

“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.” 

“You’re being presumptuous.” 

He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply. 

“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection. 

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen. 

But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.” 

“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.

He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”

“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you. 

And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.

His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.” 

He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.” 

There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you. 

“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.” 

The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter. 

He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you. 

The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.

The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter. 

He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.” 

“You can do it again.” 

“Oh, I will, baby.” 

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together. 

“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.” 

He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?” 

“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.” 

Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets. 

“And is that true?” 

“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”

[lolawassad]

tap

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky never talked much. he fell in love anyway.

Bucky wasn’t a man of many words.

And you noticed that fairly quickly. In fact, it was one of the first things you noticed about him when you first joined the team. Quiet, reserved, gentle Bucky Barnes wasn’t a man of many words.

But his eyes spoke volumes.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

His gaze fell, “Not much to say.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

And you pushed him a lot to do so. Always asked him about the 40s and what he was like. You remembered asking if he was just as quiet then as he was now and Steve laughed from across the room saying, “You’re kidding right, Y/N? Buck was a real smooth talker.”

So, you teased him about that often. He didn’t like it, always said something about not being that guy anymore.

You reminded him that he could be any guy he wanted.

So, yeah, Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, but you two got close.

“I know you stole the remote, Buck.”

He circled around the kitchen counter, walking away from you.

“Is it because you don’t want to watch that Disney movie with me? I know you secretly like it and —“

“I don’t have the remote, Y/N.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what’s that hanging out of your pocket?”

You saw that little grin form on his face and you hurried forward and grabbed it before he could say another word.

He chased after you.

Then there were those times where he did thoughtful little things. Where he let his heart show through that thick wall of his and it made you realize just how much he spoke without speaking.

“Did you guys drink all the coffee again? Really? Does no one —“

Bucky handed you a cup.

“Two sugars, right?”

“Yeah and —“

“A dash of cream.”

That was until he added salt into your coffee one morning.

“We ran out of sugar!” he defended.

“So you added salt? Buck, that’s —“ you eyed him. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”

He took a sip of his coffee.

“Oh, you’re getting brave. I can —“

You grabbed his coffee and headed straight for your room.

He chased after you again.

So, yeah you two got close.

Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, but you two still got close.

He never let his walls down completely though. Never enough to let you know what he was feeling anyway, if he was hurt. It didn’t bother you so much until you realized he was always hurt, always hurting and that stung a little too much.

“Buck…can you let me in? Please?”

“We can talk tomorrow, Y/N.”

You sighed, standing outside his door.

“I don’t wanna talk tomorrow. I wanna…we don’t have to talk at all, Buck. I just wanna be with you right now.”

No response.

“Please?”

You’ll want to talk anyway, you practically heard and you sighed because it was true.

You knew you’d ask him a bunch of questions and Steve already told you — he already told you that Bucky liked his space. That he got distant sometimes when the world got too much or people got too much for him. Sometimes his mind got too much and Bucky wanted a break. You slid down against his door and sat there for ten minutes hoping for a change of heart.

You weren’t leaving though.

“Hey, Buck, how about this?”

You continued when he didn’t respond. You knew he was listening.

“How about we create a system? One that doesn’t involve you talking or me asking. It can just be...our thing. It can our thing, Buck.”

Nothing.

“And we don’t have to do it all the time. Just when we need to. When I need to know things and you don’t feel like giving. Think you’ve already given too much, don’t ya think?”

Nothing again.

You sighed.

But then you heard the door open and you fell back a little. Bucky looked down at you, what system? his eyes read and you patted the ground in front of you, signaling for him to sit.

He sat.

“Okay so, two taps anywhere like this,” you pressed your fingers against the back of his hand twice. “Means you’re okay. That you’re fine. Three taps, however,” you pressed three times against his skin. “Means you’re not. That you’re not okay.”

He stared at your hands.

“And I don’t have to explain why?”

“Never, Buck. Not unless you want to.”

You tapped him four times.

“What’s that?”

“Four taps means you miss me.”

Bucky got up.

“Aw, c’mon Buck. Humor me a little!”

You didn’t miss the little grin on his face.

Somehow you thought he’d give you two taps just for that comment.

Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, so he liked the system.

He first used it three days after it was created.

He’d woken up and strolled in for his first cup of coffee. Wasn’t the least bit surprised when he found you already there, cup ready in hand with eggs to match because coffee isn’t breakfast, Buck. He’d usually argue about it. Coffee’s the only breakfast, he’d say, but he didn’t have that in him today.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t come out of his room in three days. Or maybe it was because you hadn’t said anything to him yet, but Bucky didn’t argue. He just found himself tapping your hand twice when he reached for the cup.

You grinned.

Bucky liked that.

And you found that was the one he used the most.

Two taps.

Two taps whenever he went off to bed. Two taps when you played that Godforsaken Disney movie for the 5th time that week. Two taps when Thor made some stupid comment about wars during dinner one night.

It was two taps.

Always two taps.

So you were more than a little surprised when your first three taps came.

It was right after a mission. A long one. One that Steve had gotten hurt on because Bucky hadn’t gotten there fast enough. It wasn’t his fault though. Wasn’t anyone’s fault because everyone was too preoccupied with the bad guys at hand to notice the knife coming for Steve’s left side. Bucky took the blame though. Beat himself up about till he got into the jet.

The words were on the tip of your tongue, are you okay? You wanted to say it. Wanted everyone to say it because how could they not notice?

You didn’t though.

Instead you sat next to him and waited for him to say something, anything. At some point, you felt yourself giving up and drifting off until you felt his hand on your thigh.

He squeezed it three times.

You rested your head on his shoulder.

Then there was that time you left for six days. Fury had you and Natasha assigned to some undercover mission in London for the next six days. It took the whole six days, while the boys jetted off to New Orleans to deal with some asshole causing a ruckus in the city.

They came back in two.

“Buck!” you shouted, waking through the compound and dropping your bag at the front door.

“Buck, I’m back! Where are —“ you grinned, finding him resting at the bar stool in the kitchen. He was reading some file and you dropped your head onto his shoulder from behind.

“Hey, Buck. Miss me?”

He stopped.

“No? Ouch, well, I missed you,” you turned your head, kissing his cheek. “Look, I even brought you back a keychain. Nothing fancy. Just has a cat waving the British flag and when I saw it, I thought of you. The cat looks grumpy.”

Bucky didn’t say anything and you removed your head from his shoulder. He must be really into the file, you thought and you didn’t want to bother him so you left the keychain on the table and turned around to head to your room.

Bucky grabbed you and tapped your waist four times.

You launched yourself at him and covered his face with a series of kisses. Everywhere. Anywhere you could reach and each one was followed by a string of  I knew it, I knew it, I knew it’s.

Bucky never wanted to use the four taps again.

Except he did. All the time.

Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, but he thinks he was starting to fall for you.

Because he did four taps whenever you left the room for too long. And when Steve briefed them for too long that one time about some mission, Bucky found himself tapping your leg four times even though you were right there.

Right there. You were right there.

He even recalled nudging his nose against yours four times when you fell asleep on him during that damn Disney movie the previous week.

“Miss you,” he mumbled.

But it was okay because when you woke up the next morning, you nudged your nose against his cheek four times.

Bucky woke up with a bright gleam in his eyes.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Missed you, obviously.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Buck.”

And then there came a time where Bucky decided he wanted to create a new one.  A new tap.

Bucky wasn’t a man of many words, but he knows he finally found love.

“Sweetheart, damn, can you slow —“

Because you were stuffing popcorn in his mouth. You were laying in front of him, in between him to be more exact, and throwing popcorn behind like it was nothing.

Most of it didn’t even make it into his mouth.

“Shh, this is the best part.”

“You say that everytime. We’ve seen this movie a —“

“Shh, Buck!”

Bucky laughed and pulled you up so you were closer to his chest. It wasn’t anything special that made him realize it. Thinks it was the familiarly and the comfortability that made him put the pieces together, but Bucky leaned down and pressed his lips against your hair three times. Just three and that was enough for you to tear your eyes away from the screen and look up at him.

“Buck?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Did I throw too much popcorn again? You know I get excited when Lucifer gets on screen. He reminds me so much of —“

Bucky tightened his arm around you and tapped his thumb against your stomach once.

You knitted your brows.

“One? Buck, one doesn’t mean anything. We don’t have —“

“One means I love you.”

“What?”

“One tap means I love you. It means I love you, Y/N.”

It took a few seconds for your brain to register but once it did you jumped up in his lap and turned to face him. Bucky's sure the popcorn bowl had spilled all over the floor, but he didn’t care. Not when his girl looked at him like that and leaned in to kiss him like that too. So fiercely and full of love.

“Okay, okay, baby! I said one tap.”

“One tap gets you a million kisses each time.”

“Mhm. I’m okay with that.”

You giggled, I know you are, you mumbled against him and kissed him a little harder. He felt brighter, more happy and he knew he wasn’t one to say much, but his eyes always did and that was enough for you to pull back for a quick second before leaning in to give him one, long, seething kiss.

One kiss.

And at that moment, Bucky knew the kind of guy he wanted to be.

He wanted to be the kind that was loved by you.

[lolawassad]

No Bone Zone

Dustin Henderson has a sister who thinks it’s unfair his older friends are so attractive.

Words: 4.8K Author’s Note: Stranger Things AU - Lets just pretend that Steve and Carol are still in school, only Steve is the Steve we all know and love, and Carol is still a harpy.

Keep reading

[lolawassad]

Reblog In 5 seconds for good luck

[lolawassad]

#hey dad #DAD!

[lolawassad]

it's a lot of stuff...

[lolawassad]

Throw Me Instead - Earth-2 Harrison Wells x Fem!Reader SMUT

Oops here comes another one, I have a thing for the Earth-2 DILF who would’ve guessed?  Happy 2022 all, and sorry if you’re waiting on an Arcane fic, this one was sitting half-finished in my drafts since early November.

Word Count: 3000+

Synopsis: It wasn’t uncommon for you to tease. It wasn’t uncommon for Harry to rage. One day, however, the combination of your two personalities clashed.

Warnings: NSFW, Lab Sex, Wall Sex, Desk Sex, Light Exhibitionism, Angry Sex, Possessiveness, Choking, Unprotected Sex, Dirty Talk, Use of Sir/Princess

Keep reading

[lolawassad]

all the fics in my drafts watching me start a new one

[lolawassad]

Are you going to make a part 4 for the polyslytheringang x hufflepuff reader? If not it’s fine I just loved the series, have a good day and hope you’re doing well <3

Im trying my absolute best, but my mental health is kicking my ass! I hope that ill be able to start writing again soon

[lolawassad]

I just imagined y/n emma and olive welcoming jake w the school song from matilda and the rest of the kids joining and enoch just looking from his window smirking at y/n cus hes definitely in love

#miss peregrines home for peculiar children #x y/n #x reader #Enoch x reader #Miss peregrines home for peculiar children x reader #mphfpc #mphfpc x reader

[lolawassad]

I am on haitus, but i shall write a new request, bc i am annoying and the worst and everything i hate in a writer

[lolawassad]

I HATE THE ANGST, FUCK YOU MARCUS IM DATING GARRETT AND JONAH NOW

Sitting On The Shelf - Marcus White x Reader

Part 35 - Grand Reopening

SOTS Masterlist

"I hope you all had an amazing vacation." Being back inside of the store was nothing like how you remembered it to be - however, that could've been due to all the dust-sheet-covered furniture and the builders still lingering around and completing odd jobs and ends.

"By "vacation," you mean the two months we were laid off without pay?" Garrett scoffed, as unhappy to be here as everyone else and possibly even more so. You'd definitely missed his Garrett-like charm.

"Uh-huh.Anyways, I've been doing a lot of soul-searching since the tornado, and..." Glenn was quickly cut off by the loud shout of one of the builders to let him know that he was 'coming through, followed by a comically long series of more builders carrying stuff right where Glenn wanted to stand. "Almost got me there. And and it's been raising some big questions for me. Questions like...questions that..."

After the constant disruption of the usually quiet and empty front of the store, Glenn had insisted you all move to the breakroom, desperate to get his point across in peace and quiet  - and safety given how he nearly got hit by a ladder. However, that didn't last for more then one sentence slipped from Glenn's lips, Cheyenne nearly falling out of the breakroom window that appeared to be missing the glass pain that usually sit within it. And so, you'd been forced to move to the front of the store, wherein Glenn's speech was interrupted once more. There was only on option - and apparently that was a twenty minute long walk away from the chaos and into the quiet.

"So that's what I've been thinking about. Anyone else have thoughts on that?" Glenn concluded his way too drawn out speech, a soft smile curling onto his lips as he finished his address for the first time in months. "Okay, then. Let's get to work!"

Jonah was the only thing separating you and Marcus after months of not talking, and the only thing stopping the two of you from noticing the other sneaking glances at them. He had a knack for that, it seemed. "What was that, a twenty minute walk?"

"Twenty-three." Mateo confirmed, the group beginning the return to the store to embark on the first shift in over two months. It was going to be a long day getting used to things again, let alone while trying to dodge Marcus all day; as long as you could help it.

"Y/n! Come on!" Jonah said, interrupting your thoughts as he grabbed your arm to bring you back to the rest of the group, pulling you back into reality as he did. Jonah had been your absolute rock these past few months, as you had his, and you knew as long as you had him at your side, today would be fine.

"Remember, single file when we cross the highway." Dina instructed, joining Glenn at the front of the line forming behind him.

"Are we cloud one?" Glenn shouted as you all began to walk back to the store, ready to restock everything.

"No!" You had all joined in on the chant, though tiredly and with lacklustre effort, it dawning on you you'd missed this place - these people - more than you thought you had over these past two months.

————————————————————————

As soon as you'd made your way back to the store, you were split into groups to begin restocking and rebuilding the store. You and Jonah were building a set of shelves with Cheyenne and Mateo, catching up on everything you'd done over the past few months.

"Yeah, it well, it wasn't justmyapartment. The tornado levelled thewholebuilding,so..." Jonah recounted the story for what felt like the millionth time, you having been glued to his all day so far and having heard his explanation to everyone who asked how his time off had been.

"Scary." Cheyenne gasped, leaving Mateo to try and put up the second shelf by himself. "Were you in it at the time?"

"No, I was here, at the time."

"Oh, right." Cheyenne scoffed, pushing her hair back over her shoulder and turning back to the shelf. "Blonde moment."

"Yeah,so anyway, everything I own is gone, and now I'm,well, I've actually been living with y/n." At the mention of your name your head perked up, waving at a cheery Cheyenne and a Mateo's who's interest in the conversation had suddenly peaked.

"I thought you only had one bedroom, y/n?" Of course Mateo had found some kind of thing to gossip about in the whole of Jonah's story.

"Yeah,I do." You confirmed, standing straighter  as you fought against what Mateo was clearly implying, his smug smirk only furthering your confidence he thought something was going on between you and Jonah. "And if he doesn't get out of it soon, we're left with no choice but to find a bigger place."

"Why didn't you consider that sooner?" Mateo was looking you up and down, a deeper smirk curling onto his lips as he thought he'd finally caught you and Jonah out.

"Didn't think it'd be this long." You answer honestly, returning to the shelf and letting your frustration at Mateo dissipate. "But, Jonah's a good roommate, I'm actually leaning into the thought of us moving into a bigger place together."

Jonah dropped what he was holding at the statement, for so long you'd been adamant that you weren't going to move out, not for his sake; and to hear you say you would stuck a chord in his heart. "Wait,really?"

"J." You cooed, wrapping on arm loosing around his side and pulling him into a hug, a fond look gazing up at him. "I'm really going to miss having you around if you go.Yeah, I love my apartment, but I love you more."

The tender moment between the two of you was a regular occurrence at this point, living together for so long having changed the nature of your relationship ever so slightly. Jonah had been one of your closest friends, but now, he was more like your brother; the one you'd never had and always wanted.

Mateo, however, cringed in disgust at the sweet turn of events, going back to ignoring the three of you and doing his own thing instead of the work.

"Oh. Why don't you move into Garrett's apartment?" Cheyenne asked, eyes filtering between a hopeful Jonah and a really scared Garrett; was he really so terrified of living with Jonah?

Garrett's face seemed to move through all five stages of grief as he tried to figure out an appropriate answer to the question ofwhyJonah couldn't move in with him. "No! No. I meannah. Jonah doesn't want to live with a roommate. He's an adult."

"Heliterallyspent the last few months with a roommate." You scoffed, ignoring Garrett's questioning gaze as you continued to build up the shelf.

"What roommate? Where? I didn't hear of a roommate."

"Me!" You shouted, turning to face your friend with a look of almost concern. "Did you not hear thatentireconversation?"

Garrett rolled his eyes at the revelation, clearly desperate to get out of having to house a roommate his necessarily didn't want or need. "But I mean, it wouldn't be a problem.I could do it.It's just that it'sreallycramped."

"Oh. I thought you had a two-bedroom." Cheyenne, yet again with the perfect timing, he'd Jonah holding onto hope he should've let been squashed.

"Ah, okay. Sure,yes, you know, if youwantto get architectural about it, thenyes, I do have a second bedroom,but, when you use a wheelchair, you need multiple bedrooms." Garrett's blatant lie had laughter bubbling in your chest, and if it weren't for the obviously disheartened look on Jonah's face you would've let it slips

"Oh. Why?"

"Safety. Excuse me. Gotta go."

Patting Jonah's arm, you gave him a soft smile. "We'll figure things out,J. 'Always do."

————————————————————————

The three of you had been stocking the freshly built shelves in silence, you, a physical barrier preventing Jonah and Amy's would-be awkward reunion.

"Back at it,huh?" Amy had broke the silence, cautiously making eye contact with Jonah around your smaller figure.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's like we never left. So, uh, how are things at home?" Jonah asked from his place next to you, stumbling over his words. Similarly to you, he hadn't spoken to hiscrushsince the tornado, andboywas he nervous about it; he hadn't shut up about it in the car ride over. "Emma. How..."

"How's Emma?" You asked her, finishing Jonah's train of thought for him as he struggled to form a full sentence in-front of Amy.

"Awesome. Yeah, she's starting high school." Amy turned to the cart next to her, taking a box off of it and placing it on the shelf, avoiding Jonah's piercing gaze that didn't move from her.

"Oh, wow. Uh, that's exciting. Teenager." Jonah smiled at her, unsure of what he could possibly say to make things alright.

"Oh my god,high school," you sighed looking at Amy, a wistful look of longing crossing yo features as you leant your back against the shelf. "I remember high school, what a place."

Amy raised her eyebrow at you before letting out a half-hearted laugh. "Y/n, you dropped out of high school? I thought you hated that place."

"I did." You shrugged, picking up another item to place onto the shelf, and ignoring the one that had fallen to the floor as you'd dazed about high school. "But I feel cool knowing Emma's going now, I'm like an alumni...or whatever."

Amy always had appreciated your attempts at making her times with Emma easier. Knowing you had made raising Emma that little bit easier - whatever you'd been though, Emma went through sooner or later in some capacity. And having that help, especially over the past few years, had been exactly what Amy needed.

Jonah sent you a knowing look before walking over to Amy and talking to her in a hushed tone.Oh, you thought,he's really just going for it huh.

Maybe you could take some inspiration from Jonah. Sure, he sometimes was out of his depth, butgod you had to give him credit for how he never backed down from what he wanted to do. Jonah had put his mind to talking to Amy, and he did. If only you could do that too.

Continuing to stack the shelf as Jonah and Amy converted, you fell into a daze, only breaking from it as Jonah loudly shouted "Hey Marcus!" breaking away from Amy as he did.

"Marcus!" Amy added, clearly happy for the tall man to be so close by and intervene with the undoubtedly awkward route their conversation was going down.

The brunettes sudden appearance had you startled, throwing your arm into the shelf and knocking over half of the end cap, a glass bottle falling to the floor and smashing, liquid and glass spreading everywhere.

"Oh shit, I'm- I- I'll..."

Marcus had pulled you from within the radius of the broken glass without though, his hand wrapping gently around yours as he guided you to avoid the sharp shards that now littered the floor. "You got to be more careful." He muttered, concern wrinkling his features.

The second you'd realised the position you'd ended up in, you jumped away from Marcus, stuttering and stumbling over trying to explain you needed to get a dustpan and brush to clean up your mess while hiding the raging blush that covered your cheeks.

Running away from the group, each calling after you, voices laced with concern, you headed for the warehouse in search of what you needed, not intending on returning to the spillage until Marcus was long gone from your line of vision.

Though you'd been happy your first interaction had beendecentlyun-awkward, it was still far too soon to speak to him again. The image of him jumping to your rescue wouldn't leave your mind; if he cared that much, why hadn't he contacted you? You supposed a relationship was supposed to be a two way street, you'd have to put in the effort too if you wanted to fix things - or at least find out why they hadn't been fixed...yet.

————————————————————————

You put the palm of your hands on the counter in the men's staff bathroom and pushed yourself up onto it. As you shuffled further back onto it Jonah started to unbutton his shirt, your eyes carefully avoiding his chest as it became revealed to you.

Though you'd spent months living together, you still hadn't gotten used to the sight of Jonah beingsocasuallyhalf-naked around you. It had taken a solid month for him to even take his shirt off with you in the room, but come this morning he didn't even think twice about you walking into the bathroom to brush your teeth while he used the shower.

"You know, my offer still stands." You said, pulling at his chin to make him face you, stubble scratching at your hands as he finished unbuttoning his shirt and let it fall to the floor.

Turning the tap on, Jonah began to splash water against his warm, flushed face and body - his interactions with Amy getting more and more embarrassing as the day went on. "I've loved living with you the past few months, don't get me wrong." Jonah dragged his hands slowly over his eyes, letting out a king sigh as he did. "But we either need to move into a bigger place, or I need to move out."

"First of all, you know how I feel about moving to a new place." The two of you had had plenty of discussions over the past week or so about moving out and into a bigger place together, but the more Jonah brought it up the more you realised just how much you didn't want to. There were too many memories attached to it now, and after everything you'd lost in the past few months, you weren't ready to lose this too. However, for Jonah, you'd do it. It'd take some time and convincing but you liked living with the brunette.

"Second of all, I wasn't on about that." You smoothly pulled the razor out of your back pocket and waved it in front of you, having snuck one out of the pile you'd been asked to stock in health and beauty. "I was on about my offer to get rid ofall that facial hair."

"Wow," Jonah let out a full belly laugh at your words. "I didn't think you were serious! I think it looks good, it lookssexy." He wiggled his eyebrows at you, the pair of you laughing for the first time today, forgetful of its events so far for a mere moment.

"How was your discussion with Amy? Seemedawfulfrom my point of view." You teased, dipping your hand under the running water and flicking it in Jonah's face.

"How wasyourdiscussion with Marcus? Seemed awful frommypoint of view." Jonah teased right back at you. When Jonah came over that first night, you cried into his arms about everything - how you'd messed up things with Marcus, you were out of a job, and how your entire life seemed to be falling apart. You hadn'tmeantto not tell him you loved him, in the moment the words just wouldn't come out, but considering he hadn't spoken to you at all since that moment, you were almost certain you'd ruined things between you for good.

"Haha, very funny Mr." You let out a sigh before looking up at Jonah and frowning. "Why do you think I'm hanging out in here with you?"

As he began to respond Garrett wheeled into the bathroom. "What is going on here?" He asked, raising his eyebrow in confusion.

"I'm just hanging out in here, don't worry about me." You sent Garrett a small, shy smile, swinging your legs back and forth as they hung over the ledge of the counter, much like your usual place atop the customer service counter:man, how you'd missed that place.

"Well, gotta do what you gotta do." Garrett shrugged before wheeling closer to the bathroom stall.

"Yeah. It's, it's just until I find a long term place, or someone who will let me stay with them, so ..." Jonah didn't finish his sentence, holding out for Garrett to offer him a place. In all honestly, you weren't upset he didn't want to live you, and was constantly pestering Garrett: Garrett had a spare room, and you? Well, you had a couch or the other half of your mattress if he planned on staying much longer.

Besides, you wouldn't mind getting the whole of your bed back sometime soon.

"Mm-hmm. Well, I'm a..." Garrett pointed to the stall before fully wheeling in.

Jonah sent you a pointed look as you tried to hold in your laugh behind your hand. "Don't you dare!" He whisper yelled at you, stifling his own laugh too.

————————————————————————

"Hi, I'm Glenn. This is my voice. How come no one ever told me that I sounded like that?" Glenn frowned; Garrett merely mentioned how high pitched his voice was, and it was all Glenn could think about since, completely taking his mind away from the disarray the store seemed to be in.

"Aw, Glenn. It's notthatbad. I think it's,uh, adorable." You said with faux confidence. Though Glenn's voice could sometimes get ateenybit annoying, there were definitely worse things in the world.

"We thought you knew." Amy sighed, dealing with Glenn's antics was one of the few things she was hoping to avoid today.

"But that's not how I sound on the inside! On the inside, I sound like "Hi, I'm Glenn."" He tried again but to no avail, he still sounded just as before.

"That's the same voice." Jonah confirmed, looking intently at you, who thankfully was standing opposite to Amy and not at her side, the two having yet to speak again since there awkward interaction this morning.

"Not what you hear. What I hear." Glenn said, pointing his finger in Jonah's direction.

"Okay, I found a costume shop with two Minion costumes." Dina said as she walked towards you, phone being tucked into her back pocket quickly as she returned to her usual, more formal self.

"Do I have a weird voice?" Glenn asked Dina hoping for a different response, a deep frown settling its way into his face.

"Yeah. It's preposterous. Anyway, I guess they were rented for some birthday party, but the kid was murdered or kidnapped, or changed his mind or something. I don't know. I wasn't listening. The point is, you two should go right now and pick them up." Dina said, folding her arms and looking between Amy and Jonah.

"Oh, I can go with Amy, Dina. I'm sure Jonah has lots to do around the store. I wouldn't want to take him away from his work." You responded, hoping to prolong Jonah from the inevitable confrontation between the two knowing he'd do the same for you if the roles were reversed.

"Yeah! Why can't y/n come? Why us?" Amy asked, clearly uncomfortable with having to spend so long with Jonah so soon.

"Me and you have a lot to do y/n.All right? Besides Henry can't be around children. Marcus is on his third DUI. Elias is afraid of Minions.Nobody knows where Brett is!" Dina's frustration seemed to be getting the better of her as she ushered Amy and Jonah out of the store. She folded her arms across her chest, a proud smile working its way onto her face as she watched them get into Amy's car.

"So what dowe have to do Dina?" You asked her, now standing by her side.

"Everything Y/n. There store is opening in 4 hours. Didn't you know? I swore we asked Garrett to make an announcement." Dina replied, swiftly walking away to find someone else to get started on one of the many things that needed to be done.

"What!" You yelled, running after Dina to try and figure out how you were going to get everything done in such a short amount of time.

————————————————————————

After spending the past few hours in a rush to try and get as much done as possible, you happily sunk down into a chair in the break room. Spending a moment just appreciating the quiet and the calm of the break room you stood up and opened one of the cupboards, grabbing a pot noodle before setting water to boil.

As you stood there, enjoying the silence in the room, you heard heavy footsteps coming towards it. Turning towards the door to see who it was you felt your stomach drop at the sight of the jumpsuit-clad warehouse manager. Tense silence fell across the room as you just started at each other, neither wanting to be the first to speak. Fortunately, it was readily broken by the shriek whistle of the kettle come to boil.

Picking up the kettle to pour the hot water into the pot you decided you'd have to be the one to break the silence.

"You're bleeding." Marcus had beaten you to it, silently crossing the break room and loosing wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pulling your forearm close to his face to inspect the small knick that had red bleeding through your shirt.

You gently placed the Kettle down before turning towards Marcus. He looked good. As good as the last time you'd really seen him, when his face was inches away from yours. Maybe better than then, especially in the dimmed lights and solitude of the break room.

Marcus just stared at you, his forehead creasing in deep concern, rolling up your sleeve to check out the small cut that rested on your forearm; how it had even got there, you didn't know. In the rush of the day you'd not stopped for more then 10 seconds, and the glass bottle you'd broken surely couldn't have done it - could it?

You could feel the tears pooling in your eyes again just like they had the night after the tornado. Marcus was being so kind despite all you'd felt had happened, maybe it was just in your head how bad it'd been?

Marcus reached up on top of the fridge, pulling down the old and dusty first aid box that had sat unused since you'd first began working at the store, opening it and pulling out a wipe and a band aid.

Neither of your spoke as he wiped away at the now dried blood and then delicately placed the band aid on top, smoothing down the material to make sure it stayed sealed against your skin. He contemplated pressing a kiss against the broken skin, willing your would away, but decided against it, instead remaining mere inches away from your face; chest pressed to chest.

With a slow and deep breath, you built up the courage to finally speak to the brunette, continuing to hold eye contact as you asked your simple and only question. "Are we okay?"

Marcus gulpedhardat the question. Things were weird, that was for sure, and you never called and agreed to go for coffee which, as far as he knew, was enough conformation as to what you two were. Maybe he'd taken things too fast, but he'd never regret telling you he loved you in the warehouse that day; it was the truth, and he wanted -needed- you to know.

It wasn't what he wanted, but he could tell it's what you wanted.God, if only he knew how wrong he was. "We can be friends."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Somehow you'd completely misread everything and made things weirdagain. Tears pricked at your eyes as you pulled away from Marcus's touch, pot noodle and boiled water long forgotten and you left the break room with a quiet murmur. "Yeah,friends."

Unbeknownst to you, Marcus didn't want to be friends, he wanted to bemore than friends. Marcus wished he'd said something,anything, to you that showed how he felt, but he hadn't, and now it might've been just too late to fix that.

————————————————————————

"Okay, well, this is going to be fun. Now, do you want to room with Timur or Jacob? Timur's a sweetheart, but he does have night terrors. On the other hand, Jacob is really quiet, but in a scary way. Sometimes you wake up and he's just standing over you." Glenn said to Jonah as you walked out of the back. Was Jonah really going to move in long term with Glenn? Before you?Wow

"All right. You can stay with me." From behind you Garrett spoke, causing you to jump slightly as he seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"Really? Are you are you sure?" Jonah said in disbelief. After all of the things that had happened, it took the threat of living with Glenn to offer up his apartment to him.

"You're going soft,Gare." You teased, swallowing down the lump in your throat and furiously wiping at the tears that blurred your line of vision, desperate to keep it hidden from the others.

"Oh, okay. Well, if anything changes, the men's bathroom key also works on my front door." Glenn, downtrodden by the news Jonah would not be living with him, sighed, walking away from the three of you.

Garrett spoke to Jonah as the three of you walked towards the exit, listing all he required out of Jonah as his new 'roomie'. Despite this Jonah's gaze was firm on you, and your puffy red eyes.

"You okay?" He whispered, still trying to listen to Garrett's words.

"I will be." You sniffled, causing Jonah to pull you into his side, hugging you as best as he could as you walked. You couldn't help be think how lucky you were to have Jonah - he was the best-ist friend you could've asked for. He was far too good for the likes of you.

"I will be."

————————————————————————

☆: .｡. Tag List .｡.:☆ @write-from-the-heart @despicablylara @whatafreakingloser @flowercrowns-goodvibes @millieb-3199 @lolawassad @catarina-trouxa @falsegodofmischief @thepurplebutterflythings @littleboysmile @sibsteria @quinn-7007 @aashy723 @maeisonline @lizziel1410

Want to be added to the taglist? send an ask to let me know <3

————————————————————————

HELLO IM BACK WITH THE FIRST PART OF SEASON THREE

Sorry for the lack of an upload last week I went on a date😧😧😧😧😧😧and went on another with the same guy today 😧😧😧😧😧😧 It's been a crazy time

Enjoy this part and the more Marcus angst I'm giving you I promise I'll be nicer with him in the future

As always have a lovely week!! And feel free to check out a Garrett fic and a Jonah fic im uploading later this week!!!<333

[lolawassad]

So whens the wedding

y’all I have a DATE 😧😧😧😧😧😧😧😧 tomorrow so SOTS ‘grand reopening’ might be out a bit later then usual

[lolawassad]

So whens the wedding

y’all I have a DATE 😧😧😧😧😧😧😧😧 tomorrow so SOTS ‘grand reopening’ might be out a bit later then usual

[lolawassad]

YES FROG, YES, LOVE FROGS, STUPID GARRET WE SHOULD SMACK HIM, HOW DARE HE NOT LIKE FROGGIES

The Prince and The Frog

A Marcus White x Reader

"Pls fanfic of y/n marcus n froggy boy

Reader wears a frog hat n a frog sweater to the store and bring the froggy boy PLEASE? aaaaaah I LOVE THE FROg

FROG HAD NO LINES BUT FROGGO YES YES??"

Word count: 1.4k part 2 coming soon!!!

Requested by: @lolawassad <3

(Can be read a SOTS S2 aligned)

————————————————————————

Gerald had been sitting in his new home for the past week: lounging between the lake and the small grassy area filled with little sticks and rocks, dining on the finest crickets and mealworms your pay check could afford, he was truest living his best life. Though you couldn’t help but feel like he needed more.

Sitting in the same enclosure every day surely wasn’t enriching, so you decided it was only right to take him on a trip to the outside world. And clearly the store was the best option for such a trip.

Your love for frogs was well known amongst your coworkers; Mateo buying you the most beautiful green sweater in the store secret Santa exchange last Christmas, a small, green frog embroidered on the centre surrounded by red and brown mushrooms. It had taken a weeks worth of convincing from Amy to get you to take it off after you’d been given it, completely falling in love with the sweater and the cute froggie on it. Plus it was super comfy.

Pulling the gifted sweater over your head, you straightened out the oversized material, sleeves pulled over your hands as you pieced together an outfit worthy of going to the store on your day off. Jeans, shoes and socks were the obvious additions to your outfit, however something felt missing, and the longer you stared in the mirror the more obvious it became. Running back towards your closet, you pulled out the wicker basket that was filled with hats, scarfs and gloves alike, digging through it until yours hands settled on the rougher material of a green bucket hat. The matching green bucket hat had a wide smile etched onto its centre, two semi-circles standing proudly at the crown of the hat, comically large eyes completing the image of a frog that now rested atop your head. It was perfect.

Heading towards Geralds enclosure, you reached inside, pulling out the frog from his earthen home and placing him into a smaller version of the tank that stood in your bedroom; potable and the very thing you’d brought him home in.

Gerald was now ready to join you on your trip to the store, the pair of you like twins as you marched out of the apartment with his safely in your hold, hands clasped round the plastic casing.

The walk to the store was usually a little long, but with your earphones popped in and Gerald by your side it passed by in no time. As you approached the big, sliding doors, you took a deep breath, for some reason nervous approaching the store on your day off - or maybe it was the frog get up and frog in hand that was making you nervous. Were you even allowed to bring pets into the store? You couldn’t remember what the policy was but you were sure Glenn wouldn’t mind.

With a slow and deep breath outwards, taking a step into the store and immediately being hit with a wave of sound and buzzing energy - you couldn’t say that you missed being here on your days off, not when the constant noise and business could be so overwhelming. Sometimes it was hard to think why you even enjoyed working at such a busy place.

“Y/n! Y/n! Babe! What are you doing here?” Marcus was jogging towards you within seconds of you walking into the store, a wide, lovesick smile covering his face. Bounding towards you, he came to a sudden stop, reaching out and wrapping his arms around you. However, as he went to pull you close against him, he felt a sharp point press into his stomach. “What is that?”

Holding up the small enclosure for him to see, you turned to so Gerald would be in view. “It’s my frog.” You answered shyly, a smile curling onto your lips as proudly gazed upon the tiny creature.

“The Gerald?!” Marcus gasped, eyes wide as he pressed his face against the plastic container, coming as close to Gerald as he could without either touching. “It’s an honour.”

“You think?” You whispered, nervous that you’d done the wrong thing by bringing Gerald to the store, knowing it was defiantly a slightly odd choice to make.

“I know.” Marcus concurred, eyes leaving Gerald to meet your own, a reassuring smile encouraging your actions. “Is he here to meet everyone?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Pushing a piece of hair behind your ear, you nervously avoided Marcus’s gaze, beginning to think it was weird to bring your frog to work rather then to bring your friends back to meet your frog. “Only if they want to.”

“I know they want to.” Marcus grabbed one of your hands tightly in his own, letting the other hold Gerald safely in your grasp, and dragged you towards the customer service counter, where Amy, Jonah and Garrett were stood talking.

“Guys! Look at y/n’s frog!” Marcus’s enthusiasm for something that brought you so much joy only made you like him even more. It was sweet that he cared so much about things that made you happy. “Isn’t he so cool?”

“A frog?” Amy asked, breaking away from the clipboard in her hands to look at what you’d brought over, a smile curling on her lips as she took in the scene before her. Marcus’s hand was squeezing your own and you’d never looked happier in that jumper. It was sickeningly cute. “Let’s seen then.”

“Is that even allowed?” Despite his question Jonah came over to look at and observe the slimy boy, asking you question after question about your pet frog, his genuine interest making your smile even wider.

Jonah and Amy asked plenty of questions about the frog, and even if they were just being attentive for the sake of it, it was nice to receive some interest about your love for frogs. You knew the care he needed inside and out, could talk about different species and where they were from and what they could do for hours if someone let you.

“You want to see, Gare?” You asked as Jonah and Amy walked away from you and Marcus, both all questioned out and with more knowledge on frog then they ever could’ve needed.

“I’m good doll, not a big fan of slimey things.” With the simple statement Garrett left for his break, leaving you and Marcus alone at the customer service counter, and a frown on your face.

Marcus immediately noticed the change in your mood, gently taking Gerald from your hands and placing him on the counter top. “Why the long face, gorgeous?”

“I’m just upset Garrett didn’t want to look at my frog, I know he doesn’t like them so I can’t blame him, but it still made me sad.”

“Come ‘ere.” Marcus squeezed you into a hug, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Gerald makes you happy, which is what matters, doesn’t matter what anyone else things - not me, not Amy, not Jonah and not Garrett.”

Hiding your face in his chest, you let out a contented sigh, smiling into the materials of his coveralls. Pulling back, a smile had made its way onto your face once more, making a bright one reappear on Marcus’s face too. “My Prince.”

Marcus’s face flushed red and the simple yet sweet compliment, nuzzling his nose into your hair with a murmur of “My frog” pressing serval, chaste kisses to the crown of your head before pulling back with a dopey smile.

“Let’s go and show him to Glenn!”

————————————————————————

Hey guys!!! Request upload for the first time in a while - part two coming soon and a Jonah fic coming even sooner!!!

Mobile upload imtil I can get to my computer tomorrow lol, sorry if formatting is weird for now :)

If you want to join the Marcus tag list just send me an ask and let me know!

Thank you Lola bae for the request AND for inspiring Gerald’s presence in SOTS best character fr

As always have a lovely week <333

[lolawassad]

WE DIDNT SAY IT BACK, HES GONNA BE SAD ABOUT THAT I CAN SENSE IT, NO I HATE THIS, WHY DO YOU DO ME LIKE THIS?? I THOUGHT WE WHERE PALS, I SHOWED YOU MY SHOES. OMG MARCUS IS GONNA BREAK UP WITH US, I CANT HANDLE THAT

Sitting On The Shelf - Marcus White x Reader

Part 33 - Tornado

SOTS Masterlist

“So we’re, we’re not sure if it’s the same raccoon, or a cousin, or just a brand-new raccoon. Does anyone have any questions about the raccoon?” Glenn’s eyes scanned across the crowd that stood before him in at the front of the store. “Jonah.”

“Yeah, I have a question about the layoffs.”

It had been a nice and slow morning at the store so far. The gentle pitter-patter of rain reverberated round the store in a mellow tone, the repetitive, soothing sound enough to make you fall asleep where you stood. Your coffee tasted extra good and you’d been taking a bite of Marcus’s donut every time he offered it to you from the arm that was slung over your shoulder.

Keep reading