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luminnara · 3 years

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God Damn, Shit Sucking Vampires | Poly lost boys x oc CH 9

(oops no gif because the ones i want won’t upload right now)

Just as a reminder, lost boys requests are OPEN!

Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Tags: @americancowgirl19 @ilikechocolatemilkh

Warnings: Blood, gore, vampire things

Hearing a strange voice in her head nearly drove Vera into a panic. When she realized she was hearing Max, she nearly flew into a second panic, the sire’s strong, firm voice only reassuring her that all of her fears were correct and he wasn’t going to like her very much.

As she walked along the beach, bare toes sinking into the sand, Dwayne at her side, Vera briefly wondered how hard it would be to kill Max if it came down to a struggle. Did she have a chance against him? Maybe, if she stooped low enough to cry for her own sire, he would come and take care of it—

“Hey, chill out,” Dwayne said, stopping and turning towards her slightly. “What’s wrong?”

She realized she had halted and was simply standing there, staring at nothing as her mind raced. He could probably feel how freaked out she was getting, and as she looked at him, she found a gentle, understanding expression on his face.

“C’mere,” he said, his voice low and rumbly and comforting.

He opened his arms in invitation and she dove right in, moving quickly and desperately enough that she knocked him right onto his ass. He landed in the sand with a laugh, situating the two of them so that she could sit in his lap and they could face the dark, never ending ocean.

“Did Max freak you out?” Dwayne asked as Vera tucked her head under his chin.

“...a little.”

“Why?”

She sighed. Something about Dwayne made her feel so safe that she was actually considering talking with him about things she hadn’t even told David yet. “Because I’m not used to this. I’m used to vampires who want me out of their territory the second I even get close, and I can’t really blame them.”

“This is your territory, too.” He said. “You’re the one who’ll be kicking people out of it now.”

“I don’t think Max is going to like me.” She grumbled.

“Why not?”

She was quiet for a moment, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “Because he’ll see me as a threat.”

“Max isn’t like that.”

“You’re just saying that now because he’s your sire.”

“No, I’m saying it because I mean it.” Dwayne rested his cheek on the top of her head, his hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on her back. “Max wants a family. Now you’re part of that family.”

He sounded so sure of his own words that Vera was actually feeling inclined to believe him for a moment. “Parents don’t tend to like me.”

“Anyone who can handle having Paul in their pack can handle you.”

She scoffed. “He isn’t that bad.”

“Maybe to you.” Dwayne chuckled. He tightened his arms around her when he realized that his jokes weren’t very reassuring. “Max is a good man. A good sire.”

“Why?” Vera asked. “What does he do that makes you like him so much?”

“Well,” Dwayne situated them a bit better, getting more comfortable. “He’s fair. He acts stern, but...he sees himself as our father.”

“Don’t they always?” Vera grumbled.

“He calls David his prodigal son, but he always wanted a whole family. He ended up with the four of us.”

“So, what? He plucked you all up out of the gutter and that makes him a good guy?”

“Why are you so determined to hate him?”

“I’m not!” she protested. “I’m just...wary.”

“Max gave us new lives.” Dwayne sighed. “He found us back in San Francisco after we got ourselves in some trouble with another vampire.”

Vera had to snort in amusement at that. “Seriously? Who’d you pick a fight with? Dracula?”

“Well…”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He flashed her a smile. “How were we supposed to know who he was?”

“Humans really have no self preservation instincts, do they?”

“Apparently not.” Dwayne chuckled, squeezing her.

“How long ago was it?”

“1906, same year as that big earthquake. Tore the whole city apart...it was the perfect time for four vampires to start learning how to survive, with all that chaos. People were dead, more were missing...nobody noticed a few more disappearing here and there.”

“Is that why Max and, uh...Vlad were there?” Vera asked.

“I imagine.” Dwayne shrugged. “We resisted at first. David was especially pissed off.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Vera laughed quietly.

“But...we took to the lifestyle pretty quickly.”

“And that’s that?” Vera asked.

“That’s that.” he shrugged. “Max wants to be a father figure. He turned David because he wanted a son, and he taught him everything he knew. Then, he decided David needed companions, and he happened to find me not long after. Then the others. Max isn’t a bad guy, Vera. You’ll see.”

“That’s what everybody says about their own sire.” she said, looking out at the black waves as they crashed against the sand just a few feet in front of her. “Everyone wants to talk their sires up, because without them, we’re nothing. Just because your own sire is nice to you doesn’t mean he’ll be nice to me.”

“What’s so bad about your own that you think ours is so awful?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, Vera’s mouth pressing into a thin line. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Dwayne opened his eyes, rubbing his cheek over the top of her head affectionately.

“I’m not.”

“I know that you are, though.”

Vera let out a frustrated noise, then heaved a sigh. Maybe talking about this could be good for her. Maybe verbalizing thoughts and fears that she’d been living with for centuries could finally help her get over them...and if anyone was a good listener, it would be Dwayne.

“Okay, fine.” she said. “What’s so bad about my sire? Everything. Everything is what’s bad about him, literally.”

“Where’s he from?” Dwayne asked.

“The old country. Like...the old old country.”

“Why are you so reluctant to talk about him?” Dwayne’s voice was low and gentle, barely audible over the sound of the waves.

“Because he’s got a reputation.” she fiddled with the hem of her shorts. “Most older vampires know of him. You guys might not, and if we had a different situation, I’d say it should stay that way.”

“That serious, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Hmm.” Dwayne’s chest rumbled. “The others should hear about this, too.”

“Yeah, they should.” she sighed again, her voice small. She felt small in general, all curled up in Dwayne’s lap like that. Small and helpless. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t want them to think that she was. So she cleared her throat, trying to muster as much confidence as she could, ignoring the mild twisting in her gut. “I’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow night.”

Dwayne made a small, impatient sound.

“Max will want to hear, too.”

“That’s a good point,” he admitted. “You know, I still need to hunt for you…”

Vera perked up slightly. The thought of food made the tight feeling in her chest loosen up slightly, and she looked at Dwayne eagerly. “Yes, please.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her as he stood and set her back on her feet. “Then let’s go find some snacks, Princess.”

-0-

“You know, we don’t have to do this. We could just go back to the cave--”

“What happened to that tough attitude you had a few days ago?” David raised an eyebrow, looking amused as he pulled Vera off the back of his bike.

“I’m still tough,” she growled, knowing that he could very easily feel how nervous she was.

“Come on, babe,” Paul parked his bike next to David’s and bounded over to her. “You’ll be fine.”

“We’d never let anything happen to ya,” Marko said, following Paul.

Vera knew he was telling the truth, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She had barely slept the entire day, waking up restless and on edge as soon as the sun disappeared, and it had taken a good deal of coaxing from David to even get her to leave the roost. They took Star and Laddie to the boardwalk, dropped them off with some cash, and then headed off to Max’s house.

David told Vera along the way that Star and Laddie weren’t allowed to know where Max lived. They really weren’t allowed to know anything about him in general, in order to protect him, so when the pack walked up to the front gate of their sire’s home, it was only the four boys who accompanied Vera. She didn’t mind; having Star around would have only put her more on edge, probably, and she had been glad to leave the halfling behind.

As she faced the gated bridge that led to Max’s completely normal-looking, Californian home, Vera did everything she could to act confident. She squared her shoulders, held her chin up, and pretended that she had nothing to worry about...but the boys could see right through the facade, and as they joined her, they all fell into a little formation. In moments, Vera was surrounded by them, David offering his arm while the others stepped into their spots behind. It made her feel better, knowing that they were all there to protect her...but at the same time, she still wished they were all out wandering the boardwalk.

“So brave,” David sneered as she took his arm.

“Shut up.” she growled, vaguely aware of Dwayne’s hand on her lower back.

“Relax,” Marko purred.

“Don’t you dare tell me to relax, Marko, I swear—“

The barking of a rapidly approaching dog interrupted her, the sound of paws thumping rhythmically against the wooden walkway drawing her attention away from the boys. A big white hellhound was barreling towards the gate, all teeth and rage, and although it looked like it wanted to tear her limbs off, the sight of such a beast made Vera temporarily forget why she was so anxious. Even as it barked and snarled and threw itself against the gate, she thought that it was absolutely adorable.

“Oh, look at you!” She squealed as the boys all jumped back. When she took a step forward, David tried to yank her towards him, but she slipped away easily, too focused on this hellhound to care.

“You’re such a big handsome boy,” she said, in a voice that made Paul jealous.

“No fair,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why’s the dumb dog get all that?”

Marko glanced at the taller blond nervously. “Don’t call him dumb, you remember what happened last time?”

Paul groaned, rolling his eyes at the memory of nearly losing a hand.

The dog stopped barking as Vera approached, falling silent as it sniffed the air around her. The vicious look on its face was gone, replaced by curiosity, and when Vera ignored David’s irritated warnings and reached over the gate to pet it, the animal whined.

“You must be Thorn,” Vera cooed, scratching behind its ears. “What a big, brave, hell-y hellhound you are, yes you are!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Paul said as he watched.

“What?” Vera asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Thorn doesn’t like any of us.” Marko huffed. “Why’s he like you so much?”

“Well...he can probably smell my sire on me,” Vera said. “Might remind him of home. Hellhounds usually like me because of that.”

“...Home?” Paul asked.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“But I wanna know now!” he whined.

Thorn growled at him.

“Thorn!” a male voice called from the other end of the little bridge.

Vera immediately stiffened. The front door of the house had opened, and in it stood a man, wearing a very stylish suit and horn rimmed glasses. Thorn heeded his master’s call, giving Paul one last woof before trotting back towards Max. His departure freed the front gate, and David brushed past Vera to open it, taking her hand and leading the gang across the walkway.

“Boys,” Max greeted as they approached him. He offered David a stern smile, one which David didn’t return, and when Max’s eyes fell upon Vera all tucked up against his side, his eyes narrowed slightly. “And you must be Vera.”

She didn’t like that he knew her name. It was inevitable that he’d find out what it was, but still...she kept clinging to the hope that maybe, he wouldn’t learn too much about her. The boys seemed so convinced that Max was just an annoying father, but as Vera took him in, she could see that behind the trendy, 80s-dad facade, there was an old, powerful vampire, and those were the kind she didn’t get along with very well.

“Well, come in, everyone, before dinner gets cold. I made sure to get all your favorites, boys.” Max stepped to the side, inviting them over the threshold in a very courteous way, one that suggested he had nothing to fear from the boys or Vera.

“You shouldn’t have,” David sneered sarcastically as he walked in.

“Would it kill you to be nice?” Vera hissed.

He rolled his eyes.

Max noticed the exchange with a bemused expression on his face. “Go on in and sit down. The table’s already set.”

The house was nice. It wasn’t incredibly extravagant, by any means, but it was perfectly well decorated, modern art that Vera didn’t quite know how to appreciate hanging on the walls. Everything was clean and organized, not a speck of dust in sight, as opposed to the state of decay the boys kept their lair in. Max seemed to enjoy playing the role of a video store owner, and his home reflected that; if anyone came to visit, they wouldn’t see a single item out of place, nor would they have any reason to be suspicious of him. There were no torture devices, no loose vials of blood sitting around, no skulls or human skin nailed up. It looked so...normal.

Vera almost stopped to wonder why exactly she was so nervous...and then she heard the whimpering.

“Geez, Max,” Paul remarked as they rounded the corner and entered the dining room, “you really shouldn’t have.”

“Well, fresh caught is always the best,” Max said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hell yeah,” Marko growled, lips pulled back in a grin.

The dining room table was covered in an array of meats, from a suckling pig in the center to a rack of ribs at the end. Six chairs surrounded the feast, plates and cutlery set out at each spot, with big glass goblets already half full of blood ready and waiting. Next to each chair stood a human, frozen due to both fear and Max’s vampire magic, a couple of them shaking and considerably more conscious than the others.

Max walked to his place at the head of the table, Thorn at his side as he took his seat. David sat at the far end, facing him, his eyes dark and hungry as he held himself back. Dwayne sat at David’s left side, Vera at his right, while Paul and Marko took the remaining two chairs and tried not to completely lose their minds. They were shaking almost as much as the humans were, Paul looking at his blood donor eagerly while Marko held a little sneer on his face that suggested he was about ten seconds from ripping his apart.

“Dig in, everyone,” Max said, taking his cloth napkin and tucking it into his shirt collar. “But please try not to make a mess. There’s more than enough here for each of you.”

David immediately grabbed the arm of his meal, sinking his fangs in and taking a drink while Max preferred to drain his into the goblet he had set out for himself. Vera could only watch, stunned, as the carnage began, and before long, she was joining in. The human Max had caught for her was a middle aged clergyman, and she had to tear through his holy sleeve to get to his flesh.

She didn’t mind, though; she very rarely ever got to eat members of the clergy. They were generally too much work to hunt down, and since she had an aversion to churches, well...like most vampires, she tended to leave them alone. It was hard to nab them without making a spectacle and letting the entire town know that something was amiss. So, all things considered, a little bit of extra work involving a mouthful of fabric was worth it. This was like a special treat for her, and she couldn’t help but drain him all in one go, still holding on even after he had collapsed in a bloodless heap on the floor.

When she looked up, she realized that Max was watching her.

“So,” he said, speaking over the hellish sounds of the others slurping up their meals, “I believe some congratulations are in order. Welcome to the family, Vera.”

She swallowed her last mouthful of blood and looked at him. “Uh...thanks. I-I mean, thank you.”

Max picked up his silverware, cutting a slice of ham for himself. “Where are you from, Vera?”

“I wander,” she said, following suit and stabbing her fork into a raw steak.

“I’ve surmised that much,” Max chuckled good-naturedly. “I meant where are you from originally.”

“...oh.” She cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly. “Italy.”

“Italy!” Max exclaimed. “Such a lovely region. I haven’t visited The Mediterranean since I left the old country myself. If I didn’t have the shop here, perhaps I’d take a trip...have you been back recently?”

“No,” she crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to act like she wasn’t fidgeting. She took a bite of her steak, focusing on the blood as it trickled down her throat.

Max reached for his goblet, raising the blood to his lips and taking a drink. “And your sire, is he still in Europe?”

Vera almost choked on her food.

By this point, the boys were all watching. Paul was licking blood off his lips while Marko still had his dinner’s forearm in his mouth, but David and Dwayne were both focused solely on the conversation at hand, their eyes narrowed slightly as they listened.

When she realized that everyone was waiting, Vera coughed into her fist, clearing her throat. “Y-yes, he is.”

Max’s eyes darkened, despite the smile on his face. “You know you need to tell me about him, Vera.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she lied, turning back to her steak. “Just an ancient vampire, out there in the old country. Not very exciting.”

“Exciting or not, I’d still prefer to know who he is.” Max said.

She shrugged, reaching for her glass to take a nervous drink. “I doubt you’d know him.”

“When you drink that blood, you’ll be joining our family.”

She froze, hand on the stem of the glass.

“I’m sure your sire will be able to feel it. I’d hate to be rude and not even know his name in the event he visits one day.”

Vera stared at the blood—Max’s blood—as her fingers tightened around the stem. “You don’t want him to visit.”

“Oh?” Max asked, appearing as relaxed as ever. “Why not?”

“Because of who he is.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “And what he can do.”

Dwayne and David glanced at each other.

When Max spoke again, his voice was softer, gentler than before. “What is your sire’s name, Vera?”

With a great deal of effort, she opened her eyes again, still staring into the blood rather than at any of them.

“Asmodeus.” She said. “My sire is Asmodeus.”

#GODDAMN SHIT SUCKING VAMPIRES #the lost boys #poly lost boys #dwayne lost boys #paul lost boys #david lost boys #marko lost boys #the lost boys x oc #the lost boys x reader #david x oc #dwayne x oc #paul x oc #marko x oc #david x reader #dwayne x reader #paul x reader #marko x reader

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yan-senna · 2 years

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That Time of the Month (LM)

By yan-senna

Other links to the one shot: Wattpad / AO3

One shot schedule list

The Keeper of the Diamond series

Want to be tagged when I post a fanfic?

Introduction:

This is a one shot of The Keeper of the Diamond series. It contains Lucius Malfoy x reader. I only own Y/N, Laura, Vera and Lopsy the House Elf. The three girls are 19 years old.

Y/N is in a lot of pain as she’s on her period. To her luck, Lucius comes by to help her.

I hope you enjoy!

PS: You can send requests!

Word count: 1.2k

Published: 12/19/2021

TW: Blood

Y/N is on her bed, massaging her stomach to relieve the pain. She sighs in frustration. Why does that time of the month always hurt? It’s like it gets worse and worse each month…

Her friends, Vera and Laura, are currently in school. Y/N chose to skip today as the pain in her stomach is too much.

She should probably take a painkiller pill, but then she will need to get up from the bed, and she really doesn’t want to do that. She will need to eat something, too…

Ugh. If only she could just levitate everything into her hands… In reality, she could, but the diamonds are too far away for her to use their powers. Why did she leave her bag in the living room last night?

Sighing, she slowly gets up. As she does so, she notices a red spot on the sheets. She sighs in frustration. Great, she has bled through her pyjamas.

She immediately lies down in bed again, having no motivation to get up. Maybe the pain will go away if she sleeps for a bit…

She then closes her eyes, trying to ignore the pain. Of course, a few minutes later, it gets WORSE.

She’s now in tears, curling up into a ball as she rocks back and forth. Will this ever end? How is she going to survive this day? This whole WEEK?

Just then, the sound of someone apparating can be heard. Panicking, Y/N immediately covers herself and the bloodied sheets with the duvet.

She does it just in time as somebody walks into her room - Lucius Malfoy.

“Ah, Y/N, I was hoping you were home. Severus was worried as you haven’t been answering him in your enchanted notebook” Lucius states.

Y/N instantly feels bad. She had completely forgotten to check the notebook for any messages. She had been too busy enduring the period pain.

Noticing her still in bed, Lucius raises an eyebrow. “By the way, why are you still in bed? Don’t you have school today?” he questions.

Y/N shakes her head. “No, I don’t feel so good today” she says, wishing the pain would leave her body.

Lucius gives her a concerned look. “What’s wrong?” he gently asks, putting down his cane by the desk before stepping closer to the bed.

Y/N sighs. “Um, nothing. Just stomach ache-“ she says just as she gets a really bad cramp.

She immediately rolls onto her stomach, hoping it will help. She can’t help but cry out in pain.

Looking worried, Lucius hurries towards her.

“Y/N? Are you all right?” he asks, drawing comforting circles on her back with his hand.

The girl sniffs. “It hurts” she says, her eyes full of tears.

Lucius wipes away her tears with his thumb while shushing her.

“Is it your stomach? Have you eaten anything?” he asks, trying to figure out what’s wrong with her.

“Um… No. I was going to make something to eat, but I can’t leave the bed, it hurts too much” she says, still holding her stomach in pain.

Nodding, Lucius calls for one of his house elves from Malfoy Manor. An elf immediately appears.

“Master Malfoy called Lopsy?” the female elf asks.

“Yes, Lopsy. I want you to bring some breakfast for Y/N to eat” he states.

Nodding, the elf disappears. A few seconds later, she appears again.

“Very good. Put the tray on the bed, Lopsy” Lucius tells the house elf.

Nodding, Lopsy does as she’s told before disapparating back to Malfoy Manor.

“Here you go, Y/N. You should eat something” Lucius says as he hands her the tray, giving her an encouraging smile.

Nodding, the girl starts eating the food. She quickly eats all of it as she was quite hungry.

Lucius chuckles at that. “You must have been quite hungry, hmm? How do you feel now?” he asks, hoping her stomach ache has disappeared.

Y/N sighs. She isn’t hungry anymore, but her stomach still hurts.

“It still hurts” she admits.

Lucius looks puzzled. Why in Salazar Slytherin’s name does her stomach still hurt?

“Well, why don’t you take a hot shower? That might help” he suggests.

Nodding, Y/N is about to leave the bed. She however immediately sits down again, remembering the red spot on the sheets.

Lucius raises an eyebrow. “Are you okay, darling?” he asks, feeling even more concerned now. Why wouldn’t she leave the bed?

“Um, sorry, I will just take a shower once you have left” she shyly says, her cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

“Why would you wait for me to leave? You usually don’t mind me waiting” he says, chuckling a bit.

Noticing her red cheeks, he gently caresses them. “Is something else wrong, Y/N? You can tell me, darling” he gently says, smiling at her.

Y/N looks away, embarrassed.

Looking confused, Lucius gently rolls her a bit to the side. He then notices the red spot.

“Ah…” he says, finally realising what’s wrong.

He then chuckles. “Why didn’t you just say so, hmm? A hot shower will definitely help. While you take a shower, I will ask Severus for a potion that will relieve your pain” he tells her.

Nodding, Y/N slowly stands up and walks to the bathroom. Once she enters, she immediately starts the shower, turning up for the water. She then takes off her clothes and jumps into the shower. She sighs in relief as the water is nice and hot.

Thirty minutes later, she decides it’s probably time to stop and puts on some clean pyjamas and underwear. She puts on a pad as well.

Once she’s dressed and enters her room, she sees Lucius sitting on her bed, a potion in his hand. She also notices the sheets are clean. He probably used magic to do that.

When Lucius sees her, he smiles. “There you are. Did you enjoy your shower?” he asks.

Y/N nods. “I did” she shyly says.

Lucius then pats the spot next to him, signalling her to sit there. She immediately does so.

“Here you go, darling. Severus told me you should drink it all up” he tells her.

Nodding, the girl takes the offered vial and drinks the whole potion. A few seconds later, the effects of the potion kick in. Her stomach doesn’t hurt anymore.

“How are you feeling now?” Lucius asks, rubbing her back.

Y/N smiles at him. “Much better, it doesn’t hurt. Thank you, Lucius. And please thank Severus for me next time you see him” she says.

Lucius nods. “You are welcome, Y/N. And I will, don’t worry. Now, why don’t you lie down and get some rest?” he suggests, gesturing for her to rest on the bed.

As she immediately does so, Lucius gently covers her with the duvet. He then kisses her forehead.

“There you go, darling. Sweet dreams” he whispers.

Y/N smiles as she closes her eyes. “Thank you for taking care of me, Lucius. I appreciate it” she mutters tiredly, slowly falling asleep.

Smiling, Lucius waits for her to fall into a deep sleep. He stays with her for a while, caressing her cheek. He’s glad that he could help her relieve the pain.

Author’s note:

If you liked this, then you might also like Sick Day (SS, LM), Nightmares (SS) and Don’t Stress Yourself (SS, LM)!

Taglist:

@zennyloves

@nickangel13

@someoneonearth2007

#harry potter #fanfiction #the keeper of the diamond #lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy x reader #reader #one shot #one shots #lucius malfoy fanfic

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cotccotc · 3 years

Text

♡ 12:47 pm ; natalis

set in the domus amoris universe !

genre/s: fluff, established relationship/domestic au, hyunjin x gn reader

wc: 1k

warnings: none !

a/n: this is part of @yunhoreos / @jaehy97 ’s blissful birthdays series as well as @districtninewriters’s weekly writers’ room !! :DD i’ve always wanted to write something based on or including poetry i’ve written hehe.. as always, i hope u enjoy it !! happy birthday to my happiness, hwang hyunjin !!!!

“i, um… i wrote you something,” you say, lifting your head off of hyunjin’s shoulder from your cozy spot on the couch. you’re a bit embarrassed. hyunjin knows of your affinity for poetry. he has a similar knack for drawing, and you often share your creations with each other. however, this is different. with this day being his birthday, you wanted to make him something special. it was difficult to keep it from him, but you’d worked diligently for the past few nights in order to perfect it. you’re honestly much more nervous than you’d anticipated. it’s only hyunjin. you spend every possible waking moment in his company, yet you feel a twinge of worry.

“really?” he asked in return, adjusting his arm which resides around your shoulders, keeping you close to him. his eyes fall upon you with awe. “for me? you didn’t have to-”

“i wanted to,” you interject.

you knew he’d oppose it. if it were up to him, you wouldn’t gift him a thing, let alone write him a poem. nevertheless, his heart skips a small beat, growing fuller by the second. you can see it in the way his lips instinctively curl upward at the ends, uplifting his cheekbones. “one sec.” you swiftly rise to your feet, rushing into the bedroom to retrieve the page onto which you’d transcribed the finalized poem from your bedside drawer. you look it over one last time. at the very least, you hope it makes him smile.

you return to the living room and hand the page over to hyunjin, yet he refuses it. “read it to me,” he suggests, calmly. a small smile graces his sunlit face. the sun always knows just how to highlight his sculpted features in the midday. you could honestly write a poem on the spot about that alone.

you clear your throat a bit, adjusting the sheet of paper. your hands tremble. you don’t know why you’re this nervous. but you just hope your words can convey how you truly feel. thus, with a breath, you begin.

“you make me think in sonnets and psalms; connected in rhyme like the lines in our palms. the honey-like sweetness that drips from your lips is tender enough to absolve all my qualms. i know that at times you make mountains of moments, that your hands would grow cold without someone to hold them; but despite your afflictions, both new and old, what are my hands if not yours to hold?”

you pause as he stands up, slowly walking around the coffee table and toward you. you briefly glance up from the page to reveal his smiling face as he approaches you. he stands in front of you, eyes drifting down to the page as his hands rest themselves on your waist. he looks so smitten. so pleased. you remain paused for a moment, briefly distracted by the pads of his fingers as they trace your shape. his eyes travel back to yours. you continue.

“what are my lips if not yours to kiss? for what does my heart beat if not for this? the glimmering eyes that gaze toward me now are lovely enough to evoke gleaming bliss. so here’s to more memories, more loving and praise; to sunlight that streams through the blinds while we lay; to all the i-love-yous we’ve still yet to say… i love you, hwang hyunjin. and-”

suddenly, before you’ve the chance to end the poem, his hand raises to cup your cheek and gently pull your face forward. your eyes flutter closed as his lips connect with yours. he places his other hand on your cheek, deepening the kiss as his thumbs softly sweep across your skin. your lips, just as during any of the kisses you’ve previously shared, meld with his. you didn’t lie when you compared the pleasantness of his lips to the mellow sweetness of honey.

gradually, you break away from him. “you didn’t let me finish the line,” you huff, pretending to frown. but all he can do is smile that grand smile of his. the type of smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle; the type that brings out the small dimples above his upper lip; the type that shows off his perfect, pearlescent teeth; the type that, unbeknownst to him, makes your heart beat just a little bit faster. he just can’t help it.

“i love you, too,” he replies, disregarding your complaint. his voice is as endearing as ever; low-toned, genuine… he means what he says and you can feel it. you smile back at him, prompting him to remove his hands from your face and gently pull your page away, placing it down on the table behind him. you drape your arms over his shoulders as your foreheads come into soft contact. he then pulls you even closer by the waist, hands fitting against your sides like two pieces of one puzzle. because that’s what you are to him. his other half. you didn’t need to write him a poem. he knows it and you know it. in fact, he’ll feel guilty about it for days. sure, it’s his special day and all, but you didn’t need to write him a poem. you wanted to. and for that he’ll be forever grateful. he’ll want to repay you for it in time. little does he know his smile is all the repayment you’ll ever need.

his lips brush against yours; barely there, like the whisper of a summer breeze, dancing across your lips. “happy birthday,” you mutter, pressing your lips against his with a hint more fervor. the last phrase of the poem.

he begins to sway from side to side, guiding your hips to follow his movements. “thank you,” he replies, hushed almost to a whisper. “i loved it. i love you.”

and thus, you stand, shifting to and fro alongside the keeper of your heart; your muse. an imaginary melody plays for only you two, echoing against the walls of your humble home. it’s a familiar song. a comforting one, timed precisely to the shared tempo of your beating hearts. he knows no other way he’d prefer to spend his birthday, nor the rest of his life: slow dancing in the living room, head filled with your lyrical expressions of love, face aglow with pride and ardor... all for you.

if one thing is for certain, you think, i’m yours and you are mine. like sunbeams through the curtain, our love will always shine.

happy birthday, my dear loverboy. ♡

tags: @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @kisskissbanggang, @mr-jisung-main, @childofthecosmos, @changnuggie, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @sunshine-skz, @vera-liscious, @moonlit-lixie, @thatrandomoneinthecorner, @sunshine-skz, @siedhr ( join my tag list !! )

#districtninewriters #inkidz #skzwritersclub #straykidsland #fluffyskzclub #*fics #*domus amoris #skz #stray kids #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin imagines #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fluff

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arllenn · 3 years

Text

image des: I really loved the fact that your brought their past into the light, that you made them actually effected and reflected on it. So often I just see stories focusing on their relationship with the "new" characters (Caesar, Luminous, Johann, The Gen fam) so following that line of thought.

Can I request a flashback scene? Like when we get requested to make it snow (at the beginning of the game) the group of friends reaction to it snowing makes you reflected on your past. In which a fluffy meeting/promise happens between Z, Renata and you. Or even any fluff you can think of between the three? It can be when they were kids or the age they were at during the game.

Admittedly I would love it if you can really focus on Z and the Character interaction/relationship because we all know he cares for Renata; they have that slacker x mother hen childhood friend vibe going on. But the idea that Z and you are ACTUALLY close (it just LOOKS like your friends with Renata and only friendly acquaintances with Z from the outside) makes me happy and bittersweet.

Sorry this got so long!

Tags for this chapter: fluff, hurt no comfort, bittersweetness, pure angst at first tho Tw: mentions of death and cannon typical violence, puke, death Time setting: pre japan like imagine if the mc got an adjustment period at cassell before they got shipped off to dragon war

You smiled happy to be of help to the friends who were separating today. Their cheerful giggles and cries of happiness as they raved over being able to leave on a snowy day just like the one from when they had met made your insides bubble with warmth and nostalgia. Z, Renata and you had been the same once..... before, before Herzog had...

You shake your head, now isn't the time for this. You wring your wrists, it's a habit you picked up from Z, though you two do it for different reasons. You feel a bit light headed, your knees are weak, it's so weird to see snow and not see your beloved friends among it. It just felt wrong to not feel their warmth around you in this cold tempature. The others giggling is getting too loud, it's beggining to ring in your ears and bounce around in your head at the same time as the memories of Renata and Z pour out of your head and spill in front of your eyes. You stiffly walk over to Claudia, left foot, left hand, right foot, right hand. Back and forth back and forth. You want to leave, but it’d feel wrong just going without checking with her.

“We met and departed on a snowy day.” She sounds so happy and while you’re glad that you were able to help them you also can’t help but feel cloying jealousy at the fact that this trio, Claudia, Susu and Leah get to be together, to meet and depart on snowy days filled with joy, while you can’t. You want to be able to see Z and Renata, you want to be able to tease them while jumping for joy and promising to stay in contact. You want to be able to send them off with a smile on your face and a promise to be well.

But you can’t.

And that’s it.

There’s no going back and searching, there’s no making up after an argument, there’s just nothing. Renata is dead Z is dead everyone is dead! And you can’t do anything about it.

Staggering away you start walking towards one of the benches in the courtyard that face the library. To say that you collapse on it would be an understatement. It’s like all the bones in your body liquified then disappeared at that moment. You clench at the snow on the bench, using the all too familiar feeling of it to guide you through your memories. The day you arrived at the orphanage, the first time you met Renata, Z and you arguing over who would get to hold which of Renata’s hands, the day Vera had arrived, so small and only a year old. You remembered her small finger curling around your own while Z helped you readjust how you held her.

Just Renata, Z and you.

But now it’s just you. You clench at your throat, clawing at it as if that’ll destroy the lump forming in it. You bring your knees up to meet with your chest. Burying your head in your arms. It hurts, you want to see them. At this point you’d even take Anton and Khorkina’s belittling of you or even Ivan and Sherkman failing horribly to hide the fact that they were dating over anything else that could possibly occur right now.

Rubbing your face on your knees you try to get rid of the few silent tears that have begun to spill. It doesn’t work, in fact it just makes everything so, so much worse. Memories of your childhood fly by, you’re loosing your grip on reality you know that. You don’t want to do it here. Not on a bench where anyone can see, if you’re completely honest you don’t want to confront them at all. But that isn’t an option, it’s never going to be an option for you, because you’re trying so hard to push them down and stamp them out right now. And it’s not working.

One of the wandering vending machines come up to you, clawed arm holding something in it. You can't see it at all, your line of sight only contains your legs after all, but you can hear the distinctive beeps of the machine, the whirring of its mechanical organs that allow it to move. You can feel the jagged edges of a wrapper lightly scratching at your leg through your uniform. The robot beeps twice shoving the snack into your leg once again before dropping it and skittering off. Lifting your head up you stared down at the snack you had been left with. Maybe the world really does hate you. Maybe you deserve to constantly have your mind ripped at and heart torn apart, because laying there in front of you is a cookie a chocolate chip one at that. The second your eyes land on the bubbly font that spells out chocolate you cant help but watch in horror as Vera falls in front of you, mere feet away, body still warm as she hits the snow, dead. You feel the bile rise in your throat, it isn't something that you can just swallow down either. Hand clapped over your mouth you stand, getting ready to run.

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You have no idea how you've made it back to your dorm room without puking on the way here, but now you're sitting over your toilet dry heaving into it. You stare down at the item that made you like this the choco- you spit into the toilet. Cookie, you'll just refer to it as a cookie. You consider tearing off the top half of the wrapper but then the smell of the cookie and the chocolate might just tip you over the edge. Instead you settle for smacking it away from you. In some small way it makes you feel better.

You hate that Herzog has ruined this for you. You hate that you can’t even see the word chocolate without feeling your insides churn, you hate that you can’t see snow without seeing your friends bloodied corpses staring back at you, eyes glassy and unfocused. Cookies were the first dessert that you had ever tasted and the last one. You remember the day you had first tried to bake them.

That day Z had let you in his room, Renata was sick, and neither of you were allowed to be around her as per Herzogs orders. With the knowledge that you have now you think you understand why you weren’t allowed to see her back then. Rather than actually being ill Renata was probably suffering from the side effects of the incomplete evolution pills. But either way natural disease or not it had been just you and Z. Sitting side by side on his bed, you laying with your torso hanging off his bed partially, practically upside down, and him crisscross leaned up against the wall that his bed bordered, a hand close enough to your leg to catch you if you started to slip. You two had been mindlessly talking, reading some book that you’ve forgotten the name of now, alternating turns each chapter. When you had gotten to a part where the main character was making cookies for their friend as a get well gift.

“Hey Z, have you ever had a cookie? I mean I’ve heard of them but I’ve never even seen one.”

“I can’t say that I have,” he yawned, “I’m not a big fan of sugar in general. That combined with the fact that the orphanage doesn’t even get the ingredients for them makes it obvious that I’d never even have the chance to try them, same as you.”

“That’s too bad, based on the description I think they’d be pretty good. You think Renata has ever had one?”

“I’m not her, I wouldn’t know.”

“I mean fair enough, but I kinda expected that you would, you guys spend forever having those late night talks after you send me to bed.”

You haul yourself up and spin on your ass so that you’re looking him in the eye, “Speaking of~, I won’t allow you to marry my daughter young man!” You cross your arms in an ‘X’ in front of you shaking your head. “Absolutely not don’t think I’ll allow anything of the sort!!”

Snorting he had pushed on your forehead with his finger until you were laying down the same as before and used his foot to roll you away from him. “2/10, If you’re going to give me a shovel talk then you should at least be intimidating, 1, and 2 you should do it in front of Renata so that you can embarrass her, who just gives that kinda talk straight to the supposed,” he raised his hands and gave out finger quotations “boyfriend?”

“Is that back talk I hear sonny? Don’t make me get up there!”

”Yeah because you haven’t already.” You can’t see him from your position but you can hear the smile on his voice. An accomplishment if you’ve ever seen one! You mean the stoic eternally tired Z was snorting and smiling because of what you said! You always loved times like this, when you would manage to break through his exterior and draw out a reaction, (preferably positive!!), out of him. Tapping his knee you grip onto his leg to pull yourself up once more, you can see him contemplating rolling you off the bed, thankfully he chooses peace for once.

”No okay but dead seriously, let’s go make cookies for Renata. We just got the shipments a little while ago, there’s got to be some of the stuff we need in there! We’ll just ask Herzog,”

“Or steal”

“Yes, or steal, come on it’ll be great!”

“Normally Renata would be here to stop you, which I am always grateful for since it means that I don’t have to be the one to talk you out of these things,”

You snap your fingers, “Speed it up Z, do I have a partner or am I gonna have to start running before you catch me?”

He claps a hand over your mouth which you look down at “Don’t you dare lick me,” is what he says in response to your stares. “As I was saying before someone cut me off,” if gives you a pointed stare, “Normally Renata would be here to be the voice of reason, however since she’s ‘sick’ and I don’t want to have her on my neck about you getting in trouble later here are my words of caution,” He takes his hand off your mouth and pats slaps your cheek twice before bringing the tips of his fingers in between the book page that you had been on and the next, folding it over and closing it. “Don’t, and if you do don’t get caught.”

It was your turn to snort, “What the heck, you suggested stealing in the first place!” You laughed. He shrugged his shoulders and set the book down on his bedside table getting up off the bed and bringing his arms above his head to stretch.

”I never said that we weren’t going to steal if that’s what you decide to do I simply offered you a word of advice about you stealing alone.

”AWWWW Z I knew there was a reason I put up with you!” You cried jumping up off the bed and attempting to latch onto his back,

He turned to face you swatting your hands away, muttering about you being “too big for him to carry like that anymore”

“What was that!?”

He pinched your cheek with one hand and used the other to ruffle your hair in a way that you knew wasn’t meant to be affectionate but instead to mess it up. “Look at how big the babies gotten! It can walk and talk now! Go ahead say ‘papa’ again!” You knew that you could never win against Z in a fight, all attempts left you on the floor with him sitting on you, or you hiding behind Renata and you exercising your lying and puppy dog eyes abilities. But boy oh boy did Z have a way of activating your Cain instinct and making you want to slap the shit out of him (affectionately of course). You heaved out a long suffering groan, and pulled Z’s hands off of you. You walked over to where his dresser was and sucked your teeth as you stared at your reflection. You tried your best to undo his damage to your hair, but it was a lost cause, hanging your head you turned to him with what you hoped was a horrifying, knee shaking, earth quaking, chicken baking, glare.

“This is why you’re an orphan.”

“Fair enough.” He said with a shrug before motioning towards the door, are we leaving now or what.”

“I’m coming, we’re going.” You said waving your hand at him in a shooing motion.

The minute you stepped outside it had been like you were ass blasted into one of the shipment containers mega freezers. You rubbed at your arms, lamenting the fact that you lived on a hunk of ice in the middle of a polar bears ass cheeks. “Okaaay so,” you clapped your hands together, “Do we know where Herzog is?” Z yawned and shook his head no from beside you. “Alright thank you for your participation! Gold star! I’ll go ask Anton, you stay here. And don’t fall asleep!” You ran off to go find Anton ignoring Z’s comment about you acting like a stray dog.

Heaving you clutched at the toilet, sobbing over the loss of your friends. You couldn’t even think of the times back then as being over, you just can’t.

No, that’s not right, you know they’re over, you know those peaceful days of snow and teasing are over. And yet you still long for them, you want to feel Z’s hands in your hair once more, want to feel the thrill of catching him off guard and running to hide behind Renata. You want back the times that you had spent, absorbed in watching Vera as she took her first steps, your young self amazed that anyone could ever be so small. You miss those moments when you seriously contemplated smashing Antons face into the ice under your feet, missed the random times when Ivan would pull you away to look at something cool that he had found. You just missed being homeyou miss the safe feeling that you had been provided with daily back then. Ignorance truly is bliss you suppose. If you had survived not knowing about what Herzog had done, if you survived thinking that all of this was just some randoms attack on you and your family would you have been happier? It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.

You dry heave and spit into the toilet, bile rising in your throat but not to the point in which it would spill past your lips. Your vision is blurry from the tears and your head throbs with the pain of the pressure your tears are both building up and releasing. “I wanna go home…” you mumble slowly laying yourself down on the floor, hands clutched into your hair, fingers threading themselves in with the strands and pulling at them like a tide. You would yank at your hair then let it all fall out of your grip, massaging your scalp slightly, and then yanking at it again. You continued in this way as the blurry memory of that day played in front of you. Anton being no help, Khorkina doing her best to goad you into punching her, Ivan being somewhere that you swear was unreasonably high up. Eventually finding Herzog and asking him, him granting you permission as long as you cleaned up after yourselves, running back to Z with the good news.

“Z! Z! Listen to this!” He looked up at you from his spot on the stairs, clearly bored out of his mind, but hey at least he hadn’t fallen asleep like you asked!

He made a twirling motion with his hand “What is it?”

You placed your hands on your hips and grinned, “Herzog says we can use the stuff in the kitchen as long as we clean up afterwards!” You gave an overzealous thumbs up afterwards to make your point even clearer.

“That’s great!” He said all too sarcastically. Getting up he put both hands on your shoulders resting all of his weight on them before finally standing up straight shushing you and your whining.

It hurry you so much to know that everyone is gone. It hurts to know that you’ll never get that chance to just see them again, to hear their voices, catch a glimpse of them on the street. Instead they’re all dead and there’s nothing that you can do about it. You had watched everyone die, you had seen their eyes glaze over and go out of focus. You had seen how their blood stained the pure white snow a bright and somber red. You had run past them as you registered them as dead, praying to nothing but everything at the same time that at least one of them would live. That you would get to hold at least one of them in your arms as you two promised to stay with each other. But you didn’t get that. Instead you got to watch as Renata faded into the distance, your last hope, you got to claw through icy waters, pleading your legs to move, to allow you to save your dearest friend….

”Z, Z, Z! Help me I have no idea why the egg keeps cracking like that!”

“Maybe it’s cracking like that because you keep squeezing them until they explode.”

“Don’t use that tone of voice with me young man! I’ll have you know that Dr.Herzog says that I’ve made great progress in my home economics studies.” You proudly bumped your chest with your fist only to look down and see your uniform covered in egg goop. Z snickered before handing you a rag and motioning for you to hand him the bowl and the eggs. You slid it over to him with your elbow and focused on cleaning your hands and uniform up.

”Here,” he held up one of the eggs,”I’ll show you how to crack an egg, so that you don't end up wasting all of them.” He hit it lightly on the edge of the bowl, holding both ends of the egg with his fingers and pulling his palm so that the egg slowly slipped out of the shell before proceeding to throw the shell somewhere off to the side of him. He pushed the bowl back towards you with a smug look on his face. "You get it now?"

"Yep, yep, yep," you waved your hand at him dismissively before turning back to the book. "Okay so now we mix wet ingredients and dry, then we add in the chocolate." Getting the chocolate for the recipe had been the hardest part. With how rare chocolate is at the orphanage and the fact that you weren't allowed into your room because of how sick Renata was it had been hard to find any. Eventually after bribing Z and way too much effort on your part, you had ended up on Z's shoulders searching through the backs of the older and dustier cabinets, in one of which you had found a chocolate bar that was a week off from its expiration date. Not the best but it could've been 10 times worse you suppose. Z pushed the chocolate towards you with this hand before resting his head on his hand.

"So how much longer do we have? It's getting late." Z stifled a yawn.

You glanced at the book and back down at the cookie batter that you were currently scooping out and onto the baking sheet. They didn't hold their shape as well as the book described them as being able to but you supposed that it was just a matter of reality vs. idealized fiction. "Um I don't know. The book says that they need 25 minutes to bake properly and who knows how long its going to take to clean this all up."

"Well good luck with that." He said slapping his hand down on the table, turning around on his stool, and standing up.

Even if it was just the memory of the sound, the slapping of Z's hand on the table sent a wave of nausea scorching through your body. Everything was a blur, reality, what you were really seeing, cold white tile and the rug in front of the shower were blending together with the cold white of snow, the rug that was in you and Renata's cabin. You felt hands on your face, were they from the memory of Renata checking your temperature or were they your own? Your vision was swimming, you were underwater, you were lying on the bathroom floor. You were drowning, you're lying on the bathroom floor. You're dying, you can't see.

You clamored up in a haze, you have to run! You have to get to Renata and Vera and Anton and and and and! And you slam into a desk that was out in the middle of Hezog's lab. Z is right there, Renata is right there, Vera is right there! All you need to do is reach out a little further and you'll be there! You'll be able to save them! You finally latch onto Z's uniform begging him not to go, begging him to stay with you, because if you go alone then everyone will die. "PLEASE Z!" You yell out. "I need you, I need you, I need you, everyone's dying, dead, dying dead, dying, dead, I can't save them! PLEASE!" And then the Z you're holding onto collapses, leaving nothing but a pile of clothes behind. His uniform lies bloodied in your hands. Renata lies bloodied in your hands. Anton lies just out of reach, dead. "Come back, please." You clutch onto Z's uniform harder. The tears don't falter as you trace your hands along the sleeves of the uniform. "The sleeves are too short you should get Herzog to make you a new one." You chuckle fondly. only...

Only...

Only the uniform has too many mistakes for it to have ever been Z's, theres too big a difference in size. It doesn't smell the same. It's not his... it's yours. You're not at the orphanage, you're in your dorm at Cassel. You're sitting on hardwood floors right now, not the powdery snowfall of home. Its warm, not cold, theres no dead bodies, only you and the mess that you made when you stormed through here earlier. You choke on a sob, tears coming down in even thicker streams, your headache had bloomed into a splendid migraine. You can barely see straight, but you know for sure that this isn't anywhere near, by or in the orphanage. And it can never be. The orphanage is gone now. Everyone's bodies are probably still lying on top of the snow, glassy eyes unfocused and unseeing, faces twisted in fear. Or maybe they've been charred to ashes, with nothing left to remember them by, their remains carried by the winds or at the bottom of the sea. You clutch your uniform tighter, biting down on it to muffle your screams and sobbing.

You have no idea how long you've been here. Your tears have faded now, only leaving the uncomfortable burning of the dried tear tracks in their memory. You don't stare at anything in particular, theres nothing left of your emotions, just the dull ache of apathy. Your vision is spotted with dancing black circles and lines. They look a bit like what you imagine TV static would look like but you really have no idea. Your conscious waves and ebbs like the tides from back home. You can't think of anything other than the feeling of the cloth clutched in your embrace right now. Sighing you bury your face in it, resigning yourself to a night on the floor.

#dragon raja #zero dragon raja #dragon raja mc #z dragon raja #Dragon raja herzog #fanfic #dragon raja fanfic #Writing #angst #hurt no comfort #fluff #I suck at tagging

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flyboytracy · 3 years

Text

Okay but what if Scott rly was Alan’s dad?

I was gonna post this for Earth & Sky week if I managed to complete it but it’s smol Tracy’s birthday and it’ll probably never see the light of day otherwise so why not :D

I’m always a ho for an AU so here’s one I started over lockdown called ‘Okay but what if Scott really was Alan’s dad’

☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

Long before International Rescue was a thing, the Tracy boys had lived on a farm in Kansas. It’d belonged to their late mother, God bless her soul, and these days it only grew crop for an environmentally friendly fuel because Tracy money came from technology instead of the earth.

The boys’ famous army father was gone for days at a time and there was plenty of rumours why that was. Mrs Wyatt who lived down the lane from the Tracys said she’d heard the man was alcoholic and probably had been for a long time because his teenaged son had been looking after the rest of them since his poor momma died. She saw them troop past her gate every day on their way to school and back, and then to the park on the weekends when their pa’s jet wasn’t on the drive.

Mr Colton, who lived at number fifty-four said he’d taken his son to the pool at the same time that the Tracy boys had been there without their father as usual. He told Vera that he’d overheard the youngest chattering away to the red-headed one about a rocket he’d called the TV21 until the eldest had overheard and shushed them. According to Mrs Johnson who was friends with Ms Hernandez at the school, Col. Tracy had budding engineers, astronauts and a future Olympic swimmer at the home he never seemed to return to. Instead it was Scott and Virgil who took their brothers to swim meets and galas and even to the Cosmosphere. Ms Hernandez could find nothing to complain about because all four of the Tracy boys grades were above average and threw off the teachers’ bell curves when it came to subjects like science and math.

That Scott boy sure had his hands full with three brothers, his own future and a possibly alcoholic father to look after, so the whole town was surprised when he went and knocked up the Austin girl after being crowned king and queen of their grad ball. Not much ever happened in the backwater towns of the sunflower state so everybody knew about it the morning after the night Pa Austin went round the Tracy’s farmhouse to have it out with the Colonel.

The rumour mill had been on fire for months after that because Mrs Johnson had been having her usual perm when she’d heard Ma Austin tell Shirley all about how her daughter’s boyfriend had been going to leave their small town after graduation. She’d seen the way the Tracy boy cared for his brothers and had expected he’d give up his plans to join the military if he had a kid of his own at home with her.

To the town’s surprise, it turned out that the Colonel was actually a long distance father and not an entirely absent one. Pa Austin had stormed to the farmhouse that night with his shotgun in hand, only to be greeted by a hologram of the great Colonel himself, sat eating dinner on a beach somewhere as his boys ate dinner round a table in Kansas. Austin had gone round with the aim of threatening at least one Tracy with his shotgun but hadn’t got that far because Colonel Jefferson Tracy could still dominate a room from over a thousand miles away.

According to Pa Austin, his fancy hologram was just as tall as the real thing and pretty sober which put paid to Mrs Wyatt’s theory that he was an alcoholic. In fact he was a Big Apple businessman now, and a darn good one at that because by the end of the evening it had been decided that his eldest son would join the GDF as planned and the child would remain with its mother but want for nothing. Tracys took care of their own and Pa Austin said he’d realised that when the colonel’s youngest boy had kept interrupting their conversation to show him trash he’d found in the pond at the park and Tracy hadn’t brushed the youngster off at all.

The big holographic man had promised they’d feed the ducks at the weekend, which meant half the town was hanging around the park come Saturday morning.

The youngest had appeared first, full of joy and enthusiasm that his older brother didn’t share as the red-head was dragged across the grass to the pond. The second eldest was close behind them and had a couple of toy boats in his arms which left the eldest Tracy boy and his father to bring up the rear.

They were deep in conversation when they appeared, the Colonel strolling along easily with his hands behind his back like an old fashioned gentleman. Scott was by his side and gone was the little boy always running to catch up. In his place strode a man and it was rather disappointing really.

The Tracys moved away shortly afterwards. Stan the mailman said he’d seen fancy suits taking pictures of the farmhouse and the Tracys had paid for their mail to be redirected but he couldn’t seem to find an address. The Austins had an address for the Tracys, but they also had a pretty hefty NDA in exchange for a very comfortable lifestyle and weren’t much inclined to break it just to satisfy everyone else’s curiosity.

It all died down after a while and people got bored of watching Sophia get bigger. Her old flame might’ve flown out of the picture but his presence sure was felt around town when Sophia got her own car and fancy place on the Tracy’s dime. Ms Hernandez said the colonel had insisted Ms Sophia continue her education alongside being a momma to his first grandchild and Shirley heard there was a job at the Tracy’s family business when she wanted to get out of Kansas.

Nothing exciting happened in their little backwater until the day a private jet landed on the main street and Sophia was whisked off to give birth at a very fancy hospital. According to Ma Austin, she had a private room and the colonel had parked his jet on the roof since his son wouldn’t make it back in time for the birth.

They did seem to be a good family, the Tracys, even if they’d disappeared off the face of the earth in the past eight months or so. The only trace anybody could seem to find of them was on the Tracy Industries website where each son had a mention in the CEO’s bio but real information was scarce. They disappeared off Ms Hernandez’s records and there was nothing about them on any government website. Nobody was truly surprised that the Colonel had chosen to disappear because they’d come to realise a few things after reading his bio. For one, the fella was a billionaire several times over and two, he adored those four boys of his more than anything because his words about his achievements had been clinical but the paragraph about each of his sons’ achievements had made old Mrs Johnson cry.

Of course everybody wanted to know what happened but the Austins didn’t have a lot to say. The Colonel was a very nice man who didn’t seem to have taken offence to Ms Austin’s actions. He’d offered her further education and employment instead of the lawsuit most men in his position would’ve filed. There were rumours the fella was working on a top secret project that’d change the world, but in their little backwater there were rumours about everything.

Alan Tracy didn’t pay attention to any of those rumours as he grew up with his momma in a sleepy little town in Kansas. The little boy loved many things including his momma and their house that had a big garden with a tire swing and a sandpit he used to re-enact grandpa landing on Mars. He loved ice cream and going to the park and he even liked Kindergarten ‘cause he got to draw pictures of his family and space.

But what Alan Tracy loved most of all was his daddy. He didn’t get to see him a lot ‘cause he was learning to be a pilot like grandpa, but every Friday evening a fancy car arrived to take him a little way out of town where grandpa’s jet would be waiting to take him to the island for the whole weekend.

Sometimes grandpa flew it but he had lots of meetings around the world so other times he’d see Uncle Virgil through the window and squeal with excitement ‘cause his biggest uncle had the best toys. He was gonna be an engineer and could fix any of Alan’s toys, even the one that failed a moon launch. He had Alan’s undying love ‘cause the little boy could hang from his arm like a monkey and he had lots of fun stories about his daddy. They were best, best friends and Alan liked to crawl into that big plaid shirt and bug him ‘til Uncle Virg showed him pictures of when daddy was little.

Uncle Virg wasn’t always around though ‘cause he was studying in Denver but that was okay ‘cause Alan had two more uncles to play with. Johnny didn’t really like to play but when he was home he let Alan play with his telescopes and taught him all about space.

Alan loved his daddy but he thought he might love space even more. He loved it when Johnny took him up to the peak of the island in the dark and they sat for an hour to watch for shooting stars. Alan had fallen asleep once on the big fluffy blanket and the best thing of all was when he woke to find daddy had an arm around Johnny’s shoulders and Alan had been drooling on his shirt.

“Hey, sprout.” Daddy had smooched his forehead when he’d noticed bright blue eyes staring up at him with joy, “I love you. John says you’ve been learning about the stars some more.”

“There’s Ursa Major!” Alan had stood up to be able to point out the little pinpricks of light that made up the Ursa Major Constellation and he still hadn’t been taller than his daddy, “Johnny says Ursa’s a big bear like Uncle Virg.”

“Johnny told you that, did he?” his daddy’s laugh had made Alan feel warm right down to his bones and he’d dived for a hug. Impossibly long arms had folded around him and Johnny, drawing them both into the safest place in the universe for so long they missed most of the shooting stars and Johnny made them go away so he could see the rest. Alan didn’t mind ‘cause dad swung him up onto his shoulders and let him get wet on the rocky beach by the villa since it was bath time anyway.

Alan loved Sunday mornings on the island when daddy was home. Alan liked to wake him up by bouncing on the bed ‘cause the sky was awake so they should be too. And then they’d get dressed in matching blue swim shorts and go for a run around the island and if he ran faster than daddy on the home stretch he was allowed to jump into the pool like Superman. Gordon was usually in there by then and kept an eye on Allie doing the doggy paddle in the shallow end whilst daddy went to get breakfast out the fridge. There was something cool that beeped super loud that time he tried to moonwalk on the bottom of the pool like an astronaut and Uncle Virg had dived in like a bowling ball to fish him out. Gordon had laughed a lot but Uncle Virg hadn’t even smiled ‘til daddy gave him one of those hugs that made booboos stop hurting.

Alan really loved his uncles but he loved his daddy most and it was hard to stand on the runway with Uncle Virg to wave goodbye. Uncle Virg didn’t seem to like waving goodbye either so Alan always held his hand to make him feel better and did his best to be like daddy so Uncle Virg wouldn’t miss him too much.

He seemed to end up being more like John as a couple of years passed and everything in his life changed. Grandpa took him to London to get measured for a suit for daddy’s graduation and he didn’t understand why Uncle Virg kept frowning at Gordon for laughing about daddy’s graduation from big school. He asked Uncle Virg what was so funny, and then Grandpa and Grandpa’s weird professor friend who used big words Alan didn’t know yet, but none of them seemed to know and even daddy missed a step when Alan asked him on their way to the fancy dinner Grandpa was hosting at his penthouse in New York for his newly graduated son. Daddy never ever missed anything which was annoying when Alan was trying to get hold of Gordon’s cookies but he’d breathed air the wrong way and Uncle Virg had to thump his back a few times.

Daddy had talked about how cool Alan looked in his little gray suit and Alan had been so happy he’d forgotten about his question ‘til after dinner when they were still at the table and he’d pulled himself onto Grandpa’s knee ‘cause Uncle Virg and Gordon were being loud and he’d been a tired little boy by then. He’d tried one last time to find out what was so funny about daddy’s last graduation and Grandpa had rested his chin atop Allie’s head.

“Your momma and daddy had you after his last graduation.” Grandpa rumbled, “You were quite an unexpected surprise for your daddy, but a welcome one. Gordon likes to remind your daddy about what a big surprise you were.”

“Your daddy was a surprise too, as I recall.” Grandma Tracy was sat with Grandpa and Alan loved visiting her but sometimes she made him cookies and he didn’t love those.

“I love daddy, not cookies.” he mumbled tiredly and fell asleep right there at the table.

That meant he missed the way his Grandpa coughed to quieten his four boys because he had something real important to discuss with them. Scott knew what it was, and Virg had an inkling because it was difficult to disguise underground excavations from a highly skilled engineer. They were sat together with Virgil’s elbow resting on the back of Scott’s chair and blue eyes softened when he realised where Alan had got to.

Alan had managed to sleep through the inaugural meeting of International Rescue and life was never the same again after he woke up.

#idek #AU warning #dad!scott #i'm just such a ho for dad!scott #this is what happens when I watch things like Bridgerton

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yelenasdog · 3 years

Text

wondrous mess (40s!bucky x fem reader)

𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: angst with some tooth rotting fluff halfway

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: war is so cruel, it’s only fair that the both of them have to expirience it’s wrath together.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 11k+ (my longest fic!!)

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: the beginning shows implications of alcoholic tendencies and behavior as well as derogatory terms from the 40s to describe those who are suffering from alcoholism, war, character death, denial of death, being a widow, cheating, crying, implications of sex, that’s abt it. if i missed any, feel free to shoot me an ask or message :)

𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: (listen to these in order for best reading experience)

☆time flies- mac miller

☆at last- etta james

☆crying time- dean martin

☆paper rings- taylor swift

☆fine line- harry styles

☆dream a little dream of me- ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong

☆twilight time- the platters

☆you don’t have to say you love me- jerry vale

☆moon river- andy williams

☆as the world caves in- matt maltese

☆we’ll meet again- vera lynn

☆everlong (acoustic version)- foo fighters

𝚊/𝚗: i hope u enjoy this!! i’ve worked so hard on this and done so much research, it truly took the most time and effort i’ve ever used in a fic. there’s more disclaimers at the end :)

·。·☆·。·。

December 28th, 1941

The alleyway was dark, unnerving, and cold. A man’s loud and gruff voice projected through the nearly empty alley, bouncing off of the newly propaganda strewn walls. His arm was left hanging defenseless in the air.

“Don’t go, please, we’ll talk it out.” His 5 o’clock shadow seemed more prominent, his clothes wrinkled and smelling of alcohol while his breath was that of smoke.

He had changed since they had gotten together, but he wasn’t the only one.

She turned on her heels from where she stood just outside the backstreet, tears pricking the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill.

She had aged in the time she had been with Jake, the lines on her face deepening, the bags under her eyes darkening with blue and purple hues. Her painted lips had become cemented in a scowl, her formerly bright smile rarely seeing the light of day. But the distraught girl had no intentions of letting her new Bésame mascara go to waste on some jerk, much like the past few years of her life had. She strutted towards the blonde, regaining her lost composure.

She jabbed a manicured finger onto his chest, causing the man to recede slowly, the girl he had angered not far behind.

“You listen here, you crumb. I will not sit around all slack happy so you can go around and kiss some other dame behind my back.” She removed her hand, crossing it tightly against her chest with her other arm.

“Well, I was buzzed, that bird wasn’t even any importanc-“

“You’re unbelievable!” She gasped, rolling her eyes. She turned away once again. Jake followed in suit.

“Leave me alone, Jake.” She kept her eyes straight ahead on the unfamiliar Brooklyn sidewalk. She had originally come to the area to surprise her now ex- boyfriend after his work in the factory, but was in for a shock when she saw him making out with some girl (not for the first time) just outside the diner on the way.

So even if she didn’t have a clue where she was going, she sure as hell was going to act like she did. Seeing that her stride wasn’t faltering, he made an outcry of her name followed by a bellowed “No!”

Jake grabbed her shoulder, and she shrugged it off, continuing to walk down the cobblestone street. There were cars buzzing past, and people talking around her on the street.

Couples. Happy couples who she quite honestly envied.

“You’re not allowed to touch me like that anymore.” Jake scoffed at her seemingly venomous words, wrapping a strong hand around her dainty wrist.

“Now don’t go into a decline, it’s not that big of a deal.” Her eyes narrowed at the sandy blond.

“Oh, please. You kissed her, and all the others, because you wanted to and because you could. No regard for anyone’s feelings but your own, just like always. And I’m sick of it, I really am!” She threw her hands up, and they fell back to her side with an audible plop against the gabardine fabric.

Jake looked around nervously at all the people whose attention he had drawn, his eyes darting to and fro.

“Don’t make a scene,” he called her by her nickname in a vain attempt to draw out her sympathy. “Please, we can work it out like we always do.”

“Don’t you dare call me that. You have no place to do so. And I think I’ve made my point fairly evidently. Jake Nelson, you are nothing but a swigger and a cheat, and I want nothing to do with it any longer. Goodbye.” She felt a rush of adrenaline as she picked her head up, the setting sun in what to her seemed a poetic manor.

She didn’t know where she was, how she would get home, where she would sleep. But he was gone. That parasite that had been feeding off of her and her emotions, taking advantage of her again and again, was finally gone. And it felt great. She took a breath of the heavily polluted air, noting how it somehow seemed clearer.

She could breathe again, and the feeling was intoxicating. In her newfound bliss, she continued walking for she didn’t know (nor care to find out) how long.

The sky that had since changed from it’s scarlets and oranges to an indigo sheet (becoming nearly impossible to see the stars with all the heavy smoke wafting in the air from the ever so busy factories) provided a hint at exactly how long it had been since she began her adventure.

She would stare at the buildings as she walked past, analyzing those who walked in and out of them, considering the way they walked, how some appeared dreary, others animated, and making up backstories for them each in her mind. Some of her stories were sadder than others, and some had the most glorious of tales. She liked to think that she was correct about her human hypotheses, even if she was the furthest thing from it.

She swung her head to the left side of the street she was walking on, and not far ahead, she noticed a rickety looking old bar. After her day's events, she felt she deserved a celebratory drink, so she pushed the heavy door open, stepping into the dimly lit area.

The airy sound of piano filled the air, a joyful demeanor to the place. Couples (which she still envied, even if momentarily the said envy had gone vacant) were dancing about happily. Not a care in the world. Not in the moment, at least.

But when she made it past the entrance, that moment stopped. It was like every head turned, all conversations paused, the clinking of the piano keys was no longer to be heard. She gave a small nervous smile to the occupants of the room as she walked to the bar itself, standing just a tad bit taller at the attention.

And as soon as the moment had stopped, it seemed to have started back up again when she ended up at her destination. Because as she had learned, time truly never stopped for anyone.

The piano’s melody resumed, everyone was back on their feet in no time. She took a look around, soaking up the atmosphere in complete awe, feeling free as a bird of some sort.

Soon enough, she was slowly sipping away at her concoction while facing the splintering door, her head occupied with thoughts concerning what came next, how she would handle the effects of this adrenaline high she was now stepping off. Her thinking was interrupted, though, by a deep voice and a tap on the shoulder, making her jump in her seat.

“‘Scuse me?”

She turned on her stool to face whoever it was that wanted her attention. Both figures eyes widened at the sight of the other, shock spreading across their faces.

“Well if it isn’t James Barnes!” She spoke, genuine excitement filling her soul. He called out her old nickname, contended with his discovery.

“It’s been awhile! And please, doll, it’s Bucky.” He reminded her with a charming smile. A warm blush rose up from her neck to her cheeks, and butterflies suddenly hatched in her stomach, fluttering about like nobody's business. She nodded, taking another sip from her drink to avoid meeting his eyes (which were much prettier than she ever had remembered from school).

The clean shaven boy- or man as of late, pulled out a chair next to her, sitting down. The two engaged in friendly conversation, their laughs mixing in the warm, thick air with the sounds of the music. Her heart was beating out of her chest, leaving her feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush all over again.

After some time of very pleasant conversation, a less effervescent matter had risen.

“So,” James began, taking a swig from his glass. “Still with that souse, what was his name,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Jake! That’s his name, Jake!”

The girl shook her head and rolled her eyes with a laugh.

He was enchanted already.

She began to tell a toned down version of the occurrences with Jake, Bucky remaining captivated by her presence the entire time. James would speak up every few statements, always resulting in her losing her place, not that she minded.

Towards the end of the so called story, there was an interruption towards the front of the bar.

The moment stopped once more, but in a quite different manner than how it did when she had first entered.

He hollered out her name, followed by an equally as loud “Where are you?” He turned to a man to his left. “Where is she?” He slurred. The scruffy man only shrugged, scooting away from the drunken one that had walked into the brick building.

“Jake, what are you doing here?” She questioned, slowly walking towards the man, trying not to upset him further.

“Why’d you leave me, huh?! Why’d you cause a scene and go?” He was hysterical. Tears ran down his red face and his hands feverishly grabbed at his scraggly locks for some sense of comfort.

“Jake, you’re not in your right mind. Leave me alone and go home, you’re leaving your mother worrying, I’m sure of it.”

Her voice began to shake, ripples of emotion that had been repressed for the past years bubbling up to the surface, taunting her, threatening her, to erupt.

And God, his mother, his poor mother.

The frail old woman was half the reason she had even stayed with Jake in the first place,

Her heart was weak, and her son’s behavior never left her any room to breath. So the girl would dedicate much of her time to cooking meals for the widowed Ms. Nelson, bringing them over and sitting with her for hours on end, speaking with her of Jake’s childhood, memories of her late husband spending time with the boy along with it.

Her favorite stories throughout them all, though, were the ones of Jake’s childhood pup, a golden retriever called Benjamin.

Ms. Nelson loved to tell the story of how odd it was that the young boy chose the human name, rather than something frivolous and fun, like Buddy, or Peanut.

So a teary eyed version of the girl would think back to that story whenever Jake would behave in this manner, she would think of Benjamin and a youthful Jake, frolicking in the Oklahoma fields where Jake had grown up.

An extremely happy child, an even sweeter boy.

But no longer could she do so. Not now, after Jake had gone and betrayed her for some random girl.

Some random girl who would never sit with his mother for hours, listening to her weep about her broken son who she pretended to not notice was silently suffering. Some random girl who wouldn’t comfort him when he had a rough day at work, trying to be an active distraction so that he wouldn’t turn to his vice.

Because she had loved Jake Nelson, even if she wanted to pretend she didn’t.

And it hurt her to walk away, but she had to, for his own good.

Which led her to push the image of a golden fluff ball and the face of a smiling small boy out of her mind completely, weighing herself down to the present, meeting Jake’s sad emerald eyes. She walked forward, taking him by the shoulders. Her voice was hushed as she spoke.

“Jake. You’ve become someone I don’t know, someone that’s hard to love. But I did it anyway for a long, long time. Maybe some other time, perhaps even in another life, we can be together. But that all depends on you.

You’ve hurt me, and I can’t pretend you haven’t any longer, Jake. So go home. Please.”

Her eyes hunted through his, sifting for some sign of reassurance that he understood the gravity of the situation.

“But I love you-” He whispered, acting a stuttering mess. Everyone at the bar had gone back to whatever they were doing before he came into the room, not wanting to involve themselves in whatever mess it was obvious the two of them were in.

She took hold of the brown fabric of his coat, gently turning him towards the door. She walked behind him, her hand not leaving his back for some subconscious fear he would do something he would regret once he was of sober mentality.

She discarded it as nonsense;

But nevertheless, her death grip on him never faltered, even for a moment.

As soon as she made it outside, she waved over a cab, the bright yellow vehicle being the only completely visible object in the cool night.

It pulled over with a loud screech, leaving rubber tracks on the damp asphalt. She wrinkled her nose, before digging around her embroidered bag in a flurry, pulling together $5.27 exactly. She knew it would be enough to cover the long ride from the factory to his home, as the high cost of the ride was one of his many worries he did his best to forget in any way he could possibly fathom.

So she told the cabbie his address, helping Jake into the back of the car. He held her hand and looked up to her with pleading eyes. She squeezed it once before putting his back on his lap.

“Goodnight, Jake.” She smiled softly, briefly touching his cheek before shutting the door. She saw him look out the dirty window, before leaning back into the leather headrest and letting his tired eyes flutter to a close, finding momentary bliss, despite all going on around him.

She took a deep breath, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, watching him until the taxi was just barely visible, to where calling it a yellow blob would be generous. But she followed it with her eyes not a moment later, for she had some explicable fear from a tall-tale her mother had told her long ago, about how you would never see someone again if you watched them off completely.

Whether that be by death or some curious mishap along the journey towards it, she never quite felt the urge to find out. And one could take that as a bitter yet nectarous testament to her feelings towards Jake, but even if she wanted to, she wasn’t even sure if she could herself.

She revolved in zombie like fashion, too caught up in her own world once more, to notice a certain brown haired (soon to be, not that he knew it) sergeant.

A stormy look of displeasure had casted itself across his stark features, but his cerulean eyes remained cordial, almost like a safe haven of calm waters to find refuge in.

And almost like in every cliche love story that ever was, she bumped into Bucky, gasping before transitioning into an expression of her regret, a waterfall of apologies gushing from her lips.

He called her by her nickname once more, catching her attention and making her heart skip a beat.

“Seriously, it’s alright, no harm done.”

She zipped her mouth shut, so to say, and just gave a curt nod before starting to go inside. And ever the gentleman, Bucky let her get halfway to the door before calling out her name. She turned once more, salty droplets beginning to roll down her face.

“Yes?”

He looked down to his feet and then to the bustling city street beside him. After much contemplation in the span of what felt like hours (but was only a few moments), he met her eye.

“I know it’s not my place, and if you don’t wanna talk ‘bout it, we don’t have to, but what happened in there-”

He paused, taking a deep breath in a futile effort to put his nerves at bay, keep the storm from shore to the best of his abilities. He puffed his cheeks, offering his arm before retreating it again, similarly to the way Jake had however many hours ago.

“You don’t deserve that.” He shook his head, left to right, his ungelled hair shiny under the yellow street lights, making him look like an angel.

“I know.”

He shuffled closer to her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The wind howled around them in an agonizing manner, how lone wolves under a full moon would do the same.

They watched as their frosty breaths floated like smoke in the air, their faces illuminated by the storefront displays lining the streets from Christmas that was only a few days prior, leaving no time to take down the brightly colored decor. You could practically hear the animated Santa Claus’ “Ho ho ho!” from where he sat in the front of a toy store, beckoning those who walked past to come on inside and take a look, maybe spend a few dollars.

But to Y/n, it felt as if the cheery old man was simply mocking her as she was in her current state.

“Really, I mean that, I do.”

Now to reiterate, Bucky was a gentleman, that much was clear. So although he outright wanted to tell her that it seemed as if she didn’t realize her own worth and that, Hell, Steve could treat her better than that punk. But alas, he kept it to himself, only doing his best to comfort her, upsetting her further, never an intention in his mind.

She nodded, giving a tight lipped smile. “Thanks, really.”

She shivered, admiring the red and green lights around her, her glazed over eyes reflecting the image of them beautifully, almost like a work of stained glass art in her iris.

“You wanna head back inside? You look kinda chilly.”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m just going to stay out here for awhile.”

“I’ll leave you to it.”

All that was heard then, was the clicking of his shoes against the cobblestone, with the occasional car whizzing past. But then, she asked him to stay.

Her voice was soft, so much so, in fact, that she possessed what Bucky would say was mistakable for the voice of a mouse, which he would know after spending as many years around Steve that he had. He almost had missed it, but by some miracle, maybe a lucky star, he didn’t

So he turned around, not saying anything to disturb her seemingly exteriorly serene state, only walking up behind her, pulling off his jacket and placing it on top of her shoulders. He smoothed it out briefly, his touch feather light. For he wasn’t sure if he was breaching a certain level of intimacy, breaking any boundaries, with a woman who was practically a stranger.

“Is this alright?”

She nodded again.

“This is fine.” She closed her eyes, feeling much warmer now, but she was slightly torn on if the newfound comfort was accredited to the jacket resting upon her shoulders, or the company standing patiently beside her.

She was starting to think it might just be a little bit of both.

June 14th, 1943

The two's relationship (if you could call it that) was painstakingly slow, not that Bucky ever minded.

Word of the war and when, not who, would get drafted had spread, and any waking second for the past years, she was terrified the man she was developing ever strong feelings for would be ripped away with only a moments notice.

But regardless of that, she had a hard time trusting him, that much was true. It wasn’t his fault, not in the slightest. She wished more than anything to forget her past with Jake, but it was no use. So it took her much time to be able to trust James. But he was patient, and he always stayed.

So when he did get called away, it was a rude awakening.

She had only recently met Steve, before Bucky (who she still called James) was sent overseas. Her maternal instinct she didn’t even know she had immediately kicked into overdrive at first sight of the sickly boy, making her promise Buck that she would watch over him, much to Steve’s dismay. Although, there was no doubt in any of their minds she would in the first place, it was a given.

(Steve secretly loved the way she fussed over him, but he would never admit to that.)

The three of them had a lovely time at the Stark Expo the night before Bucky left, leaving a happy new memory for Y/n to drift to whenever she missed the scent of sandalwood, sweat, and his cologne, that was all uniquely him.

She would picture entangling her arms with Steve and Bucky’s own as she skipped happily, pulling the boys along behind her; not too rough of course, for Steve’s sake

She had been full of an electric happiness that night, stealing kisses with James when Steve wasn’t looking, a pink tint falling upon his plump cheeks. She stole his hat right off his head of hair that she loved to run her fingers through so much and put it on, crooked so much so it nearly fell right off. She wore it the whole rest of the night, Bucky wanting to never see her take it off, if it were possible.

Later that night when he took her home, she stood by the doorway, the porch light doing a sad job of lighting up the area, casting a faint amber glow across James’ features.

The hairs left astray from where she had Bucky’s hunter green cap previously were lit up, forming a halo.

She was a wondrous mess, and James simply adored her in that moment.

(He also adored her in any other instance since the minute he had laid his eyes on her, but the point still stands.)

You could smell the grass if you had tried, freshly cut and still damp from the late night shower they had run through while making their way home, turning through twisty alleyways, feet pattering against walkways.

Their hands had been slipping apart the entire time, perhaps an attempt by Freyr for a cruel joke in the last hours the lovers would spend together before James was to leave.

Maybe he was up in the sky at Mount Olympus, laughing down at the two mortals as the girl kept her hand gripped securely around the man’s stronger limb, refusing under any circumstances to let go. Maybe his laugh turned to a fond smile from above, finding pleasure in how his jest resulted in such an act of youthful care, not minding in the slightest that it had been counterproductive in the best ways.

“Thank you, James. I had an amazing night.”

He grinned ear to ear, awkwardly shuffling closer to her silhouette.

“Same here, doll.”

And just like that, she had crumbled like a coffee cake, another warm and itchy wave silking up her neck. Past the neckline of the uncomfortable dress she wore because she knew Bucky loved it (even though he would no longer love it and would insist she never wear it again if his ears heard any words of upset at the garment fall past her lips).

It traveled right past her best pearls with the rhinestone right in the center that she had made sure to wear because James had once told her that they made her eyes sparkle, that sly son of a gun.

The twinkle truly had been there solely because of him on that day and most others, but she would allow him to believe what he wanted to believe until the end of time, if it kept that boyish smile cemented on his pretty face.

But as it eventually always would, his smile began to falter, shifting into a slight pout, then into a full on frown as soon as her eyes had become visibly misty.

Bucky reached a hand forward snatching the cap from her head. She huffed, and he rolled his eyes as he placed it back on his head.

“I’ll be needing this tomorrow, sorry, sweetheart.”

They both laughed for a moment, the memories of the night still fresh in their young minds.

“I’m going to miss you, James.”

Her chin suddenly quivered, her nose ran, and her thoughts were racing at the speed of light.

She couldn’t lose him. No, not yet, she wasn’t ready, she wouldn’t ever be ready. She hadn't even begun to express to him how much she loved him, let alone that she couldn’t bear to live a day without him (as the information was quite new to her as well). So how in God’s name was she supposed to ship him off to war, just like that, practically a sitting duck for those bastard nazis to poke and prod at all they want?

“I’ll miss you more, darlin’. More than you know.”

They both made an attempt at watery smiles that ended up looking more like two painful grimaces, which was more of a reflection of their current moods than the aforementioned. His eyes pleaded with her to say something, anything. One of her quick witted facts, maybe a scolding perhaps, for having such a negative attitude in the current predicament.

Not able to stare at his collapsing facade any longer, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. She quickly reciprocated, placing a strong hand on her waist.

There was a longing look in her eyes as the gears of her brain turned, carefully formulating what she wanted to say.

“Marry me.”

Well, formulating is a strong word.

He laughed at the notion, the sound ringing out and echoing off the small porch. But the whimsical tune soon halted when he realized he was the only one making it.

“Doll, are you serious?”

“Never been more serious about anything in my life, James.” She moved her hands to take his, holding them up to her chest and shaking them as she spoke with a supplicate glance. He said her nickname in a careful manner, trying to articulate a response, muttering something about not having a ring, how their families (Becca included) would be furious they missed the wedding. But she was having none of it.

“Well I’m sure given the circumstances, they’d understand, and if they don’t then oh well. And quite frankly, as for the ring, I could care less, James, make a ring out of paper and slap it on my finger, it's all the same to me. We can go to the court tomorrow morning before I see you off-”

She moved her head down to where Bucky was gazing, tilting it back up with her pointer finger.

“Let me marry you, dammit.”

They laughed for a second, both of them this time, although her’s was much more convincing.

“But why now?”

She paused again, the only sound to be heard was the soft chirping of the crickets hidden in the grass.

“Because I know you're far too much of a gentleman to leave me widowed, James Barnes.”

He pressed soft kisses on her knuckles, meeting her eyes.

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Oh, only every day.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled, pulling her in by the waist. He connected their lips, and felt her smile into the kiss. He also happened to feel a hand creeping up to where his hat rested on the crown of his head, but the feeling wasn’t prolonged.

She snatched it off his shiny locks with a devilish grin, a sparkle in her eye shining like the North star Bucky soon would be gazing upon at night to direct him through the dark nights.

“You should keep that on for forever, you know. Looks better on you, anyway.”

She raised a messy eyebrow, the corner of her bright red mouth turning into a smirk.

“Oh really, is that so?”

Bucky hummed and nodded, kissing her nose and watching in delight as it crinkled up and a high pitched giggle escaped from her lips. Then it was quiet for some time, the only thing able to be heard was the droplets of rainwater sliding off the roof and plopping on the floor as her and James stood in contemplation.

“I’ll marry you, doll.”

She smiled at him warmly, leaning into his larger frame completely, the scratchy green fabric of his uniform flush against her cheek.

“I know.”

He barked a loud laugh, and she felt it through the fabric covering his chest, savouring the feeling.

“You know? Well how did you know?”

She only sighed, moving to open her rickety front door, which the whole neighborhood probably knew judging by the squeak that echoed from it.

“Because, just as I said before. You’re a gentleman. You’d never turn down a proposal in public, especially not from me.”

Bucky’s face contorted, and the gears of his head turned as he made an honest effort at understanding how they were in public.

“But, we’re not?”

She shook her head, stepping into her home and then turning to face him straight on.

“Technically, we were on the patio, which is in the yard, which is in the neighborhood, which is in public. Now, if I were to propose to you right now with you-”

She tugged his arm, forcing him into the building.

“-also in my home, you would have every right to say no.”

She looked up, scanning his features. Admiring his cheekbones, his lips, and his sharp jaw. But most prevalently, she found herself absolutely enchanted by his eyes, as she always was.

“But I won’t.”

“But you won’t.”

She smiled, the look on her face resembling that of a fox smirking at her prey. She waltzed to the door, closing it softly.

“So,” she began, taking hold of Bucky’s hands.

“Tomorrow morning it is, then?”

“I think it is.”

“Whatever shall we do in the meantime?” She questioned, both of them having ideas that were entirely the same.

“I think I might have an inkling of an idea.”

She huffed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“You and your ideas, James. Always ‘thinking’ of something new.”

He only hummed in agreement, nuzzling his forehead against hers, before moving down to her ear.

“I’d like to believe I act on those ideas. Would you agree?”

You can most likely guess her answer.

The next morning was a mixture of great sorrow and great joy all at once. Sure, they had to get up at the crack of dawn on what would be Bucky’s last chance to sleep in for a very long time, and sure, the minister had given them very strange looks, but it had been done.

And to the newly wed Mr and Mrs. Barnes, it was worth it completely.

But nearly as soon as the exciting event had ended, she was standing on the slimy pebbles of Brooklyn's Pier 57, doing her best to not lose her footing on the wet stones. She had given James one final goodbye kiss, before watching him board the Dominion Monarch to be shipped off to England.

The large vessel departed, and for once, she allowed a few tears to slip down her blushed cheeks, her smeared mascara coming with it, just as she knew it would. The bitter droplets were warm, a juxtaposition to the feeling in the pit of her stomach formed by the voice nagging at her that Bucky would never see her again. That her wedding day would be the last time she would ever see her husband. It was a possible reality she never wanted to have to face.

And after so long, she decided she was tired of waiting. So she made a call.

“Hello? Is this Agent Margaret Carter?”

December 25th, 1943

Bucky Barnes was not opposed to the idea of Y/n joining the army. He was appalled.

So when on the crisp morning of December 25th, it was quite a surprise when he opened what he had presumed to be a letter wishing him a Merry Christmas from his wife, and rather receiving some interesting news.

He had been laying his backside against a tree, the scratchy bark feeling rather uncomfortable. He smiled, smiled at the news of his wife going to war, not that he knew, when Steve handed him the parchment, taking another sip of some watered down joe from an aluminum cup, before excitedly ripping into it like a little boy.

“I wanted to save it for today,” Steve had told him, his chest puffed out in pride for keeping the secret for so long.

Bucky initially had found it humorous and exciting, why wouldn’t he have? But his mood soon changed after reading just a few lines in.

“James, my love,

I hope this message finds you and the rest of the boys in good health, tell them I wish them all a happy Christmas, as well. There really isn’t a simple way to put this, and I hope it doesn’t put a damper on your holiday spirit, but I’ve been tired of sitting around, so I’ve spoken to Steve’s friend, Agent Carter. I now have enlisted in the SSR as Agent Barnes.”

The paper clenched in his fist, his eyes screwing shut. He didn’t even bother reading the rest before standing up and walking over to Steve, a fiery look set in his eyes. Steve soon caught on to his anger, standing up and parting his lips as he neared.

“Steve, did you know?”

Steve, a horrible liar, shrugged, furrowing his brows. “About what? Buck, what's wrong?”

“Don’t lie to me, Rogers! Did you know about her enlisting?”

At that, it went silent in the forest aside from the rustling of the branches, and the chirps of early rising blackbirds.

The rest of the Commandos turned, eyes wide, shoulders hunched. Steve gestured for them to calm down and return to normal with a dramatic sweep of his arms, with most of them complying, but not without a few snarky comments from Dum Dum and Gabe protesting the treatment.

“Listen, I tried to stop her-”

“Well apparently, you did a horrible job. God, Agent Barnes. That’s what she'll be known as now. We'll have the whole bunch! Sarge and Agent, wow, we are gonna be one decorated family, ain’t that right, Steve?”

Bucky was ranting and rambling now, spewing angry nonsense at Steve as if that would change a thing. Steve felt a pang of guilt, hanging his head and biting his knuckle.

“Buck, is it a problem that she’ll be an Agent?”

Bucky paused, his nostrils flaring and his eyes slanting.

“Of course it’s a problem, Steve! If they put her in the field, God knows what’ll happen! What if I have to see that name on a plaque some day, huh? In a museum, in some memorial for fallen agents.” His arm put emphasis on every word he shouted, and his voice had grown raspy, tears slipped from the corners of his eyes.

Steve sat his exasperated friend down, putting a comforting arm on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. It distressed Steve to see Bucky this upset, after all he had done for him over the years. So if he could try to make him feel even the slightest bit relieved, he would in any way he had to.

“Bucky?”

He looked up, his eyes red and nose puffy.

“Think about how you're feeling right now. The fear, the hurt, the anxiety, all of it.”

“Steve, I don’t get how this is going to help me-”

“Just trust me.”

Bucky nodded, slumping over again.

“That’s how she feels. That’s how she felt when the war was announced, how she felt when you submitted your draft, how she felt when you were called away, Hell, how she feels every second of every hour that you’re not with her.”

“Still not helping.”

“Shut up, jerk.” They laughed, Steve elbowing him in his shoulder. The sound echoed through the lush green of the space, the tension noticeably thinner.

“The point is, the pain that this all has caused for everyone is inevitable, inescapable. So learn from it, and savour it. In the long run, we’ll be okay, Buck. I promise you that.”

James bit his bottom lip, puncturing the chapped skin, the blood pounding in his head making it hard to process what Steve had said. But what he did manage to gather, was that they would be okay.

February 11th, 1944

“Peggy, I’m nervous.”

“What? Are you kidding? You must be kidding, you’re ridiculous.”

Peggy gave the girl a dirty look from where she stood behind her in front of the only full length mirror at the base, looking as she straightened out her skirt and touched up her “victory” colored lip.

“I’m not kidding, Peg. What if he’s mad?”

The other agent only laughed, briefly touching her on the shoulder before walking around her to where a map of the Hydra bases they had been tracking were laid out. Peggy fiddled with one of the flags for a moment, speaking to a soldier nearby. She impatiently tapped her crimson nails on the board, the sound driving her friend insane. Peggy then began to speak, not even looking up from where she stood, bent over as she examined something else.

“Darling, the only thing Barnes will be mad about by now, is not seeing you for so long. If he was angry before, he’s long forgotten about it, I assure you that.”

She nodded (even though nobody except a nosy recruit had witnessed it).

“You know what, I think you’re right. Thanks, Peg.”

Margaret half smiled, “mmhm” ing, but keeping her head down. She did, however, lift it up when she heard the other woman’s heels clicking in the opposite direction.

“Excuse me?” Peggy remarked, brows raised and her arms crossed.

Agent Barnes turned, her painted lips beckoning Peggy to go on in a most humorous manner.

“We aren’t done here! Get over here and help me mark this up, I’m nearly finished.”

She rolled her eyes, to which Peggy only rushed her more.

By the time they were done (spoiler, she was not almost finished) several hours had passed, and the camp was now lit only by the lanterns and the moon in the obsidian sky.

The stars were visibly bright that night, twinkling like small diamonds without the restriction of smoke from busy factories and the blockage of the ever so fascinating skyscrapers.

Mr and Mrs. Barnes both were watching the stars that night, smiling at the thought of the other doing the same.

Yes, even Bucky, smiling at the thought of his wife despite his neck developing a crick from having laid on the knapsack in the back of the truck for so long. A lovestruck glance was still plastered on his face as he stared up, the road bumpy underneath the wheels of the vehicle. His body would jolt as a cause from this every once in a while, but he paid it no mind, the soft smile staying put.

Steve watched Bucky’s facial expressions, a grin coming across his own features.

“You thinkin’ about her?”

Steve looked up to the sky.

“Always am.”

“I know you want to wait up for him, but I promise as soon as I get word of if he’s here, I’ll wake you. You need rest.”

The agent only smiled, her eyes staying trained on the stars above. “I’ll come to bed soon, Peg. I swear.”

But Margaret knew her friend all too well, so she simply bid her goodnight and shook her head.

She whispered, though her friend was too far away to hear her, laying on her backside and tucking her arms behind her head on the damp grass.

“Goodnight, Peggy.”

She had fallen asleep on the green that night, the stars wooing her into a slumber with thoughts of her beloved. She was only awoken when she felt the ground rumble beneath her, and heard the loud whirring of a hummer engine. She sat up, pressing her hands in the wet soil. She squinted and was barely able to make out two tall men jumping out from the back of the car.

She was initially unsure of who it was, but a shield being reflected on by the pale moonlight, and a hearty laugh soon confirmed her suspicions. She gasped and only to herself muttered Bucky’s name, picking herself up off the ground, running as fast as her feet could take her.

“James! James!”

He turned his head from where he was talking to Colonel Phillips, immediately recognizing the voice as his wife’s. By the time he had noticed, she was already to him, so all he could do was welcome her with open arms. Literally.

She jumped into his arms, planting kisses all over his face. He laughed and laughed, Steve, and the Colonel, too, cracking a smile at the two’s reunion. She pulled away momentarily, looking over his dirty face. She ran her fingertips over the scratches and gashes, still having a hard time believing that after all this time, even under all the grime and blood and sweat, it was truly him.

“Sarge, it’s been awhile.” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Same to you, Mrs. Barnes. Too long.” He commented, leaning forward and burying himself in her neck, allowing her to cradle him. He inhaled her perfume, taking the scent to memory for when he would inevitably have to go away once again, leaving her behind.

(So he thought.)

“That would be Agent Barnes to you.”

Bucky saluted, nodding and throwing a wink in her direction, before leaning in and planting a firm kiss to her lips that now only had remnants of red left around the edges from when she had applied it earlier on in the day. Their voices were now reduced to raspy whispers, both of them completely out of breath.

“Well either way, I’ve missed you greatly, Agent Barnes.”

“I’m glad we feel the same way.”

The two of them also felt extremely tired, leaving them to fall asleep that night packed side by side on a small cot in the corner of Steve’s tent. The brown sheets were horribly scratchy, and they had to mainly rely on each others bodies for heat. But despite this, all felt well, as if this new normal was finally worth it.

In the morning, Steve had wanted to let the pair sleep in as long as humanly possible. The sun rising was one thing the great Captain America couldn't prevent, though. So as yellow light began to stream through the barely there material of their temporary home, the Barnes’ were given a somewhat pleasant awakening.

Birds sang, bugs hummed, and the loud voices of Steve and Bucky’s soldiers could be heard, along with Steve occasionally hushing them if they came too close to their tent, still trying to preserve their well deserved rest.

The thought made her smile, eyes slowly coming to an open. Bucky’s hand grew tighter on her waist, running circles on the silky fabric by her hip. Hers delicately made its way to brush messy brown locks from James’ closed eyes, the feeling comparable to a feather tickling the bridge of his nose.

He scrunched it, blinking a few times, before commiting the view of waking up to the face of his wife for the first time to his memory, locked away to where Hydra would hopefully never take it.

“Good morning, Agent Barnes.”

She shook her head, snuggling further into his chest and stretching her arms. “Mmmhm, not right now.” He placed a confused hand on her back, tracing a line up and down.“I thought it was only Agent Barnes?”

“Not in bed, James.”She looked up, smiling ear to ear. “Right now, I’m your wife, and only your wife.”

It was quiet in the tent, then. But always the one to break the silence, Bucky began to speak, his morning voice so incredibly low that it sent a shiver down her spine.

“I mean, being my wife is a job in itself.”

They laughed, she shook her head and whacked his chest.

“Right you are.”

She stood up out of bed, shifting her hair to one shoulder with her hand. The glass on the face of her small watch reflected onto the walls, painting a rainbow stripe of light above Bucky’s head. She moved about, her babydoll pink colored slip moving along with her, almost as a toga would flow behind a goddess in the wind. James watched in amazement from his position propped up on his elbows, complete and total awe evident in his heart eyes for his wife.

God, how he loved to say that, and hear it roll off of his tongue. Just to think it, even.

His wife.

He truly was a lucky man. And as she felt holes being stared into her back, she turned and giggled at Bucky’s antics.

“Now, I know your mother taught a gentleman such as yourself that ogling at women is rude, hmm?” She questioned, throwing the discarded slip at Bucky’s peeping eyes, then pulling on her uniform and beginning to fix her hair and makeup. Fingers moved quickly and expertly as she went about, her red nails almost appearing to move so quickly they were blurring.

He scoffed, forcing his nimble fingers through his knotted hair that could have been comparable to the nest that the very birds that played a hand in awakening them had resided in.

“Even if that woman is my very beautiful wife who I haven’t seen since I went away for war?”

He looked up, eyes bluer than Bing Cosby’s. (Sure, she had only seen them in the magazines, but hey, they seemed quite nice.) She finished putting on her lipstick, walking over and placing a hand under his chin. He looked up in a dreamy haze, basically begging for her lips to be placed on his.

She rolled her eyes and placed a long and sweet kiss upon his plump lips, restoring some of the color that sleep had stolen from them. She giggled at the lipstick left on his ivory skin, wetting her thumb and smudging it in a poor attempt to remove it. He cocked his head like some sort of puppy, slimming his eyes in an amused confusion.

“I guess that’s an exception.”

She leaned forward, leaving a short peck on his forehead, before ruffling his hair and making her way out of the tent. She briefly stopped hanging onto the post that acted as a door of sorts.

“Also, brush your teeth and hair, James. You stink.”

They smiled goofily at each other and she bit her lip, bidding him goodbye. And with that, she was off.

It was later in the day, now, and Bucky, Steve, and the rest of the commandos were in with the Colonel, discussing an upcoming mission. Peggy and Agent Barnes were decoding some of the Hydra messages the commandos had gathered on their previous mission in their general vicinity at the same time.

The paper was yellowed and stiff under her fingers, her eyes could barely stay focused on the multiple symbols in front of her, practically jumping off the page, vibrating at a high frequency.

She briefly closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to free her mind of the distraction that was her husband and honorary little (not so much now physically, but still) brother planning what sounded like an incredibly dangerous mission.

It was like a buzzing in her ear, the mention of capturing one of Hydra’s most valued scientists, and risking their lives in the process. And of course, he often did do just that, risking his life.

But call it wife's intuition, (Is that a thing? She isn’t sure) but she had a horrible feeling about it in the pit of her stomach. Something was telling her she should hug him a little tighter, kiss him a little harder, that kind of thing. And perhaps it could be discarded as the paranoia that had spread through many spouses as the war had started up, in fact, she wished it was.

Too lost in her own thoughts, it took Bucky’s hand on her shoulder to wake her from her trance. He began to quietly and cautiously speak her name in his position.

She turned, jumping ever so slightly.

“Doll, you alright? Colonel was calling your name, you seemed real out of it.” He placed a hand on her forehead, then to her cheek, checking for any signs of a possible fever.

She didn’t reply to his concerns, only setting her hand utop his, leaning into him and closing her eyes. She opened them only moments later to see James squinting, his glance serious. He was quiet as he spoke, hesitating slightly. He muttered her name, trying to meet her eyes. He looked to see what was wrong, analyzing her, so badly wanting to fix whatever hurt there was lingering in her heart.

They stayed in that position for a while, the rest of the office seemingly standing still. She was the first to remove her hand, Bucky’s following suite.

“There’s a mission, in the Alps. Colonel wants you to come with the commandos and I, Peggy’s to stay here and work coms. He said something ‘bout needing someone who can sneak into places they shouldn’t be.” He chuckled, the sound bringing slight reassurance to her worrying mind.

“I’ll brief you tonight.”

She nodded, looking to her feet and whispering a quiet “okay”. They exchanged I love you’s, and then all that was heard was the faint clicking of James’ boots as he left her standing.

March 2nd, 1945

It was downright freezing in the Swiss forest.

And It would have been unbearable, if it weren’t for the fact she had Bucky to keep her warm, the man acting as a living furnace despite the frigid temperatures. The trek to do recom on the train they were intercepting was treacherous, feet ached, fingers were frosted, and the group spent much of their time (minus Steve, he had done enough of that when he was a sickly 90 pound asmatic) complaining to Mrs. Barnes, much to her dismay.

Usually, she would tell them off with a shake of her head or a slap to the arm, discarding their whines are nonsense.

In return for putting up with said nonsense, the commandos took her under their wing, so to say.

They never treated her differently than the rest of the group (or else she would have probably made her displeasure known, which both James and Steven warned them heavily against). Sharing the scotch, poking fun. In fact, if it weren’t for the nature of their escapade, she would have gone as far to say that she was having fun.

The only exception to this treatment was if she had to change, oftentimes borrowing a henley of Bucky’s or a pair of his trousers, the extra fabric heating her up quite nicely. Bucky would stand in front of whatever tree trunk she was hiding behind, watching to make sure no wandering eyes made any shameful attempts to catch a glimpse.

But overall, they worked well together, and were beginning to grow into a family, not that any of them would admit it.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“What’re the chances this goes horribly wrong?”

He looked to his right to meet her eyes, wrapping an arm around his wife. They both turned back to the landscape of mountains, which were ironically quite beautiful. They were greeted with howling wind biting their noses and cheeks, causing her to let out a yelp, turning her head and tucking into Bucky’s arm briefly. He smiled and stroked the top of her messily tied back hair, allowing her to momentarily find comfort within his hold for what they didn't know would be the last time.

“With me? Nah, We’ll be alright. Zero to none.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled at his cocky behavior as she always would, his smirk settling her nerves.

“Yeah.” She exhaled. “We’ll be alright.”

March 4th, 1945

The brick remains of the pub were dimly lit by the lone street lamp standing bravely on the cobblestone, illuminating the puffy faces of the two sitting inside. Steve, stone cold sober, and Agent Barnes, drunk and with tears streaming down her flushed skin. The dust had barely settled; it could still be felt, burning her nostrils.

She heard heels, a telltale sign that Peggy had arrived, sorting through the rubble.

She had approached calmly, observing the situation. Steve muttered something about not being able to get drunk, earning some heartfelt speech from the other agent and a proclamation of a newfound fire for justice in Steve. But Peggy’s sorrowful glance soon became unreadable, then transitioning into one of anger and sympathy, however that was possible.

She tried calling the surviving Barnes’ name, voice stern. She snatched the bottle from her friends hand, noticing she had downed the whole thing.

She began some winded spiel, none of it processing, only a faint buzz in one ear out the other.

“I know you’re hurting, but James would have wanted you to pick yourself up, an-”

“He lied. You know that? The bastard lied.”

She wiped a singular tear from her left eye, staring blankly at the ring that still managed to shine even then, in what was close to total darkness in every sense.

“He said that we would be alright. That him and I would be okay. And then he went and you know what he did, Peg? He died.”

Steve looked up, and stood, walking to where she was across from him.

He gently tugged her up and wordlessly pulled her into a hug.

She was stiff as a board at first but slowly melted into it, realizing that it felt nice to be cared for by him like she did all those years ago, the favor being returned when she most needed it.

“We’ll fix this, I promise.”

She closed her eyes tighter, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“I know.”

May 26th, 1945

“Steve, I’m not leaving you!”

“Go, grab the parachute and go, I’ll send your coordinates to Peggy! Both of us don’t have to die.”

“Steve, it’s alright.”

He met her eyes, water pooling in both of their orbs.

“I’ll be with him.” She forced a smile, taking hold of one of Steve’s gloved hands.

“It’s not too late for you to go, Stevie. I’ll put her in the water. If you wait any longer you won’t make it.”

The time was passing, they could hear the uncomfortable sloshing of the Arctic water below them, coming closer and closer. Jagged ice taunted them, glistening faintly in the light.

“Please, don’t do this to Peg.”

Steve had made his decision, as had she.

“See you on the other side, Barnes.”

The sound was difficult to decipher at the command center, static intercepting the voices of the pair as they bargained with death. But it was clear enough in order for everyone to realize what was happening.

Heads were bowed, tears fell, and even the Colonel allowed a salty drop to roll down his weathered cheek.

Steve and Peggy conversed, while Barnes sat next to Steve, closing her eyes. She was content. She was finally going home.

“I’d hate to step on your-”

Then, the line went dead.

“See ya, Rogers.”

2011

“This guy is still alive!”

“And the girl?”

The other man only shook his head.

2013

Skye dragged her finger along the etchings on the gray stone, mentally reading the names of fallen soldiers and agents.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.'s history can be traced on walls like this.”

Then she came upon something peculiar. Her finger lingered momentarily, the name on the plaque bringing back memories of when she was a young girl in school, learning about James Buchanan Barnes, one of two Howling Commandos to have died in the line of duty. The other, she couldn’t quite seem to remember.

“Huh. Bucky Barnes.” She looked a moment longer, reading the script underneath James’ name.

“There was another Barnes?”

She turned to Agent Ward who was standing behind her, arms crossed and chin down.

“Yeah. They were married. Some say she put that plane in the water on purpose. That she could have left, but wanted to see him again after he died.

Puts it in perspective- What we do.”

2014

The lights in the exhibit were bright, too bright. Faces were plastered everywhere, familiar faces. The soldier felt lost without his handler, no direction whatsoever as he aimlessly wandered.

Aimlessly wandering, what a foreign concept. Not running from an enemy, or sneaking around, a shadow. Free to do whatever he pleases.

He saw his own reflection on a glass panel, information of who he supposedly was written next to it, about when he was born, when he had died. Videos playing on repeat of him and Steve nearby caught his attention, leading him to slowly make his way towards the shiny screen. He saw himself laugh, smiling with whoever this Steve guy was.

Then the screen switched to him and a girl.

In a slight contrast, the girl was the one laughing this time, her smile igniting something within the soldier, overwhelming him with a flurry of emotion and realization.

He panicked, turning to his left, only to see her again, standing next to him in a large mural. She was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

A voice began to speak, clouding his senses even more.

It spoke about Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers, how they were “inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield.”

It continued, and his confusion grew even further. It mentioned a girl who had what he learned to be his last name.

Not a mother, or a sister, but a wife.

“They became the only Howling Commandos to give their lives in service of their country."

Her name rang in his head, over and over again. He was married, he had a wife.

Had.

He walked up to where her clothes were displayed under her portrait, reaching a tentative hand out and feeling the fabric, rough from time. He could remember doing that before, but the fabric was silkier, then. It was different as a whole. It was pink satin, and the wearer was his wife, he now could see.

He was in a tent, laying on a scratchy cot, the girl laying with him, in his arms.

“Right now, I’m your wife, and only your wife.” Her smile and laugh were heavenly, her voice like honey. Her touch was smooth and left a tingle in its wake, bringing peace to his bustling mind.

Then he was suddenly back in the museum, hand still planted firmly on the hem of the shirt.

“Excuse me? Sir? You can’t be touching that.”

The soldier turned, facing the scrawny worker. His glasses were too large, hair too short, and pants 2 sizes too big. He gulped, doing a double take from the mural of James Barnes (who last time he checked a history book, had his remains somewhere buried under piles of ice and snow in the mountains of the Alps) and the man in front of him, who matched the recently trending image his coworker showed him of the Winter Soldier, the assassin who had over two dozen kills under his belt.

And if this were a mission, the soldier would have killed the man, executed him without second thought.

But now, he had free will. He had a choice.

So he chose to mutter a low “sorry” under his breath, pulling his baseball cap further over his brow and exiting the facility as quickly as possible.

The worker quit that night.

2016

A feed began to play on the tiny screen that Tony, Steve, and Bucky were crowded around, no video, just black with a thin line, moving in accordance with the audio. The sound was choppy, like it had been modified.

Zemo’s beady eyes slanted, a cold smile growing on his bearded face.

“I’ll be with him.”

“What the hell is this?” James yelled the question aimed towards both Zemo and himself.

But Steve knew exactly what it was, knew that voice, knew the feeling of the cold water enveloping him as he did his best to keep her warm in her final moments, a final favor for both Bucky and his wife.

“It’s not too late for you to go, Stevie. I’ll put her in the water. If you wait any longer you won’t make it.”

It was quiet, the line stopped moving.

“See you on the other side, Barnes.”

“See ya, Rogers.”

The audio cut out.

“It’s her.” Bucky’s metal fist audibly clenched, his eyes darkening.

“You let her die, Steve.”

“Buck-”

“You killed her! I had a wife, and you let her die!”

Steve backed up, instinctively raising the shield from Bucky once more.

“That was her choice, Bucky.”

He was calm. Too calm.

“I don’t give a damn what her choice was, you should’ve pushed her out of that damn plane if you had to.”

“She wouldn’t have survived that fall, Buck, even with a parachute, she probably would have drowned, or gotten hypothermia or-”

“You don’t know that!”

Bucky rushed forward, anger infiltrating every fibre of his being. He threw a punch with his metal arm, a loud clang ringing out as it collided with the vibranium shield.

2024

“We’ll meet again

Don’t know where, don’t know when

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day”

The room was pitch black aside from the blinking light on the record player, letting Bucky know that power was still running through the wires of the machine, keeping the same song spinning, over, and over, and over again.

The same one that’s been playing for the past 2 months. Over, and over, and over again.

The door creaked, sending a stream of light cascading across Bucky’s ridden features from his place where he was sat staring blankly at her tags laying in his flesh hand. He had started wearing them when she insisted, just in case anything were to happen to her, she wanted him to have a physical reminder of her. He had refused to give her his own, not wanting to admit anything might go wrong to where she would need them.

What a joke.

Zola had recovered them from around his neck, later to be stored away and then found by Steve in 2015 during a Hydra base invasion. He had immediately recognized the name pressed onto the material, and assumed someone who was an undercover agent snagged them during the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., never thinking anything more of it.

“This isn’t healthy, man.” Sam spoke softly from the door, his hand never leaving the doorknob.

“When we got snapped away, I didn’t mind it.”

Sam opened the door even more, sliding in the slim crack, closing it behind him.

Bucky’s glance never faltered.

“I thought that maybe, I’d finally see her again. And, I know it was selfish-” He laughed dryly, meeting Sam’s warm eyes.

“But she wasn’t there. When I died, she wasn’t there.”

Sam’s arms were crossed, now, and he was unsure of how to proceed with the fragile shell of a man in front of him.

“Then everyone came back 5 years later, she still wasn’t there.” He chuckled once more, feeling over her name on the plates, tossing the chain over his head. It was quiet, the record stopped.

“And this sounds crazy, but I got to thinking, that she must still be alive-”

“You know she’s gone, Bucky.”

James stood up, walking over to Sam, a terrifying blaze set in his eyes. He was frantic, hands moving about the air, neck straining.

“She’s not, Hydra has her! I’m certain, just like they had me. What else would explain her not being there?”

“You’re in denial,”

“No, I’m not! She’s waiting for me! She’s waiting for me to come find her, Sam!” He yelled, every word louder than the last.

And Sam Wilson had enough.

“Alright, that’s it.” He grabbed James by the wrist, taking his chances.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting some sense into you.”

More yelling and fighting ensued, all the way to the car, Bucky only ceasing his behavior upon realizing where they were heading. He was silent, then.

Getting out of the vehicle, they stepped onto freshly wet soil, green patches fading to a burnt orange, the rain a poor attempt at revival. They could hear their own footsteps all the way to their final destination, turmoil settling in.

“Why’d you take me here, Sam?”

It had started raining, the cold droplets making his hair stick to his forehead, and his tears invisible.

Mere inches before him sat two headstones, both fairly worn. The first, reading “Cap. Steven Grant Rogers, a true American hero. Loving brother, friend, and son.”

The second? Her.

Most of the words all blended together, it was clear Steve’s was the only one that had any regular visitors, willing to clean off any dirt or grime, or occasionally bring flowers (always red roses for Cap, as for his wife, he hoped that when it did happen, it was her favorites, lilies. He doubted it was, though).

The only words that managed to stick out, at least to him, were “Barnes” and “loving wife”. He inhaled, capturing the scent of fresh rain and roses, grounding him. He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, giving a light squeeze.

“I’m sorry I had to do that, but she’s gone, you know?”

He nodded, squatting down in an awkward position.

“Can I have a minute?”

Sam nodded, turning to go.

“‘Course, I’ll be in the car.”

Bucky waited until he could no longer see the outline of the shorter man, before taking the tags off from where they rested around his neck, positioning them utop the marble slab. He gathered a few weeds, messily shoving them into the vase, dirt and stray blades of grass falling all over the place. He tried to brush it off, only creating a sludge-like watery mixture.

He leaned forward, taking hold of the hard stone.

“I’m coming for you, sweetheart. I promise, I’ll find you.”

“Bucky?” Sam yelled from the car, confused at the extended amount of time his friend was taking.

James turned, yelling over his shoulder, “Coming!”

Once Bucky got back to the car, Sam reached over and patted his back, starting the engine.

“You think you’re gonna be okay?”

James only smiled, looking out behind him to where they all said was her final resting place, excitement for the future running through his veins.

“Yeah.” He said, sitting further back into the seat, closing his eyes.

“I’ll be alright.”

·。·☆·。·。

hi!

disclaimer: (skip if u dont care) so i’ve had personal expiriences w alcoholism, and my pov has changed so much on the disease and as well as how to handle it w more empathy, and i just hope that is conveyed. my hope w my work is never to upset or offend anyone, and i hope u enjoyed. if u have a prob w anything, shoot me a message or ask to chat :)

go drink water, eat protein (if u can!) and take an electronics break. i love u,

xx hj

135 notes · View notes

ahsbitch · 4 years

Text

A Walk In The Woods

Word Count: 5762

Summary: You find a wild Michael Langdon in the woods, and after deciding that he definitely needs some help, you invite him back home with you.

Warnings: Smut, 69ing, so obviously oral happens, Male and Female Receiving, A Bit Of Praise Kink, unprotected sex, Vaginal Intercourse, Sad Boi Michael, some cockwarming at the end (obviously I’m v into cockwarming, don’t @ me) Shitty Writing, lots of cursing, that’s all I can think of

A/N: I’m sure this is awful but idk I put effort into it so I’m posting it. Also I should totally wait to post til tomorrow bc it’s like midnight but?? I really wanted to post it today so I’m just going for it. Hope y’all enjoy, comments are Always appreciated, much love! ♥️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking barefoot in the woods was probably your most ridiculous hobby, but it was probably your favorite as well.

There was always something to discover in the woods.

You tried to take a forest walk at least once a week, on Sundays. You would be gone for hours, wandering, feeling the ups and downs of the universe all around you.

There was always something to discover in the woods, and it was always something different.

Often you would stop in sunny patches and meditated. Sometimes you could feel the musings of something greater than you, running through you.

Occasionally, you would find a wounded animal, typically just small things like squirrels or sparrows, although sometimes bigger creatures, a deer, an owl, a fox, things along those lines. You felt a responsibility to them, to help them, to clean them up and help them heal and get them better enough to go off on their journeys in life.

On this particular walk, you found a type of wounded animal you’d never dealt with before.

Michael Langdon.

You found him wandering the woods, bleary eyed, coated in scratches and sunburns.

“Are you alright, sir?” You moved slowly closer to him, not worried for yourself but afraid to startle him.

The man was beautiful, you could tell he was beneath the dirt that covered him.

You had startled him, it seemed, as he looked up at you with wild, piercing eyes, raising a hand and sending you flying back against a tree, pinning you there by the throat.

Well, fuck.

Your hands clawed at your neck in spite of yourself, trying to pull at something that wasn’t there. You wouldn’t have tried at all, if you were capable of rational thought, would have let it happen as you had great faith that the mystery man was going to let you go, but of course when one loses the ability to breathe, one’s body tends to panic in spite of what the mind may wish for.

After a few seconds, you dropped to the ground, gasping for air.

Breathe in...Breathe out...Breathe in...Breathe out...Breath in..

“I’m sorry,” You stood up, keeping your gaze on the ground but taking a step towards him.

Although you still didn’t look him in the face, you could tell just from his voice that the man was confused, wandering closer to you, “Why are you sorry?”

Shrugging, you lifted your head from the ground, although you still kept it below eye level, “I frightened you. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“I,” He frowned, and you focused your eyes on his mouth, “I attacked you.”

“Because I frightened you. I was trying not to, but I did, and I’m very sorry for it.”

“Is that why you won’t look me in the eye?” He sounded curious, and his mouth curved into a funny little smile, “Because you’re sorry?”

“Because direct eye contact can be intimidating,” You explained, “I don’t want to upset you again.”

Biting his lower lip, the man extended his hand, “It’s okay. I’m... my name is Michael. I’m sorry for...what I did. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You took his hand, feeling a zip of electricity shoot through you, and finally looked into his eyes, “It’s okay. I’ve been hurt worse. Wasn’t a big deal. I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Michael.”

Brows scrunched together over his crystalline blue eyes, Michael cleared his throat, “It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N. I’m sorry for bothering you, I- I should let you go.”

You weren’t quite sure whether he meant that literally or figuratively, as he was still clutching at your hand like a lifeline.

“Hang on,” Drawing him closer, you reached a careful hand up to his face, hesitating at the way he flinched, then stilled, his eyes flickering to the side anxiously, but allowing you to cup his cheek and examine him, “How long have you been out here?”

Michael looked unsure of himself, leaning into your hand ever so slightly and seemingly not even conscious of it, “A few days, I think. I was doing a, well, I was doing something, but it didn’t work, and then I tried to make my way back to the city, but I kinda got lost.”

“You must be starving,” You pulled away from him, straightening up, “I can take you back to the city, and you can come to my place for a little bit.”

You were already walking, and after a moment you heard Michael hurry to follow you, “What do you mean?”

“You said you were lost. I don’t think you just mean physically. Besides, you must be hungry, and no offense, but you’re kind of a mess right now,” You glanced back at him, giving a small smile when you saw his shocked expression, “You need help. I’m happy to give it.”

“Why?” Michael moved to your side, walking in step with you, “Why would you help me? What if I’m a murderer?”

“Even if you are, I don’t think you’ll murder me. If you do, I’d ask that you do it quickly, that’s just a little personal preference of mine, although of course if you’re some truly evil serial killer then I doubt you’d care much about my preferences,” Shrugging, you grasped his hand in yours and pulled him behind you, feeling another volt of electricity crackle through your veins as you led him back to the city.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You have a nice place,” Michael told you hesitantly as you made your way up the front steps of your apartment building.

You almost laughed at that, but when you glanced back at him he looked so genuine in the compliment that you paused, pulling him inside, “You... you know this whole place isn’t mine, right? It’s an apartment building. My place is pretty not nice, actually. I mean, I like it, but it’s small and not very fancy, y’know?”

“Oh,” He looked a little embarrassed, and you could tell that he had thought the whole building belonged to you. He looked like someone who was used to money and big houses, or at least he looked like he would look like that if he didn’t currently look like he’d been attacked by some sort of weather monster and was now on the verge of passing out.

“Sit,” You said simply, gesturing to the couch, and you hurried to get a glass of water, handing it to him, “Drink.”

Bustling your way back to the kitchen, you looked back to see him staring at the cup, and you repeated, “Michael. Drink the water. Come on,” You turned to the plants on your windowsill, grabbing your kitchen shears, “Do you mind?”

“Do I mind drinking water?” Michael asked, confusion evident.

“Not you,” You turned to him with a smile, nodding, “You don’t have a choice there. Drink the water. I was talking to Tennyson.”

“Who’s Tennyson?”

He had finished the cup of water, and you took it and refilled it before gesturing to the aloe vera plant that you had just trimmed a stalk off of, returning the cup to him, “The plant. The full name is Aloe, Lord Tennyson.”

“You name your plants?” Clearing his throat, Michael took a sip of the new cup of water, “You... talk to your plants?”

Shrugging, you split the long leaf in half, scooping some of the gel inside onto your fingers, “Yes, and yes. Now this may hurt a bit, just a warning.”

You pressed against his forehead as gently as you could, where a large pinkish red sunburn rested, and Michael let out a hiss and suddenly you were flying across the room, hitting the wall. He didn’t hold you in place or choke you this time, at least, and in a moment he had leapt from the couch and hurried over to you, “I’m so sorry. It hurt and I wasn’t expecting it, I-”

“It’s okay,” You let Michael pull you to your feet, holding onto his hand ever more tightly as you looked at his ashen face and downtrodden expression, “I should’ve given you better warning. Listen, I’ll doctor you up later. Let’s get you in a bath, first, okay? You can bathe and I’ll make some food and then, after, we can take care of your sunburns and scrapes.”

“I keep hurting you,” Michael pulled his hand away, looking at it as though your touch had burned him, “And you keep being nice to me.”

“If you were doing it on purpose, I’d be less nice. But you’re not, I can tell. Now, follow,” You led the way to your small bathroom, starting to fill the tub with water.

Michael sat on the edge of the tub, watching you adjust the temperature and light the candles that lay at the corners and pour in some bubble bath. He stared as you moved, humming to yourself, and when you stood and started to step away, “I have some old clothes that I think will fit you. They’re not particularly fancy, like what you’re wearing now, but they’re clean. I’ll drop them off once I get some dinner started, okay?”

Nodding, Michael began to undo the buttons of his shirt, and you hurried out of the room.

He was still lost, even though he wasn’t in the woods anymore. And you were determined to help him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N?” Michael called, cracking the bathroom door open, “I’m dressed and everything.”

“Great! Hop up on the counter for me, okay? Just hang tight,” You grabbed the bowl of aloe gel that you had scraped from the plant and a box of band aids and hurried back to the bathroom.

He was perched next to your sink, and you tapped at his knees. Michael frowned but opened his legs so you could stand in between them, “Why am I on your counter, exactly?”

“Because it’s time for me to play doctor. I’m going to touch your face, okay?” You cupped his cheek in your hand and tugged him down, beginning to dab gel onto his sunburns and clean the long scratches that streaked across his features, “Are you comfortable? Do the sweatpants fit okay and everything?”

“They’re fine,” Michael mumbled, flinching when you pressed a band aid to one of the deeper cuts on his forehead, his hand curling into a fist. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting his other hand rest gently on your shoulder, “I appreciate you letting me borrow them. And letting me use your bathtub, and well, and everything else.”

You nodded, taking in a deep breath and finally moving your attention to notice that he was staring at you, smiling at him, “You used my shampoo.”

“Oh, yeah,” He turned pink, “Yeah, is that okay? It smelled like strawberries and it was right there so I just...”

“Of course! Not a problem at all. You smell nice,” You were looking straight at him now, and he continued to stare, and just when you’d tilted your head to the side, trying to discern what exactly Michael was thinking, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours.

The hand that had rested on your shoulder came up to stroke your face, and then as quickly as it had started, it was done, and he had pulled away from you, turning his head sheepishly to the side.

Clearing your throat nervously, you stepped back, “Do you like tomato soup?”

“Yes,” Michael hopped off the counter, following you to the kitchen, although he stayed about four steps behind you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, looking at each other over bowls of soup and large dinner rolls.

Your lips still buzzed from the memory of him against you, but you tried to ignore that. Michael scarfed food down for a while, and you simply kept refilling his bowl until he finally started to slow down, and then you asked carefully, “So, Michael. What’s gotten you lost like this. Tell me where you came from. Tell me about your parents.”

“There isn’t much to tell about them,” Michael turned red, and he steadfastly refused to make eye contact with you, “My father abandoned me, and my mother tried to kill me. There’s only one person who’s ever really cared, who hasn’t abandoned me, and she’s gone now.”

“I’m sorry,” You said earnestly, letting your hand reach out just far enough to brush against his, “Humanity is unkind, often especially so to those who need kindness the most.”

Michael had a curious way of frowning, his confusion always quite evident. His eyes would widen and his brows would move, displaying everything he was feeling. It was cute, honestly.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” He said finally bluntly, having been staring at you in silence, “I shouldn’t have done that. You’re just...I mean... I was gonna try to just not mention it, but you’re so nice and I feel bad.”

“You should’ve asked first,” Drawing your hand away, you tried to make eye contact with him, but now he was avoiding your gaze, “For a lot of reasons. But I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not? I know I should’ve asked, I’m just... I’m not used to having to ask for things. I know that’s not a good excuse, but I don’t really know what to say. I’m just sorry,” Michael was frowning even deeper than before.

Shrugging, you reached back across the table, this time allowing your fingers to stroke along his jaw, “The fact that you’re sorry is enough. Just... don’t go around kissing strangers with no warning, okay?”

“Okay,” He smiled, leaning into your hand, a strange rumbling noise emanating from deep in his chest, almost like a purr.

Suddenly, you felt a bolt of desire shoot through you, seemingly out of nowhere, and you shifted a little in your seat, “Are you done eating?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Thank you for the food. I can find somewhere to go, I’m sure,” Pulling away from you, Michael started to stand, and you rushed to stand too.

“What do you mean? Why would you go anywhere?” You grabbed his arm, trying to hold him in place even as he brushed you away.

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

A burden?

“If you were going to be a burden, I wouldn’t have brought you here at all. Spend the night,” Squeezing at his wrist gently, you moved to stand in front of him.

Michael looked utterly taken aback by this, “Really? Are you sure?”

You tugged him along behind you, to your bedroom, bringing him to sit on your bed and collapsing down next to him.

“I’m sure,” Turning towards him, you tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear and leaned forward, looking deeply into his eyes, “You’re the opposite of a burden, and I can prove it.”

Michael’s breathing hitched, and he moved closer to you, closing his eyes and letting out a slow breath, “I really wanna kiss you again.”

“You can,” You said simply, wanting to kiss him very badly, but having decided that he needed to be the one to initiate it.

“But you said-”

“I said you should ask first,” You placed a hand on his cheek, feeling something crackling in the air, his skin soft against your own.

“Y/N,” Michael leaned into you, and another rumble rolled from his chest, “May I please kiss you?”

“You can do a lot more than that. I want to show you that you’re not a burden. You deserve to feel good,” And then his mouth was on yours, and something deeper than electricity was running through you.

He kissed you like a teenager, not pulling you closer to him but pushing his upper body forward, and you let out a giggle in spite of yourself.

Pulling back suddenly, Michael frowned, running a hand through his hair, “Sorry. Did I... did I do something wrong?”

“No, don’t be sorry!” You rolled your shoulders back, wishing that you two were still touching, a wave of regret hitting you when you saw the wounded look in his eyes, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you, Michael, I just... I feel a lot of things right now, y’know? But they’re all good things! I’m just, well, shit, I’m rambling. I’m going to stop talking now and, uh, and take off my shirt. Take your shirt off? Please?”

Michael’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak but closed it immediately when he saw you slip off your shirt, fumbling with the fabric of his own, letting out a shout as it got stuck over his head.

“Fuck!” The fabric had bunched around his face, his voice slightly muffled, “Dammit, fucking, Y/N, help me!”

Choking back a laugh, you climbed into his lap and assisted him in wrestling off the shirt, letting another giggle slip out at his look of relief once it was free, which instantly transformed into one of shock as he looked at you, and you could feel yourself starting to blush in spite of your best attempts not to, “Okay, you good?”

He let out a slow breath, eyes trained on securely on your breasts, covered in a lacy white bra, “I’m much more than good. I’m fantastic. Can I... I mean... can I kiss you again? Can I maybe touch you?”

“I want you to feel good, Michael. Yes,” You gave him a quick kiss on the tip of the nose, smiling at the way he scrunched it up in response.

Then Michael was kissing you again, and fuck it felt good, his skin ever so slightly prickling against you, and then he raised a tentative hand to your chest, swiping across your left nipple briefly.

You let out a moan that you hadn’t expected, and he froze for a moment, beginning to slowly swirl his thumb around the covered bud. Suddenly his lips were gone from yours and wrapped around your right nipple, flicking his tongue against it experimentally, and he pulled back with a grin as you let out another breathy moan.

You sounded like a fucking porn star, what the fuck?

“Wow, you’re sensitive,” Michael teased, bringing his other hand up to replace his mouth, “Can I take your bra off?”

“I’ll get it. And I’m not this sensitive, not normally,” You panted, grinding down against him without thinking about it, reaching behind your back to unclasp, and letting out a high pitched whine when his hands were finally on your bare skin, “I mean, not like this. This is... this is you, I think.”

You could already feel him hard underneath you, but at your words his erection became even more prominent, pressed firmly against your inner thigh.

The rumbling noise came from deep in Michael’s chest once again, and you decided that it was in fact a purr, or something damn close to one. He was beaming now, and there was something almost childlike about him when he looked so joyful, and there was an obvious note of pride in his voice, “Really? Me? Do you think I could make you cum doing this?”

He pinched lightly and you gasped, head rolling back, “Probably, but not right now, okay? I wanna-fuck-I wanna-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, couldn’t think of what was supposed to come next, and carefully you gripped Michael’s wrists, pulling his hands away from you and sliding off of his lap.

With a pout, Michael watched you move between his legs, an eyebrow raised, “Was it really that intense?”

“It was,” You glanced up at him from where you now lay, pressing a soft kiss to his cock through his sweatpants, your mind still strangely fogged, “It was... weird. Good weird, but weird. Are you secretly magical or something?”

He barked a short laugh just a little too quickly for it to sound natural, but you figured that was maybe because you were mouthing along the outline of his dick, his hips bucking up every so slightly, and he was perhaps a bit too distracted to act like your terrible joke was funny.

Just as you were sliding the sweatpants down his hips, Michael threaded his hands in your hair, tugging gently so that you’d look up at him, a blissful smile on his face as he watched you, “You’re so pretty, do you know that? You’re beautiful.”

His dick had sprung out of his pants then, bouncing up to his stomach, and you weren’t able to respond at first because fucking hell, it was the most perfect dick you’d ever seen. Thick, veiny, a nice shade of pink although the tip had turned an angry red, and fuck it was big, probably too big, but you weren’t planning to complain about that. Finally, you snapped yourself out of your daze, looking back up at him with a laugh, “You’re just saying that because I’m about to suck your cock.”

“No!” Michael looked shocked by the very thought, his hips bucking again, ever so slightly, at the feeling of your breath on his skin, “No, I’m serious. You’re so gorgeous, I-fuck-” You licked a line up the length of his cock, and he grabbed desperately at your shoulders, making you pause, “Dammit, I really want you to sit on my face.”

Your thighs clenched, and you looked up at him, shaking your head to clear your thoughts, “I, I mean, no. I told you, I want to make you feel good. Not-”

“But it will!” Michael tugged at you, bringing you up until he could press a fervent kiss to your lips, “I want to. So bad. Please, Y/N, please do it. Please let me. Please.”

Fucking hell, was he trying to kill you?

“But I... I wanted you to feel good. Don’t you want me to...” You trailed off, trying to think as Michael kissed your neck.

“I do, believe, me, I really do, but I also want this.”

“I’ve never done that before,” You admitted, feeling your face get hot with embarrassment, “Honestly, I’m afraid I’d end up accidentally smothering whoever I was with.”

“That wouldn’t happen,” Michael assured, kicking his sweatpants the rest of the way off, and you find yourself peeling your own leggings off even though you still weren’t sure of what you were doing, and he hooked his fingers into your panties, a smirk on his face, “And even if it did, I can guarantee you that there would be no better way to die.”

“Okay,” You let out a deep breath, letting out a contented hiss as he brushed his long fingers over your clit, “But I still want to give you a blowjob, okay?”

“You can. Just face that way,” Michael grinned, ripping your panties off with one sharp tug.

You were about to scold him, but then his fingers were pressing into your folds, and you gave a quiet gasp, “Michael, fuck.”

He laid down, hands tapping away at his stomach as he waited for you. Hesitantly, you crawled up the bed, turning so that you could look down the length of his body, and knelt over his face.

You bent down, lifting his cock up and running your fingers along the underside of it, kissing the tip, and you felt him let out a shaky breath beneath you.

“Fucking hell, you taste amazing,” Michael whispered, wrapping his hands around your thighs and pulling you down against him completely.

He made the purring noise once more, sucking fervently at your clit, and you let out a shriek at the feeling of it rumbling through you. Pulling your legs even further apart, he buried his tongue into your folds, and finally, you opened your mouth as wide as you could and sunk down over his cock until his tip brushed the back of your throat.

When he moved back to your clit, giving it careful kitten licks, you buried your finger nails into his thighs. At this, he groaned, thrusting up into your mouth, and you gagged.

This was... what? The third time today he’d accidentally choked you? You hadn’t been angry during any of the other times, but this was the time that probably bothered you the least.

“Sorry, babe, I’m sorry,” He rasped, and although you could hardly hear him, between the feeling of his words vibrating against you and the intense presence of Michael Langdon that filled the air around you, you knew exactly what he was saying.

Babe.

It was such a gentle word from him, the way it rolled off his tongue so naturally making butterflies start fluttering in your stomach.

Well, that, and the fact that the feeling of Michael against you was extraordinary, and you were feeling the tight, delightful bubble that signaled your impending orgasm beginning to form.

You sucked harder.

It took only a few minutes of this, of you licking and sucking, running your teeth over the pulsing vein that streaked along the side, before you felt him flex his thigh muscles beneath your hands, his salty cum splashing into your mouth.

It was sweet alongside the salty, a strange mixture of the two, not unlike a chocolate covered pretzel, and you swallowed every drop you could before licking frantically along to make sure you didn’t miss anything.

“Fuck,” He growled, something authoritative, almost dangerous, flooding through the air.

Michael lifted you off of him as though you weighed nothing more than a ragdoll and tossed you down onto the mattress on your back, his lips suctioning around your clit once again, two fingers buried deep inside of you.

You held onto his shoulders as his fingers scissored inside you, squeezing your legs tight around his head unintentionally. You felt him chuckle into your folds at that, and he removed his fingers from you momentarily to pull your legs over his shoulders.

“Michael!” You mewled, your hips straining to jolt upward, and then he was moving faster, faster, adding a third finger that brushed a spot deeper inside you than anything else had ever reached. Your entire body clenched, and then suddenly you felt the waves of your climax wash over you.

When your head was fully back, Michael had straightened up, examining his fingers, which were coated in your juices.

“Fucking hell, Michael, I didn’t need to finish just then. You could’ve waited until you were fucking me for real,” You sat up on your forearms, laughing as you looked down at him.

“Sorry,” Frowning, Michael pulled away, “Was that too much?”

Why was he so goddamn sweet?

Moving to your knees, you pulled his face up to yours and kissed him, the taste of yourself that lingered on his tongue mixing with the salty remains of Michael on your own tongue, and you let out a low groan, pulling back to give him a smile, “No. It was wonderful.”

“Okay. Can we... I mean,” He turned red, looking away from you, “Would you possibly consider riding me? Or do you want to stop now?”

You rolled to the side, gesturing for Michael to move up the bed, and after a moment he did, sitting up against the headboard. Climbing into his lap in one swift movement, you let out a quiet moan at the feeling of him against your folds, his tip pressed against your interest. He swiped his hand between the two of you, gathering the fluids that had spilled from you and rubbing it onto his cock, lubing himself up with the remnants of your last orgasm.

“Do you mind going slow?” You asked meekly, burying your face against his chest as you rocked against him, “I’m sorry, just, you’re really big.”

“Of course,” He cooed, running his hands through your hair, and finally you began sliding down the length of his cock. Burying your teeth into his neck, you tried to concentrate on how good this would feel once you got used to the stretch, the burn, and he whispered in your ear, “You’re doing so good. You-shit-you take my cock wonderfully, do you know that? It’s okay, I know it hurts, but you’re doing great.”

When you had reached the end, and you were filled to the hilt, you gave a careful roll of your hips, testing the waters. You were feeling better now, running your tongue over the spot on his neck you had bitten, before beginning to suck another hickey into his soft skin. At this, Michael bucked into you, his cock hitting all the way up against your cervix, and you let out a shriek.

You almost laughed at yourself. You had thought his fingers were impressive, but they were nothing compared to the sheer, masterful feeling of Michael inside you, his hands splayed against the small of your back, holding you in place as you leaned into him, taking one of your nipples into his mouth once again.

“You feel so good, Michael,” You cried out, and Michael made that damn rumbling noise again, “Fuck, do you know that you purr? I love it.”

Although he continued to hold you, he seemed to be trying to hold back from fucking you too harshly, instead occasionally letting himself thrust into you, his eyes rolling back in his head at the way you moaned each time. He paused, looking up at you with a frown, “I don’t purr.”

You giggled, although it quickly turned into a whimper as he began sucking hickeys into your breasts, and you squeezed his shoulders tightly to concentrate, “You do. You make lots of pretty noises. It makes sense, too. You’ve got such a pretty mouth, such a pretty face, such a pretty cock. You’re so pretty, it’s infected everything you do. And-fucking hell, that feels good-you move so well. Fill me up so well.”

Michel lolled his head back against the headboard, the purring noise coming out again as you began to grind down harder. You kissed him quickly, watching as his eyes opened suddenly, drinking you in.

“You’re perfect, Y/N, do you know that? You bounce so well on my cock, and your tits are so fucking perfect,” He paused, clearing his throat, “Was that the right thing to say? I don’t want to be disrespectful. I respect you, too, and all that. You’re just, fuck, you’re so fucking gorgeous and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.”

“It’s okay,” You reassured him, looking at his face to see that it was glistening, and it took you a moment to realize that there were tears running down his face. Kissing each one away, licking up the salty trail they had left, you resolved not to mention it or ask why, exactly, he was crying, “I’m not gonna last much longer either. I want you to cum for me, okay? Please, Michael.”

“Should I... should I pull out?” He panted, helping you roll your hips.

“You don’t have to,” Gasping, desperately, you buried your nails into his shoulders, trying to contain the climax that was beginning to boil through you, “Just, fuck, please finish soon, Michael. I’m going to-”

Nodding, Michael’s thrusting increased. Although he was still cautious, his hands coming up to cup your breasts, you could tell that he was close to his end, as well.

And he was, and he did, his cum flooding you once more just as you felt yourself boil over, heading hanging back. You couldn’t keep it up anymore, couldn’t concentrate on controlling your body and finishing, and you felt your breath catch in your throat, stars dancing through the air just in front of you.

Michael held your hips tightly as you came down from your high, and then you had buried your face against his chest once more, arms wrapped around his neck.

Christ, that took a lot out of you.

You leaned back to see that his eyes had drifted shut, and you leaned forward to press soft kisses against the lids.

When Michael blinked them back open, his mouth had curved into a sleepy smile, another purr rumbling up from his throat, “That was... wonderful.”

“I agree,” You smiled too, tilting your head to the side as he peppered gentle kisses along your throat, “Now, you’re tired. Do you want me to leave, so that you can get some sleep?”

Michael tensed, clutching at your hips desperately, “Please don’t leave. I mean, I do want to sleep. But please, stay.”

“Okay,” Mumbling softly, you leaned closer to his ear, “And by the way, I know a place you might wanna check out tomorrow.”

Looking curious at this, Michael brought his nose to your jaw, brushing along it softly, “Where?”

“Church of Satan. It’s a few blocks away.”

“What?” This snapped him to attention, and he stared at you as though you’d grown a second head, “You’re... are you a Satanist?”

“No. Not a fan of organized religions. I believe in nature, and kindness. In caring for the ones around you who need it. But,” You folded his ear forward, kissing the three small scars behind it as delicately as you could, “I think that it would be beneficial for you to go.”

“How did you know?” He shifted back so that he could sit more upright against the headboard, and you felt your sore walls pulse around his cock, still buried deep inside you, as you moved.

You shrugged, “Lucky guess. Now, that’s all. No more talk. You need some sleep.”

Michael looked like he was about to argue with you, but then you pressed your head into his chest once more, and he rested his chin contentedly on top of your shoulder.

You were almost asleep when he finally spoke up, hands rubbing gently along your spine, his voice hoarse, “Y/N? I just... I wanted to say thank you. I don’t normally say that, but you’re, well, I haven’t been treated with this much kindness, this much care, in a long time. Don’t say anything, I don’t want you to say anything, I just needed to tell you. Thank you.”

And within moments his breathing had shifted, and he snored quietly, softly, and the snores sounded an awful lot like purrs, and the two of you were as close to each other as was physically possible, his dick softened inside you and his arms wrapped around you, and then you were asleep too, the two of you floating to a dream land that you couldn’t quite name.

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