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marvelstoriesepic · 3 months

Text

Still on the list

Pairing: Frat!College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, the infamous frat guy, known for sleeping around and throwing parties left and right, constantly invites you, out of all people, to all of them. His intentions though remain a mystery to you. Following a troubling event that leaves you shaken and anxious, Bucky is there to pick up the pieces. Stolen glances and exchanged smiles gradually blossom into a connection that goes beyond what meets the eye.

Word count: 14.1k

Warnings: annoyance to friends to lovers; panic attacks!; creepy man; angst and comfort; Bucky is a frat boy

author’s note: This took longer than I hoped, but I love it!

Masterlist

One minute.

One minute did it take for the class to end and yet it felt like an eternity.

You stared at the clock in anticipation, not paying an ounce of attention to what your professor was talking about.

Was he even talking?

Were you supposed to write something down?

You wouldn’t know.

RIING

Finally, the blissful sound of the bell pierced through the monotony.

You took your eyes off the clock in the far corner of the lecture hall, a sigh of relief leaving your lips and started packing your stuff.

“Alright class! See you on Monday! Have a great weekend.” Your professor exclaimed before walking out of the hall with a wave.

Amidst the chorus of thank you’s and see you on Monday’s and packing your laptop in your bag, alongside your pen and notebook (basically for small, unnecessary doodles, instead of notes) including your water bottle, you noticed Wanda slipping onto the bench beside you with her backpack draped over her right shoulder and an amused smile plastered on her face.

“Late again,” she teased.

You groaned. “Blame that slowpoke of a bus driver.”

“You know you can always ride with Pietro and me.” She nudged your shoulder playfully.

You offered her a grateful smile but shook your head. “It’s inconvenient for you.”

After being forced to live on campus for your first year of college you decided to get a small apartment to save some money and get the privacy you wanted and needed. Living on campus was expensive enough and with the small amount of money you got for working in a café and babysitting sometimes in the evening there wasn’t much left for you to enjoy yourself a little.

You never really enjoyed living in a dorm together with someone you didn’t know and sharing that same space. Your roommate for that first year was perpetually boisterous and tried dragging you to every party within a five-mile radius. Despite your initial resistance, you eventually succumbed to peer pressure. After enduring an eternity of loud music and plastic cups thrust into your hand, you found yourself in the grim confines of a bathroom stall, holding back your roommate‘s unruly hair as she retched into the toilet bowl. It was a moment of disillusionment that solidified your resolve to seek solitude and sanctuary away from the chaos of dormitory life.

Though you hated every minute of that day, in the end, you were glad you went, because it was where you met Wanda.

As fate would have it, Wanda found herself reluctantly dragged to the same party by none other than her brother, Pietro. Aforementioned guy managed to catch your roommate since she ‘accidentally’ slipped in front of him. She kept giggling with his arms draped around her and you apologized to him and Wanda though you knew it was actually really not your fault.

So while your roommate occupied Pietro you had a pleasant conversation with his sister. You clicked immediately.

“It takes ten minutes Y/n, it’s truly no big deal.”

“Well, I’ll keep it in mind! Thanks, Wan!”

You walked out of the hall and crossed campus together. Since you just had this one lecture today you signed in for a shift at the café you worked at and were just about to bid Wanda goodbye when-

“Maximoff!”

You didn’t make any attempt to even try not to roll your eyes.

Wanda turned around and so did you eventually, not concealing your dissatisfaction with the approaching guy, a scowl forming on your face.

Bucky Barnes.

Of course.

Now, there were a lot of things you tolerated. It was hard to rile you up, but Bucky Barnes? He exceeded every limit.

You couldn’t stand the guy. And he knew it.

He caught up to you girls and kept his attention on your friend.

“Hey, Wanda! You have a minute?”

Before she could react he turned to you, pretending to see you just now.

“Oh. Y/n! Haven’t seen you there.”

You wanted to punch that arrogant grin off his face.

“What do you want?”

“Well as I was gonna ask Wanda,” he emphasized her name with a playful drawl and turned to her, “You and your brother are coming today right? Sam got the drinks and we got a new beer pong table. We gotta initiate it correctly.”

Another eye roll escaped you as Wanda shot you a brief, amused glance before addressing Bucky. “Pietro’ll come. The party was the only thing he talked about this morning.”

“Perfect!” Bucky grinned. “You’ll come too right? You can have a plus one!” He nodded his head towards you while meeting your steely gaze with unwavering confidence.

“Nothing will get me to enter your stupid frat party Barnes!” you retorted dryly.

Bucky’s grin remained firmly in place, his cockiness bordering on infuriating.

“Well I’ll be there,” he declared, turning his attention toward you with a smirk.

You cocked your head. “There’s the reason why.”

A soft sigh from Wanda diverted your attention, prompting you to check the time on your phone.

“Whatever, I gotta go!” With a brief hug, you bid her goodbye.

“Text me later?”

“Course, Wan!”

You flashed her a quick smile before striding away, ignoring Bucky’s futile attempt to prolong the conversation.

“Where ya going?” he shouted after you.

“Work!” Your response was curt and you continued your way.

****

“That’ll be 4.75$.”

The girl in front of you swiped her card through the card reader and you placed the cup with her latte on the counter separating you.

You thanked her for the small tip and turned away when she left, to stock up on the coffee beans. You leaned down and grabbed the bag out of a drawer from under the counter as you heard the door to the shop open.

Your coworker went to the storage room to store the milk that came in a few minutes before and it wasn’t that busy so you were good on your own out front.

“Just a sec!” you called while opening the bag and pouring the beans in, standing with your back to the counter.

“All good! I’m in no hurry.”

You stilled for a second, almost pouring over the beans. Although you couldn’t see him right now you could tell he wore that shit-eating grin again.

You pulled the bag away harshly with a few falling out. You would take care of that later. Probably not though.

You put the bag aside, preparing yourself to turn around, and came face to face with the one and only Bucky Barnes.

Seriously?

Two times in a day?

You wiped over your apron and met his gaze. “What can I get you?” You tried feigning that kindness you were supposed to show your guests though you knew you could try more.

Not taken aback by your grimace and still slightly annoyed tone he leaned on the counter and pretended to contemplate what to get.

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him.

“I think I’ll go for a black coffee,” He grinned at you.

You uncrossed your arms to get to work. “Small, medium, large?” You were really trying to stay professional here.

“I’ll take it medium, doll.”

It wasn’t the first time he called you that, though you��ve heard it come out of his mouth plenty of times to plenty of girls so you guessed he didn’t even recognize he was calling you that too.

You got to work while Bucky watched you intently, still leaning on the counter.

You hoped he would stay silent but guessed that thought was futile since he walked in here.

“So, you think about coming?”

“No.”

“No, you haven’t thought about it or no, you aren’t coming?”

“Both.”

It wasn’t the first time he somehow tried to get you to come to one of his frat parties. Be it through Wanda or Pietro or just blatantly asking you to come. You knew your answer every time. He should have known that too but he seemingly never stopped trying.

“Aww, come on doll! Already put you on the list.”

“Do whatever you please Barnes but I’m not coming,” you retorted while finishing up his coffee and sliding it across the counter over to him. “That’ll be 2.95$.”

Will Wanda come?” He didn’t attempt to grab the cup, instead he stayed rooted and looked at you.

“Don’t know. Maybe”

After that party your former roommate dragged you to, you avoided them at all costs and managed not to attend any other. Wanda sometimes came along with Pietro to get him back home after drinking too much. You considered coming along for moral support a few times but didn’t want to give Bucky the satisfaction of getting you to come. And Wanda always claimed she‘d be fine.

He leaned to take the cup of coffee and a milk pack from beside where you were standing.

“Alright well, you know where to go,” he slid over a 5$ bill. “Keep the change!” He lifted the cup a bit. “And thanks!” Giving you his signature smirk.

“Barnes that’s too much for a single coffee!” you protested and were about to collect his change but he was already halfway out of the shop.

“Keep it!” he threw over his shoulder and you looked after him a little irritated.

His persistence annoyed you to no end so why did your lips curl up in a smile, despite yourself?

****

You didn’t come.

It was nearly midnight and you found yourself nestled in your bed, the soft glow of your laptop illuminating the room as you rewatched a movie for the umpteenth time.

There probably would be a few things you’d like to do instead, but going to one of Bucky's notorious frat parties, will just never be one of them.

You couldn’t even really tell why you held such a grudge against the guy. He never really was explicitly rude or anything, yet there was something about his demeanor that rubbed you the wrong way.

Bucky Barnes had been a constant presence on campus since day one. Whether it was in the hallways or outside the building, Bucky was always surrounded by a rotating cast of admirers, girls vying for his attention. It became a familiar sight to see him engrossed in conversation with yet another girl, his charm seemingly boundless.

Amidst the flurry of attention and admiration that surrounded Bucky, there were moments when his gaze seemed to linger in your direction as if seeking to ensnare your attention as he did with others. You’d catch him looking at you in the hallways. You’d see him standing outside your lecture hall, although he didn’t even attend this class. However, you never attempted to acknowledge him and were set on keeping your distance.

In your second semester, you found yourself sharing a course with him. That was where he first initiated interactions with you. At first, it was a subtle passing glance, a nod, and a smile of acknowledgment, but soon his efforts to engage with you became more pronounced. It started with a request for notes when he wasn’t there the other day. And then there were times when you ran late and he saved you a seat beside him, sending you a wave and a charming grin.

But then you would watch him effortlessly flirt with other girls, letting them sit on his lap and whispering in their ear, you having the front row seat. You couldn’t pinpoint why his flirting with other girls left a bitter taste in your mouth, but it deepened your reservation, solidifying your decision to maintain a sense of distance.

Despite not sharing any classes with Bucky in your second year, he seemed determined not to let your lack of proximity deter his efforts to engage with you. His persistent attempts to catch your attention continued unabated - although you never gave him much to work with - seeming to find a way to cross paths with you all the time.

The first time he asked you to come to one of his frat parties, you were sitting in a small booth at a café near campus, nursing a latte and discussing your professors together with Wanda and Pietro.

You laugh. “Right? She once even gave-”

“Pietro! Hey, man,” comes his voice across the café and Bucky Barnes approaches you three.

You drop your smile and divert your attention to your latte as Bucky greets Pietro and Wanda.

“Y/n! Nice to see you.” His voice dripping with charm.

Upon hearing your name you lift your head and offer a strained smile, hoping to convey at least a semblance of politeness.

“Hi,” you answer lamely, not an ounce of enthusiasm found in your voice.

Bucky’s smirk deepens in response, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Your smile turns into a grimace.

“You coming tonight man?” he asks Pietro.

“Course Buck! I‘ll be there.”

“Great!” His attention turns to you.

“You girls are welcome too, you know.”Although addressing both, Wanda and you, he keeps his gaze on you.

“Yeah, no thanks!”

“We’ll think about it!”

Wanda sends you a glare, reminding you to stay nice. Though Bucky doesn’t seem fazed by your lack of interest, the boyish smirk still present on his lips.

“Well, I’d be happy to see you.”

You don’t even have time to answer him when a brunette, standing at the counter, calls his name.

You look in her direction though his eyes remain on you a few seconds longer until he turns away and bids his goodbye. Wanda and Pietro answer him while you remain silent, taking refuge in your coffee cup.

He was attractive, you gotta give him that but you never were someone to go after looks. There were so many more important things to see in people. Sure, you don’t know how he treated or saw his flings, or hookups, or whatever but you supposed you didn’t wanna know.

****

After you worked your ass off at the café during the weekend you were more than unpleased to be sitting in your lecture hall at 8 in the morning on a Monday. At least the bus was on time you supposed.

Wanda slid in beside you and put down a cup of coffee in front of you before unpacking her backpack.

“Oh god Wan, you’re an Angel!” You took a big sip and sighed dramatically.

Wanda snickered softly, organizing her notes.

“You know, Pietro told me someone was a bit disappointed,” she began and you looked at her confused.

“The party,” she continued but you just stared at her oblivious.

She sighed. “He hoped you’d come this time.” She studied you with a careful expression but you saw the corners of her lips turning up lightly.

You blinked. “Why would he think that?”

Wanda shrugged. “Well he’s pretty persistent,” She studied you some more and you began to feel uneasy, “You could give him a chance.”

“Huh?” you mumbled, caught off guard.

Turning toward you fully, Wanda leaned in slightly. “I don’t really know him that well, but he’s different with you. Pietro’s mentioned it. He’s never made this much effort with anyone else.“

Perplexed, you pondered her words.

“And honestly,” Wanda continued, “He’s a nice guy. I mean I get he’s got girls around all the time-”

You grimaced.

“-but he’s not the guy to lead anyone on or make someone feel worthless, I’m sure of it.”

That got you silent and you looked at her, pouting your lips in contemplation.

“He had a girlfriend once but as far as Pietro knows it didn’t end well. She moved away and they tried that long-distance relationship crap-”

You raised an eyebrow.

“-but she then started seeing someone else without telling him.”

You exhaled deeply, processing the information. “Alright well that sucks…sure…but is that a reason to use girls like that?”

“How are you so sure that’s what this is?” Wanda countered

Before you could respond, your professor arrived, saving you from further discussion. You were kinda glad he was on time cause you really had no idea how to answer that. You couldn’t know what he does with those girls. What he told them. How he treated them. How he made them feel.

Actually

You didn’t know anything about him at all.

****

Nearly two weeks had passed and you haven’t seen Bucky since he came by the café you worked at. Despite your efforts to push him out of your mind, you found yourself occasionally thinking about him or scanning the hallways for a glimpse of him.

Wanda got sick the day prior so you were sitting alone in class. After making idle conversation with some fellow students, you decided to stay back and finish up your notes.

You heard footsteps approaching but didn’t look up until someone settled beside you.

“That looks kinda complicated.”

Irritation bubbled up, but you were surprised to find you didn’t immediately feel the urge to roll your eyes all the way up to your brain at the sound of his voice. Reluctantly, you turned to face him, a sigh leaving your lips

“What are you doing here? This isn’t even your class!”

“Came looking for ya,” he replied, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

You returned your attention back to your notes. “What for?”

“Shouldn’t you be able to tell?” He grinned and bumped your upper arm lightly.

That was the first time he initiated any form of physical contact and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Another party, I assume,” you remarked plainly.

“Smart girl! Missed you the last time.”

“Then have fun missing me this time as well,” you retorted, not bothering to look at him.

You felt his eyes on your profile but didn’t turn to him.

“Well just wanted to let you know you’re still on the list,” he said, his voice laced with that characteristic smirk.

That dude really wouldn’t give up, would he?

Quickly finishing your notes and packing away your things, you draped your bag over your shoulder, ready to leave the hall. As you turned to go, you glanced back at him.

“I’ll think about it,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm, though deep down you couldn’t deny that small part of you, that was considering his invitation this time.

****

The party started by now.

Standing in your bedroom you wavered on the threshold of the decision to go to his party or not.

You found yourself grappling with uncertainty, questioning the motivations behind your sudden inclination to attend the party. Was it a twinge of guilt for his past misfortunes that nudged you towards empathy? Or perhaps a genuine curiosity sparked by the desire to unravel the enigma of his persistent invitations?

You pondered, your thoughts swirling. Perhaps this was all a game to him? Or maybe there was something deeper, something he needed to prove to himself or to others.

Yet, the idea of subjecting yourself to potential humiliation at a frat party churned your stomach. You had no desire to be caught in the whirlwind of debauchery and recklessness.

But Wanda didn’t really make him seem like the kinda guy to pull shit like that.

Though how could she be sure?

The sudden ringing of your phone shattered the swirling thoughts that had consumed you, pulling you back to the present moment. With a grateful sigh, you glanced down at the screen, Wanda’s name lighting it up.

“Hey Wan,” you greeted her while laying back on your bed.

“Hey Y/n. I assume you’re not at the party.”

“Nope, you know me.”

“Okay well, could I ask for a favor?” Wanda’s voice held a hint of hesitation.

You sat up. “Yeah, sure Wan, what’s up?”

“Pietro will need someone to pick him up later but I’m still feeling pretty shitty at the moment and…I don’t know I was thinking maybe-“

“You’re asking me to pick him up?” you finished her sentence, sighing deeply.

“Kinda, yeah,” Wanda confirmed sheepishly.

You chuckled. “Sure, I can do that Wan, no problem.”

You could hear the relief in Wanda’s breath. “Thank you babes, I owe you! You can take his car, I’ll leave the keys under the pot outside.”

“You don’t owe me anything Wan, I’m glad I can help! You stay in bed and rest, alright? I’ll take care of your brother,” you assured her.

After exchanging a few more words, you hung up and prepared to leave. Opting for a casual outfit you threw on some wash jeans and a shirt.

Considering you spent a good amount of time on spiraling whether to go or not it got rather late already and it still would take you some time to get to Pietros car and to the party.

You grabbed the keys from under the pot, got in the car and started driving. It had been a while since you made use of your license considering you couldn’t afford your own vehicle, but you managed.

As you parked the car and stepped out onto the pavement, the distant throb of bass pulsed through the air, a tangible force that seemed to reverberate through your entire being. With each step towards the fraternity house, the music grew louder, assaulting your senses with its relentless intensity.

You walked up to the guy standing at the door with a ripped sheet of paper in his hand. You assumed that was what Bucky referred to as list.

“Hey, uh, I’m here to pick up Pietro Maximoff,” you stated, hoping to avoid being drawn into the revelry inside.

The guy’s smirk was infuriating as he chuckled dismissively. “Oh I’m sure he’s a little busy right now.”

Suppressing a sigh, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his remark.

“What’s your name sweetie, you could always go in and join the party.”

“Yeah no I’m fine, I’ll just-”

“Wait, are you the infamous Y/n?”

You blinked. You were not entirely used to people knowing your name. You’d like to believe you were nobody. Whether on campus nor in general. So why did this random guy know your name and call you infamous?

You didn’t have to answer, instead the guy nodded towards the door, granting you entry with a casual wave.

“Come on in, Buck will be thrilled to see you,” he remarked, stepping aside to let you pass.

Feeling utterly disoriented and out of place, you stepped inside, your senses assaulted by the overwhelming cacophony of noise and the oppressive heat of the crowded room. The stench of sweat and alcohol hung heavy in the air, causing you to wrinkle your nose in disgust. With each step, the floor seemed to cling to your shoes, a sticky reminder why you avoided this for so long.

You tried to adjust to the flickering lights and internally scolded the person who decided those colors were a good match when you heard your name be called.

“Y/n?”

You weren’t surprised to hear his voice since it was partly his party but you were surprised he recognized you this fast since you just stepped inside. Was he watching the door?

His smile greeted you as he stood before you, and you were blinded for a second there.

“You’re here!”

“Uh, well I’m kinda just here to pick up Pietro. Wanda asked me to.”

Bucky’s smile faltered slightly at your words. Clearing his throat, he offered a tentative response. “Oh. Well, haven’t seen him,” he exclaimed, his gaze momentarily flickering away before returning to meet yours.

As Pietro’s slurred voice called out your name, you turned to see your friend stumbling towards you, a wide grin plastered across his face. He draped an arm around your shoulders, and you instinctively supported him, wrapping your own arm around his waist to steady him.

“What’re you doin’ here, princessa?” Pietro slurred, his words punctuated by a drunken laugh.

You laughed. “Came here to pick you up, Piet. Wanda’s still not feeling well.”

But Pietro, clearly undeterred by your explanation, attempted to pull you along with him, his movements unsteady as he swayed on the spot within your hold.

“Let’s get you a drink, princessa,” he insisted, his grip tightening around you.

Refusing to indulge his request, you gently guided him towards the door, ignoring his protests. As you turned to leave, you caught sight of Bucky, his jaw clenched and his eyes darting away from your close proximity.

“I guess thanks for the invite Barnes but this really isn’t my scene.” You gave him a tight lipped smile and turned to Pietro again.

Meanwhile, Bucky remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the door you just disappeared behind.

****

Since that day at the party three weeks ago, Bucky had been somewhat of a ghost, disappearing from the usual campus scene. Despite not seeing him, thoughts of him seemed to linger in the back of your mind and you caught yourself looking out for him in the hallways.

You made your way to the restrooms between your two classes of the day cause you just had to drown yourself in coffee on your 4-hour shift in the café this morning.

After locking yourself in one of the cabins that still held toilet paper you heard the door to the restroom creak open and made out the hushed voices of two girls filtering in. One of them clearly crying.

“What’s wrong with me? He literally jumped in bed with every other girl on campus! Why not me?” the girl sobbed hysterically while her friend got her some paper towels from the dispenser.

You rolled your eyes at her antics and decided to just wait out until they left.

“I don’t know El, but Jake did say something about him wanting to change.” You could picture her gesturing quotation marks with her fingers at the ‘wanting to change’ part. And though you weren’t quite the type to gossip you held your breath and listened intently.

The other girl blew her nose while her friend continued.

“He hasn’t been to a party for the last, I don’t know, maybe three weeks or something. Just stayed locked in his room. That’s what Jake told me. Don’t know what to make out of it though,” the girl chuckled, “I mean it’s Bucky we’re talking about.”

As Bucky’s name entered the conversation, your ears perked up, and you felt compelled to listen. Thoughts swirl in your mind, multiplying like rabbits in a field. Was that night you picked up Pietro the last party he attended? Why the sudden disappearance into seclusion? Why would he lock himself in his room? Why did he dump that girl? You didn’t know who that Jake dude was but you weren’t sure if he was right.

You snapped out of your thoughts to catch the still crying girl whine again. “But I tried really hard Meg! I pinned notes on his locker, I smiled at him all the time, I sent him my notes from history per mail, the one time he didn’t come and I slipped my phone number into his backpack when he wasn’t looking-”

Suddenly you were grateful for standing right beside a toilet cause you felt the urge to vomit.

“-and he just straight up told me he’s not interested?!”

You heard the other girl, Meg, probably short for Meghan or something but why would you care, sigh. “I’m sorry El, but maybe he’s really just trying to become better than that.”

The crying thankfully stopped and was replaced by a scoff and an exasperated intake of breath. Personally, you’d describe it as overly dramatic but who were you to judge.

As the girls finally departed, leaving behind the remnants of their dramatic exchange, you released a sigh of relief.

After finishing what you came in here for in the first place you left the restroom as well and walked through the hallway on your way to your next class.

And as god, or the devil, or Mother Nature, or something the fuck else wouldn’t have it any other way there he was. Bucky was standing at his locker, taking a look at a pink piece of paper in his hand for only a second before crumpling it in his fist. You could only guess what it was.

He turned to the trash can to throw it in there and when he looked back up he met your gaze. His eyes lit up at seeing you, but nevertheless, you noticed the tired look he wore and couldn’t help but feel kinda bad for him.

Normally when passing Bucky in the hallway you wouldn’t spare him an attention spawn over two seconds but here you were giving him a somewhat genuine smile, a rare display of empathy, which he reciprocated immediately.

Even as you turned the corner and continued on your way, you couldn’t shake the sensation of his eyes lingering on you. You couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading in your stomach.

Bucky stopped asking you to come to his parties. As far as you knew he didn’t even attend them himself anymore. You shared with Wanda what you overheard in the restroom, and after confirming with Pietro, it became clear that Bucky was indeed making some significant changes in his lifestyle.

Bucky Barnes was truly an enigma.

Armed with insider information from Wanda, you learned that Bucky refrained from being seen with any girl for weeks and stopped planning and attending the frat parties. He seemingly even talked about leaving the fraternity altogether.

You don’t know what to do with those information but you did notice a shift yourself. You saw Bucky again two times since you passed him in the hallway a few days ago.

You were walking through the library together with Pietro and Wanda when you saw him sitting there in the far corner with his textbook open and a pencil poised. You stood and drank in the sight of him for a moment. His brows were furrowed deep in concentration and he lightly tapped his pen on his notebook rhythmically. He let his hair grow out a little, wisps falling onto his forehead. He sure as hell was a sight for sore eyes.

As if he picked up on your staring he lifted his head and looked over in your direction. The intensity of Bucky’s gaze sent a jolt through you, causing your heart to race as you hastily averted your eyes, feigning interest in the books on the nearby shelf. Despite your attempt to appear nonchalant, you could feel the warmth of his gaze lingering on you.

Stealing another glance in his direction, finding him still watching you, his soft smile a stark contrast to the cocky grin you were accustomed to. The corners of your mouth lifted ever so slightly without having your consent.

The sudden interruption of Pietro’s arm around your shoulders broke the spell between Bucky and you, snapping him out of his reverie. With a subtle shift in his posture, he straightened his back and lowered his head back to his textbook.

The other time, yesterday, you decided to join Wanda and grab something to eat at the canteen. As you stood in line with Wanda you were the one to feel eyes on you, prompting you to turn and find Bucky’s piercing blue gaze fixed on you.

Your lips curled in a smile and Bucky’s sweet grin in response sent a flutter through your chest.

To your own disappointment, you ended up sitting with your back to him throughout eating, though you pushed it aside.

****

It was a long day.

You had a shift at the café this morning and then went straight to Uni where you dragged yourself through your classes of the day. It was already starting to get dark when you walked around campus to get to your bus station.

This was your routine on Wednesdays but something felt weird. There was a shiver creeping up your spine and you tightened your coat around yourself, hugging your waist, as a response to that feeling of unease.

“Hey! Girl!”

Your heart dropped at the shout and although it came from behind you, you just knew it was meant for you. Unconsciously you picked up your pace, hugging yourself tighter and scolding yourself for not getting pepper spray.

“Hey, you! I’m talking to you!”

You heard quick footsteps approaching you from behind and let out a gasp as rough fingers grabbed onto your wrist, turning you to the man with that gruff voice.

He was tall. His beard, grizzly and grossly outgrown, held a few drops of whatever might be in the bottle he held in his other hand. His clothes were lumpy and held stains, dark eyes pierced through you.

“I’m sure you’re so kind to give a man some money for cigarettes, little girl, huh?”

You stared at the man in front of you, frozen out of fear. Your heart plummeted in your chest and you felt the hand around your wrist tightening. You swallowed thickly but your throat still felt like sandpaper. You wanted to talk but nothing left your mouth.

“Well if I don’t get money you could always pay me differently,” He licked his lips and his eyes roamed over your body. He got hold of your other wrist and you suppressed a whimper.

You wanted to yell at him to let you go. You wanted to kick him where the sun wouldn’t shine. You wanted to scream for anybody to help you. But you couldn’t. You were frozen in place, your voice lost in your throat.

“Hey!”

Another voice.

“Let her go!”

You knew this voice. It was oddly familiar, but you couldn’t comprehend how you knew it.

There was a figure approaching in long, fast strikes and you wanted to go take a look but the man still standing in front of you grabbed you even tighter, which led to another gasp exiting your lips.

You heard your name called and looked in the direction of the newcomer.

Bucky.

It was Bucky.

Relief flooded your body and you finally were able to take a controlled intake of breath again.

“Do you know this guy?” Bucky's concerned gaze bored into you and you shook your head weakly.

That’s all he needed to turn to the guy still having a hold on your wrists. “You let her go right now!” The dangerously low and calm tone of his voice and the way he was talking to you way softer just seconds before let you shiver and caused your head to spin.

The other guy scoffed and let your wrists fall to take a step back, holding his arms up in a surrendering kind of way. Bucky immediately stepped in front of you. “Relax man, did nothing to that girl!”

“You better want to stay the hell away from her or anyone else. I don’t want to see you here again!” Bucky’s voice was laced with a dark, threatening tone, his stance unwavering as he shielded you from the menacing stranger. Despite the age difference, Bucky’s intimidation factor was undeniable.

Said man scoffed and stumbled away a little. Bucky kept watching him till he was out of sight and turned to you in an instant. Not sure if you were okay to be touched, his hands hovered over your arms as he leaned down to catch your eye, his concern evident in every gesture.

“Hey, Y/n, are you okay?”

Your gaze remained fixated on his collarbone, unable to meet his eyes. Absentmindedly, you rubbed the wrist of your right wrist, where the man had gripped you, feeling the tenderness and likely bruises forming there.

“Doll please look at me!” he pleaded, though you remained stoic, your emotions tightly locked away. His worry was palpable, evident in the furrow of his brows and the hesitant hover of his hands, unsure of how to comfort you.

“Eyes up here sweetheart, please!” His voice was softer than you’ve ever heard. Slowly, almost reluctantly, you lifted your head, allowing your gaze to trail up his face until your eyes met his. There was a hint of panic in his expression, his eyes searching yours with such urgency, that it was almost overwhelming. You felt a lump form in your throat at the raw emotion reflected in his blue orbs.

“That’s it doll! Just like that!” He let out a breath of relief but never took his eyes off of you. He signaled to your wrists without breaking eye contact. “Can I take a look?”

You swallowed thickly, your throat tight with emotion, but you gave a slight nod, granting Bucky permission to inspect your wrists. Gently he took your right hand in his left, lifting your sleeve with the other to reveal the red and purple marks beneath. His touch was featherlight as he trailed his fingertips over your sensitive skin, but when you recoiled slightly, he pulled back immediately, murmuring an apology.

With your eyes trained on your wrist, you felt Bucky's finger under your chin to tilt your head up gently, coaxing you to look at him once more. “I’ve got you doll, okay? He’s gone. It’s alright!” he reassured you, a hint of fury underlying his voice as he recalled the man who caused you harm and left you in this state.

Taking a hesitant hold of your hand once again, Bucky brushed his thumb soothingly over the back, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you intently.

Despite your curt nod, you found yourself avoiding his gaze once more.

“I know it’s hard sweetheart but I really need you to say something. Need to make sure you’re okay. Can you do that for me?” Bucky’s voice was filled with gentleness, patience, and genuine concern, causing a lump to form in your throat.

Taking a deep breath, you mustered the strength to look at him again, your eyes glazed from the overwhelming emotions consuming you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Bucky heard you.

He squeezed your hand lightly and rubbed his other hand along your upper arm. “No need to thank me, sweetheart! I’m glad I was there!”

“Me too,” you found yourself saying, unable to hold back the gratitude flooding your heart. It was a miracle that Bucky showed up at the right moment, and you will forever be grateful for his intervention. The thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t been there sent a shiver down your spine.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he watched you with such fondness and adoration, your knees grew weak. You even managed to muster a small smile in return.

You took a deep, shuddering breath in, feeling the awkwardness settling in as you realized you had never been that close to Bucky before. Although you felt surprisingly grounded in his presence, you couldn’t shake the discomfort of the situation.

Releasing his hand, you rubbed your forehead, avoiding his gaze as you tried to find the right words. “Uhm...thank you, Bucky, really, but I think I’m just gonna…,” you trailed off, gesturing towards the bus stop in the near distance.

“Woah hold on now doll! I’m not gonna let you go home alone!” Bucky protested, shaking his head.

“It’s fine Barnes really! I’m just gonna call Wanda or Pietro. Surely one of them can come pick me up,” you didn’t really consider calling them but you’d feel bad for inconveniencing Bucky when he would be at his flat in a few minutes himself.

But Bucky was determined.

“No need to call them. I’ll drive you! Sam has a car and we’re just, like, two minutes away,” he pleaded, gaze so intense, almost forcing you to look away.

You sighed, feeling torn. “That’s really nice but I don’t wanna bother you furthermo-”

“Y/n you’re not bothering me! Never! Now please let me do this. Let me take you home,” he interrupted gently but firmly, his grip on your elbow a reassuring presence. You tried to conceal your lingering stress, but nothing could hide it from him.

“I-I can’t ask you to do that,” you murmured, your eyes shifting.

“I’m the one asking sweetheart. Please let me drive you home.” His eyes were hard to discern in the dim light, but the sincerity and concern in his voice were unmistakable.

With a sigh and a final look at the bus stop, you nodded slowly. “Okay,” you whispered.

A smile spread on Bucky's face and he gently turned the hand on your elbow to the small of your back to lead you to the flat house.

As you approached the building, you recognized it from the brief time you spent at the party. However, without the thumping bass, overpowering smell of alcohol, and chaotic atmosphere, the place appeared surprisingly cozy in the dim light

Never once leaving contact with your back he guided you to a room at the end of the hallway. He knocked on the door softly.

“Took your sweet time man-” a guy - Sam, you assumed him to be - standing in the doorframe, stopped talking upon noticing you. A slow smile curled upon his lips. “Can see why.”

“It’s not how it looks like,” Bucky hissed quickly, talking through his teeth. “Can I borrow your car?”

“Sure, man,” confirmed Sam, reaching for a key from a hook beside the door. “Don’t be too late for class tomorrow,” he added with a wink.

A lump formed in your throat as you grappled with your thoughts. It was natural to assume Bucky would have certain expectations given his reputation. After all, he was known for his past behavior of sleeping around. The transformation he seemingly went through couldn’t happen overnight, after all.

You found it hard to believe that Bucky would take advantage of your vulnerability, especially considering how he came to your rescue during the unsettling encounter just moments before. Yet, despite this reassurance, your mind continued to wrestle with uncertainty, plagued by lingering doubts and fears.

Bucky could feel you tense beside him and shot daggers at Sam even when said guy already disappeared behind the door.

As he walked you to Sam’s car, Bucky held the door open for you, guiding you inside with gentle reassurance. Determined not to leave you alone for too long, he rushed around the front of the car to take the driver’s seat.

During the drive, silence filled the car as you tried to calm your breathing, focusing on the passing scenery outside the window. Your efforts to quell your anxiety were hardly manageable, due to the bouncing of your leg and your trembling hands, fiddling with the fabric of your jacket.

Bucky discreetly stole glances at you as he drove, noticing your nervousness.

15 minutes of driving later, Bucky came to a halt in front of your apartment complex. You unbuckled yourself and before you realized what was going on Bucky opened the door at your side. You didn’t even notice him getting out of the car.

Feeling weak in your knees you got out of the car. Bucky walked you to your door, hands held by his side in case you needed him and his presence offered you a sense of comfort. As you came to a halt in front of your door, you turned your body to him, trying to muster up a smile. You attempted to convey your gratitude although that unease still lingered in your bones.

“Thank you, Barnes! For everything!”

“No need to thank me, Y/n. I’m glad I could help. Will you be okay though?” His concern was genuine, struggling to leave your side.

He looked so hesitant to leave you, it would have been adorable in other circumstances. You felt guilty for entertaining the thought he would take advantage of your situation. You even believed he would be relieved if you asked him to stay with you. You had to admit, the comfort his presence gave you was easing your anxiety, though you couldn’t ask him to stay.

You conjured up a smile. “I’ll be fine,” you assured him, unlocking your door. Bucky stayed rooted on the spot, returning an unsure smile, looking torn. “I’m gonna be okay, really! Get home safe, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, evading his eyes for a moment and taking a reluctant step backward, but he remained turned to you. After exchanging a quick goodbye you disappeared behind your door.

Bucky watched you climb the stairs through the small window in the door, his gaze unwavering even as the hallway inside turned dark again. He remained rooted outside, his thoughts consumed by concern for your well-being.

Bucky couldn’t shake the desire to talk to you again, especially since that night at the party. He tried so hard to muster up the courage, never having a problem in that department before, but he was a nervous wreck. Now, in an unexpected turn of events he did get to talk to you again, however, he despised how it had unfolded. Seeing you struggle to hold back tears, desperately trying not to break down in front of him, pained him deeply. It hurt to witness your shock, pleading with you to snap out of your state.

The thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t returned, if he hadn’t forgotten his notebook, made him feel sick to his stomach. The mere idea of leaving you to face that situation alone was unbearable to him. Now leaving you alone so shaken felt inherently wrong in any sense, but he acknowledged he didn’t know you well enough to override your request that you would be fine. His instincts urged him to stay but he had to respect your words and your space.

Bucky seethed at the thought of Sam insinuating that he would use you in such a way. Sure, Sam didn’t know what happened to you and it wasn’t his fault Bucky had a reputation like that, but somehow it made him angry. You meant more to him than that. The mere suggestion of exploiting you for his own gain left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he silently vowed to prove Sam wrong by showing you the genuine depth of his feelings and intentions.

Girls constantly approached Bucky, attempting to touch him in the hallways or slipping their phone numbers into his locker, backpack, or books. Just the other day, a particularly bold girl even tried to write her number on his hand. Although she didn’t succeed, Bucky found himself standing in front of the sink for a while, scrubbing at his hand to erase any trace of her advances.

Bucky knew that he was viewed as nothing more than a means for physical pleasure. And he was okay with that, for an embarrassingly long time. The idea of being in a committed relationship and facing the responsibilities that came with it used to repulse him. His desires were simple - a brief encounter with no strings attached, followed by a swift departure, leaving no room for emotional entanglements. At a certain time, one smirk of a pretty girl was enough to jump into bed with her.

You were pretty too. Beautiful even. He acknowledged that day one. But never did he consider reducing you to a mere physical encounter. He noticed you in the hallways and felt intrigued, contemplating flirting with you just like he did with all the other girls. However, there was something different about you. He felt nervous around you, realizing that he cared about your opinion of him more than he cared to admit. He was strangely exhilarated at finding out you would share a class in second semester, trying to find a way to build some kind of connection with you.

That night, as you expressed your disinterest in frat parties, he felt the pull you had on him, without even knowing you well. The alcohol at the party suddenly tasted sour, the air felt stifling, the crowd too dense, the music too deafening, and the girls vying for his attention became an unwelcome intrusion. Their advances left him feeling an overwhelming sense of distress.

He found himself longing to leave his old reputation behind. He wanted something meaningful, something real, and the only person he could imagine it being with was you.

But right now?

Bucky’s heart sank as he got back to Sam’s car, feeling the strong urge to stay with you and ensure your safety. Sitting in front of the steering wheel and staring at your building, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be by your side.

You got stuck in your head after examining your bruised wrists and trying to cool down the swelling with an ice pack. Before your panic attack rendered you useless to do anything you managed to call Wanda and she talked you through it. You stayed on the phone with her until you fell asleep.

****

As you woke up, a familiar sense of unease settled over you, accompanied by trembling hands and a racing heart. The thought of facing another day filled with potential triggers made you hesitate. You did want to attend class, unfortunately though the looming threat of another panic attack weighed heavily on your mind. With a sigh, you made the decision to prioritize your well-being and called in sick, sending a text to Wanda to let her know.

As said girl joined you later, bearing notes and takeout, you found solace in her company on your small couch, eating and talking.

“So uhm,” Wanda began, seemingly nonchalant, but you knew her better than that, ears perking up. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you but after Science class, I met Bucky waiting outside the hall. He was looking for you.”

Your chewing slowed as you processed her words, eyebrows knitting together, looking at her.

“He came up to me, to ask where you were and if you were okay.”

You swallowed, a wave of panic surged within you. “You didn’t tell him-”

“No! No, of course not,” she interjected you hastily, words tumbling over each other in her haste to reassure you. “I just told him you weren’t feeling well and called in sick but I don’t think he really bought that.” Her smile was sympathetic.

Your appetite forgotten you let your fork clatter into the plastic container, your forehead finding its way to the backside of the couch with a groan of frustration.

Wanda’s light chuckle broke through your troubled thoughts. “He also asked me for your number,” she revealed, her tone surprisingly casual given the weight of her words.

“What?” Your head snapped up, eyes widening in disbelief.

“Didn’t give it to him, don’t worry, though I kinda felt bad for the guy. He looked miserable.” Her voice tinged with sympathy.

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. Gratitude mingled with apprehension as you recalled Bucky’s unexpected kindness during yesterday’s ordeal. You remembered how his proximity seemed to ground you, warmth spreading through your body at the comfort he provided. You could still feel the lingering sensation of his hand on your back, even a day later. And yet, the intensity of those feelings scared you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed walls you had built around your heart.

“Hey,” Wanda called out softly, her words carrying a gentle insistence. “He genuinely seemed worried. And I’m not trying to get you to befriend him or whatever but…he really is a nice guy, Y/n.”

Your gaze was fixed on Wanda, contemplation furrowing your brow.

“Listen, I don’t know what your problem is with Bucky, but-” she gave you a careful glance, “-if I’m being honest, I don’t think you know it either sweetie.”

Wanda’s words resonated with a truth you had been reluctant to acknowledge. Bucky’s genuine concern had managed to pierce through the barriers you had erected, leaving you grappling with conflicting emotions. Why did you hold onto this grudge so tightly? Was it merely a shield against vulnerability?

As you reflected on Bucky’s actions, a sense of clarity washed over you. There was truly no valid reason to hold onto the grudge you had harbored against him. He truly had consistently shown kindness and concern towards you.

Recalling the instances where he had gone out of his way to make you comfortable, a wave of gratitude washed over you. From saving you a seat in class to rescuing you from a precarious situation with a homeless man to checking in on your well-being through Wanda, Bucky had proven himself to be a decent and caring person.

With a newfound perspective, you realized that perhaps it was time to give him a change.

****

The bus was late, as usual. Today, though, you couldn’t summon the energy to care. Your mind was still swirling with thoughts, and fatigue weighed heavily on you.

Wanda saved you a seat in class, checking in on you again and although you felt way better than yesterday, you couldn’t concentrate. The voice of your professor was merely a blurred murmur in the back of your mind.

With some time to kill before your next class, you and Wanda decided to grab a coffee. However, you barely made it out of your lecture hall before hearing your name called.

Heaving a sigh, you turned around and came face to face with an approaching Bucky.

He came to a halt, looking a little sheepish now that he was standing in front of you. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, and his hair a little disheveled, he cleared his throat, seemingly unsure of where to begin.

“I’ll head out already, Y/n. Take your time.” Wanda spoke up, giving you a quick hug before passing by Bucky and throwing you a wink over her shoulder.

Bucky cleared his throat again, shuffling on his feet a little before meeting your eyes. “So, uhm, are you okay?”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, touched by his concern. “I’m fine,” you assured him, fidgeting with your fingers. “Thank you, again!” You added quietly.

He waved away your gratitude with a casual gesture. “No need to thank me doll. I’m glad I could help.”

He smiled softly, biting his lip, though there was a hint of something more in his expression. Sensing he still had something on his mind, trying to figure out how to say it, you remained silent.

“Listen, uh...,” he began, clenching his jaw and avoiding eye contact. “I wanted to apologize for…well for being pushy about the parties and all. Shouldn’t have bothered you like that.”

You blinked, taken aback by his unexpected apology. “Oh, uhm…it’s okay Barnes, really.”

He shook his head, letting out a breath. “Nah, it’s not. This isn’t your scene, should have respected that.” He opened his mouth again but closed it right after, swallowing.

“Don’t worry about it Barnes, it’s alright, seriously.” A tinge of disappointment lingered within you. The realization hit you, that without his invitations to parties, he might not seek you out as often. He only ever did, when asking you to come to his parties. So it would mean he might not annoyingly interrupt you in class, or approach you on campus anymore. You scolded yourself for feeling that way but you somehow didn’t want to lose that.

Needing to take hold of your thoughts, you wanted to get away from here. Your lips curled in a smile. “Alright, uhm, Wanda’s probably waiting for me so-” You were about to turn away but Bucky called your name again.

“Hey, uh-” he seemed nervous, his voice wavering slightly and he cleared his throat, a hand coming up to run through his hair. “You could always come to me - I mean, the frat - when you’re here late. I can always drive you again. Make sure you get home safe.”

He felt bad for bringing up the topic again, but he wanted you to know that he genuinely cared and would feel better if you reached out to him. He would gladly drive you home again, hoping you’d consider taking him up on his offer.

Surprised once more, you blinked at him, processing his offer. You mustered up a smile. “That’s nice, really Barnes, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, well, just know that I’ll be there if you change your mind,” Bucky replied, his tone sincere, expression soft.

You smiled again, nodded, and bid him goodbye.

Reflecting on the interaction, you couldn’t help but agree with Wanda. Bucky Barnes was a decent guy, held back by his reputation.

****

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the library, casting warm beams that danced upon the wooden tables and bookshelves. It was a stark contrast to the earlier rain, which had cloaked the world outside in a shroud of grey.

The faint whispers of fellow students, the gentle rustle of pages, and the occasional creak of wooden chairs created a soothing ambiance while you browsed through your textbook.

A groan from beside you, however, interrupted that. You lifted your head, diverting your attention to your friend sitting beside you.

“Why is all the information so scattered? Can’t find shit for this stupid paper.” Wanda exclaimed, her brow furrowed in frustration as she stared at her laptop screen.

As you chuckled and leaned in to help Wanda navigate through the vast sea of information on the internet, a sudden gust of wind sent a shiver down your spine, causing you to instinctively turn your head towards the entrance of the library. In walked Bucky, accompanied by the familiar figure of Sam. You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to be caught staring.

In the two weeks since your conversation, there had been a palpable change in the air whenever Bucky and you crossed paths. And that was a lot. You haven’t necessarily exchanged words but you grew more enthusiastic when seeing him, sending a smile his way, which he reciprocated immediately.

You were sitting in a café last week, nursing a latte, while having light conversation with Wanda and Pietro, as you recognized Bucky standing at the counter. Without thinking you lifted your hand and waved at him when he looked in your direction. His face lit up, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes as he smiled and eagerly waved back. He seemed to contemplate walking over to you, your hopes rising for a second, but his name called by the barista snapped his head away from you. After getting his coffee he sent another smile your way but left the café. Wanda and Pietro wasted no time in teasing you mercilessly after he was out of sight. The blush on your cheeks evidence of your embarrassment.

“God, this is getting ridiculous,” Wanda scoffed, amusement lacing her features. You turned to her, a hint of confusion littering your features, oblivious to what she was referring to. She nodded subtly to the side, her attention still fixed on her laptop screen. Following her nod, you spotted Bucky and Sam standing in the near distance, both seemingly focused in your direction.

Sam's face lit up with a mischievous grin and he started walking toward you girls, clapping Bucky on the back. Bucky looked visibly distressed, running a hand through his hair, before following behind.

Sam took a seat in front of Wanda and you, his toothy smile lighting up his face. “Ladies,” he acknowledged playfully.

Wanda laughed, continuing to type on her laptop. “What do you want Wilson?” she asked teasingly.

Sam leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “Just wanted to say hi,” he replied casually, shrugging his shoulders.

Meanwhile, Bucky took a seat next to Sam, looking a little awkward. He shuffled a little, leaning his elbows onto the table.

“Well hi, then,” Wanda said, finally looking up.

As Sam and Wanda dove into a discussion about their research papers, exchanging ideas and sharing insights, Bucky and you found yourselves stealing glances at each other.

There was a warmth in Bucky’s eyes, a softness you still were trying to get accustomed to. You felt a flutter of excitement in your chest, you didn’t even try to suppress.

Bucky cleared his throat, looking solely at you. “What’s your paper about?” he asked, his voice gentle yet filled with curiosity.

You smiled, grateful for the new opportunity to engage him in conversation. “I’m researching the impact of technology on interpersonal relationships,” you replied, the initial awkwardness fading away.

Bucky nodded, his interest piqued. With that you delved into a light conversation, discussing your topic in more detail, diving into the various aspects you were exploring and the questions you hoped to answer. Bucky’s gaze never wavered, his attention fully captivated by your words. You noticed that whenever you tried to turn the conversation back to him, Bucky seemed more interested in talking about you.

As the conversation between Bucky and you flowed effortlessly, you found yourselves delving into deeper topics. Bucky’s genuine curiosity about you as a person was evident, and you felt a surge of warmth spreading throughout your body at his interest in getting to know you better. He asked about your hobbies, your favorite books, your dreams for the future - anything and everything he could think of to get to know you better. A spark elicited in Bucky’s eyes at some point, as if he found something in your words that resonated with him on a deeper level.

It felt like you talked to Bucky for hours though it couldn’t have been more than half an hour. The presence of Wanda and Sam had long faded into the background, as Bucky and you connected. To your disappointment, Sam and Bucky had another class and bid you girls goodbye, wishing you good luck with your papers furthermore.

Wanda held her mouth after they left but the knowing smirk in her glance spoke volumes.

****

Weeks passed in a blissful blur. Your encounters with Bucky on campus evolved into something more than just brief exchanges. Conversations became the norm, each one stretching longer than the last, until you found yourself losing track of time altogether, arriving late to class oftentimes. Whenever your schedules allowed it, Wanda and you would meet up with Bucky and Sam to grab some coffee.

The soft smiles filled with adoration that Bucky sent your way didn’t go unnoticed, even when he thought you weren’t looking. You also noticed the little gestures, the quick hugs, he never seemed to pull away from fist, the hover of his hand over your back when walking around campus with you. He pulled you closer to his side a few days ago, his hand gently gripping the sleeve of your jacket as you navigated through the crowded hallway. Your heart skipped a beat at that.

And then there were moments when he seemed on the verge of saying something before parting ways, his lips parting as if he wanted to speak his mind, but then thinking better of it and closing his mouth with a clear of his throat and a hand running through his brown locks. His former cockiness seemed to have given way to a newfound shyness. He was holding back, afraid to cross some invisible line but you didn’t know how to approach him on that.

You also didn’t know if you eventually could cross a line at this moment. Darkness enveloped the campus, casting eerie shadows that danced in the dim light of the flickering lampposts. Wanda and Pietro were out of town and you decided to stay a little longer and finish up your notes. A bad move on your part.

The once bustling grounds now lay deserted, devoid of the usual throngs of students. A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach, gnawing at you with every step. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind or the distant hum of a passing car. Every shadow seemed to hold a hidden threat, every rustle of the wind a whisper of danger.

You were thinking about the offer Bucky had made you a few weeks ago to go by his flat and let him drive you home again. You considered going to him but although he had made you that offer you didn’t want to inconvenience him. And just walking to his flat and asking him to drive you home? It seemed weird. But as your anxiety intensified and your hands started to tremble, you found yourself walking towards his flat on autopilot. The memory of your previous panic attack loomed large in your mind, threatening to engulf you once again.

There was a guy standing in the doorway with a cigarette in hand. You were approaching cautiously, not sure if this was a good idea.

“Hey, you lost?”

The sound of the stranger’s voice jolted you out of your anxious reverie, pulling you back to the present, momentarily breaking the spell of fear that had gripped you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you responded. “Uhm, actually I wanted...to Bucky.” Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the uncertainty that still lingered within you.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, eyeing you curiously as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Huh,” he muttered, looking you up and down. “Guy hasn’t had a girl over in weeks.”

You cleared your throat, too caught up in your own anxious thoughts to care about the stranger’s assumptions.

“Well, is he here?”

He nodded, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “Up the stairs, last door to the left,” he replied, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the staircase.

With a weak “thank you” you stepped past him and walked up the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest.

You stood in front of his door, staring at it long enough to notice the cracks in the woods, marring it’s surface, splinters standing out. Your lip was held in a death grip, teeth biting down on it. With a hesitant breath, you finally mustered up the courage to give the door a soft knock, the sound echoing faintly in the empty hallway. As you withdrew your hand you hid the shakiness in the folds of your sleeves.

There was a groan on the other side of the door, as response to your knock. A lump burned in your throat and you played with the thought to just bold out of that house again when you heard the doorknob turning.

“Sam, come on man-” Bucky stopped talking abruptly upon seeing you. His eyes grew wide, eyebrows shooting up, surprise clear as day upon his face.

“Y/n? I-Wow, uh, I didn’t expect you here,” Bucky stammered, shuffling on his feet with his hand running through his disheveled hair in a futile attempt to compose himself. If your mind wouldn’t have been occupied with other things right now you would have found him adorable with his crinkled shirt loosely hugging his frame and hanging over some dark sweatpants, his unruly hair and flushed cheeks. But all you could do was swallow that burning sensation in your throat.

“Uhm,” you choked out, looking at you feet. “I-I’m sorry for bothering you, I just…I didn’t-”

“Hey, hey, doll, it’s alright,” he met you in the hallway, a hand coming up to your upper arm in a sense of urgency. He hooked his finger under your chin to lift your head. You met his eyes, your heart leaving your chest altogether. His face was twisted in worry, brows furrowed deeply, eyes so focused on you, the intensity of it washed over you like a wave. Your breaths still came in too elated, heart beating erratically. “Take some deep breaths for me sweetheart, follow my lead, come on.” He urged you softly.

With Bucky’s guidance, you focused on your breathing, drawing in slow, steady inhalations and exhaling the tension that had taken hold of your body. His thumb continued to trace soothing circles on his skin. As you followed Bucky’s lead, the erratic beat of your heart gradually slowed to a more steady rhythm.

“Atta girl, that’s it!” he whispered, rubbing his other hand up and down your arm. He nodded at you to keep breathing, eyes so intense it was the only thing you could focus on.

Standing directly in front of you and focusing on your eyes, he let your chin up to gently grab your other arm. “You wanna tell me what happened?” His low and gentle tone soothing you.

You took a deep breath, feeling ridiculous out of a sudden to stand here and burden him. “I-My bus didn’t come and-and I don’t know, I got scared I guess and…God I’m sorry Bucky I shouldn’t have come I-”

“Hold on a sec doll,” he interjected, brows pulled together further, concern dripping from his words. “You stayed on campus until now?” A confirming but weak nod of you let Bucky heave a breath. “There’s no need to apologize, sweetheart, I told you you could come, didn’t I? And god help me, I’m glad you did.”

He looked pained to some extent, but mustered up a warm smile. You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes still shifting with uncertainty and your hands were still secured in your sleeves, the nagging thought that you were burdening him still lingering at the back of your mind. Your tense posture didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky and he pulled you in his embrace, engulfing you in a warm hug. He never hugged you like that before but with the way his arms around you tightened and he leaned his head against yours, he supposedly wanted to.

As Bucky held you close, his warm breath tickling your ear and sending shivers down your spine, he whispered words of comfort and reassurance that washed over you like a gentle breeze. You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, all you could do was melt into his embrace and let the soothing cadence of his voice and the tenderness in his touch ease the knots of anxiety that had gripped your chest.

Bucky withdrew slightly to look at you again, his gaze filled with affection and tenderness. “You want me to drive you home, doll?” he whispered, maintaining the close proximity you two harbored.

As you pondered his question, conflicted emotions swirled within you. Initially, you had sought Bucky out precisely for this reason - to ask for a ride home. But now, something had shifted. The idea of being dropped off alone at home felt less appealing. Wanda and Pietro were likely unavailable, and you hesitated to inconvenience anyone else. Yet, the thought of being alone right now was equally unsettling.

Sensing your hesitation, Bucky gently lifted your head again with his finger under your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. There was a soft smile you came face to face with. “Sam’s not here for tonight…Do you wanna stay? It’s just us.”

The offer was tempting, but you couldn’t shake the worry of being a bother. “That’s nice Bucky, but I-I don’t want to intrude,” you murmured, matching his quiet tone.

“You’d never intrude, sweetheart! Don’t ever worry about that, alright?” His hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you into his room.

You settled on his bed as he led you there and couldn’t help but steal a glance around the room. It was surprisingly tidy, save for a small pile of clothes scattered on the floor. Overall, the atmosphere felt organized and put together. Your eyes drifted to his desk - again, neatly arranged - where a framed picture caught your attention. In it was a clearly younger Bucky, with chubby cheeks and a toothy grin. Standing behind him was a man who bore a striking resemblance to him, his father you guessed. A woman was beside him, dark hair in a bun atop her head and a radiant smile, presumably his mother. Cradled in the woman’s arms was a little girl, short brunette hair a little disheveled, and with a pacifier in her mouth but a joyful grin on her face.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you took in the sight of his family. While Bucky had mentioned having a sister during your conversation in the library a few weeks ago, he had never shown you pictures before.

Bucky entered your field of vision, settling down beside you with a glass of water in hand. He held it out to you and you thanked him gratefully, taking a sip.

You felt Bucky shifting beside you, wiping his hands on his sweatpants, betraying his nervousness. “Do you-” His voice was raspy and he cleared his throat, starting again, “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Can I get you something?”

You huffed out a laugh, throwing him a grateful smile. “I’m good, Bucky, thank you!”

A hesitant hand came to rest on your knee. “You let me know if there’s something, alright?”

“Will do, Buck!”

He gave you a look. “I mean it, doll!”

You chuckled, being surprised by how easily Bucky managed to ground you, getting you out of your nervous spiraling. “I know, Barnes.”

Bucky watched you, own lips curled in a soft smile. You returned his gaze, warmth spreading through you at the sparkle in his eyes. His hand remained secure on your knee, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your jeans, a gesture that made you yearn for his touch on your skin instead. The amount of adoration twinkling in his gaze made you weak. Seconds ticked by and you still were looking at each other. There was something in his blue speckles that couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere else. A magnetic pull you were drawn to, holding you captive. You noticed his blues flicker down to your lips for a brief moment, and in response, your own eyes permitted themselves to wander to his. The movement of his thumb stilled on your leg, his hand laying flat and you could feel him leaning in.

Bucky often found himself lost in thoughts about kissing you. When the urge washed over him he imagined leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. But he had always held back, hesitant to take that final step without knowing if you wanted it too.

One time, when you two were walking together through campus, the wind was relentless, whipping your hair around your face as you tried in vain to tame it. Despite your efforts though, the wind was hard to go against and after the fifth failed attempt at trying to tame your hair, you started laughing, Bucky joining in. As he watched you, your hair obscuring your view, he couldn’t help the warmth swelling in his heart, the fondness that made his smile ache in his cheeks at the sight of your laughter. He found himself wishing to pull you close, to gently brush the strands of hair away from your face, and to kiss you with all the pent-up longing he felt. In that moment, all he wanted was to express the depth of his feelings for you in a kiss that would leave you breathless.

He often daydreamed about kissing you in the library. Surrounded by the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the windows, you sat immersed in your studies, your face illuminated by the gentle light. You looked so beautiful, all he could do was admire you. If only you had lifted your head from your notebook, you would have seen the adoring smile that graced his lips. He longed to express his affection for you in the form of a tender kiss, holding you close and sharing a moment of intimacy amidst the quiet serenity of the library. But he couldn’t do that, so he took the chance and admired you from afar.

But the one time he almost really did it was the time you called him ‘Bucky’ for the first time.

You sit in your usual café, nursing a large cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting up to greet you with each sip. Bucky is seated in front of you, idly fiddling with the sugar packages stored in a box on the table. Your notebook lies open in front of you, pages filled with scribbled notes from your recent class.

After class, Bucky had caught up with you, asking what you were up to. You had mentioned grabbing a coffee and finishing up some notes, and he had decided to tag along. However, as you now sit together in the cozy café, it seems Bucky isn’t entirely pleased with the lack of attention you’re giving him, his relentlessness evident as he fidgets with the sugar packets in front of him.

He grumpily rearranges the sugar packages for the fourth time, his irritation palpable as you remain engrossed in your writing. You hear the crinkle of a sugar packet being opened.

“I don’t need any more sugar in my coffee, Barnes,” you warn him teasingly, without lifting your head from your notebook.

“Everyone needs a little sweetness in their life, doll!” he retorts with a knowing grin, tossing you a wink as you glance back at him. With a mischievous smirk, he lets the sugar cascade into your cup.

“Whatever you say,” you reply with a laugh in your breath, shaking your head in amusement before returning your focus to your notes.

You hear him open another package and let out a sigh. “You better not do that,” you warn again, eyes not lifting.

Another rip of a sugar packet catches your attention, and you perk up to see Bucky holding both open packages over your cup, letting the sugar pour in.

“Bucky!” you exclaim, the volume of your voice drawing glances from other café patrons, but you’re too focused on the playful banter to acknowledge them. “God, I can’t believe you did that,” you groan, pulling your cup closer to your side, in mock exasperation.

As your gaze locks with his, you’re prepared to scold him further but the look on his face catches you off guard. His eyes are wide, mouth agape, morphing into a beaming smile, white teeth on display.

Your eyebrows shoot up in confusion. “What?”

“Thought I’d never get to hear you say it, doll,” Bucky laughs out, eyes sparking.

“What did I say?” you ask, puzzled by his reaction.

He leans forward, elbows resting on the table while his eyes remain fixed on you. That beaming smile is still plastered on his face, and his blue orbs seem to glow with amusement, sparking brighter than usual.

“You called me Bucky,” he points out, his voice tings with delight.

You took a deep breath in, regretting your slip-up. “Shit, I guess I did.”

Bucky now crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the back of his seat. He doesn’t seem able to stop the smile on his face. “If all it took was to annoy you then Imma keep doing that from now on,” he declared with a playful glint in his eyes.

Head in your hands you let out a groan. Bucky barks out a laugh in front of you and you reluctantly lift your head to look at him. You point a finger at him. “I’ll keep calling you Bucky, if you stop being annoying!” you propose, trying to stay serious but not being able to stop the corners of your mouth from lifting.

“Can’t say no to that,” Bucky conceded, smile growing fond, affection radiating from him in waves.

He never stopped annoying you but you kept calling him Bucky.

But now, as he sat in front of you, his hand resting on your leg, Bucky felt the familiar urge resurface. You were in his room, smiling at him, looking so beautiful, it took his breath away. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire, he knew he would never take that final step without your explicit consent, considering the circumstances you were here right now. Your state earlier left him uneasy and a nagging guilt was gnawing within him, thinking about that night he had driven you home and then left you alone that shaken. So he needed you to want this, to be sure you were okay. He felt sick at the thought of taking advantage of you in any way.

Thus, he did lean in but didn’t go further than a few inches, giving you the opportunity to make the next move or the space to show him you weren’t ready for that.

Your eyes darted to his lips once more, leaning in yourself. Your foreheads touched after some moments, noses brushing and you saw Bucky’s eyes flutter close, still not moving further. You took a few seconds before closing the gap and pressing your lips to his. Bucky let out a breath through his nose, slowly moving his lips in sync with yours. Again, he let you lead the kiss. His other hand made his way up to your face, the gentle touch of his fingertips brushing over your skin before tenderly cradling your cheek.

Eventually, you pulled away, opening your eyes but staying close to his face. Your hazy smile mirrored his, and he pulled your head back slowly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking back at you, fondness clear on his features. “Are you okay?” he whispered, his fingers still caressing your cheek as his intense eyes locked on yours.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you held his gaze. “Yeah.”

After a few tender moments of loving touches and whispered assurances, Bucky handed you a change of clothes and let you use the bathroom.

Emerging from the bathroom, you were now dressed in a pair of his black shorts and a shirt, the fabric enveloping you in Bucky’s comforting scent. It made your stomach do flips, feeling at ease. A soft smile graced your lips as you took in the familiar aroma.

“I got another blanket, in case you got cold…,” he trailed off as he caught sight of you. His eyes swept up and down your figure, admiring how his clothes draped over your form. Though you couldn’t quite read his expression, the slight blush coloring his cheeks was enough to make you smile sheepishly in response. Bucky cleared his throat - he did that a lot around you - and turned away a little, composing himself.

There wasn’t much space in his bed you recognized as you settled in, but somehow you didn’t mind that much. Bucky sat down on the bed, looking troubled.

“Buck? Something wrong?”

Bucky took a breath, shaking his head slightly. “No,” he breathed out, an inner turmoil in his eyes, “I just…I can sleep in Sams’ bed. Maybe tha-”

“Hey,” you interrupted him softly, “I don’t mind Bucky, really! We can share.” He didn’t look convinced so you sat up straighter and heaved a breath, trying again. “And it would make me feel better,” you admitted quietly.

That did him in, breathing out a sigh and settling in beside you. Though he relented, he still was tense beside you, his muscles stiff. His shoulders were touching yours, so he felt you starting to shiver a little. His head snapped to you in an instant.

“Are you cold? Let me get another blan-” Bucky began, already halfway off the bed before you interrupted him once more.

“Hold on! I…uhm,” you hesitated, searching for the right words to express your request, “Could you maybe…cuddle me?” You fiddled with your fingers, a little nervous about how he would react.

To your relief, you heard him shuffle towards you, and soon you felt his arm wrapping around you. You smiled and turned, positioning your back against his chest. His other arm moved hesitantly under your pillow, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. With Bucky’s presence surrounding you, you felt a sense of security wash over you, easing any lingering nerves.

“Like that?” he breathed in your hair, a whisper so full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you breathed back, a sense of gratitude washing over you, “Thank you!” It wasn’t just a thank you for holding you in that moment; it was a thank you for everything he had done for you. It was a thank you for pulling you out of your anxiety - for saving you from a panic attack you surely would have endured if it wasn’t for him. It was a thank you for him offering his comfort and support in so many ways. And it was a thank you for inviting you to his many parties because although you never really went, it was the foundation of your current relationship.

And he knew. He knew the depth of your gratitude, the depth of your feelings. Because he had learned to read and understand you. Because he had learned to love you. And he would tell you when he thought you were ready to hear it. For now, all he could do was hold you close, squeeze you just a little tighter, and silently convey his unwavering support and profound affection.

“Love comes to you just at the right time; the time you never thought it would have”

-Anurag Prakash Ray

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #soft bucky #soft!bucky barnes #college!reader #college!bucky #college #frat boy #bucky oneshot

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rosyblooom · 2 months

Text

blooming season 🌷 (2) | ln4

"grief is just love with no place to go”

PAIRING: lando norris x fem nepo!reader WORD COUNT: 2.5k WARNING(S): mentions of death & blood, swearing SUMMARY: four years after she fled monaco, y/n is back on the anniversary of her father's death. however, an unexpected encounter with an f1 driver disrupts her plans.

part 1 | part 2 <- | part 3

You're not sure how much time has passed since you entered the car, but it doesn't matter. It feels like an eternity. Everything feels overwhelming today—you're the mouse in a world full of elephants, and you don't know how to cope. You want to scream, but your voice feels strained; you want to cry, but there are no tears left. All you can do is sit idly in what feels like a tiny lifeboat in an ocean rippled by giant waves crashing straight at you.

"Feeling any better now?" Lando's voice interrupts the silence, pulling you out of your daze.

You snap your head sideways to face the brunette boy, your brows furrowing as you simply stare at him.

"Hey," he sneaks a quick glance at you before focusing back on the road. "You've been quiet the whole ride. Are you feeling any better now?"

Narrowing your eyes, you fix him with a wary glare before rolling your eyes and bringing your feet to the edge of your seat, hugging your knees tightly. "What's it to you?" you finally respond, gazing through the window.

"Look, I'm trying to make things less… tense here. You could, you know, meet me halfway or something."

"How about you stop trying," you snap, glaring at the side of his face. "Just be quiet. Let's get your hand wrapped up, and then you can just leave."

Lando swallows, his eyes darting between you and the street ahead. "I don't think—"

You cut him off sharply, "Obviously, you just missed the freaking turn."

"What? No, I didn't, look," he points at the GPS that's currently rerouting. "Oh."

"Yeah…"

"No need to worry, it's already figuring out a new way. See?"

"Another inconvenience?" you ask, annoyance laced in each word. "Yeah, actually I do."

Lando purses his lips and drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "I'm guessing I'm the first inconvenience?"

"Wow, you can connect dots," you deadpan, sinking into your seat and resting your forehead against the vibrating window.

*********

The elevator door dings open, and you release a relieved breath upon finding its carriage empty. Lando enters first, settling into one side, while you press your back into the opposite wall.

"Let me guess," Lando begins, trailing his fingers up and down the row of twenty buttons, "your floor is the—"

"Sixth," you interject, your patience wearing thin as you take a step towards him and push the number six, causing it to light up.

Lando sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, nodding. "That was going to be my guess, you know?" He glances down at you, his gaze meeting yours briefly before drifting elsewhere.

Feeling hyperaware of his closeness, particularly the warmth emanating from him, you shift back into the opposite corner of the elevator, but he follows.

Your brow furrows as you grunt, "Personal space, remember?"

"Hold on a second." You feel the gentle touch of his hand atop your head, and moments later, he plucks something green from your hair, fixing you with a pointed look as he extends his palm to you. "A four-leaf clover," he exclaims, excitement glinting in his eyes. "Make a wish on it."

You swat his hand away from your face. "No thanks."

"What, there's nothing you want to have? Nothing you want to wish for?"

Sure, you have a wish—only one. You want your dad back, you want your old life back. The one that felt like summer every year, when there were no cold days.

Feeling the tightness in your throat as your vision blurs, you quickly blink away the incoming tears—you don't remember the last time you cried—and remark sharply, "No, I don't—nothing that's possible anyway. Keep it... or don't, I really don't care."

Just in time, the elevator door dings open, and you rush out of the tight space, desperate for more room.

*********

Fumbling with your key, it takes a few attempts before you finally manage to slot it into the keyhole, agitation coursing through your veins. With a satisfying click, you push the door open, only to find the apartment strangely empty.

Lando squeezes in behind you, causing you to stumble slightly before regaining your footing, shooting him a glare.

He strides down the hallway, with you trailing close behind, and into the brightly lit living room. The space is perfectly tidy, almost unnaturally so—there's not a single thing out of place.

"You sure you live here?" Lando glances back at you, eyebrows raised.

"No, I don't," you reply flatly, "this is actually where I bring idiot boys with no sense of self-preservation to kill."

Lando chuckles, his grin widening slowly. "So, you do have jokes then?"

You shrug and head down another hallway, making a beeline for your bedroom. As you push the door open, memories come flooding back—pictures of your dad adorn the walls, nestled in frames atop the dressers. It's like stepping into a time capsule; everything remains as it was four years ago, yet now it feels tainted.

Without wasting a moment's breath, you flip each picture frame on its head. The images taunt you with their stillness, incapable of conjuring the scent of Dad's favourite cologne or the resonance of his soothing voice. Pictures can't replicate the warmth of his hugs.

Once done, you kneel by your bedside table and retrieve a pair of scissors and bandages from the drawer.

"Now this looks more like it," a voice remarks behind you, causing you to startle and slam the drawer shut, rising to your feet. "This actually looks like someone lives here.”

Balling your empty hand into a fist, nails digging into your palm, you grit out, "I didn't tell you to follow me in here."

Lando raises his hands defensively. "I'm sorry, I was just worried. You were gone for a while, but uhm," he swallows, eyes flicking to the scissors you're clutching.

"Seriously?" you brandish the scissors, "I'm not going to stab you, if that's what you're thinking."

"Sure..."

With a sigh, you take a step forward, but he instinctively retreats, prompting you to shake your head and let out a chuckle—it's been awhile since you've done that.

"It's for the bandage," you remark, crossing your arms. "Also, you do realise you're the intruder here. If anyone should be scared, it's me. But I'm not a scaredy-cat, am I?"

"Neither am I," he insists, dropping his arms.

"Good. Let's head back to the kitchen, then."

*********

Lando leaps onto the counter, eliciting a groan from you as you cut the gauze into a shape that fits the wound on his palm.

Swiftly retrieving a clean tea towel from the cupboard, you situate yourself in front of him, arm extended. "Hand?"

He complies immediately, dropping his hand into your palm, and you begin to dab the skin around the cut dry. Once sure nothing is wet anymore, you reach for the gauze and carefully place it over the wound.

Lando hisses, causing you to tilt your head up, only for a sharp pain to suddenly spread atop your head. You both release loud groans, your hands instinctively moving to massage the throbbing spot on your head, while you watch Lando rubbing his chin.

"What the hell is your problem?" you finally manage after a while.

His eyes widen. "What the hell is my problem? You're the one who suddenly moved," he gestures to you, "you could've given me a heads up or something."

"How was I supposed to know you'd be hovering over me like some weirdo?" you retort.

Lando offers no response; instead, his lips gradually curve into a full-blown grin as he begins to chuckle.

You don’t react, simply staring at him blankly.

“C’mon, don’t lie now,” he says, tilting his head with a smile, “That was kinda funny, you have to admit.”

Despite theatrically rolling your eyes, a small smile betrays your true feelings. Still, you simply shrug and say, "Whatever."

"Alright, cool," Lando nods with a grin. "I'll take that. I'll take a 'whatever' anytime over all the other stuff you've been saying."

Taking the bandage from the counter, you close the gap between you, freeing his hand and delicately wrapping the bandage around the injury.

"You make me sound like a bitch," you mutter, flipping his hand over to inspect the wound. "I'm not—or at least I don't mean to be."

Lando props his free hand onto the counter behind him and leans back, raising his eyebrows. "To be honest, I thought that was the whole vibe you were going for."

You pause, setting the bandage roll on the counter and narrowing your gaze at him. Before you can respond, he quickly adds, "Hey, no judgment from me! I can handle difficult."

"Very funny," you say, shaking your head with a smile as you toss the tea towel into his face.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Lando chuckles, retrieving the towel from his face and sliding it out of reach. When his gaze returns to you, his smile fades, and he simply stares, causing your expression to falter and your eyebrows to furrow.

"What do you think you’re looking at?" you snap, feeling as if you're suddenly trapped in a glass cage.

Leaning forward, a slow smile dances along Lando's lips. "You’re very pretty when you smile," he nods, "you should do that more often, it suits you."

Your expression falters, and you feel your heart sink with guilt. Today marks the fourth anniversary of your dad's passing—the first time you’ve felt strong enough to acknowledge it, to face the hurricane head-on—and here you are, spending it laughing, as if it's not a day plagued with immeasurable sadness and pain.

Isn’t that selfish?

It sure as hell feels like it.

Just like that, the walls rise once more as you fix Lando with a blank expression, swiftly grabbing the bandage roll off the counter. "Let’s just get this done, okay?" Your voice is strained—it scratches at your throat.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks, confusion swimming in his bright eyes.

You swallow hard and grasp his hand, continuing to wrap up the wound wordlessly.

"I’m sorry," Lando tries again, "If I said something wrong, I’m sorry."

Sighing, you shake your head, and though you feel his gaze piercing your skull, you refuse to tilt your head up to meet his eyes head-on. "Nothing to apologise for," you state quietly, focusing on the task at hand.

This is exactly why you keep to yourself—your pain is yours alone to bear; it's unfair to burden others with it. You're not the same carefree, easily agreeable Y/N you once were back then. That part of you left the world today, four years ago, with your dad.

"Done," you declare, cutting the excess bandage and patting it down. Then, you create some much-needed distance between yourselves, heading towards the sofa and collapsing onto it.

"You know the way out," you yell, squeezing your eyes shut as you focus on your breathing.

The calm doesn’t linger for long, though, when you fail to hear footsteps or the door clicking open. You shoot upright, only to find Lando at the tap, an empty glass in his hand.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" you ask, propping your elbows on the couch’s backrest.

"Getting some water," he gestures toward the faucet and flicks it on. "I’m thirsty."

"You can do that at your own place."

"What, go home for water and then come back?" he shoots you a perplexed look before taking a swig from his glass. "Seems a bit extreme, don’t you think?"

Rising to your feet slowly, you make your way to the opposite end of the counter and lean against it, resting your hands on the cool surface. "And why would you even come back here?"

"For you to check up on me," he explains, waving his bandaged hand in the air, "make sure I don’t develop an infection. I’ve had one before, it was awful."

As if momentarily blinded by sunlight, you blink more than necessary as you process his words. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The cut, it could get infected after being exposed for so long. So, I think we should wait out the day," he shrugs, "just to make sure it doesn’t get worse."

"And why can't you just go to the hospital?" you press, confusion evident in your voice.

His lips curl into a sly smile as he scratches the back of his neck. "I don't know, you seem to know what you're doing. I trust you."

His admission knots your stomach—you can't recall the last time someone willingly stuck by you after all your attempts at self-sabotage.

You're a pusher. You push and push until people fall off the edge of the cliff, leaving you in the comfort of yourself. So, this catches you off-guard. But strangely enough, the proposal doesn’t make you squirm with disgust, but rather... want? You're not quite sure; it's an old feeling, one you struggle to understand.

"Fine, okay," you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief at your own acquiescence. "I think you're being dramatic, but fine."

Lando nods, a grin spreading slowly across his face. "Great."

The weight of today bears down on you, a stark reminder of your initial plans—ones you can't simply reschedule. No, these you can’t ignore; they're a boulder in your road. Today is the day you will visit your dad; today is the day you will see his tombstone for the very first time.

"I've got somewhere to be tonight," you say, twisting your fingers into painful yet somehow soothing shapes. "So you'll have to leave then. And I’ve got to run some errands throughout the day, so you can, I guess, join me... or you can just stay here—stay out of my fucking bedroom—and yeah, watch TV or whatever it is you do."

"Got any food?" Lando inquires, swinging open your refrigerator doors to reveal painfully empty shelves, save for a lone box of leftover takeout from last night.

"That's a negative," he answers his own question, closing the doors with a sigh before turning to face you. "Can we grab some food while we're out running errands?"

Your stomach grumbles in agreement before you can respond, so you simply nod, snatching up your keys. "We should go now, then."

Lando falls into step beside you in the hallway, and you shoot him a sideways glance, adding, "We'll handle my errand first, then we can grab food."

He holds the door open for you, gesturing for you to pass through. "No complaints from me."

4:05 ───────────ㅇ─ 4:28

TAGS: @leclercdream @evitarubio @landossainz @lottef1 @averymjn

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obessedwithfictionalmen · 3 months

Text

Kiss me before you leave.

John Egan X Female! Reader

Summary: Y/n and Bucky's relationship during the years of the war.

Warning: crying/ mention of POW camp/ use of Y/n/

Word count: 2k

1940, Manitowoc, Wisconsin

He was leaving, he was actually going on the boat and leaving to fight the war. She couldn’t believe it, and he just gave her a letter. She read it again, in case she missed something.

My dear Y/n,

I’m leaving for England today at 9:30 at the docks, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in person, but I’m so scared of hurting you. I want to fight for my country. When I come back, we’ll get married because you’re the love of my life. If you still want me, of course, I’ll send you a letter when I’m assigned to a base, so you can write to me. I’ll think about you every second, I’ll think about you in ways that can’t be written. I love you so much, my darling.

Forever yours, Bucky.

She looked at the time, it was 9:05, she could make it in time. Without even thinking, she took her brother’s bike and rode it down the street, she was pedaling so fast, but she didn’t care if she crashed, she wanted to see him one last time before his departure. She didn’t want to cry, but if she missed him, she was going to. She felt a lot of emotions, sadness, anger and love. She was sad that he was leaving, angry at the way he left and in love because he promised to marry her when he got back. Her hair flew in the wind, her skirt too, she couldn’t care less, she wanted to see him.

He felt bad for the way he left her, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her in person. He was looking at the window when he saw someone riding a bike, really fast. Then he recognized his girlfriend. He let out a small laugh before sticking his head out the window. ‘’Y/n!’’ he yelled her name, she searched for a second the person that called her name, then she saw him. She ran in front of the window, but he was too high for her to reach him. ‘’Seriously Bucky! That’s how I learn you’re leaving? You could’ve at least kissed me before you left!’’ she screamed, in anger, but she was painting from the bike ride she just had. ‘’Sorry honey, I can’t hear you!’’ he was smirking, he heard her, he just didn’t want to argue with her.

Soldiers that were still boarding saw the scene. ‘’S’cuse me miss, if you want, we can help ya get up’’ one of them said to Y/n. ‘’Please’’ she begged. Next thing she knew, she was being lifted by a group of soldiers, she didn’t care if they looked under her skirt, she could reach her boyfriend. When she was equal to him, she pulled him by the tie, an inch to her lips. ‘’You’re really lucky that I’m in love with you John Egan’’ she smiled before kissing him. He instantly kissed her back, adding more passion to it. Soldiers beneath them were cheering for the couple. They pulled back to catch their breath. ‘’I love you too, doll’’ he smirked. They kissed for what felt like an eternity, but they were stopped by the boat horn.

‘’Be safe, I want my future husband in one piece!’’ she said as the soldiers brought her back to the ground. ‘’I promise, I love you so much!’’ he blew a kiss to her. She looked at the group of soldiers that helped her. ‘’Thank you so much, be careful’’ she thanked them. She smiled at Bucky as she watched the boat leave the dock. He was waving to her, she was crying from sadness, but smiling and laughing at the same time. Other wives and girlfriend were on the dock, crying too. ‘’Write to me!’’ she yelled. She only saw him make a thumbs up. She stayed on the dock until the boat was out of sight, she kept crying until tears didn’t fall down. She couldn’t wait to write to him.

1942, Thorpe Abbotts, England

Bucky smiled as he saw the envelope with his name on it, it was from his girl. He sat down on his bed before opening it. Inside there was a letter, a picture and one of her hair ribbons. He opened the letter, smelled it before reading it.

My dear John,

I miss you every second. Yesterday, one of the kids at school asked me if I was in love. I said yes and got to talk about you with little Timmy Harrison. I even showed a picture of you in class, Ruby said you were really handsome. I found out someone took a picture of us at the dock, I put it in the envelope, so you’d have it. I found it really funny and quite beautiful. In your last letter, you said that you were homesick, I hope it goes away. I hope you're giving the Germans what they deserve. After Pearl Harbor, a lot of men left, we woman, are lonely too. I also give you one of my ribbons, I thought you might like it. Oh, and I have gossip. Do you remember Olivia Dunham? Well, I found out that she cheated on her husband and got pregnant with none other than William Rogers, her music teacher. It was quite the gossip this week. You’ll be pleased to hear that the Yankees won their match and are going to the world series, but I think you found a way to listen to the game with a radio. I miss you, John, I pray that you come home safe, I can’t wait to be Y/n Egan. I love you so much. It hurts when you’re not around. But I know you’re away for a good reason. You’re my hero and the kid’s hero. They call you super John.

PS: Say hi to Buck, Croz, and Curt for me. And tell Curt to stop spooning with you, or I’ll come on the base to tell him.

Forever yours, Y/n

He laughed and smelled her ribbon; it smelled like her. He looked at the picture, he missed her so much, but he was happy that she was okay. Her job as a teacher was keeping her busy, so she had less time to worry about him. He put the picture on his wall, and he tied the ribbon around his right wrist. Bucky sniffed the letter one last time before putting it with the others. He couldn’t wait to get home, he wanted to be with her so much, so he picked up his pen and started to write.

1942, Manitowoc, Wisconsin

Y/n and Marge sat at the table with their letters in hand. Buck actually sent a letter to Y/n in 1941, asking her to look out for Marge, they became friends ever since. ‘’Ready?’’ Marge asked, holding her letter. Y/n nodded and opened the envelope, inside, it had the letter, a picture of a dog and a dollar bit that had two corners bitten off.

My darling Y/n,

Of course, I remember Olivia! I can’t believe she cheated on her husband. I’m glad that the kids like me and think I’m a hero because I don’t really feel like it. It’s hard here. Missions are more regular and harder. The dog on the picture is Meatball, one of the guys brought him on the base, and I know how much you like dogs, so I thought you might like him. He even flies with us sometimes, but he’s howling all the time. Tell Ruby that I’m already in love with someone, or don’t I don’t want to break her heart. Thank you for the ribbon, I wear it around my wrist. It’s my lucky charm. That’s why I send you my lucky deuce, I have a new charm, I don’t need my old one. The guys love the picture of us. They’re jealous of us. I can’t wait for you to be my wife. Thank you for the Yankees news. Can you keep me updated on their journey to victory? I love you most, my darling.

PS: The guys say hi. Curt says he can’t stop spooning with me, even if it’s the fifth time you asked him, it’s cold in England.

Yours truly, John.

Y/n was giggling at the letter, God she was in love with him. When Marge finished her letter, she was smiling too. She even had happy tears streaming down her face. ‘’What’s wrong?’’ Y/n asked. She showed the ring that Buck sends her. ‘’He popped the question’’ she giggled. ‘’Oh my God! I’m so happy for you! Congratulations!’’ she hugged Marge, laughing in happiness. ‘’Will you be my maid of honor?’’ she asked her. ‘’I will be honored to be your maid of honor’’ she smiled. They both squealed in happiness. ‘’I’m getting married!’’ she giggled.

1944, Stalag Luft III

He couldn’t wait for her letter, ever since he got captured, he missed her letters, he hoped she could get his. Because if not, she was going to think he was dead, he didn’t want that, but when his name got called by the mailmen, he was relived, he practically ripped the letter from how hard he grabbed it. There was just the letter inside.

Dear John,

I hope you’re well; I received your letters saying that you got captured. I hope these Krauts are treating you well, otherwise I’ll riot. The kids can’t stop asking about you, so I decided that everyday, 15 minutes before the end of class, I’m talking about you to them. I think Ruby is head over heels in love with you. I’m so happy you’re Buck’s best man, that means we’re going up the aisle together. Marge and I are doing well, we just can’t wait for you guys to return. To know you’re both alive and well is reassuring, we were worried. I love you so much, words on the street are that the war will be over soon. Be careful, say hi to Buck for me.

PS: I forgot to tell you in my last letter that the Yankees won the world series!

Forever yours, Y/n.

He was smiling like the idiot of the village. He couldn’t wait to be back home. He was happy she received his letters; he didn’t think she would. He hoped the war would be over soon, from the camp, he didn’t hear any news, the only one he had was from Buck’s handmade radio.

1945, Manitowoc, Wisconsin

A knock on the door made her jump, she wasn’t expecting anyone, and the mailmen already delivered the letters. When she opened, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

‘’Hello darling’’ he was standing in front of her, he was back. He survived. She dropped her book on the ground and hugged him tightly. ‘’You’re back! Please never leave again” she cried in joy. His embrace made her believe he was real; he was in front of her and real. ‘’I love you so much’’ he said, looking at her. God, he missed her so much. ‘’Come in, do you want anything to drink?’’ she babbled. He shook his head before kissing her, he wanted to do that since he left. ‘’I’m so happy you’re here, I still can’t believe it!’’ she mumbled. He smiled as he kissed her again.

‘’I’m back for good this time, darling, I never should’ve left the way I did, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you riding your bike. I thought about you every second of everyday. Now that I’m back, you’re stuck with me. I love you too much to be apart from you again.’’ He got down on one knee. ‘’Darling, will you marry me?’’ he asked, smiling so hard it made his face hurt. ‘’Yes, thousand time yes!’’ she exclaimed as they shared another passionate kiss.

They were apart for long, but Bucky kept his promise, he was never going to leave her again. Till death do us part, they took their vow seriously…

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #master of the air #john egan x reader #master of the air imagine #major john egan #john egan #gale cleven #austin butler

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leclsrc · 1 year

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wait and see ✴︎ cl16

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst barely, other drivers appear

word count: 2.5k

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

auds here... req'd, this was p fun to write i hope u guys like it! :) short bec if it was any longer it wouldnt have been as nice to read i think? anyway... i love u guys. title from this.

Lando takes a seat. “Is this the thingy for…? Yeah? Okay. What am I supposed to do again?”

“Just describe the two of them.”

“Easy. She was always pissing him off.” He rubs his chin, lost in thought. “But… in a good way?”

—

“I told you a hundred times I didn’t want this to be the soundbite you published.” Charles chases after you, his footsteps quickening like a lost puppy as you wrestle your way into the media pen. “A hundred times, and you said okay, and you still published it. Che succede?”

You turn, crossing your arms over your torso. “Look. I said yes, but when I looked it over, nothing else you said was really worth it. It was all just repetitions of the same PR bullshit that makes you look good on camera.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling with frustration, watching his biting comment on Iñaki rack up hundreds of thousands of views. “This was not a good idea!” He repeats, the same sentiment he’s been telling you in the half-hour he’s known of this video’s publicity.

“But it happened.” You adjust your mic and gesture to Lando, who’s awkwardly waiting for the cameras to roll so you can start the post-FP2 interview and he can talk about his shit car. “I’m busy, so deal with it. Your fans will appreciate you not riding Ferrari’s dick all the time.”

Charles opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it, shoving his way back outside and into the motorhome so he can cooperate in damage control. He doesn’t admit it—to you, to Carlos, to anyone—but the PR that comes of it is more good than it is bad in the end. He doesn’t admit it because it means admitting you’re right, and God if that’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

—

“They were always butting heads,” George says, laughing as he soaks in the memories of it. “Always fighting over something. Anything. Whatever there was that could be disagreed on—they’d be disagreeing.”

—

It started harmlessly enough. Seb walked in with two swatches of color—a blue and a purple—and addressed the room with a light tone, asking what color would best suit the tablecloths at his wedding. And then, as it always did with you and Charles, chaos ensued.

“Blue suits green better.” You wave the blue in his face. “You’re busy thinking of red all the time so you don’t understand color theory.”

“It’s not about coordination! It’s about creating a highlight!” He gestures with his hands, aggressively gesticulating to try and get his point across. “Highlight!”

“Oh, bullshit! Blue!”

“Purple!”

“Are you crazy?!”

Across the room, Seb and George watch in mild horror at the two figures caught in a needlessly intense argument over colors at a wedding that isn’t even theirs.

An AlphaTauri engineer comes in to refill his coffee for the third time, finds the two of you still fighting and is genuinely stupefied. He turns to the two onlookers, asks, “Bridezilla, huh? Happened to me once, too. I swear the grooms always try to weasel their way in to seem more involved but their choices never make sense.”

“Oh, no. They, uh, they’re not together.” George clarifies quickly.

“They’re not?!” The engineer and Seb ask at the same time.

They all watch the argument, bemused, but secretly they all wonder just how correct George is.

—

“We have a saying in Spanish. Del amor al odio hay un paso. Neither of them will understand it—it’s in Spanish, obviously—but I think that applies to them. One minute you think they hate each other, and the next…” Carlos lets himself taper into silence, smiling softly.

—

Being around Charles feels like karmic retribution, a constant eternal push and pull. But it makes the both of you better, even if neither of you admit it in the end. You can’t really grasp why, or how it started—it might take ages if you do so much as try—but you’re content with letting things happen the way they do.

Or maybe you’re not. “You ruined my fucking broadcast, dickhead!”

You toss your earpiece at his chest, body welling up with annoyance. Your segment was being casted live until Charles insisted he take up your airtime to do whatever-the-fuck, you honestly don’t care. And yeah, sure, he’s way more relevant, but the less airtime you get, the less easily you get the exposure you need.

“It happened one time.” He sounds amused, and it patronizes you, sets you on fire. He clutches your earpiece to his chest and hands it back to you.

“Fuck you.” You tug it toward yourself, and suddenly you’re closer, noses almost touching. You step back, but it’s not enough. “You have no idea how much that mattered to me.”

His eyes flit toward your lips, your bodies melting together. “If it really did…” he says, inhaling, “you would’ve just ignored me.” And damn, he’s right.

Charles does not like you. He just knows you well. But then one might argue—isn’t that the same thing?

—

“They have trouble not calling the shots, is the thing,” Lewis offers. “So put them in a team, in a room together, and boom.”

—

“…We didn’t agree on this script.” You underline the problematic lines and toss it onto Charles’ lap from where you stand in front of the sofa. “You want your fans to hate you?”

“The questions were clumsy. I asked you to reword them, but you didn’t.”

“You didn’t ask, to be clear. You demanded.” You click your tongue.

Lewis is in the middle of posting on Roscoe’s Instagram account and manually making typos, but he looks up, interest piqued by the increasingly heated conversation.

“I asked,” Charles insists stubbornly. “Plus, this is a Ferrari segment. You get hired to write on Ferrari, you follow Ferrari.” He points to the yellow logo on his shirt. Ferrari, he mouths. Lewis stifles a chuckle at the sarcastic exchange.

“Jesus.” You reread the script. “Fine. I’ll reword this and this.”

“And that.” He points, tapping the paper.

“Only if you edit this and this. Oh, God, and this.”

“Fine. Wait, that?”

“Are you serious? It’s the corniest statement ever. Edit that or I edit nothing.”

“Okay, bossy.”

Lewis exits Instagram in favor of texting Seb to ask if you two are dating. The response he receives is equally unhelpful: Nobody knows mate.

—

“You know, for all the disagreeing they did, they actually agreed on so much of the same stuff. If they stopped fighting for two seconds they would agree on most things.” Alex muses. “But they never did, so. Or maybe a few times.”

—

Media is a tricky thing. It’s either on your side, or it isn’t.

And this weekend, Charles has drawn the short straw, subjected to bouts of backhanded journalists and tweets for his strategy during quali. You know this especially well—you’re media, for Christ’s sake—and you’ve seen your colleagues hound Charles for how he chose to tackle the session.

Alex is in the middle of a FaceTime call with Lily when he hears it. “Wait—I think they’re talking,” he says to his girlfriend when he hears you approach him, carefully maneuvering himself into optimal eavesdropping position.

“Is this the right thing to do?” Lily’s voice comes through like static.

“I know it’s wrong,” Alex confesses. “But—”

“No, I meant I can’t hear properly. Move the phone closer, you dick.”

So he does, and the two of them listen intently to your talk. You go first, a few shuffling footsteps and an adjustment of your media pass, then. “Will’s been all over you today.”

“Yeah,” comes Charles’ voice, tired if anything. “I, uh… I just hope I can understand where I went wrong and, uh. Well, uh.”

“No, I…” There’s heavy silence. “I think you did the right thing. You didn’t get pole, but it was a good strategy. Better than what was being proposed, anyway. I think that would’ve landed you at the back of the grid, to be honest.”

You both laugh. “Thanks,” he croaks.

“You did great. Don’t, um… don’t let them tell you otherwise. I’m proud of you.”

Alex never tells anybody what he heard. But it inspires many long-winded conversations with Lily about the nature of your relationship. Each time, though, they never arrive to a solid answer.

—

“Hey, listen. I always knew something was there with those two. They had the kind of dynamic you only find once in, like, a million instances.” Daniel says firmly. “But I also kept thinking… poor Charlotte.”

—

You’re half-sure Pierre was the one who bought you all shots. Or a quarter-sure. Okay, you’re not sure at all. Your mind’s cloudy, your inhibitions lowered, tongue loose and laugh contagious. Around the table everyone is laughing, some others have gotten up to dance, but you, Daniel, Lewis, and Charles are all conversing about work, albeit while drunk.

“Is… tequila… plant-based?” Lewis grimaces as he throws another shot back and you all laugh mindlessly.

“Danny,” you say, tapping his shoulder. “Any plans once you’re out of the paddock next season?”

“Ah,” he hums. “Self-discovery and a shit ton of shrooms.”

You all cheers to the epiphany, shots once again entering your system. “And a party again tomorrow!” Daniel adds half-jokingly, much to your delight. Charles, right beside you, throws an arm over your shoulder as he laughs. You’re unfazed.

Daniel’s gaze lingers on his arm a little too long, especially because your own hand reaches upward to wrap around his wrist, to make sure he doesn’t pull away. But you’re both drunk, he reasons. And plus, you can’t usually stand each other’s guts.

“I’ll pass, mate, if it happens,” Charles says, his tone clearly inebriated.

“You’re no fun,” you say lightly, laughing and turning to him. Your eyes are on the other’s, dark, lips almost touching as if you’ve forgotten Daniel and Lewis are even around (though the latter is as good as dead, honestly.)

“Invite Charlotte instead,” Daniel says with a smile, to try and test your reactions. “How long, now? Three months?”

You clear your throat, looking away with a faux smile.

“Oh. We’re not doing so well, to be honest.” Charles smiles, tight-lipped. He hopes Daniel doesn’t ask why. He can’t think of a lie quickly enough to cover how Charlotte told him I love you, Charles, but this is over. I hope you end up with her someday.

—

Seb takes some time to think about it. “Those two always fought. Everyone said that, didn’t they? All the time, disagreeing.” He hums. “I could tell very early, though, that they were also the only two who could truly understand the other. Figuratively, obviously—but as a result, also literally.”

“Elaborate?”

“When you understand someone that well, inside and out, you end up understanding everything they say.” Seb smiles. “That was them, I think.”

—

“It’s impossible to transcribe your interviews,” Will says to Charles. It’s that hour on the paddock where everyone’s waiting for the pre-race bustle to start, so small talk is what’s keeping them busy.

You’re reviewing a few clips from practice on your phone and Seb is chipping into the conversation, which has moved from Mick’s future to F1 into Sky Sports into this.

“What do you mean?” Charles asks.

“You’re always sliding in and out of your three languages!” The Englishman laughs. “I have to consult a native speaker of both Italian and French each time. And you’re always going I, I, I, or we, we, we… but hey, the fans dig it, innit?”

“I think I sound perfectly understandable.” Charles smiles. You’re still busy, unfocused on the conversation at present.

“Like, okay. Look at this.” Will retrieves his phone, opens his voice memos app, and plays one of the audio recordings there. It’s a scratchy one of Charles describing his quali session, and sure enough, even if he’s speaking straight English, the adrenaline and exhaustion have him sounding totally indecipherable.

We—we had gasjdhfhs and I, I, I… I think we need to rejshdhs and thijsjsh about the hsfhdh, yeah? And, and, uh, we ajhshajs. And

Will closes it. “Sebastian, can you tell me that said?”

He shrugs, amused. “Sorry, Charles. I genuinely can’t.”

“See?!” Will makes a voila motion. “Nobody understands this.”

“He said we had good traction and I think we need to recalibrate and think about the boxing strategy, yeah? And we need that mindset.” You’re still going over your phone, busy and not 100% invested. “You two just aren’t listening.”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off you, or the smile off his face, the whole hour.

—

Pierre comes last, clearing his throat. He’s ready. He knows exactly what to say, so he says it. “Those two are fucking soulmates.”

—

It’s three-thirty when somebody knocks on your hotel room.

But your body still feels like it’s five in the evening, your brain’s stuck at two in the afternoon, and your sleep schedule thinks it’s nine in the morning, so you’re not asleep but instead rewriting notes from the weekend prior.

You’re horribly disoriented when you grab your pepper spray and unlatch the door, and even more disoriented when you see Charles on the other side of it.

“Am I crazy?” He asks, breathless, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. Maybe he has.

“You’re at my hotel room at three a.m., so… a bit.” You rub sleepiness and jetlag out of your eyes. “Charles, what’s going on?”

“I love you.” There it is. “It sounds so stupid. But I love you. And it’s almost—I can’t bear it. I woke up this morning? You, on my mind. Lights go off after a race? You. I go to sleep? You. It’s always you. And I know, I know it’s—I know, with Charlotte, and—but it’s true. I, I, I—I think about you every minute. And usually this happens accidentally. Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s’agit d’amour... moi y compris.

“But this was… I knew I was falling in love and I let it happen. And so I thought, why keep waiting? Why let it drag on and on and fight over and over when I can just come and tell you how much I—and maybe, hopefully, see if you feel the same?”

He pants, tired from his clearly rambled and unplanned confession.

“I love you, too,” you say, struck. Oh God.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

“It’s may,” you breathe. “May I kiss you.”

“You may,” he whispers.

“Right now?”

“Anytime.”

“So now.”

“It’s now or next Tuesday,” he jokes.

“Now is… the best. Now would do.”

“Now would do.” So you cross the threshold and let him scoop you into his arms so he can well and truly kiss you.

—

“Is that all?” The interviewer asks Pierre. “Just… those words? We need a bit more for the article on this event.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gets up, straightens his tie. “Don’t worry. You’ll hear the rest during my best man speech.”

Del amor al odio hay un paso – From love to hate, there is one step.

Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s'agit d'amour... moi y compris – We are all fools in love... me included.

#f1 #leclsrc2000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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jobean12-blog · 8 months

Text

That's the Way Love Grows

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Beefy!Plant dad!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 1,687

Summary: You and Bucky have your first official date this weekend but he can't wait to see you so he shows up at your apartment on his bike...a dream come true.

Author's Note: Missed him so I wanted to write a little something with plant!dad Bucky again! Hope you all enjoy! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰 You can see the shirt he is wearing HERE.

This is part of my plant!dad Bucky AU. It can be read alone but here are the first two stories for him:

Rooted in Love

Love in Bloom

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff and plant talk

‘Hey doll face. What are you doin’ right now?’

The moment you see his name your whole face lights up just like the screen of your phone.

‘Just being lazy.’ You reply and send him silly emoji’s to go along with your text.

‘Well….’

The next message comes through and you wait, staring at the text bubbles for what feels like an eternity.

‘I’m outside your building.’

You drop your phone and run to the window, pushing the curtain aside and looking through the glass.

He’s leaning against his motorcycle, long legs crossed over the ankle and his leather jacket pulled tightly around his biceps.

His fingers twinkle with a wave.

You open the window.

“You wanna go for a ride?” he yells up.

You stare at him for a beat, trying to sear the image into your brain and then answer back with, “yeah I do!”

You don’t even have to think twice about it.

He whoops and throws a fist in the air.

“Make sure you wear jeans and a jacket doll.”

A few minutes later you appear at the double doors of your apartment building. Bucky rushes over and pulls one open, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees you.

“You look gorgeous.”

Your thank you is lost when he steps into your space and drags you into his chest, kissing you hard and fast.

“Sorry,” he murmurs when he pulls away.

“For what,” you whisper, leaning into him.

You toy with the zipper of his leather jacket and then slowly pull it down, spreading the sides open to look at his shirt.

“I had to see if you had another funny plant shirt on,” you giggle.

You smooth your hands over his chest, mostly just so you can feel the hard muscle beneath, but also so you can read the print on the fabric better.

“Things I do in my spare time…” you start. “Water plants,” and you press your finger to the first picture of a potted plant on his shirt. “Repot plants, propagate plants, buy plants, rearrange plants…” Each time you read it’s with a press of your finger and as you get closer to his abs he starts to laugh.

“I’m kinda ticklish,” he admits.

You pay him no mind and take extra care to wiggle your finger over the last picture and it’s text.

“Talk with plants,” you finish with a smile. “That one is my favorite.”

He smirks and slides his arm across your shoulders, walking you toward his bike.

“Speaking of plants…” he hums. “There’s something I…”

As you get closer to the motorcycle you press a hand to his chest to stop him.

“Wait.”

Your words make him swallow hard.

“Our date isn’t until Saturday,” you say quietly. “Are we still on…or?”

His brows draw together and he crushes you against him. “Doll…”

He kisses you again, slow and sweet this time but it steals your breath just the same.

“I know we have our date this weekend, but the moment I left your apartment the other day, all I wanted was to see you again. I couldn’t wait any more. So I thought we could go for a ride.”

His confession makes you melt further into him.

“Ok,” you breathe out. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

He takes your hand and pulls you the rest of the way to his bike, holding up a finger as he turns to his saddle bag and opens it.

“I have something for you,” he says.

He takes out a small bag and reaches inside it. When his hand reemerges he’s holding a small potted plant.

Your smile grows as he begins to explain what it is.

“It’s from my jasmine plant. I repotted this piece in one of the cat planters I got from Etsy…thought you would like it.”

He starts to look slightly shy, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as his eyes fall to the plant.

“Bucky,” you squeal. “It’s amazing! And so cute! I love him!”

“Phew,” he laughs. “And don’t worry I can help you take care of him.”

“Ok good, because I know jasmine smells beautiful and I’d love to have one in my apartment.”

With one more quick kiss he places the plant back in the secure bag.

“Should I bring him up?” you ask. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I always carry my smaller plants on my bike. As long as you position and secure them right, it’s fine.”

With a lopsided grin he kisses your cheek then grabs his helmet.

Lifting it up he carefully places it on your head and buckles the chin strap.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he answers. “I won’t go too fast.”

With that he grabs the zipper of your jacket and pulls it up to your chin then throws one leg over his bike with an easy swing.

He holds his hand out to help you on the back and you immediately wrap your arms around his chest and press yourself into his back.

“Hang on,” he says, “and if anything is wrong just give me two squeezes.”

You nod into the soft leather of his jacket and hang on tight.

He revs the engine and pulls away from the curb, being mindful about his speed and remembering that you’re putting full trust in him to keep you safe.

He’s in complete control and the ride is smooth as he traverses the curves of the streets until the Brooklyn Bridge lights up the night sky as it comes into view.

The smell of salty air hits your face as you get nearer to the ocean and when he slows down and rolls into a darkened spot under the bridge you can hear the water break against the rocks.

He shuts the engine and plants his feet on either side of the bike and then reaches down to tap your leg, signaling you to get off.

With careful movements you put one foot on the ground and do an awkward hop to get your other leg up and over the seat without hitting him in the back.

You manage not to hit him but your legs are slightly wobbly, still vibrating from the ride and your knee buckles.

“Eeeek,” you screech, the sound echoing under the bridge and causing some hidden pigeons to squawk and flap away to a safer spot.

Your fists grab handfuls of air but Bucky somehow manages to dive and catch you around the waist with his metal arm.

“You okay?” he asks, his grip tight.

He waits, staring at you with concern in his eyes.

“I’m good,” you say on an exhale.

He relaxes slightly and releases you to adjust the handlebars and put down the kickstand. Once the bike is secured he gets off gracefully and helps you out of his helmet.

You look around and smile. “This is an amazing spot.”

“Isn’t it,” he echoes. “Just lemme get a blanket.”

He opens the saddle bag and sifts through it.

“Can you please check if my plant is ok?” you ask, smiling sweetly when he winks at you.

“Just fine doll,” he tells you after he shines his phone light into the bag. “Now come ‘ere.”

He takes your hand and leads you over to a clearing closer to edge of the water.

“Careful here, watch your step.”

He assures your footing with a firm hand at your back and once you’re settled on the blanket he follows and makes himself comfortable.

“Thank you for comin’ with me tonight doll.”

“Thank you for asking me. It’s beautiful here.”

You look out over the water, the city lights shining like diamonds across the vast blackness and dancing along the small waves.

“Yeah it really is,” he murmurs.

You can feel his eyes on you and realize that he’s complimenting you instead of the stellar view.

A small laugh bubbles up in your chest. “Have you used that move before?”

He drops his chin to his chest and chuckles. “Aw man. I haven’t but it’s that bad huh?”

You run your fingers along a strand of hair that’s fallen in front of his face before tucking it behind his ear.

“Not bad at all. In fact I think you’re really sweet.”

His eyes bore into yours. “I think you’re perfect.”

His hand reaches out to trace your lips, the pad of his thumb rough against their softness and once he’s relished in their flawlessness he slides his hand along your jaw to cup the back of your neck.

The small space between you disappears and you press your lips to his. Your hands weave into his hair and you gasp out his name, the sound igniting him. His tongue slips past your lips but he takes his time, teasing and nipping even as he tastes you.

He pulls you closer, sliding you into his lap and smoothing his free hand up your back.

The shock of bright lights shines through your closed eyelids and you jump in surprise, breaking the kiss. You lay your hand over your squinting eyes as Bucky looks over his shoulder, hissing at the brightness.

The car stops for a moment, the headlights boring into your small hidden space, and then thankfully it turns back to the street and drives off, returning you once again to the quiet of the night and the sounds of the ocean.

Bucky turns back to you, your eyes meeting.

“Hey,” he whispers as he traces the curve of your jaw.

“Hi,” you answer before peppering his scruffy cheek with kisses.

When your gaze finds his again he asks, “will you watch the sunrise with me?”

You nod and then wrap your arms around his neck, snuggling against his shoulder and breathing him in. A breeze blows over the water, carrying the chill of night and you shiver in his arms. He tucks you closer and grabs the blanket to wrap it around you both.

“I promise I’ll keep you warm,” he whispers as his head dips and he brushes his lips to yours.

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @kmc1989 @lizette50 @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #beefy bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #plant!dad bucky #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #plant!dad bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #beefy!bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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hajiberry · 6 months

Text

3:56 am - Katsuki bakugou

domestic fluff + pregnancy

Bakugou would give anything right now to switch quirks with someone and be able to teleport home. He feared he might explode if he spent one more moment in this car.The thirty five minute drive from the airport was starting to feel like an eternity and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it. He knew he was in for a headache when his connecting flight got delayed, getting him home hours after he had planned on arriving. Glancing out kirishimas passenger window he started counting down the seconds till he could see you. He hated when missions took him away from home but this one was extremely difficult, considering you could go into labor any day now. He had felt like a maniac the whole trip, constantly calling to make sure you weren’t at the hospital moments away from giving birth.

Opening his eyes he was about to ask how much fucking longer when the car pulled into the neighborhood and two seconds later Kirishima was pulling into y’all’s driveway. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been happier to see the home the two of you shared. “Fuck it’s good to be home”, he mumbled, stretching out his limbs before sitting up. “Thanks for picking me up”, leaning back he grabbed his luggage, hauling it over before opening the door.

“Yeah of course man tell y/n I said hi”

“Will do”, closing the passenger door he gave him a wave before heading up the driveway. Selfishly he was hoping you were still awake, so he could at least sneak in a kiss and an ‘I missed you’, before drifting off to sleep. But he also knew you’ve been struggling with sleeping lately so he was hoping you at least were getting some rest.

Opening the front door he smiled at all the packages littered in the foyer, boxes that he assumed were filled with baby stuff. He kicked his shoes off before making his way up the stairs to your bedroom. Opening the door he smiled when he saw your sleeping figure curled up in the bed. Setting his bag down he made his way over to you, kneeling down in front of you to press a kiss to your forehead before moving his attention to your belly. “I missed our little chats buddy”, he still was baffled at how much he missed talking to his unborn child. “I’m back though, I had to go out of town for work but that’s the last trip for a while so I definitely won’t miss you being born”

“Thank god”, you mumbled, slightly startling him.

“Fuck I didn’t know you were awake”

“I’ve been in and out of sleep for the past hour”, sitting up slightly you gave him a tired smile. “How was your flight?”

“Awful”, leaning forward he pressed his lips against yours, “just glad to be home”

“Glad to have you home”, wrapping your arms around his neck you littered a few kisses on his cheek. “It always sucks when you’re gone but this time just really fucking sucked”

“I’m sorry”, he mumbled as he started kissing you again, “not leaving on a mission like that again anytime soon”

“Good or I’d have to make a phone call”, you said with barely any bite in your words.

Chuckling, he stood up, pulling off his clothes to get ready to hop in the shower, “how terrifying”

“I know right”, standing up, you followed him into the bathroom, sitting on the toilet while he got in the shower.

“Go to sleep I’ll be in bed in a minute”, he said over his shoulder as he stepped under the hot water.

“I wanna hear about your trip”, the sleep that laced your voice caused him to smile.

“Well you’ll get a kick out of this but apparently icy hots dating someone”

Gasping, you pulled the shower curtain back a little bit, mouth wide open. “No way”

“Yup, deku was filling me in on the plane ride there”, he wasn’t sure when he started pocketing away stuff that was going on in his friends lives so that he could fill you in on the gossip but he wasn’t mad about it.

“So he’s keeping it quiet I’m assuming”

“Mhm only the nerd knows”

“Cause he snooped?”

“Yup”

“Well now I have to invite shouto over for dinner”

“What? Like he’s gonna tell you?”

“Everyone eventually caves and tells me”, he couldn’t even argue with that statement.

“But the trip itself was fine just standard shit”, turning the water off he stepped out, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

“Well I missed you”, smiling down at you he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I know I missed you too”, resting his hand on your belly he gave you a tired but genuine smile. “Let’s get you in bed though”

“Me? You’re the one that’s been traveling all day”, you said, standing up to follow him into your bedroom.

“But you’re growing a baby which I assume is a little more exhausting”

“Can’t argue with that but let’s just say we’re both tired”, you said with a yawn before laying down on your side of the bed.

After quickly throwing his boxers on he climbed into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you. “Wanna grab breakfast in the morning?”, he asked softly, a volume of his voice only you got to hear.

“Of course I do”, smiling you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I’m so glad he waited till you got home”

“Me fucking too”

Letting out a sigh of contentment you closed your eyes, finally being able to let yourself sleep.

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dark-and-kawaii · 6 months

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༺ 𝐀 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 & 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐮𝐩 ༻

Raphael

Self-indulgent Oneshot: You were desperate at this point, your body moving on its own searching for sweet release, but only a release a certain Devil you know could give.

Pairings: Raphael x Tav/Reader

NSFW | You’re On Top Fucking Raphael

Raphael stood at the edge of his bed, observing as you approach him with a determine gleam in your eyes. As you reach the devil, your nails dig into his top, forcefully tearing it open from the front, the buttons of his top falling to the floor. He can't help but chuckle at your audacity.

He’s about to speak, but you have no time for words so instead you interrupt him, pushing him onto his luxurious bed. How could a devil look so appetizing, his shirt undone, exposing his chest solely for your visual pleasure. He laughs, amused by your eagerness. "Such an eager little pup," he exclaims. You crawl on top of him, your lust for him overpowering any rational thoughts. Yes, he is a devil, someone you should never trust, but in this moment, all that matters is him.

Straddling Raphael, you lean forward, your tongue descending upon his chest, a wet tail moving up towards his neck, playfully nipping at it. His moans resonate like sweet music in your ears. Your hands glide through his silky, chocolate-colored hair, its softness exceeding your expectations. His hips subtly arch at your touch, you know he has Haarlep but it leads you to wonder if he's starved for actual physical contact. The thought only fuels your desire to continue ravishing him.

Before the night draws to a close, you reduce him to a disheveled mess, pinning his hands above his head. Biting your lip, your pussy burning with ache, the wetness trickling down your thighs as you eagerly ride his rigid cock.

Raphael's fists clench above his head, trapped in your grip. Your body moves with unrelenting fervor, bouncing up and down on his throbbing cock, your mouth agape with pleasure each time it hits your sweetest spot. Your mouth hangs open, gasping for air as each forceful bounce hits your sweetest spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your entire being.

With his eyes closed, Raphael savors every sensation, fully immersed in the pleasure of your body and the vice-like grip of your tight cunt. Keep this up and he’ll have no other choice but to chain you and keep you as his dear little pup for all eternity. A vision of you on your knees with your head resting on his lap has his teeth clenching.

Sweat cascades down your bodies, both of you drenched in pure lechery. His cock pulsates and throbs inside you, as you surrender to the intoxicating feel of his body. You can feel your climax building, a tidal wave of ecstasy ready to crash upon you both.

With a low growl, Raphael forced his wrists out of your hold and pulls you close, your bodies melding together, his strong chest providing a safe haven for your pleasure-addled mind. The intensity swells within you, reaching its breaking point, as his devilish seed surges deep into your drenched and insatiably hungry pussy. You can't contain it any longer, and with a scream that echoes through the room, you call out his name, your body convulsing with the force of the third orgasm that ripples through you, leaving you utterly spent and completely satisfied.

As you catch your breath, you gaze at the devil known as Raphael. His mouth hangs open, his harsh breaths attempting to regain composure. It dawns on you that he allowed you to have your way because you lavished his body with the attention it craved. You lick your lips, captivated by his delectable appearance in this vulnerable state. It makes you never want to leave his side, and it hits you- fuck... Have you fallen in love with the devil?

The realization hits you like a fireball, causing goosebumps to run down your arms. Love for a devil? It defies all reason and logic, but the intensity of your feelings cannot be denied. You find yourself captivated by Raphael, drawn to his dark allure and intoxicating presence. The way he submits to your desires, the pleasure he bestows upon you.

You lean your head against his chest, your breath mingling with his as you whisper, "Raphael, I think I'm falling for you." His eyes meet yours, a mix of surprise and satisfaction dancing within them. A wicked smile tugs at the corners of his lips, revealing his delight in your confession.

"Ah, my sweet pup," he murmurs, his voice laced with a seductive purr. "Love is a dangerous game, especially when played with a devil. But if you're willing to surrender yourself to me completely, I shall make you mine in every sense of the word."

And he meant it, he’d make you his… Body and soul.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #tav #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #baldur's gate 3 #raphael the cambion #baldurs gate 3 raphael #bg3 smut

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pinkanonwrites · 1 year

Text

As Our Fingers Entwine

The end of the trilogy!!! I hope you all enjoy, both newcomers and those who have been eagerly anticipating this piece! It is in fact NSFW, appropriate tags below. Read it on AO3 here!

TRIGUN STAMPEDE EPISODE 7 SPOILERS IN FIC BELOW!

Vash/Reader, 6,000+ Words, AFAB Reader but no specific pronouns used, mutual pining, body worship, frottage, vaginal sex, alien biology, praise kink, enthusiastic consent, begging

You couldn't say for certain why the ambience of the peaceful town didn't lull you to sleep the same way the rattling underbelly of the Sand Steamer seemed to, but you had a distinct feeling it was because you weren't right next to Vash.

You'd never admit it aloud, mainly for fear of revealing your painfully obvious affections for your blond companion, but nowadays you always slept better with Vash by your side. And as happy as Vash seemed to have a room to himself and time to catch his breath, a selfish little part of you had hoped he'd be cheap again, crowd the two of you into a single room to save a few double dollars. The last time you truly got to sleep side-by-side with him was a few bumpy hours on the Sand Steamer, before the incident with the Bad Lads and the shootout and the, well, the entire steamer nearly catastrophically crashing to pieces. There wasn't much sleeping on the bus ride into town either, no matter how exhausted the both of you were.

And yet, when you collapsed face-first into the surprisingly comfy hotel bed, you found yourself agonizingly conscious. Somehow, a simple wall in between you and Vash was enough to keep you from getting a good night's sleep. Just when did you become so dependent? Now three nights have passed, each one spent tossing and turning, unable to get more than a few blissful moments of shuteye. It wasn't like you were scared, or even stressed! Your body had just acclimated to the idea of sleeping curled up next to Vash, and now without him…

"Hey, anybody home in there?"

"...Hmm? Oh! Oh, yeah, I'm listening." You hadn't realized you'd started to doze off at the diner table over your supper until Vash leaned over and snapped his fingers in front of your face. You jolted up, grabbing a wedge of your sandwich and jamming it quickly into your mouth as he gave you a soft and sympathetic smile, his salmon sandwich basically finished and his free hand twiddling a stray french fry back and forth across the plate. Ah, he must have been waiting for you.

"You're a little out of it today. Everything alright?"

You waved him off, taking a swig of water to force down the mouthful of bread and various fillings. "It's fine! Just not sleeping well, it's no big deal."

Your response didn't seem to soothe Vash's worries at all, as his little smile fell into a frown. "That's no good. Is everything alright? You don't feel unsafe or anything, do you?"

"Nonono, nothing like that, really!" His concern really shouldn't have been enough to fluster you, Vash would have been worried for just about anyone who looked as worn-out as you did. But it still hit a soft little spot in you, something eternally sensitive to Vash's care and attention that you had to do your absolute best to stifle basically every moment of every day. "It's just too quiet, you know? I'm not used to having a room to myself anymore, heh. Pretty silly, isn't it?"

Judging by the soft and further furrowing of Vash's brow, your placations did nothing to assuage his concern. "Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean."

Stay. Stay with me, always.

Yeah, right. Like you could actually say that out loud. You sunk further into your seat, feeling a bit like an insect under a magnifying glass in the face of his consideration. It felt as if one wrong word or move would suddenly and jarringly expose the affections you held for him that seemed so glaringly obvious at all times, always.

"I dunno. It's not a big deal, anyway. We don't have to worry about it."

He seemed to sense your own discomfort with the subject matter, and leaned gently back in his seat. "I saw there was a tailor in this town! If you want you can come with me tomorrow, maybe get that tear in your cloak patched up?"

You thumbed the rugged fabric edge in your hand, almost not wanting to. Vash had patched it for you last time, and though the job was a touch on the rough side you didn't exactly like the idea of someone undoing his heartfelt, albeit clumsy, stitchwork. But shopping with Vash? That definitely sounded like how you wanted to spend your afternoon.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Anywhere you wanna stop by?"

"Might pick up some ammo, but not much besides that!"

And you were certain that would be the end of it. Even after thumbing out a few double-dollars to pay for dinner, opening the diner door for you with a cartoonish bow, and chatting idly as the two of you made your way back towards the hotel, Vash didn’t broach the subject again. By the time you’d made it to the door of your room you were certain he’d forgotten about it. But just as you were about to wish him goodnight and slip through the crack of the doorway his hand came to rest upon the door handle, that familiar soft expression of concern sneaking back up across his face.

“If you wanted… I could stay until you fall asleep?" There was a distinct shyness about it, like he was genuinely afraid of what your reaction may be. "Just to see if it would help?"

You blinked at him once, twice, needing a moment to process the words he was saying before it actually clicked in your mind. Face growing hot, you prayed your expression didn't fully give away your embarrassment as an image wormed itself into your brain, an image of yourself in Vash's arms, his lips resting on the jut of your collarbone peeking from the hem of your shirt, of warm hands on the soft dip of your hips climbing higher, and higher…

Seeming to take your extended silence as rejection, or worse, disgust, Vash began to frantically backpedal, hand flying from the doorknob to tangle in the soft hair at the base of his neck. "You can say no! I just wanted to offer. Maybe that was a little weird, huh? Sorry, you can forget about it.”

But you didn't want to forget. Forgetting meant a return to… To whatever you and Vash were before that first night you woke up and saw him gazing at the stars. Forgetting meant pulling away again, faking a smile, pretending there was nothing there when you so desperately wanted there to be. Forgetting meant not acknowledging that he kept offering his hand to you, and that out of your own foolish anxieties you kept drawing away.

And yeah, maybe things could still go catastrophically wrong. But wasn't that what you loved about Vash in the first place? How the entire world could fall apart around him and he'd still get up again, offer you a smile and put his best foot forward?

You loved him. You loved him. And you were fucking sick of pretending you didn't. Your fingertips had closed around the fabric of his sleeve before you could second-guess yourself.

"Stay with me."

And oh, oh, if the expression that crawled its way up Vash's face wasn't worth any and every possible humiliation, rejection, or vague discomfort. Red bloomed up from his collar, creeping up his neck into his cheeks and the tops of his ears. He blinked twice behind his oversized lenses, gaze flicking from your face to where you'd gripped his sleeve and back again a few times over. A thin, wobbly smile snuck across his lips, making his relief obvious despite his conscious efforts to hide it. A peek of sharp canines glinted from the gap as he shot you a crooked, sheepish grin, despite being nearly as red in the face as his signature coat.

"Y-Yeah!" He winced at the way his own voice cracked, oblivious to just how endearing you found it. "Yeah, heh, no problem! Let me, let me get my… I'll be right back. Five minutes? Give me five minutes, pinkie promise."

He even interlocked his pinkie with your own, a small, familiar laugh sneaking out before he slipped, momentarily, from your grasp. You watched as he stumbled down the hall to his own room, fumbled the door handle once, twice, banging his body into the wooden frame before managing to get it open, never once taking his eyes off you until the door slipped closed. Cute.

You stepped into your own room, clicking on the bedside lamp and flooding it in a warm, yellowed glow. Shedding your day clothes as quickly as possible, you kicked them into a heap in the corner and scrambled into your pajamas, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Without Vash's buzzing, eager energy at your side you had just enough time before he returned to briefly feel incredibly embarrassed at your show of need, face growing hot as you replayed the little scene over and over in your mind. Your hand around his sleeve, his expressions, your choice of words… God, you were so obvious. Had he really not picked up on it at all? But he seemed so eager, as eager as you were at the very least. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had been a little oblivious lately.

True to his word, it couldn't have been more than five minutes before you heard a soft knock on the door to your room. Standing on the other side was Vash, not clad in his signature red jacket but rather his familiar, beige pajamas. The worn out shirt hung loose around the collar with the sleeves draping just long enough to cover half of his hands, the loose elastic of the sweatpants held tight with an old, white drawstring. His hair was floppy and now shower-damp, hanging partially in his face as he gave you that so soft, so sweet little smile.

"You look comfy." He said, voice as soft as his grin.

"I could say the same for you." You responded, cracking a similar smile. Stepping to the side you let him join you in your room, door closing with a soft click as a palpable air of… something simmered between you two. Tension? Nervousness? It felt like a melting pot of just about everything you had or could feel when it came to Vash. He stood awkwardly in the center of the room as you flitted around him towards the bed.

"You should probably get some rest, huh? I'll just grab a seat at…" He gestured vaguely towards one of the two chairs set at the table by the window, words dropping from his lips as he watched you pat the open space in the bed next to you. He blinked again, face flushing pink once more.

"...Only if you want to." You added softly. He visibly swallowed, nodding so gently you could have almost missed it, and set his glasses on the nightstand with a soft clack. Carefully, hesitantly, he pulled back the covers and let himself into the bed beside you, moving like he was afraid at any moment you were going to change your mind and ask him to leave.

You would never. You wanted him beside you. At all times, always.

He clicked off the lamp, and the two of you were plunged into darkness. A single stream of moonlight filtered between the thin curtains, falling diagonally across the bedroom floor and providing just enough light for you to keep Vash's face in view. When the two of you shared a sleeping bag for the first time the closeness was a necessity, there was nowhere else for you to go in the tiny shared space. But even now, with the width of the bed slim but still far greater than a sleeping bag could provide, you couldn't help but press yourself close to him. As always he was warm, so warm, heat radiating under the thin covers to soothe you, a constant thrum of energy just beneath his skin even when he was relaxed and doe-eyed as he was with you right now, laying on his side mirroring you, unable to look away.

In this moment you couldn't help but consider that Vash was more alive than you had ever been in your own lifetime, or that you ever would be. He was a walking enigma, incredibly powerful yet so gentle, capable of such inhuman feats but so intimately, painfully fragile. Maybe you'd never fully understand him the way you wanted to, maybe there would always be secrets he couldn't share or stories he wouldn't tell. But you didn't mind, not as long as he was yours and you were his.

"Hi." He murmured, breath hot against your lips, that small, sappy smile never leaving his own.

"Hi." You replied. "Is this… Is this okay?"

"Yes." There was a relief in his voice, a borderline reverence. His hand hovered, briefly, coming to rest on the small of your hip and sending a jolt of need crawling up your spine fast enough to give you a headrush. "Are we… okay?"

"Always."

He let out a low, shuddering breath, hand flexing around your hip. "I haven't… I want… I want…" His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again. He let out another breath, a short, warm huff as he hesitated, brow knit like even now he was afraid of the oncoming rejection, the inevitable hurt.

The two of you really had been completely oblivious, hadn't you?

You closed the gap yourself. Slowly, carefully, for no more than a few moments, you pressed your lips to his. He gasped when you did, a sharp, surprised inhale through his nose before his entire body seemed to melt into your several points of contact: your legs, his hand on your hip, your lips. You watched his eyes slide open again after you pulled away, crease in his brow receding as he blinked at you, almost owlishly.

"You kissed me." He murmured, that air of reverence returning to his voice.

"I did." You said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, and that's because it was.

"You'll… You'll always be in danger. You know that, right?"

"I do."

"We're always going to be moving. You wouldn't rather settle down somewhere nice?"

"Not if you're not there."

He sucked in another shaky breath, corners of his eyes growing glassy and wet. "It won't… It won't be easy. Being with me. It's hard."

"Vash." You cupped his face with your hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I promise you it's not. It's really not."

He positively beamed, knocking his forehead against yours as he burst into quiet giggles. "You're really amazing, you know? You're the most amazing person I've ever met."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" Your own laughter joined his, and any hint of apprehension or concern Vash may have still held seemed to melt away in the face of your smile. "Now shush. Kiss me again."

He was clumsy, clearly overeager as he pressed his lips to yours once more. It started as another soft, fluttering thing, then a second, then a third, before you tipped your chin up and opened your mouth into the next kiss, inviting him to do the same. Fingers tangled in his soft hair, you pressed further into him, tasting honey and sunlight as you licked into his open mouth and he moaned against your lips. You didn't even realize he was moving you until you found yourself on your back, Vash's sturdy build boxing you in, knees framing your thighs as his teeth clicked wetly against yours and he groaned again at the feeling of your mouth moving against his. It was a messy, relief-stricken thing, like finding sweet, cool water after a day trekking across the open dunes. His still-flesh hand gripped your hip, fingertips indenting your soft skin, but his prosthetic hand cradled your cheek so gently, with such veneration it could have brought you to tears. There was a wet smack and a sharp gasp when he finally pulled away, like he was coming up for air. A single sticky strand of saliva still connected your lips, and as you swiped it off of his lower lip with a smile he gave you a sheepish grin in return.

"You gotta breathe through your nose, Vash."

"I know, I just…" He watches as you bring your thumb to your mouth, licking off the smear of spit there. He gulps, teeth worrying his lower lip. "...Just got a bit sidetracked, is all."

When he leaned back in a second time his target wasn't your lips, but the gentle slope of your neck. He placed a featherlight kiss upon you, relaxing when he heard your content hum and your fingers carded through the hairs at the base of his neck. Then he sucked a mark into the soft junction between your neck and exposed collarbone, teeth grazing and tongue lathing over the sensitive spot as you writhed beneath Vash's touch. His breath ghosted hotly over your neck, goosebumps prickling out across your skin as heat pooled low and eager in your stomach and you fisted one hand in the front of Vash's night shirt.

"Vash." You whined, and his low groan in response rumbled out against your already sensitive neck. "Vash." You moaned again, louder this time, needy but not completely sure what for.

"Hmm?" His questioning hum was barely discernible from his soft, pleased groans, only the uptick at the end of the throaty sound cluing you in that Vash had even heard you at all. His lips rested on the curve of your jaw, thumb trailing back and forth across your cheekbone. You fisted the back of his shirt in one hand and tangled the other in his messy hair, whimpering at each barely-there kiss he left as he trailed his way up your jawbone to your ear. "You're so soft. So, so soft."

His lips brushed the shell of your ear and you couldn't help yourself, whining as your hips jerked up against his. His breath stuttered and he jolted back from you to blink with wide, shocked eyes. Immediately a hot flush of shame coursed through your body, searing behind your eyes and cheeks. Was he disappointed? Disgusted?

"I'm so sorry." If you could shrink back and disappear you would, but it's not like there was anywhere for you to go. Vash's brow furrowed again for a moment before his eyes blew wide once more, immediately taking your face in both hands as gently as he could.

"No, no it's alright! There's nothing wrong you just- just surprised me a little! That's not bad! I just- Aw jeez." He pressed a kiss to your lips, then your nose, then your forehead. "Please don't cry. I promise I'm not upset or anything, so don't cry, okay?"

"I'm not gonna cry! I'm just… embarrassed." You mumbled between squished cheeks, eyes trained down and away from Vash's sympathetic smile.

“There’s no need to be.”

“I know that.” You whined, covering your eyes with the palm of your hand. You felt another fluttering kiss on the tip of your nose, and peeked through your fingers to find Vash beaming at you. There was a cautious apprehension behind his eyes now though, a similar fear to what you knew you were currently feeling.

“There is, uh, something I have to tell you though.” He fidgeted a little, not quite meeting your gaze. “It’s just that my body is kinda… Well, it’s a little… different? And I don’t want to freak you out or anything. But if you do freak out… That’s probably completely valid, I’ll be honest.”

“Vash, I’ve seen your scars before. You know I don’t mind, right?”

He winced a little, lower lip jutting out in a bit of a pout. “...That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s a… It’s a PLANT thing.”

“Oh.” As Vash sat back on your thighs you propped yourself up a bit to meet his gaze. “Well, that’s alright too. I won’t judge you for anything you can’t control, Vash.”

“Yeah but it’s… It’s pretty out there.”

“Try me.”

Vash opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it, then shut it again, blush crawling its way up his cheeks with his fisted hands tucked into his lap. He twiddled his thumbs, worried his lower lip with his sharp teeth, and still failed to meet your gaze.

"It's, uh, it's just that it's a bit… different. My, uh… y'know?"

You'd been pretty oblivious to Vash's affections for you, but that didn't mean you were stupid. The way his gaze flickered down and then back up again when he spoke? The way one hand fisted the fabric of his pants and the other remained firmly tucked between his thighs, not quite against his crotch but definitely blocking it from your view? You could at least put those puzzle pieces together.

You rubbed the top of his knee with your hand, and tension seemed to melt from his stance with your touch alone.

"Would you… be willing to show me?"

He grimaced a bit, continuing to nibble on his lower lip until you ran the thumb of your other hand across it, trying to soothe the reddened skin. "I just don't want to freak you out or anything, is all."

"You really think at this point there's anything you could do or say to freak me out?" You bumped your forehead against his, the same way he had for you just moments ago. "Hate to break it to you, but you're kind of stuck with me now." He barked out a laugh, saying nothing but finally meeting your gaze, so you continued. "I don't want you to feel like you have to make yourself uncomfortable for my sake, but I also don't want you to run away from me. You trust me, right?"

"I do."

"Then trust that I won't run away either. I promise. I just want you, Vash, that's all."

He sucked in a shuddering breath, nodding softly against you. "Yeah. I want you too." Looking up at you through his eyelashes, he flashed you a cartoonish pout. "Maybe if someone gave me another kiss I'd get a bit braver?"

"You dork." You giggled, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him breathless once more. He leaned into you again, mouth open and eager, finally letting his hands trail back up your body where you'd wanted them. "Wait, switch with me."

"Hrmm? Whoa!" You wrestled Vash to the side, rolling the two of you over until you were now the one straddling his hips, not the other way around. He blinked up at you, mouth agape and lips slightly slick as he took in your form in the pale moonlight. "Oh. I could get used to a view like this."

With a single, sudden twist upwards of your arms, you pulled off your shirt and let it fall somewhere off the side of the bed, baring your chest to him fully. Vash gasped, hands squeezing against your soft sides as his gaze raked over your form.

"This one too…" He murmured. Trailing your fingertips down the length of his chest, you fiddled with the hem at the bottom of his shirt, lifting a bit but not quite tugging.

"This okay?"

He nodded, hands joining yours to help wrestle his shirt off over his head. Immediately you were upon him, a featherlight trail of lips and fingertips upon every inch of scarred skin, tracing the outline of the metal reinforcement over his left pectoral as gently as you could. Your thighs squeezed around his hips, the front of his loose pajama pants tented and straining where they met your clothed core. He was big, that much was obvious. Another roll of your hips, not accidental this time but intentional, left Vash gasping out a sharp, labored wheeze as his hips finally jerked forward against yours.

"Sensitive." He panted, shuddering helplessly as his hips stuttered forward again. "C-Careful, it's sensitive."

That sensitive, with several layers of clothes still between you? Now you were getting really curious. You rolled your hips again, friction sparking pleasure up your spine but it was nothing compared to the way Vash positively mewled, back arching and hips rutting erratically to meet you. A dark, damp spot was beginning to seep through the fabric at the tip. You cupped his clothed length with your hand as gently as you could. 'Sensitive.' You reminded yourself. But a bolt of surprise rocketed through you instead when you could swear that, just for a moment, you felt his cock squirm against you, pressing up into your hand without the aid of his hips.

"Please don't freak out." Vash wheezed. You squeezed his length again, pressing in firmly, but it was impossible to tell what writhing was from Vash squirming around and what came from, well, Vash squirming around.

"I'm not freaking out." You reassured him, and in all honesty you weren't. Were you surprised? Of course! But there wasn't really anything about Vash that could truly "freak you out" anymore, even this. You stroked his length through the fabric once more and watched that wet spot at the tip bloom farther and darker, Vash shivering like he'd just touched a live wire. "Is it okay to take these off? Only if you're okay with it."

You hooked a finger into the waistband and waited, Vash's gaze laser focused in on your hand. Slowly, carefully, he nodded. Fingers looped in the elastic of both his pajama pants and his boxers, you gave him plenty of time to change his mind as you tugged them down, Vash letting out a quiet, hitched gasp when his cock sprung free.

Well, Vash certainly wasn't lying about it being different. Arching upwards from between his legs was what you could only describe as a tentacle, thick base sprouting from slick folds at the apex of his thighs. It curled upwards towards his belly and tapered slim at the tip, beading semi-translucent liquid that dribbled down the length of the shaft. It wasn't the same shade as his skin; It was closer to a bluish-white, marked up the length with abstract patterning similar to the glyphs on the outside bulb of a PLANT. Vaguely you wondered if it was always out like this, or if it settled itself snugly within those wet, petal pink folds when he wasn't aroused. You had to think it did, if Vash was as sensitive as he made himself out to be, otherwise he'd be on the verge of cumming with each step he took.

On second thought, that wasn't a bad image either.

Vash gulped, squirming a bit under your gaze, knees pulling together but unable to close fully with your body in the way. "So, uh, you're not screaming. I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a good sign!" You smoothed a hand up the length of his thigh, pausing right at the junction of his hip, and his cock twitched towards you subconsciously like a writhing tendril. He seemed to shrink in on himself a little at this, shoulders pulling up towards his ears as he anticipated your reaction.

"Vash, God Vash… Do you even have any idea how pretty you are?" He had to know, you couldn't let him wake up tomorrow and just bumble around for the rest of his life not knowing. He was ethereal, scarred skin painted in hues of blush pink, cheeks burning, eyes soft and wide… He had to be a PLANT, because it just wasn't feasible for a normal human to be this achingly beautiful. "You're so, so pretty Vash."

"Oh." His breathing shuddered, hips twitching when you squeezed down on the fat of his thigh.

"Sensitive, right? I'll be careful, just tell me if it's too much, okay?" Fingertips trailing off the junction of his hip, you finally, finally, closed your palm around his length. It was hot, slick to the touch everywhere you put your fingers on it, and you could swear for just a moment that those glyphs pulsed with a faint blue-white light as Vash whimpered. "This is okay?"

He nodded furiously, hands fisting the bed sheets as he all but gasped for air. "Good! It's good. I haven't, it's been a long time since I- ohhh please…" Another bead of thick, slippery pre-cum drooled from the tip, slicking your palm as you moved it so slowly up the length of his cock, squeezing slightly on the downstroke and making Vash's back go concave against the mattress as he moaned. Heat burned low in your core, and you wrestled a hand down the front of your pajama pants to stroke your own slick folds directly. You couldn't help but picture how the silky writhing of his cock would feel inside of your pussy, slick oozing around where your bodies would meet as it pushed upwards into your aching core…

"Me too…" Vash groaned, hand grabbing for the waistband of your pants as he struggled to sit up. "Lemme touch you too, please." You stumbled off the bed for only a moment, but it was still far enough to make Vash whine at your lack of contact. Slick from Vash's cock smeared across the fabric as you wrestled both the pants and your underwear onto the floor before crawling back into Vash's lap like you couldn't stand to be away from him for another moment. His hands found your hips the moment you were within reach, rubbing soothingly up and down the outer curve of your thighs as he stared down at you, eyes swirling with arousal and adoration.

"Beautiful." He murmured, pressing his lips once more against the curve of your neck. "Tell me what you like, tell me how I can make you feel good."

Hand around his wrist, you guided him to the dark patch of hair between your legs. His fingers crooked carefully, curiously, two fingertips swiping upwards through your wet folds and catching over your clit. He shuddered when you moaned, the very act of giving you pleasure seeming to do him the same. Finding your clit again, he rubbed over it with his fingertips in slow, almost soothing circles.

"That's good." You cooed, taking him in hand again. "You're so good for me, Vash, such a good boy."

"Yes!" He moaned, his metal hand coming around to grip your ass, urging you to roll your hips against his hand. "Yes, 'm good, I'm so good." Sharp teeth dragged over your collarbone, just hard enough to send a prickle of pleasure up your spine. As you began to rock your hips he pressed his hand further in, letting you grind your clit against the heel of his palm as he slid his middle finger into your entrance. The intrusion was slick, effortless, and you couldn't help but moan as he curled his finger against your soft, hot walls. You pumped him again, another thick glob of pre-cum dribbling over your fingers as his cock wriggled in your grasp. "You feel so good inside." He continued to babble, drooling against your neck as he whined and gasped. "Wanna… wanna feel you, so bad…"

"Yeah?" You purred, shifting your hips further up his. With how keyed up you were you doubted you'd even be able to last more than a thrust or two with Vash inside you, but still you wanted. Nudging his hand out from between your legs, you shifted your hips down to trap his cock in between your pussy and his tense stomach as you rolled your hips and let it slip messily back and forth between your folds. Vash positively howled, head tossed back against the pillows as his other hand came around to grip your ass as well.

"Yes! Yes, please, oh please wanna make you feel so good." Shifting your hips to align his tip with your entrance, he peppered wet kisses across your neck and up your cheek as you hovered over him. You tipped your head to catch his lips with your own, moaning into his eager mouth as you finally let him nudge into you. Euphoria crackled up your spine with each small movement, an almost unbearable heat between the two of you as he shifted you so gently down his slick cock. It was almost effortless the way he slid inside, your combined wetness leaving no room for pain around the incredible pleasure as he stuffed you full, coiling and massaging your walls as you finally found your thighs resting on his and your lungs gasping for air.

"Oh, oh Vash." He shuddered at the sound of your name leaving his lips, hips snapping forward and once again driving the breath out of you as white-hot pleasure exploded behind your eyelids.

"Sorry, 'm sorry, not gonna last. Gotta make you cum, fuck, please cum for me…" His chest pressed to yours and his face pressed into the curve of your jaw, his hips thrust forward again, and again, wriggling one hand in between your sweaty bodies to thumb eagerly at your clit, rolling the swollen bud beneath the pad. You wailed, pleasure prickling tears at the corners of your eyes as your stomach coiled tighter, pushed you higher.

A sharp blossom of pain erupted from the crook of your neck, making you cry out as Vash growled against your skin. His sharp canines dug into your sensitive flesh, bruising the soft skin there and blooming pain and pleasure into a swirling cocktail of overwhelming sensation. You dug your nails hard into the flesh of his back, shivering helplessly in his grip. The desert had been cruel, and crueler still had been its people, but you would make sure that any marks you left on Vash would be ones he wasn't ashamed to show, to feel.

"Love you." You sobbed, bleary-eyed and desperate for release, babbling similar nonsense to Vash as you tumbled into pleasure-drunk ecstasy. "Love you, I love you I love you Vash!"

He wailed, teeth pressing further into your soft neck, hips stuttering forward once, twice more before he finally shuddered, pouring his load into your awaiting core. Molten heat flooded your pussy, sending you tumbling into your own release. Rapture flooded your senses, writhing in Vash's hold as waves of pleasure overtook you, walls fluttering helplessly around his length again, and again, and again. He was spilling so much into you, you could feel it pooling out around where the two of you were joined, slicking his thighs and inevitably staining the sheets below. Even as your own orgasm began to subside, little aftershocks of pleasure sparking in your mind, he was still spilling more into your fluttering heat.

"I love you." He sobbed into your neck, drool and tears dampening your skin as he clutched you tight, so tight. "Love you so much." His tongue lathed over the bruise his teeth had left behind, a silent apology for daring to leave a single mark upon your body. With a final, shaky thrust of his hips, he seemed to spill the last of his cum into you, muscles relaxing with a stifled groan. You curled a hand in the hair at the base of his neck, pressing a kiss to his temple as he nuzzled into you. He whined as his cock seemed to slip from your heat of its own accord, another gush of hot slick spilling from your entrance as it went limp.

"I've got you, baby." You cooed. Slumping gently into his lap and ignoring the sticky-slick feeling cooling between your bodies, you let yourself melt fully into Vash's gentle hold.

"...They're probably gonna charge you extra for cleaning, you know?" He quipped, and you could feel him grimace a little at the tacky feeling between your thighs. "A lot extra."

"I'll take my chances."

He guffawed against your neck, dragging you down to the mattress with him in a sticky heap. You curled into the curve of his body, head resting on his shoulder. His arm immediately rose to curl around you, pulling you tight against his side.

"Mmh, we should probably clean up." You mumbled, eyelids already beginning to flutter.

"...Five minutes?" He rumbled, pressing his nose into the crook of your jaw.

"Mmm… Five minutes."

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #trigun #my writing #long post #alien biology vash

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greedyhoneyz · 11 days

Text

One Born Every Minute

ೃ࿔*:･pairing: eren yeager x pregnant!mom!reader .ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: as first-time parents, both (name) and eren are filled with excitement and anticipation. (name) is ecstatic, whilst eren is increasingly worried and anxious about the unknown. but on the day of the birth, their roles are reversed - (name), reality finally sinking in, is overwhelmed and eren, supports her with a calm and supportive demeanour. .ೃ࿔*:･cw: angst. childbirth. inaccurate representation of birth. mostly fluff. .ೃ࿔*:･authors note: this is a long one, 2.2k words. the longest I've done in a while. i wanted to write a detailed story of reader and eren at birth, and used help to make this story sound as natural as I could make it. i hope that at least one part of this story can understand but overall, I think this story might be my new favourite.

The dreary lift ride to the delivery ward felt like an eternity, the soft hum of the elevator and the simultaneous tapping of (name’s) nails against her phone and Eren’s uneasy feet shifting across the lift floor only added to the tension in the air.

Eren stilled, tightening his grasp on the handles of (name’s) hospital bag and glanced at her. His lips were pursed, his eyebrows contorting inwards as he asked. “How are you feeling?”

Slowing the motion in her fingers, (name) turned away from her phone and peered up at Eren, a smile coming to her lips. “I feel fine.”

“That’s good…good,” Eren mumbled quietly, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Do you…need me…uh…did you think we forgot anything at home?”

“No,” (name) shook her head and wrapped her arm around Eren as best as she could despite her belly getting in the way. She rested her head on his shoulder, hugged him tightly, and reassured him. “We’ll be fine babe, we’re ready for this.”

The lift jolted to a halt and its door rustled open, greeting the couple with sounds and sights of the hospital hallway. People hurried by, doctors in scrubs rushed past, and the faint buzzing from the fluorescent lights above filled the air.

(name) followed Eren wilfully, panting between slow, steady breaths as he carefully led her across the hallway, following the signs to the delivery ward.

They reached the door to the ward, the muted sounds of labour echoing from within and entered, to be greeted by a nurse at the reception desk and her welcoming smile.

Eren and (name) stood at the ward’s reception desk, the sterile scent of the ward filled the air. (name) clutched her belly, her face contorting into a frown and held onto the desk for support as a tide of agony, rippled across her stomach in waves that came closer and closer together.

“Are you okay?” Eren asked fretfully. He clambered over (name), rubbed her middle and gently touched her shoulder.

Between the strikes of pain and shaky breaths, (name) tried her best to concentrate, to formulate her words yet all she could offer was a moan and weary grin as her hands trembled slightly.

Eren frowned, his eyebrows knitted together and knawed at his bottom lip. He greeted the nurse at the desk, whilst (name) riffed through her contractions and shuffled impatiently as she settled into her recliner. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, the gentle clicking of the keys a soothing backdrop to (name’s) muffled howls.

“Alright, I need you to fill out these forms before we get you settled in.” She handed Eren a clipboard with a stack of papers attached and he hurriedly took it. He skimmed through the paperwork, jotting down (name’s) medical history, and insurance information from memory, the scratch of his pen against the paper a steady rhythm.

Bunching the papers together, Eren returned the paperwork and watched diligently as the nurse promptly glanced through the information, ensuring everything was complete before tucking the papers into (name’s) file.

She stood from her chair and circled her desk, a clipboard tucked underneath her arm. She beckoned the couple over and gestured for them to follow her down the corridor. She led them past rows of closed doors until they reached room ‘406’.

“Okay, you’re gonna be right in here.”

“I’ll grab you a gown.”

Slam. The door shut, and Eren and (name) were left alone.

“It’s nice.” (name) spoke out between a few bated breaths, finally at ease. Her gentle voice filled the barren room as she carefully eased herself onto the edge of her bed.

Placing her bag at his feet, Eren glanced at (name). “What?”

“The room,” (name) murmured, motioning her hand across the room. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Eren breathed, pulling up a chair beside her. He sat down, sinking into its firm cushion, and tucked his feet beneath.

As Eren sat and drew a breath, he felt a sense of overwhelming fatigue wash over him. He had been running on little sleep, juggling work responsibilities and last-minute preparations for the baby's arrival. His mind was a constant whirlwind of worries - about (name’s) well-being, about the health of their baby, about the obscure challenges that lay ahead with childbirth.

“Here you go,”

The nurse entered with a warm smile bound to her face as she greeted the couple with a hospital gown in hand. She placed it on the bed beside (name) and after checking her watch, issued instructions to the couple. “After you get changed, we’ll come and check how far you’ve dilated.”

“Okay.” (name) nodded, shifting her gaze between the gown beside her and Eren.

“Great! See ya in a few.” Slam.

“You need my help?”

“Please,” (name) cajoled, raising her arms like she wanted him to carry her.

Rising from his seat, Eren helped (name) to her feet and into her hospital gown. She shuffled out of her sweatshirt and sweatpants and stepped into her gown. She struggled to manoeuvre her swollen belly into the gown but Eren’s hand steadied her fidgeting and carefully draped the fabric over her middle and slightly above her knee.

Eren stood back, fatigue swelled in his gaze and relished at the sight of (name’s) swollen belly. The sight of her middle, veiled beneath the loose fabric of the hospital gown, filled him with pride and gloom. Very soon, the belly he had watched grow, expand and move would be no more, and an infant, the size of a small watermelon, would replace it.

Wrapping his arm around her lower back, supporting her labour movements, Eren gently guided (name) towards the hospital bed. The hospital room was dimly lit, with only the sound of (name’s) heavy breathing, the soft hum of machines and the gentle beeping of monitors.

As they reached the bed, Eren helped (name) lay down. She sank into the mattress, letting out a relief smile as he fluffed up the pillows behind her and carefully tucked the sheets around, ensuring she was warm and comfortable. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his love and concern evident in his tired eyes.

(name) smiled up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and affection as she whispered. “Thank you.”

Eren returned to his seat beside her, his heart swelled with love as he gazed at his wife and her swollen middle.

With each contraction that belted through, came a bolt of agony that consumed (name’s) entire being. She yelled at the top of her lungs, her face flushed with frustration and pain, as her eyes squeezed shut. She gripped Eren’s hand tightly, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip and clamped her lips together as she pushed.

Eren could see the pain etched on his wife's face and could feel the heat of her breath against his skin as she struggled through each contraction– she was exhausted, stressed and in pain.

“You’re doing amazing, baby,” Eren whispered, his voice glinting between hints of admiration and concern. “I’m so proud of you. Just breathe, okay? You’ve got this.”

(name) nodded, her head bobbing to the side as she focused on tempering her breathing, desperate to find a rhythm that would ease the pain. Eren stood by her side, offering words of encouragement and gentle touches, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of labour.

“Eren?” (name) spoke, her voice shaky.

“Yeah, baby?” Eren replied, offering a warm smile.

(name) swallowed deeply, and slowly opened her mouth, yet no words emerged. Instead, a strangled cry escaped her lips, the dam of her emotions breaking in a rush of pain and despair, and the feeling of overwhelmingness. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked and unashamed as she wailed. “I-I should have taken the epidural. It hurts so much.”

Eren wrapped his arm around as best as he could, minding the side rails that separated him from his wife and the nurses working diligently around him. He held her face as she wept, and muttered words of tenderness and reassurance. “It's okay baby, you're doing great. Just a couple more pushes and he’ll be here. Okay? I know it hurts but you're almost done.”

As (name’s) tears began to subside, her chest heaved upwards and downwards in sporadic tremors. She lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and gazed at her husband. “...Eren…”

“I know baby,” Eren whispered. He leaned forward, pressing his chest against the side rail, and pressed a kiss to the side of (name’s) head and then to her soiled cheek. “You’ll be okay.”

The pain returned in stronger and more intense waves, and (name) howled. She writhed in discomfort and agony, jeering her head from left to right and squeezed Eren’s hand tighter. Her face contorted into a mean scowl, her breath coming in short and sharp gaps as she pushed and then exhaled and then pushed, inhaling deeply.

And when the pain stopped, Eren pampered (name) with his comforting touch; wiping away her tears and soothing her trembling figure with careful rubs. He held her as best as he could from beside her bed and urged her softly, his feathery voice a timid facade to the pacing worry pumping through his blood.

In a stop-start fashion, (name) pressed through labour steadily as the doctor on call and the nurses bustled around the room. They worked in perfect harmony, their movements choreographed with precision and and expertise. They checked (name’s) vitals, monitored the baby’s heart rate and adjusted the beeping monitors every so often.

And in the centre of it all, (name) laboured through her contractions, tears brimmed between her eyes. Sweat glistened above her brows, her breath escaping through ragged gasps and tired pleas.

“Alright, (name),” one of the nurses spoke, her voice gentle yet firm. “A couple more pushes and the baby will slip on out.”

(name) moaned tiredly and turned away, stuck in a lonesome daze. She could feel the wave of emotions building inside of her: doubt, resentment; anguish. Such emotions weighed heavily on her stomach, yanking at her resolve, her courage, her joy, until she crumbled.

The hospital room filled with the sound of soft, muffled sobs as (name) laid still, her sullen face tucked behind the few plaits draped across the side of her face, tears pooled down her cheeks and soiled her bed sheets. “I just want…I just want it to be over.”

Eren stared down at (name’s) trembling figure, dejection burned through his eyes. He reached out, took her hand, intertwining it in his own, and called her delicately. “(name).” He spoke, squeezing her hand.

“(name)– baby look at me,” He retorted firmly, beckoning her over with a gentle touch to the shoulder. “Look at me.”

She turned to him, her eyes welled with tears and hummed sullenly. “Yes.”

Eren spoke earnestly, his voice filled with conviction. “I know it hurts. I can’t even begin to imagine how it feels but our baby, your baby is ready and he wants to come out and the more we wait, the harder it is on him.”

“But–”

Eren shook his head. “I know. But he’s coming, he’s coming out to see you.”

(name) sniffled, a single tear rolled down her cheek as she took in Eren’s words. She squeezed his hand, holding it to her chest and whispered, her shaky voice thick with emotions. “Okay.”

Unweaving her fingers from Eren’s, (name) slowly sat up and lurched herself forward. Her chest pressed against her middle, her hands gripping the handles of her bed. A fierce look flashed through her eyes as with the last drop of strength left in her spirit, she let out a guttural grunt.

From between her legs, she felt the force of her baby crowing, tearing her flesh apart, and held her breath. She pushed, the baby’s head free from its cavern, and pushed, the baby’s shoulder untroubled, and pushed, the baby finally slipping into the hands of a neonatal nurse.

“There he is!”

A boy was born, and here he was nascent eyes opening, mouth rooting for milk.

He shrieked and finicked, shackled from neck to bottom and damp, and toted away from his lustrous mother to a bassinet, the thick air that once comforted him replaced by the palpable sense of anticipation and excitement echoed through alien voices and strange objects that toyed at his skin.

“Would Dad like to cut the umbilical cord?”

The nurse beckoned Eren over, a pair of scissors in hand and journeyed him to the bassinet. With trembling hands, Eren carefully cut the plump and pale cord, severing the physical bond that had sustained their child in the womb for nine long months. As he did so, a wave of adoration washed over him, a sense of deep joy and fulfilment.

And then, after what felt like an eternity the infant fell to the solace of his (name’s) bare chest, a white blanket draped across his body. He was dry after a brief wipe down but gleamed beautifully like no other, purple and all.

Erem glanced over his newfound family, tears rooting from the brims of his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of (name’s) head as she leaned into his touch, sighing woefully. His heart swelled with tenderness and relief, as gaze down (name) and their tiny newborn held in her arms.

"He’s here," he spoke between shaky breaths and a sniffle, a prideful smile pulling on his face. "You did it, baby."

#black!reader #eren x black reader #eren yeager x black reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger imagine #eren jeager x reader #aot x black reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan imagine

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hyperactively-me · 5 months

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king!ghost x reader -- home (part 2)

continuation from 'home (part 1)', word count: 6.1k

warnings: descriptions of injuries/blood/bruises, heavy angst, mentions of torture/torture tactics, trauma responses, ptsd, nightmares, deteriorating mental health

You’re awoken by Simon shaking you gently. As consciousness returns, you become aware of the warmth beside you. Opening your eyes, you find Simon, his features softened in the morning glow filtering through a curtain.

For a fleeting moment, you think you’ve just woken up in your chambers beside Simon, not a care or worry in the world, until you feel the dull ache of your battered body seep into you.

Right.

“Darlin’, you have to get up. It’s time to go,” Simon says as quietly as he can, yet you can sense his tone is slightly stern.

“We have to keep moving. Gonna go back home. How does that sound, lovie?”

His words pierce through your remnants of sleep, and you finally register the urgency in Simon’s tone. Reality floods back, dissipating into the sobering truth. You have heavy bags under your eyes that could be easily mistaken for bruises.

You nod, exhaustion still clinging to your limbs. “Home sounds good,” you whisper, your voice raspy but determined.

Simon helps you sit up, his touch gentle yet purposeful. The room spins momentarily, a reminder of the pain you’ve endured. You steady yourself, leaning against him for support. As you gather the strength to stand, Simon retrieves a bag packed with essentials, evidence of the necessity to keep moving.

“How far away are we?”

“Just over an hour or so away by horseback—”

You wince at that, and immediately Simon is reassuring you.

“Can’t promise it’ll be an easy ride, but we just need to get you back to the castle as soon as possible, yeah? Gaz is already preparing the horses.”

You bite your lip and nod reluctantly, “Okay.”

With Simon’s assistance, you manage to stand on your own, the room tilting slightly before steadying. Simon slings his arm over under your shoulder and takes a moment to look at you, concern etched in his features.

As you make your way out of the bedroom, you’re met with the kind faces of Soap’s mother and sister.

“Thank you for everything,” you say, your voice filled with genuine gratitude. “I’m sorry, I was kind of out of it yesterday—”

“No need to apologize, dear,” his mother gently scolds, yet reaches out for your hand to hold it, patting the back.

Soap’s sister smiles warmly, “Take care of each other. You’re always welcome here.”

Simon nods appreciatively, and you both step out into the crisp morning air. The small cabin provided a temporary rest, but you all knew you had to return home as quickly as possible to receive the best medical attention.

Gaz is waiting by the horses, their reins in his hands. His expression is stoic, but the concern in his eyes is evident. As you approach, he hands Simon a canteen and a small pouch of provisions.

“Stay vigilant. We don’t know what’s waiting for us out there, but it’s highly unlikely we’ll be met with anything dangerous on the trail we’re taking,” Gaz advises, his eyes flickering towards the dense trees surrounding the cabin.

“Understood,” Simon replies, giving Gaz a firm nod.

You take a deep breath, trying to muster the mental strength for the journey ahead. Simon helps you onto the horse, adjusting his cloak around your shoulders once more. He mounts behind you, ensuring you’re securely in place.

Gaz takes the lead, guiding the horses along a well-worn path that cuts through the forest. The early morning light filters through the leaves, casting a dappled pattern on the ground. The air is cool, carrying the scent of pine and earth.

As you ride, the rhythm of the horse’s gait reverberates through your body, each jostle sending waves of discomfort. Simon’s arms hold you firmly, providing stability as the forest passes by in a blur.

The journey is arduous, but the determination to reach your home keeps you going. After what feels like an eternity, the forest begins to thin, giving way to open fields. The castle looms in the distance, its towering spires a symbol of safety and familiarity.

You let out a sigh of relief when you see the towers, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. How exhausted you were, and the amount of pain you were in weighs you down.

“We're almost there,” Simon says, his voice carrying a mix of relief and anticipation.

As you approach the castle gates, guards spring into action, recognizing Simon and Gaz. The heavy gates creak open, revealing the courtyard beyond. The castle walls hold you inside their protective embrace, The horses are led to the stables, and you’re carefully helped down by Simon.

Almost immediately after you dismount the horse, you’re being ushered inside by royal personnel, advisors, and doctors. It all feels too overwhelming, having so many people around you when you just arrived home.

You start to breathe hard, chest heaving as you try to calm yourself down. Simon, ever attentive to you, notices immediately.

“Give her some space,” he growls, his protective instincts flaring up. The small crowd retreats, standing quite a few steps behind you two, giving you the room you need to breathe. Simon doesn’t waste a moment, keeping a steady arm around you and guiding you through the familiar corridors of the castle. The posse behind you follows, their murmurs and exchanges filtering through the hallways.

Eventually you reach the infirmary, sighing when a hoard of doctors rush to receive you. Their faces shift between concern and relief as they realize you’re alive and back. Simon doesn’t let a single person touch you until you’re firmly laying on a bed, and even then, he’s keeping close watch on where their hands travel. He knows they’re just doing their job, but he can’t help but notice your face contort into something akin to fear.

Gentle hands deftly unwrap the bandages Soap’s mother had done up for you, examining the various wounds and cuts underneath. Another inspects the splint for your wrist Soap’s mother had made, but decides to keep it on as it’s sturdy. The doctors work efficiently, tending to your injuries with a mix of salves, poultices, and heat compressions. A nurse appears with herbal tea, urging you to drink.

Simon stands by your side, his eyes never leaving you. As they work, you catch glimpses of Simon’s expression—a mix of guilt, worry, and a fierce determination to make things right.

He can sense you’re grappling with the overwhelming environment of the infirmary. The sterile smell, multiple people tending to you, and the constant bustle of medical staff was disorienting to say the least. Especially after being treated extremely harshly at the hands of your captors. He takes your uninjured hand in his, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s alright, dove. They’re just making sure you're okay,” he whispers in your ear only for you to hear.

You manage a weak smile, appreciating the grounding presence of Simon beside you. The doctors and nurses work diligently, their experienced hands moving with precision. The pain is dulled by the herbs and salves they apply, and gradually, you start to feel the exhaustion seeping in once again, having had only about four hours of sleep the night before. The new bandages around your wounds feel fresh against your skin.

The head physician, a wise-looking woman with graying hair, steps forward. She speaks in hushed tones to Simon, discussing the details of your injuries and the required treatments. Simon nods, his expression serious but determined. You appreciate how involved he is, ensuring that every decision made aligns with your overall well-being. You missed having him around the past few months, having to fully take care of yourself in his absence. Not to say that you never took care of yourself when he is around, but it was nice to know that your husband was looking out for you to the best of his abilities.

As the medical team finishes their work, the physician turns to address you. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal, but you’re in good hands now. Physically, you’ll recover with time and care. Rest is essential for your recovery. Emotionally, that’s another thing. That may take longer to heal.”

Simon nods, his jaw set. Your eyes flit down, swallowing thickly at the doctor’s words.

The doctor nods solemnly. “We’ll keep a close eye on you, and if you need anything, don't hesitate to let us know, your majesty. Other than that, you’re free to retire to your bedchambers to rest there. We can accommodate and bring the medicines to your chambers if that’s what you prefer?”

You nod gratefully, the thought of returning to the familiar comfort of your bed sounding like a dream. The doctor gives you a gentle smile before instructing the attending nurses to prepare the needed medications and supplies.

Simon helps you stand, steadying you with a supportive arm around your waist. The room seems to tilt slightly, and you’re reminded once more of the toll the past days have taken on your body. The tea you drank helped slightly with your dizziness, but it was still lingering in the corners of your vision.

“Take it slow, love,” Simon murmurs, guiding you out of the infirmary.

After a few more steps, the blows you took to your body start to ache even more. With a frustrated sound, you look up to Simon, “Can you please just carry me?” you ask.

Simon’s expression softens, and without a moment’s hesitation, he scoops you up into his arms, cradling you with the utmost care. The weightlessness is a relief, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent – a musky mix of earthy cologne and spices.

He carries you through the castle halls, ignoring the curious glances and hushed whispers from the castle staff that follow your passage. Simon’s protective embrace is a reassuring presence, shielding you from prying eyes. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his steps starts to lull you to sleep. God knows you’ve needed it after barely sleeping the past few days.

Simon kicks open the doors to your bedroom and immediately beelines towards the bed. The softness of the mattress welcomes you, and you release a sigh of relief as Simon carefully lays you down. He pulls the covers over you, tucking them snugly yet carefully around your body. The dim light filtering through the curtains casts a warm glow in the room.

Do you need anything?” he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

“Just you,” you reply softly, reaching for his hand. Simon’s lips curl into a small smile, and he settles beside you on the bed. His eyes are fixed on you with tenderness and concern, and he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light.

For a while, there's a comfortable silence as you both absorb the fact that you're finally back in the safety of the castle. Simon runs his fingers through your hair, a soothing gesture that eases the tension in your shoulders.

“I'm going to make sure they pay for everything,” Simon says, his voice low and determined. “No one hurts you and gets away with it.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, appreciating the fierce protectiveness in his gaze. Yet, beneath the surface, you just want him to comfort you, stay with you. “I just want to rest."

Simon's expression softens even more, and he nods understandingly. “Rest, lovie. I'll be right here.”

As your eyes fall closed, you feel the weight of the past days finally catching up with you. The torture, the pain, the fear—all seem to blur into a haze as the exhaustion takes over. Simon remains by your side, a silent guardian watching over your sleeping form.

. . .

“Well, what’s it gonna be, hm? Answer me, little princess.” A voice rings out.

You’re stuck, the restraints on the chair biting into your wrists, and you instinctively pull against them, but they hold you captive. Shepherd stands in front of you menacingly, tools of pain and destruction strewn about in front of you.

“Stop, stop,” you sob, tears streaming down your face as the man approaches.

Shepherd leans in, his face now partially visible, twisted into a sinister grin. “Oh, you know exactly what I want, don’t you, little princess? Information. Secrets. Things only you can provide.”

“Get away from me!” you cry out, desperation clawing at your throat. The room feels oppressive, the darkness seeping into your bones as your heart races.

He picks up a menacing looking tool, running it along the table with a sickening scraping sound. The metallic echo reverberates in your ears, intensifying your terror.

“Not until you talk.” Shepherd's voice is a low growl, and he looms over you, his eyes devoid of mercy. “Ghost won’t find you here. Not ever.”

You jolt awake, gasping for air, your body drenched in a cold sweat. The room is extremely dark, and you’re barely able to see anything. Anxiety is immediately tightening its grip around you, constricting your lungs. Your breath comes in ragged bursts, and you clutch at the sheets, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

Where are you? Are you safe?

“Simon,” you call out, your voice a soft plea in the darkness. Tears pool in your eyes, threatening to spill over.

The darkness feels suffocating, and for a moment, the memories of captivity wrap around you like a vice. The echo of your own voice lingers in the quiet room, and then you hear the rustling of sheets as Simon moves beside you.

“Simon,” you say again, louder, now trying to stifle a sob.

In the hushed darkness, you feel the mattress shift as Simon sits straight up, moving to hover over you. His voice cuts through the shadows. “‘M here, love. Right beside you." His hand finds yours, offering a comforting grip.

You wrench your hand back from his grip, shooting up in bed, breaths quick and shallow. Panic claws at every fiber of your being, and your surroundings seem unfamiliar, even in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window. Simon recoils, concern morphing onto his face.

“What—love, what’s wrong?” Simon’s voice is sharp, confusion and worry creeping in.

You scramble backward, pressing yourself against the headboard, eyes wide and scanning the room. The walls, the furniture, everything is a puzzle, pieces that don’t fit together. The air feels thick with dread. You blink rapidly, trying to orient yourself.

Simon tries to reach for you again in an attempt to calm you down, to ground you. The moment you see his hand reaching for you, you stumble off the bed, nearly falling down.

“Don’t touch me!” you plead, your voice trembling with fear. Your heart pounds against your ribs, and the room begins to spin.

Simon freezes, his hands mid-air, caught between wanting to comfort you and respecting your distress. His eyes search yours, desperate to understand and help. “Dove, it's me. It’s Simon. You’re safe.”

But the words fall on deaf ears, clouded by anxiety and disorientation. The room seems to shift, and the castle walls close in, reminiscent of the confined space in the dream. Every sound, every shadow, feels like a potential threat.

“I don’t… I don’t know where— I need air,” you choke out, desperately seeking distance from the nightmare that still clings to your mind. Simon watches, helpless, as you retreat further, eyes darting around as if expecting something to pop out of the shadows.

This is something he’s heard of before, experienced himself. Simon remains on the bed, his eyes tracking your every move with a mix of concern. He wants to reach out to you, to pull you back into his arms, but he knows he must tread carefully. The trauma you’ve endured has left scars, and he’s acutely aware that pushing too hard might only intensify your distress.

“Darling,” Simon calls softly, the tenderness in his voice cutting through the darkness. “You're safe, in the castle. No one can hurt you.”

You clutch onto the soft fabric of your pajamas, your gaze fixed on some invisible threat only you can see. Simon inches off the bed, moving with caution, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Let me help you,” he implores, his voice a soothing murmur. “We’re in the castle. Look around, love. This is our home.”

Your breathing is erratic, chest rising and falling with each panicked gasp. Simon takes a step closer, making sure to keep a respectful distance. He can see the distress on your face, the haunted look in your eyes.

“Remember, you’re not there anymore. You’re here with me. Simon,” he says, pointing to himself. “Your husband.”

You blink rapidly, the fog of the nightmare gradually lifting. His familiar voice, the gentle reassurances, start to cut through your panic. The corners of the room seem to retreat, and the shadows lose their threatening edge.

“I’ve got you,” Simon continues, inching closer. “‘M here, and you’re safe.”

Recognition flickers in your eyes, a spark of awareness breaking through the remnants of the nightmare. Slowly, your breathing steadies, and you start to fully register the details of the room—the familiar furniture, your bed, and Simon, standing there with genuine concern etched on his face.

“I’m here,” he repeats, now close enough to reach out if you allow it. “Can I touch you, dove?”

You nod shakily, granting him permission. Simon extends a gentle hand, letting it hover in the air for a moment. When you don’t recoil, he brushes his fingertips against your arm, a feather-light touch.

“You’re back in the castle, with me,” he murmurs, his other hand moving to cup your cheek. “No one can hurt you here. Nobody.”

The reassurance in his touch begins to dissolve your residual fear, and you find yourself drawn to the warmth and familiarity of Simon’s presence. The room stops its disorienting spin, and you lean into his touch, grounding yourself in the reality of the castle.

You finally sink into his embrace, and Simon pulls you in gently, his arms secure around you. A hiccuped sob escapes you, tears freely falling down your cheeks. He lets you release the pent-up emotions, pain radiating through his entire being. Your tears dampen his chest, his heart constricting when he feels them. All that matters to him at this moment is providing you with the comfort you need.

“It’s okay, dove. Let it out,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm. He continues to stroke your back in soothing circles, offering silent support. The heat radiating from his chest comforts you, pulling you into something real, something tangible. The walls of your bedroom, which once felt like they were closing in, now provide a protective barrier. You’re safe, and Simon is here with you.

As your sobs gradually subside, you pull back slightly, meeting Simon’s gaze. Those ever reactive eyes reflect genuine concern, love, and a fierce determination to be there for you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently, fully prepared to listen. He himself has experience, knowing that sometimes, putting those nightmares into words can be a step towards processing. This is your first of many, unfortunately.

You take a deep breath, the tremors in your chest slowly easing. “It was... Shepherd. The torture,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The memories of the nightmare still cling to the edges of your mind.

Simon takes a sharp intake of breath, jaw tightening at the mention of Shepherd, a surge of anger flashing in his eyes. He pulls you into his embrace once more, arms tighter. “You’re safe now. He can’t reach you here.”

You press your cheek against his chest, finding peace in the steady beat of his heart. You run your hands up and down his back, breathing in his scent.

Simon takes a moment before speaking, choosing his words carefully. “I can’t promise that the nightmares will go away overnight, lovie. But I can promise you this—I will be here for you, through every one of them.”

You look up at Simon, your eyes locking with his. His sincerity and determination resonate in those brown eyes that have seen far more than what you ever could imagine. A sense of gratitude washes over you. “Thank you,” you whisper, the weight of his words and the support he offers lifting some of the burden from your shoulders.

Simon places a gentle kiss on your forehead, a silent reassurance. “Get some rest, love. ‘M not going anywhere.”

Simon guides you back to the bed, helping you settle in comfortably. He tucks the blankets around you, making sure you’re secure. He remains by your side, a vigilant presence, until your breaths even out, signaling that you’ve fallen back asleep.

Simon shuffles closer to you, laying an arm over you so you can feel his presence subconsciously. As he watches over you, his mind churns with conflicting emotions—anger towards those who hurt you, concern for your well-being, and an overwhelming love that makes him swear to protect you at all costs.

Simon reflects on the challenges that lie ahead, knowing that he’s going to do whatever it takes to take down Shepherd.

. . .

Simon refuses to leave your side for the next two days, spending every waking moment right next to you. You don’t leave your bed at that time, opting to have the doctors come to your room to check you out twice daily. The doctors administer more medicines and herbal remedies to you, checking your vitals, your wounds, and your fractured wrist. The castle staff has been informed of the situation, and they treat you with a combination of respect and sympathy. During the times Simon did have to leave your side to tend to important meetings of discussing striking back against Shepherd, multiple members of court would approach him left and right, inquiring about your state. Although Simon didn’t speak much to them, he still ensured them that you would be fine, in time.

Simon attends to your every need, fetching whatever you desire and offering quiet companionship. His protective presence provides a sense of security, giving you peace of mind for the most part.

Another morning passes, and the doctor comes in. “How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to assess yourself. The dull ache is still present, but it's a far cry from the intense pain of a few days before. You manage a small smile, "A little better, I think."

The doctor reaches for a tray on a nearby table, revealing a light breakfast. “You need to keep your strength up, your majesty.”

You nod appreciatively, understanding the importance of nourishing your fragile body during the recovery process. As you eat, the doctor continues to monitor your vital signs and asks about any specific changes in your pain levels.

Simon, ever attentive, hovers nearby, ready to assist with anything you might need. He pours a cup of tea and hands it to you, the warmth soothing against the palm of your hands.

After the examination, the doctor offers a reassuring smile. “Your progress is promising, your majesty. I’ll continue the current treatments, and we'll monitor your recovery closely. If there's anything specific you need or if you’re experiencing discomfort, don’t hesitate to call upon us.”

You express your gratitude, acknowledging the doctor’s expertise and care. As they leave, Simon settles back into his seat beside you, his gaze filled with a mixture of concern and affection.

“I was thinkin’,” Simon starts, his tone gentle, “maybe a change of scenery would do you good. How about we spend some time in the garden? Fresh air might help you feel a little better.”

You consider the suggestion, appreciating his effort. “That sounds nice, actually. A bit of sunlight might help.”

Simon helps you get dressed in comfortable clothes and ensures you’re bundled up appropriately. Slowly, with his arm supporting you, you make your way to the castle courtyard. Each step feels heavy, but getting out of bed even just for a little bit feels good. The sun, though not too high in the sky, is hidden behind some rain clouds, yet there’s a faint glow over the cobblestone paths and surrounding greenery.

The courtyard is alive with the sounds of birdsong, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers. Benches are scattered around, inviting you into their embrace. Taking a deep inhale, your lungs fill with the fresh air, invigorating your sore body.

Simon guides you to a secluded spot and helps you settle on a bench. He takes a seat beside you, looking out into the blissful garden.

As you sit in the open air, you feel a subtle shift in your mood. You feel a bit lighter, and the combination of sunlight and fresh air brings a sense of renewal. For the first time in almost a week, you feel distracted from the trauma you had endured. The pain persists, but it’s a bearable ache compared to the torment you endured. The weight on your shoulders Simon, sensing the change, smiles at you.

“It's good to see you out here, y’know,” Simon says, his gaze filled with genuine joy.

You return his smile, appreciating the effort he’s put into making sure you’re okay. The garden, with its brilliant flowers and the soothing sounds of nature, provides a welcome distraction. The gentle rustle of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the subtle fragrance of flowers create a serene atmosphere.

“Being out here helps,” you say quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder.

Simon nods, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

A distant rumble of thunder draws your attention, and you look up at the sky. The clouds gather above, hinting at an impending rain shower. A few droplets fall, and Simon stands up, extending a hand to help you up.

“We should probably go back inside before it starts pouring,” Simon suggests, not wanting you to catch a fever in your already vulnerable state.

You agree, letting him pull you up. Slowly, you both make your way back to the castle, the raindrops intensifying as you reach the door. By the time you’re inside, the rain is pouring outside, tapping against the windows.

Back in the comfort of your chambers, you change back into comfortable clothes. The sound of rain is like a gentle lullaby, and you find solace in the sound. Your exertion just from going outside catches up to you, making you feel tired.

“Thank you, Si,” you say, sincerity lacing your words.

Simon smiles. “Always, love.”

As the rain continues to fall outside, you settle back into the warmth of your bed, grateful for your garden outside. In this moment, surrounded by the gentle pitter-patter of rain, you find a glimmer of hope and the strength to face whatever lies ahead.

. . .

You wake up in a cold sweat, chest heaving with each ragged breath you take.

“I’m right here, love,” Simon's voice reaches you, a comforting presence in the blackness of the bedroom. Your breaths are ragged, and it takes a moment for you to recognize him. His fingers lightly trace over your hand, allowing you to pull back if you needed. You don’t, instead lacing your fingers through his.

An involuntary shiver runs through you, the echoes of your torture still lingering in your subconscious. Simon senses your unease and shifts closer, his warmth a shield against the shadows.

“Do you want some light?” he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. The room is illuminated by a soft, warm glow as Simon lights a bedside candle. The familiar surroundings of your chamber come into focus, and the anxiety begins to ebb.

“Better?” Simon asks, his eyes searching yours.

You manage a small nod. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Simon’s gaze remains gentle, trying not to let his concern worry you. He shifts to a more comfortable position, propping himself up on his elbow and running his fingers through your hair.

“Nightmares again?” he asks softly, already knowing the answer.

You nod, the images still vivid in your mind. Simon leans down, placing a tender kiss on your temple.

“I wish I could take away those memories, dove. I hate seeing you go through this,” he murmurs, his voice filled with empathy and frustration.

You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare.

“It's like they never want to let go,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I hate seeing you suffer like this. If there’s anything I can do—”

You cut him off gently, your fingers finding his. “Just having you here is enough. I know it's hard for you too.”

Simon sighs, a heavy weight in the sound. “I wish I could do more.”

Your gaze meets his, filled with gratitude. “You’re doing everything you can. It's not your fault.”

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I just want you to be okay.”

You swallow thickly, nodding in agreement.

“I felt so alone,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "In that cell, in the darkness…”

Simon's hand tightens around yours, as if grounding himself in the reality of your presence. "You're here now. That's what matters."

. . .

Simon is more of a man who searches for solutions to issues rather than sitting around waiting for someone to do something. He grew into being a natural leader from a young age, taking charge no matter the cost. In the days that follow, as you continue your recovery, Simon becomes more involved in the plans to get revenge against Shepherd. He spends hours strategizing with military advisors, intelligence officers, Price, and Gaz. The plans are kept secret from the vast majority of the castle, only a select few involved in them.

Simon’s heart aches witnessing the toll Shepherd’s cruelty has taken on you.

He notices how quiet you’ve been, how withdrawn you’ve been. He doesn’t miss the way your face is almost always twisted into a small frown, or how hollow your normally bright eyes look. He doesn’t miss the way you clutch onto the nearest thing when he approaches you, hands tense and gaze intense until you’re reassured that you’re not being threatened.

It was enough so that you admitted you couldn’t sleep in the spot of the bed closest to the balcony where you were originally abducted. That same day, Simon had your bed moved to the complete opposite side of the room, and you slept in the corner farthest away from the doors. Simon had also stationed his top knights in front of your bedroom door and balcony doors, their figures menacing and imposing, yet providing a level of protection Simon was satisfied with.

Some nights are better than others, but for the most part you wake up in a panic, flinging yourself off the bed. It always takes a few minutes to coax you back to the bed, to calm you down enough for you to realize that you’re in Kastron and that you’re safe. It breaks Simon’s heart a little bit every night, the way your face contorts into pure, unbridled terror when you wake up in the middle of the night.

The knights outside hear your screams sometimes, tensing until they hear Simon’s reassuring voice calling out to you.

These meetings that Simon told you he was going to, you knew the true nature of them.

You always knew in the back of your mind that Simon was determined to find Shepherd, enough to the point that he won’t rest until Shepherd pays for the pain he inflicted upon you and Kastron. Revenge is not something you seek, but the idea of Shepherd facing consequences for his actions is a step toward closure. And, unbeknownst to you, Simon had already asked Soap to stay by your side in the days he’s going to be gone.

Simon refuses to talk about the plans to you, with you, and around you. The plans were strictly talked about in the war room, and if anyone was caught talking about them outside of the space, they would be punished.

Simon feels as though he’s running out of time to find Shepherd, each day passing making it harder to track him down.

In the war room, Price’s voice is steady and authoritative.

“We’ve gathered enough intelligence. Shepherd is holed up in a fortress to the southwest,” Price says, his gaze meeting Simon’s. “The plan is to assemble a team and launch a strategic assault. It won't be easy, but we’re preparing the most capable soldiers we have.”

Simon’s eyes reflect a burning resolve as Price speaks, looking over at Gaz. His jaw clenches at the mention of Shepherd, his eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and determination.

Simon nods at Price. “We go in under at night. Stealth is our advantage. We hit hard and fast, catching them off guard. But I want to minimize casualties. We’re not stooping to Shepherd's level.”

Gaz affirms the plan. “Agreed. We’ll need every advantage we can get. They won’t see us coming.”

The select few in the room nod, the plan now to be set in motion any day now.

. . .

The small specialized force group is abuzz with whispers and preparations, but Simon keeps you shielded from the specifics. He spends every available moment with you, offering a reassuring presence amid his preparations to leave, this time for at most two days.

The evening before the group is set to leave, the moon hangs high in the sky. Simon enters your shared chambers, his expression tired yet determined. You’re reading a book, encapsulated in the story. Reading has provided a great distraction the past few days. Simon sits in the bed beside you, taking a breath. He takes your hands in his, causing you to drop your book. The warmth of his touch seeks to reassure you, however, the tension in his shoulders doesn’t waver.

“I need you to know,” he begins, his gaze unwavering, “that everything I do, every decision I make, is to protect you and our home.”

That immediately catches your attention, and a sinking feeling rushes through you.

“Shepherd will be held accountable, but I want you safe. I won't let anything happen to you.”

Of course. This is about revenge. You really don’t want him to leave, yet a tiny part of you was happy knowing that Shepherd would get what is coming to him.

“I need to leave for a couple of days,” Simon says, his voice steady but carrying a hint of sadness. Despite the fatigue etched on his face, there’s a fire in his eyes, a determination that both worries and frustrates you.

“I know, Simon. But you can't keep leaving like this,” you respond, frustrated. “Every time you go, I’m left here wondering if you'll come back. It’s tearing me apart.”

Simon tightens his grip on your hands, his gaze never leaving yours. “I hate leaving you, love. You have no idea how much it breaks my heart. But we’re at a crucial point, and I can’t afford to let this opportunity slip away. Shepherd needs to pay for what he’s done, and Kastron and you deserve justice.”

Your anger flares, and you pull your hands away. “I’ve been through hell, and you leaving doesn’t make it any easier. I need you here. I need you to help me get through this.”

Simon's jaw clenches, his frustration mirroring yours. “And I want to be here, more than anything. But if we don't act now, Shepherd might get away, and who knows when we’ll get another chance. I promise, this is the last time. Two days, love. I’ll be back in two days.”

The room falls silent, the weight of his impending departure settling heavily. You feel torn between understanding the necessity of his actions and the desire to keep him by your side.

“I hate this,” you admit, your voice breaking. “I hate that every time something goes wrong, you have to go.”

I feel so alone.

Simon’s eyes soften, and he cups your face in his hands. “I swear, once this is over, I’m dedicating all my time to you. No more running off.”

He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead. “I love you, and I'll be back before you know it.”

A sense of emptiness lingers within you. You can’t shake the feeling of being left behind, no matter the cause. You’re left grappling with conflicting emotions, feeling sickened at the thought of being away from Simon once again with no guarantee he would come back.

When Simon left to find Shepherd, you didn’t know how much his absence would truly affect you…

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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