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marvelstoriesepic · 2 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.

#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

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asvterias · 8 months

Text

𝖯𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖡𝗈𝗒 ~ 𝖩𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖱𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌

Part 2 | Part 3

Warnings: Jealousy & Allusions to Sex/Sexual Thoughts

Pairings: (FWB) Jaime Reyes x (FWB) Black!Fem!Reader, Best Friend!Milagro x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: Being friends with benefits with Jamie is hard to keep undercover, in hopes of Milagro never finding out. The number #1 rule is to be strictly sexual and not explore romantic feelings for the other. What happens when that rule is broken?

Word Count: 2.5k+

Tag List: @drqcrys @mageneire @websterss @pxachy-tea @moralesszz @odiesdayoff @allthingsvicf @tinkerbelle05 @alienstardust @lemonyboy97 @alastorhazbin @writing-fanics @veronicarose20 @conicoroahre @gay-dorito-dust @presidentbarbieirl @kayla2233454-blog @sodacatz @n7cje

Author’s Note: Watched the Blue Beetle movie recently and I was hooked on Jaime Reyes. This is my first time writing for Jaime Reyes, so he might be a little out of character but hopefully you like it!

Spanish Translations

“Por qué me estás mintiendo, Jaime?” — “Why are you lying to me, Jaime?”

Sneaking around can be full of excitement alongside the adrenaline of the whole ordeal. You and Jaime were secretly fooling around, being extremely cautious around his sister who was also your best friend. You didn’t even know how you ended up in this complicated relationship with Jaime Reyes. It started with two people under the influence of alcohol, both with the straightforward intention of getting laid and it ended with a confused hangover and a hurried conversation of forgetting about the whole affair.

At first, you two had avoided each other like the plague, sometimes accidentally crossing paths whenever you visited the Reyes residence or from basic errands that needed to be fulfilled.

Then the longer you two distanced yourselves from each other, the more agonizing it felt for the both of you. One day, Jaime snapped which led up to you two heading to bed for a passionate night. The morning after having sex, you two discussed your unofficial relationship and coming to terms with being friends with benefits and nothing more than that.

It was a simple and easy rule to follow, right? Wrong! How very wrong that you were! Too bad that you were breaking the rule. How could you not fall in love with him? With those beautiful doe dark brown eyes, his long curly hair, and his alluring personality, not to mention being completely star-struck when riding his di—

Oh, his voice…him speaking Spanish to you while in the most intimate positions has you craving for more.

You always missed the comfort of his arms at night as you watched him get dressed and leave, heading back home to avoid suspicion from his family. If Jaime’s family ever caught wind that he was not technically single, they would go ballistic, eager to meet the person and neither of you wanted that unnecessary attention.

It was finally official, you certainly loathed mornings, especially when Jaime spent the nights before. There were rare moments when he’d be able to stay the night with you. Luckily for you, today was one of those rare days.

Normally, he would claim that he’s the big spoon, but his sleepy smile widens when you’re the big spoon instead. His favorite sleeping position is lying on top of the softness of your breasts. Sometimes he would wake up face first right in the plushness of your breasts, that was always a good way to start the morning, wasn’t it? Your hands would subconsciously tangle themselves through his thick curly hair, softly massaging his scalp, sending him into a peaceful sleep.

You stirred yourself awake, no longer feeling the presence of Jaime lying on top of you. You tiredly stretched out your limbs, wincing at the soreness from your breasts down to your mid-thighs. Jaime certainly wore you out last night.

Very faintly, you heard the quiet shuffling and muttering of words. Regretfully, you slowly open your eyes, your eyelids still heavy as you rub the sleep out of them.

“Hmm…morning Jaime.” You yawn, scratching your braids through the satin red bonnet.

“Did I wake you?” He mutters walking over, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead, and continuing the search for his belongings. You assumed that he just came out of the shower. He wore a towel around his waist, dripping wet, glistening over his abs and that sight made you think unholy things. There was no way that you were still thirsty for him. Come on, you’re still recovering from last night and you were greedy for more the following morning?! Have some self-control, for once!

You shook your head, disposing of the lustful thoughts. “Wanna stay for breakfast?” You suggest, nervously gnawing on your lower lip.

“I would love to, but I have to quickly run an errand for my mami and then head over to work with Jenny.” He dried himself off, putting on a pair of boxers and an undershirt.

He opened your closet, digging out his ironed suit that you prepared a few days ago.

“When are you off this week?”

“Today and Sunday are my only days off this week.” You inform him, watching him get dressed, “I could run the errand with Mrs. Reyes, so you’ll get a balanced breakfast before heading to work.”

“Oh, really thanks (Y/N).”

“Anytime, pretty boy.” You reply, taking your bonnet off. Jaime blushes at the nickname, feeling giddy whenever you use that phrase. “What time do I need to leave?”

“About a quarter past eight..” He murmurs observing his watch.

“Speak English, please.”

“It’s 8:15 and my mami needs to leave around 9:30.” He advises, looking at your vanity. “Where’s my necklace?” He turns to you.

“You have to come get it..” You tease, wiggling the piece of jewelry in your hand. He chuckles at your playful yet seductive tone.

Crawling to you across the bed, he gives you a soft kiss making you caress his face. The slow sensual kiss lasted a few seconds, and even though you wanted to stay in the loving moment, air had become difficult to maintain, both of you pulling away from the kiss. You flutter your eyes open, catching him staring into your eyes with a hidden glint that makes you flush, which makes those butterflies run wild in your stomach.

“Come here, I’ll help you put on your tie.” You offer, shuffling towards the edge of the bed.

He sighs, allowing you to fix the tie underneath his collar. Your faces were so close that you could have fainted right then and there, completely embarrassing yourself on the spot. You started to worry, wondering if he felt you staring at him. Turns out, he was admiring you and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Once you finished his tie, you cleared your throat and smoothed over his suit, straightening out invisible wrinkles.

The Mexican boy faces you again. “What time do you get off on Saturday?”

“Probably by 10 or 11 pm.”

“Perfect! I’ll see you Saturday night.” He promises, giving you a reassuring nod.

“Yeah,” You agree with a lovesick smile on your face, “I’ll see you Saturday.”

You handed him the necklace but he stopped you, “Keep it, it looks better on you anyway.”

You tilt your head to the side, feeling yourself tingle with goosebumps as he appears from behind you and he gently brushes your braids away. You gathered your braids together, bunching them up into a messy makeshift ponytail, giving Jaime area to put the necklace on. Once he clasps the jewelry on your neck, you release your braids as you grin at him.

Smiling sweetly in response, he steals one last kiss from you and hurriedly leaves, shutting the front door. Even though you two were friends with benefits, he still was the kind and sweet man that you knew all those years ago.

You sigh, lingering your fingers on the necklace, fawning over the mere kiss that he shared with you. It was an empty kiss so it should be treated as meaningless, but it hurts your heart for you to wish otherwise.

Later that evening, Milagro helped you pick out an outfit for your blind date. Jaime tagged along with Milagro, under the impression of wanting privacy from his family.

You and Milagro picked out a nice evening dress, concluding that it was the perfect dress.

“You look so sexy in this.” Milagro squeals, momentarily catching Jaime’s attention. His eyes shift from his sister to yours, scanning the outfit that you are wearing, shamelessly checking you out. You did a little twirl to display the entirety of the dress, your eyes solely locked on Jaime to figure out his reaction. She was right, you looked so sexy in the dress. Maybe too sexy for another guy.

He noticed the mischievousness in your body language and decided that two could play that game.

“So…” Jaime ponders, lightly gritting his teeth, using his phone as a distraction, “What do you know about this guy?” His question was directed to you, attempting to conceal his jealousy. Slow and steady wins the race.

You turned to Milagro who spoke for you, “Duh, dummy, we don’t know who it is, that's why it’s called a blind date.”

“Wait! You’ve never even met this person before?” His eyes widened in surprise, processing the newfound information.

“Jaime, are you slow or something?” His sister asks. She rolled her eyes and continuously tapped her forehead, “Think, dear brother. Just think.”

He fakes grins at his sister and looks back at you. “It could be dangerous for you.”

“Okay, and I have a taser in my purse if anything goes wrong. I can take care of myself.”

“Why are you so interested in my best friend’s love life all of a sudden?”

“Just looking out for her.” He mumbles.

“Hmmm…” She sounds skeptical, surprisingly trusting her brother’s word.

All of a sudden, Milagro’s phone rings, indicating that her pizza order is ready. “I’m gonna pick up the pizza. Be back in 30 minutes.” She grabs your car keys and her wallet, leaving the apartment.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Jaime spoke his concerns for you.

“So…you’re going out with someone else.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Then you should also know that I’m going out with someone else.” He boasts proudly with a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh, really?” You bite the inside of your cheek as jealousy boils through your veins at the thought of Jaime seeing someone else. Surprisingly, you managed to keep your jealousy at bay, refusing to let Jaime have the upper hand here.

You realized what he was doing, and he wasn’t going to win. It was so obvious that he was lying to you. So he decided to stretch the lie, just to witness your breaking point, “Her name is Maria Gonzalez, her family just moved to the neighborhood and we hit it off great. I also have her number.”

You remained nonchalant, continuing your mascara on your left eye, “Okay…good for you then?”

“That’s all you have to say?” He scoffs, folding his arms.

“Well, what do you want me to say? You want me to act jealous and forbid you from seeing this other girl?” You click your tongue, “Now that you mention it, no new family is moving into your neighborhood otherwise Mrs. Reyes would have told me, and I would have offered to decorate welcoming baskets with her and Milagro.”

Shit! You caught him in his lie. His eyes widened in surprise at your quick response to his lie.

As a matter of fact, he was more proud than scared of your realization of his lie. Your intelligence and ability to understand between the lines were one of the many traits that he loved about you. Intelligence is the glue that holds it all together, not that there aren’t many more characteristics from you that he adored. He would never put any other characteristic above the other, harboring his mutual love for all of them. After all, you attended Harvard, majoring in nursing, and left with multiple degrees.

“Por qué me estás mintiendo, Jaime?” You looked at him through the mirror with a pointed look.

Switching back and forth between English and Spanish daily was a neat trick that you mastered with ease. To be honest, Spanish was a beautiful language, and you just wanted to experience the full meaning of it.

You learned Spanish for your best friend and her family, wanting to connect with them on a personal level. At this point, you became fluent in Spanish and could hold decent conversations with the Reyes family in their native language. The Reyes family even made jokes that you would someday marry a Latino.

“I don’t know..” he shrugs his shoulders, “Maybe…I’m just confused right now.”

“May I remind you that you wanted us to be a casual fuck from time to time, and besides we also agreed on seeing other people.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Yeah, but what? You want to change your mind now?”

“Actually, I do.”

You paused from doing your mascara, making eye contact in the mirror with him. Of course, you weren’t expecting that answer. His statement rendered you speechless, allowing the silence to overtake the room. You gulped silently, intently watching him stalk toward you, almost in a patronizing manner to tease you even further. You were frozen, unaware of what he might do to you and it somewhat turned you on. The small thud of the mascara tube dropping on the vanity brought you back to your senses.

“…We shouldn’t do this, Jaime.” You lightly warn the boy. Jaime remains silent, making you consistently aware that he is gorgeously checking you out from behind. He made you so flustered to the point that you were stupidly smitten with him that it was almost ridiculous. It was a miracle that you couldn’t see a black girl’s blush.

“Milagro‘s gonna be back soon.” Your tone was soft.

The air was still tense as he nodded, his eyes still intently focused on your physique. Nervously, you began to play with your braids as your body squirmed under his gaze. The things that Jamie made you feel were out of this world. You held your breath, dilated dark brown eyes studying his every move that he made. It was the familiar gust of his infamous cologne that gave his sudden presence away, noticing his breathing was lingering on you. You shudder, minor goosebumps forming on your arms.

“Then, we just have to be quick, don’t we?” You swear that you could’ve felt his hard dick straining against his pants.

“Listen here Jaime—“ You were cut off by his hands roughly wrapping around your throat, raising your head, catching an upside down angle of the 22-year-old. A warm pair of lips was planted onto yours, reclaiming full jealousy as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. In a matter of seconds, the inviting kiss escalated into sexual tension, quickly heating the aura of the bedroom.

likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

#blue beetle 2023 #jaime reyes #jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes smut #jaime reyes x black!reader #jaime reyes imagine #jaime reyes x black!fem!reader #blue beetle x reader #blue beetle x fem!reader #blue beetle smut #blue beetle imagine #blue beetle fanfic

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 6 months

Note

hiiii pook :))

can i please have ghost reacting to someone making fun of his s/o's trauma?? happened today and I just need comfort ☹️ I understand if not take care of yourself heheheheh 💗💗💗💗💗🫶🙇‍♀️

How CoD characters would react to someone making fun of their s/o's trauma

I'm so sorry to hear that Puff, you don't deserve that and neither does anyone. I hope you don't forget that you can talk to me anytime and I do mean it, don't be scared that you will be judged because you won't. People sure have a way of making us feel shitty. I included other characters just for you :3

Characters included: Simon Ghost Riley, Kyle Gaz Garrick, König.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

❥ If Ghost was there to witness it himself, I don't think he'll be able to keep his cool as much as anyone thinks he would.

Ghost steps in almost immediately upon hearing what the recruit just said to you.

"Watch your words" He warns in a low dangerous tone of voice, giving them the most intense glare you've ever seen him give anyone.

❥ However if he wasn't there to witness it himself:

❥ You know I don't think he takes it lightly at all when he finds out from you. He's observant, so much so that he noticed the small little things that you didn't do in the manner you usually would.

❥ Heaven forbid he actually finds the person who did it, that recruit will more likely be on intense cleaning duties for the rest of their career.

❥ I think everyone in the base knows the fine line between Lieutenant Riley and L.T. Ghost, nobody ever and I mean ever wants to cross that.

❥ Ghost has been through a lot, he has traumas of his own and he's aware you have yours. That being said, he definitely is trying his best at comforting you like you do with him.

"It's alright lovie, they won't get to you again"

Simon whispers, holding you in his arms, your head on his chest while you sniffled. He gently wiped your tears away and did his best to help you with your headache from the amount of crying by gently rubbing your head.

Simon kisses your forehead, rubbing your back to help you sleep while he found himself staring at your beautiful sleeping, tear stained face.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

❥ If Kyle was there to witness it himself, he'd let his protective instincts kick in. Usually he'd be calm and collected, but when it's your feelings and we'll being on the line? I think the fuck not.

He looked at them with the most "Excuse me?!" type of look as if they just disrespected his whole damn family tree. You know what they might as well have since they were so bold as to insult his future spouse, in front of him no less. The fucking audacity.

"Show some respect" Kyle says with the sternest voice you've ever heard him use, you'd swear you heard him mutter "fucking ignorant" a little later when the recruit ran off.

❥ If he wasn't there:

❥ He damn well takes it personally, first of all who the fuck was bold enough to do that to you? Behind his back too, like Kyle gets along with almost every single one of the recruits because he's popular and a casanova for a reason.

❥ Kyle would probably get them back and make their lives a bit more miserable, more likely that he'll try to get Soap in with everything. That's not his first priority though.

❥ His first priority would be making sure you're okay, he'd be supportive and comforting. The kind of person who makes it so easy to open up and immediately understands what your little body languages mean.

❥ He can tell when there's something you aren't too comfortable telling him and he'll reassure you that you don't have to tell him and that he's just there for anything.

Kyle didn't need to say anything else, you knew he was there and he made that clear. He held your face in his hands, kissing the corner of your eyes making you let out a small smile. He kissed your tears away.

König

❥ Usually, König hates getting involved with unnecessary conversation with other people. He's not one to interfere with other's businesses, when it comes to you though, it's a whole different story.

❥ Yeah if he didn't have the self-control, somebody would've been bitch slapped that day.

The silence was absolutely deafening, he stood protectively in front of you by pure instinct.

"You'll regret that"

❥ Yeah I think the recruit pissed themselves after that, how could they not? They lost their job not long after anyway. (König definitely pulled some strings, he might as well use his rank to good use. If it's for you then it's worth it in his eyes.)

❥ You know damn well that whether he was or wasn't there to see it for himself that the recruit was basically asking for a death wish the moment those words came out of their mouth.

❥ Trying his best to comfort you, he's your shoulder to cry on and will listen to you if you ever decide to tell him about your trauma. He won't promise anything about anyone who has ever hurt you their safety and or their life.

"Mein liebling.." You heard him call out his nickname for you in the sweetest tone he could afford.

He held you almost effortlessly, kissing the top of your head before resting his chin overtop.

❥ Yeah you knew he did something... (Yandere König? I kinda like that)

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oikasugayama · 5 months

Note

Could I ask for chuuya and dazai (separately) x fem reader where the reader wears a low skirt at work and bends down to get something and how the guys would react? Nsfw ofc

I only did Dazai because I got really carried away, oops. Have 2.3k of unedited, filthy dazai + coworker!reader smut. MDNI!!

You’ve wanted Dazai for quite a while. He’s so hot, and he’s silly, and sometimes he can be really nice and suave. The fact that his eyes linger on you heavily every time you wear a short skirt or a low-cut blouse only make you want him more because it sure seems like he might be interested in you too. You don’t talk to him a lot unfortunately given that he’s not in the office every day, and you’re Kunikida’s secretary, but sometimes he does linger by your desk and chat with you (until Kunikida runs him off), or when the whole office goes out for lunch he’ll sit at your table with you, Naomi, and Junichiro. Once when you were sitting across from each other you even swore that he had to have known that his leg was against yours, forcing your legs slightly wider apart as he slid his further and further toward the outside of the booth. Any time you looked at him while he did this, he would just quirk the corner of his lip up in a smile and turn back to the conversation. There was sexual tension between the two of you, there had to be.

One day you’d had enough of being the shocked one, you wanted to be bold to see if you could get him to break and finally invite you back to his place after work. You put on a button-up blouse that “accidentally” lost its top two buttons, your shortest skirt, a red silk thong that was definitely part of a lingerie set, and you made sure to put on some extra perfume so he’d smell it any time you got near him. Now you just needed the opportunity to get his attention.

He was late to the office, as always. He casually walked in, hands in his pockets, a smirk on his face as usual 45 minutes after he was supposed to be there. You say nothing to him, as usual, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention. Kunikida already gave you an uncomfortable glance-over this morning and offered to sew your buttons back on if you still had them--you couldn’t risk him looking at you and seeing the sultry look in your eye when you greeted Dazai.

He saw you, though. Dazai. His eyes locked onto yours as he took his jacket off and slung it over the back of his chair. He very obviously trailed his eyes down to your chest, and you sat up straighter and tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, watching him watch you. You weren’t backing down, and he noticed.

Maybe that’s why he declined the offer to go to lunch with the group later that afternoon. You also declined, telling a little while lie to Kunikida that you had plans with friends at a different restaurant, so you’d be leaving in a few minutes to go your own way. Kunikida is sharp, but Dazai is sneaky, and you’d never mentioned to your boss how Dazai’s eyes defile you every time you show a bit of skin. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have ever left you two alone in the office.

A couple of minutes after everyone was gone, you got up and crossed the room to Dazai’s desk pod under the guise of putting something on Atsushi’s nearby desk. As you approached, Dazai “accidentally” swiped a pencil off the edge of his desk right into your path.

“Oops,” he said lowly. You glance at him over your shoulder and give him a half smile.

“I got it.” Normally you’d squat or crouch down to prevent anyone from seeing your butt, but that’s not the goal today. You have an objective.

You slowly bend over at the waist, reaching for the pencil with your fingertips. You can tell the exact second your panties become visible, because Dazai hisses and leans back in his chair.

“Fuck,” he sighs. Before you’ve even stood back up, his hand is on your ass, pushing the curve of it up from the bottom to make it jiggle.

“Dazai-san,” you say sweetly as you fully stand and turn toward him. You hold the pencil out toward him and he grabs it quickly, throwing it onto the desk. His hands are on your hips then, pulling your skirt up so he can feel your soft, supple skin.

“Tell me you want me,” he demands, stilling his hands but holding you in place.

“You first,” you say, reaching out to trace your fingertips along his jaw. There’s a look in his eye you’ve never seen before. A type of hunger you’ve only dreamed about him having for you.

“I’ll fuck you on this desk right now,” he swears in that low, calm voice. It makes you wet just to hear him say such a lewd thing to you.

“You can cum inside,” you coo, and that’s what does it. He stands so suddenly that his chair is knocked backwards with a loud crashing noise. His lips are on yours, kissing you hard and fast and desperate. His hands grope your ass, squeezing and massaging and using the leverage to force you against his body, to feel his hard-on though his pants.

You waste no time fumbling with the bottom of his shirt, pulling it loose from his pants. You unbuckle his belt, unzip his fly, and shove your hand inside, feeling his cock straining against his underwear. He moans against your mouth, and you let out an involuntary whine. You’ve wanted to hear that sound for so long.

“I’m surprised Kunikida left you alone with me,” Dazai mumbles, pushing you back just a little until you hit his desk and sit on it. He spreads your thighs so he can stand between them, then he starts teasing his long, deft fingers over your clothed heat. “He’s always on my ass telling me not to be inappropriate with you.”

“Oh?” you ask shakily, still trying to feel him up though he’s got you distracted now with his feather-light touches.

“Mmm,” he hums, taking his hands away from you. He pushes his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock, and you can’t help but to stare at it. You hoped it would be big, maybe even taken a few long glances at his crotch while he slept unknowingly on the breakroom couch. But it’s even bigger than you expected, and your pussy flutters with anticipation. “I think Kunikida wants to make a proper lady out of you.”

“Proper ladies don’t fuck their coworkers in the office,” you say, pulling your panties to the side. Dazai watches you and licks his lips, giving his cock a few strokes. He reaches forward, slides two of his fingers up your slit and groans.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” you admit, leaning back onto your hands. You both moan to some degree when his fingers slide into you.

“The feeling is mutual,” he mumbles back. He gives a few pumps, a few twists, before pulling back out and smearing your slick wetness all over the head of his cock. Then, with urgency, he lines his tip up with your pussy and teases for just a few seconds, collecting more of your natural lube so he can slide in smoothly.

“Dazai,” you whine, squirming, trying to get closer. He says nothing as he pushes forward slowly, pulling out just a bit, then continuing in until he’s almost completely buried in you.

“Fuck,” he moans, dropping his head down. He can’t stop looking at your pussy taking his cock in. “You’re so fucking hot. God, this pussy is so tight.” You whine and moan, leaning back more until you bump into his computer.

“Get this shit out of the way,” he mumbles, annoyed, as he reaches behind you and shoves stacks of papers and his computer monitor to the side with reckless abandon until you have room to lay on his desk and pull your knees up and to the side. You’re at the perfect level now for him to start drilling you, and oh does he.

The once quiet office is filled with wet squelches and skin slapping skin as he fucks you, holding you by the hips so you can’t slide away from him. He fucks you hard and quick and dirty. He fucks you all the way to the hilt, stuffing you full and letting his balls smack against your ass. You’re so wet that it covers his cock all the way to the base and starts to make a sticky ring against his body.

“Oh, Dazai,” you moan. “Shit-- Fuck-- oh, you’re so fucking big.”

“Good fucking pussy,” he huffs out. He reaches up with one hand and starts palming your tit, massaging and squeezing. “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. You’re gonna like that, huh? Gonna sit at your desk all day doing work for Kunikida with my cum in your pussy.”

“Yeah,” you whine loudly. You manage to pull another two buttons free and Dazai takes advantage, reaching inside to knead your boob and pinch your nipple, making you moan even more. “Fuck me so good, Dazai. Make me cum, please.”

“Oh, I’ll make you cum, baby, but I’m not done with you yet.”

He pulls out of you then and you whine at the loss of his thick cock buried deep in you. He leans down, pushing your shirt and bra to the side to suck on your tits. He swirls his tongue around, suckling and nipping with his teeth while his other hand tweaks your nipple and massages. After a minute he switches, giving equal attention to the other breast. You take the opportunity to run your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and pulling on his hair.

“They’ll be back in fifteen,” you warn him. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Mmm, but there’s so much fun to be had,” he sighs, resting his face in the valley between your breasts. “Do you live in the ADA dorms?”

“No, I have a roommate across town.”

“Tell them you’re staying with a friend tonight.”

He stands up and takes your hands, pulling you up too. You’re afraid he’s gonna stop here, but instead he turns you around, kisses down your neck, and then firmly pushes your shoulders down so you’re bent over his desk. Without another word he lines up with your hole again and enters you quickly. He sets a brutal pace, utilizing long, hard thrusts to make you feel the full extent of his cock. It’s so long and such a nice girth that it fills you completely, stretching your walls so nicely and thrumming against your cervix with every thrust. Once again the office is full of the sounds of skin slapping skin, your pussy squelching every time he enters you, and a steady stream of moans and curses from both of you.

“You’re gonna cum with me,” he says after a few minutes reaching around your hip to feel you up. He finds your clit in only a few seconds and rubs it frantically while still fucking you hard, trying to suddenly overwhelm your nerves to make you cum hard, and fuck does it work.

“Dazai,” you call his name loudly as a warning, whimpering and whining while pushing back against him. “I’m gonna cum, Dazai, fuck, I can’t stop--”

“--Cum,” he commands. “Cum all over this fat cock, princess.”

Your orgasm wracks your body, making your knees shake and your thighs tremble. You cum, slightly squirting, making even more juices squish out of your pussy as he fucks you through your orgasm. The pulsing of your walls as you cum squeezes Dazai’s cock so good, making him cum too, spurting ropes of his seed deep into you. He stays buried to the hilt, grinding against you, for several seconds after you’ve both worked through your orgasms. When he finally pulls back, he holds you down by your hips so he can watch cum drip out of your pussy and onto the floor. He swipes some of it onto his fingers and reaches around, holding it in front of your lips.

“Open,” he says, and you do, sticking your tongue out and taking his fingers in, sucking the cum and other fluids off his fingers. “Good girl,” he says, rubbing his other hand on your ass. After he finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth, he readjusts your panties so they cover your abused cunt.

“You’re gonna leak through your panties,” he says, finally allowing you to stand back up. “Gonna leave a damp spot on your chair by the end of the day so you have a reminder of me.”

“Good,” you say, buttoning your blouse again. “And I’d love to come over tonight, by the way. I’ll tell my roommate not to expect me until late.”

Dazai smiles and finishes tucking himself back into his pants. He also kneels down and uses a tissue to wipe the cum off the floor.

“Only a few minutes left,” he says when he stands back up. “Clean yourself up and get ready.”

“What about your desk? We really messed it up.”

“Don’t worry about it, just go sit at your desk like a good girl.” He presses a firm kiss to your lips then pats your ass so you’ll get moving. He sighs wistfully, climbs on top of his desk, and lays over it, draping himself all the way across Atsushi’s desk as well. Now the mess looks like another dramatic Dazai performance that no one even questions when they come back from lunch.

#ask answered #dazai smut #dazai x reader #dazai headcanon #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader

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povlnfour · 6 months

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ PADDOCK TO PADDOCK (LN) PART 8

series masterlist | previous part

lando norris x fem!horse rider!reader

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 207,567 others

landonorris 100th race, p2, and a nice little call with my girl to show off her flexibility. thank you austin

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user3 ‘MY GIRL’🥹🥹🥹

user7 I KNEWWW EVERYTHING WOULD BE OKAY

user9 lando have you seen what she’s done?

landonorris have friends? yeah pretty happy for her tbh

charles_leclerc p2 because the fia hates lewis and me*

user2 see everyone the boys are fine

landonorris keep crying mate

yourusername i actually hate you so bad rn

yourusername @/charles_leclerc SURE you don’t wanna date me instead?

user1 HELP Y/N AJDJDJSJ

user6 she said i’ve had ENOUGH

charles_leclerc make me that rice dish again and i’ll consider it

landonorris @/charles_leclerc you don’t even know what tteokbokki is called you don’t deserve her😤

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 200,087 others

yourusername from monaco with love

👤 tagged alex_albon, lilymhe, charles_leclerc

only people yourusername follows can comment

alex_albon we need to have a serious conversation about how cute lily always looks in the photos you take and yet…. me…

lilymhe that’s just your face baby

charles_leclerc he’s not gonna know what hit him🤫

yourusername you could not have made this sound worse

charles_leclerc i’m quite enjoying being an accessory to internet drama

lilymhe do you know what’s rude? you spend one (1) second with a man and get a dating rumour… yet NOTHING when you hang w me!

yourusername FR we’ve been married for two years atp🙄

landonorris i know a Better place in monaco you can visit🧡

yourusername get your cute butt home and show me then

texts with charles ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/nupdates just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris and 10,397 others

y/nupdates y/n at the airport today!! it seems she’s flying out to mexico for the upcoming grand prix 🩷

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user9 seriously? has everyone just forgotten she’s a cheater?

user3 and yet you follow fan accounts of her??? get a life

user7 ur actually miserable. lando hates u.

this comment has been hidden by the author

y/nupdates any unnecessary hate comments will be deleted and you will be blocked🩷

user8 she’s so pretty even in the rain :( and she stopped to take photos with fans

user1 apparently someone gave her a necklace with an L on it and she put it straight on🥹

user8 @/user1 YOURE KIDDING THATS SO CUTE IM GONNA CRY

user1 THEY GAVE HER A MATCHING BRACELET FOR LANDO WITH HER INITIALS ON AS WELL!!!!

landonorris thank you admin for giving me a new lockscreen

user2 OH MY GOD ADMIN

y/nupdates 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣 YOU ARE SO WELCOME

landonorris just tweeted ੈ✩‧₊˚

tweet 4 should finish: hate towards those close to me*

tweet 6 should finish: blocked by my team**

twitter reacts ੈ✩‧₊˚

mclaren just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername and 165,407 others

mclaren from p17-p5. not the start to the weekend he wanted but he only went and turned it around🙌🏻

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user2 SO PROUDDDS

user9 all because of her….

user3 HAVE FUN GETTING BLOCKED LMAO

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user6 GUYS I THINK MCLAREN ACTUALLY BLOCKED THEM THE COMMENT ISNT SHOWING UP FOR ME LMAOOO

yourusername that’s my boy

mclaren we heard it had something to do with his lucky charm😉

user3 this isn’t taking a week off ma’am

yourusername had to support the boy. it starts now <3

y/nupdates just tweeted ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n:

OKAY this part was boring i am very sorry BUT there is onE OFFICIAL PART LEFT. it’ll be a long one i warn now but then there may be a mini epilogue of stuff i fully made up for next summer xxxx

thank you all for coming on this crazy ride with me — sorry it’s aLL OVER THE PLACE atm but it makes sense in my head ok

charles au is also otw next week and a one shot lando smau

taglist (found in pinned post): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicoranorca @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris au #lando norris imagine #mclaren #lando norris blurb #lando norris scenario #lando norris smau

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i-loveyou013 · 8 months

Text

Losing interest

Al-Haitham x gn!reader

-> IN WHICH Al-Haitham loses interest in you and you can't stand it anymore.

-> Normal Universe

-> Wordcount: ~1.1k

Masterlist

Request Page

Alhaitham has lost interest in you. You knew that. He never confirmed this theory, but you noticed the hints.

Your lover never came home for dinner for the last few months. He's always late, always so late that even after 11pm he's not home. You spent days in your bed alone, even though you two were sharing it. Not even in the morning he had the time to greet you and say goodbye.

He just left. Without a word.

You two didn't have normal conversations either. When you do see him (which would be considered a miracle) he brushes you off. Saying you could talk later. You never did. You never will. He doesn't have time. He has more important stuff to do (What is more important than the love of your life?).

Through your pain you shrugged it off.

He's just stressed.

He doesn't mean it.

Soon everything will be like before.

It's okay, I'm overreacting.

It never did. Matter how much hope you had. It never got any better.

Even the most hopeless romantics lose hope someday.

"Can we talk? It's important." You try your best to communicate with your lover. You woke up before your usual routine just to have a chance of meeting him.

"Can it wait? I have to go to work." Alhaitham again brushes you off with his (now) usual monotone voice. Like he doesn't pay attention to a word you're saying. Just perceive that you're mentioning something not worth listening to.

"No it cannot-" You couldn't even finish your sentence as your partner has already left the house.

It took everything for you to not scream out of frustration. Instead, tears rolled down your face. Uncontrollable sobs escaped your mouth. You covered your eyes with both of your hands as you fell on your knees. What seemed like hours and hours with no end were probably only a few minutes. What happened?

Were you not enough?

Were you a burden?

Did you annoy him too much?

All these things did not matter anymore. You got a new job offer in Liyue a few months ago. Just as Alhaitham's weird behaviour started. You first hesitated. Why would you leave everything you had?

It took everything in you to finally accept the job offer. A break is what you need right now. A new country, a new area and maybe many new friends.

Who wanted you here in Sumeru anyway? It's not like you had any friends.

It was just you and Alhaitham.

Now it's just you and your pain.

Clearly, Alhaitham didn't want you here, so you being gone for a few months shouldn't hurt, right? You leave in 2 days. That's why you wanted to talk to Alhaitham today, but he seemed... busy.

You lay down on your bed and cried into your pillow. Hours passed and you haven't moved an inch. Not even to go drink or eat something. You just laid there and did nothing, but cry.

For the last 2 days you tried to talk to Alhaitham about your leave.

And for 2 days you failed to talk to Alhaitham about your leave.

It was just like the last months. Not one glance. Not one word. Not one conversation. Just you. Alone. Crying yourself to sleep.

You have packed your items for your trip and your transportation was just a short walk away. You didn't bother trying to tell Alhaitham about it.

He clearly doesn't care.

You closed your eyes. Took a deep breath and stepped out of your shared home.

Goodbye, Sumeru. I will see you in 6 months.

And hello Liyue. My new home for the next 6 months.

Alhaitham sighed in relief.

Finally.

He has been busy with so many different tasks and missions of utmost importance for the past months. As the Acting Grand Sage he had now new responsibilities which didn't make it easy for him. Especially after the whole chaos.

But now he was finished. Now he could spend some quality time with his lover. Oh, how he missed you.

He didn't want to tell you about it. He thought it would bring you unnecessary stress and worry. He didn't want that. He loves you with all his being and seeing you sad or mad makes his heart ache to the point it's unbearable. You, his precious angel.

He knew he had been neglecting you for the last weeks. He missed being near you as well. Your touch, your voice, your delicious cooking. Everything.

He was about to make it up to you with a nice date. He knew one date couldn't compensate for all the wrongs he did the past months. But he planned the best date you could even imagine. He even bought tickets for one of Nilou's shows. They were hard to get but Alhaitham knew you liked her so much and used his position and power as the Acting Grand Sage to get the VIP tickets.

"[Name]?" Alhaitham yelled through the house. "Sweetheart I'm home!" No answer.

The Sage looked confused. It was Saturday, you should be free.

Maybe you were asleep? Yeah, that's probably it. You looked very tired the last few times he saw you.

He quickly checked your bedroom. Empty. Weird. You would tell him if you had appointments or meet-up with friends. But you didn't...

In all his worries he asked Kaveh. His beloved roommate.

"Kaveh?" He knocked on the door. As he got permission to enter he opened the door.

"What?" Said roommate looked at him annoyed. Alhaitham however ignored that. It's nothing new between them.

"Have you seen [Name]? They aren't home and I'm quite worried." He announced his worries.

Kaveh stared at him blankly. "Are you serious?"

Alhaitham blinked in confusion. "... Yes? Have I missed a certain appointment today? Was it important?"

The architect couldn't believe it. Was he serious? You left to Liyue and Alhaitham didn't know? He didn't even notice?

"Alhaitham. You're telling me you didn't notice [Name] leaving about a month ago? A month?! Are you serious?!" Neither of them could believe what they were witnessing.

"W-What? [Name] left? Without telling me?" Why wouldn't you tell him? Have you perhaps forgotten him?

"Without telling you?! Are you hearing yourself? [Name] has been trying for weeks to get your attention, but you were oh so busy with work, that you completely neglected them! They left for Liyue about a month ago because they got a pretty good job offer. They tried to tell you but you were so dense you didn't care. Don't come to me and whine about how they didn't tell you because they tried. You can apologise to them in 5 months when they come back. If they even want to anymore." Kaveh scoffed and closed the door right in front of his face.

You left a month ago?

And he didn't notice?

You will come back in 5 months?

Not proofread.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #genshin impact #angst #reader #genshin #xreader #gender neutral reader #genter neutral #sumeru #kaveh #genshin impact angst

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calmcoldevening · 1 month

Note

Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Micheal Myers X Dr. Loomis’s daughter reader one shot? I thought it’d be an interesting read lol. If you’re not Interested or too busy that’s completely fine! I just haven’t seen any one else do this request. Honestly, I would request more, but I’m always too nervous to talk to people online and in person. Sorry for the unnecessary rambling! Thank you and have a lovely day or night ( depending on what time you see this lol )!

Michael Myers x reader, who is Dr. Loomis's daughter

The boy with the eyes of the devil. Monster.

You didn’t fully understand what your father was talking about, after all, at that time you were only six years old, but you could say with confidence that this “something” made your father terribly nervous and even frightened him, although he would never admit it.

It was an ordinary early November morning. The weather was cloudy, all the streets were filled with milky fog. The damp air settled unpleasantly in my lungs with each new breath. You sat in the back seat of the car while your father put the key in the ignition. Your small hands nervously fiddled with the edge of your seat belt. Not to say that this was your first trip to your father’s place of work, no. On the contrary, you often went there with him, because sometimes there was no one to leave you with at home, almost all of your dad’s colleagues knew you. And yet today the atmosphere in the car was unpleasantly oppressive and dense, you could literally cut it with a knife. It seemed that your father was weighed down by some thoughts, but you did not dare to ask him about it.

The journey to the psychiatric hospital took quite a long time because your father decided to take a longer but safer route. He didn't want any accident to happen due to such thick fog.

When you arrived at the hospital, it was already around seven in the morning. You approached a tall building, which, despite its appearance and neat paths for walking with patients, inspired subconscious fear in you. Your father gently but firmly took your hand.It was quite dark outside, so when you walked inside, an unpleasant greenish light hit your eyes, creating a strangely tense atmosphere among the white walls of the hospital. Your father immediately went to some office. It was a small office, filled with various folders and documents. In the middle of the room, at a dark table, sat the man with whom your father was now talking. You didn’t pay much attention to their conversation, completely captivated by the small colorful fish in the aquarium. Your children's palms carefully pressed against the slightly cloudy glass, joyfully following with your eyes the colorful fish hiding among the tall corals.

Finally, your father called your name, causing you to reflexively turn your head in his direction. His voice was gentle and calm, but it still contained his characteristic sternness.

“I need you to stay here for a while, okay? I have work in another office. Will you be a good girl for me?” Loomis asked with a small smile, patting your head. In response, you only nodded briefly.

You were always a smart and understanding child, so Loomis was not afraid to leave you alone. Although he knew that you liked to play by your own rules from time to time, the man really trusted you and your smart mind for a child. After all, you are your father's daughter.

About fifteen minutes passed before you realized that you were tired of watching the office fish. What's the point of staring at them for a long time if all they do is swim back and forth and back? You definitely should have taken some toys from home. Finally, when boredom took over, you carefully left the office, hoping to find your father and proudly declare that you had nothing to do. Wandering along the corridor, you caught some nurse and asked where your dad was now. This kind soul, of course, didn’t know that she shouldn’t tell you about this, but everyone in this place knew you as a smart and calm child, so she told you the right office without any problems.

It was a particularly remote room at the end of the corridor. The dim green light barely reached here, and there were no windows in this part of the hospital. You quietly opened the right door, wincing slightly at the disgusting creak, and went inside. Inside there was another door with a small window to the right of it. You walked closer to the window, because of your short stature you could barely see what was happening on the other side of the glass. But you perfectly saw your father sitting with his back to you. A strange boy sat next to him. His blond hair was disheveled and looked somewhat dirty, and his empty dark eyes looked simultaneously into nothingness, but at the same time into your very soul. He looked no older than your age, although he was obviously larger than you in size. Your father was telling him something, but the boy did not react to his words at all, he just looked blankly out the window opposite. Did he look at you? Unknown.But it seemed to you that the moment you came into his field of vision, the boy’s head shifted slightly to the side.

This was the first time you saw this boy, a most strange but intriguing meeting. Michael Myers. That’s what your father called him, looking through the child’s personal file in your kitchen at home with a cup of coffee in his hands.

The next time you saw this boy was only about two weeks later. Your father purposefully brought you to Michael's room, hoping that perhaps you, as a child, could establish some kind of contact with this strange boy. Loomis gently squeezed your hand, looking down at you with a smile.

“This is a special boy. You should try playing with him, okay?” You nodded curtly in response. "That’s my girl."

Loomis led you into the same small room, not even suspecting that you had already been here once. Your own cunning caused a small, naive smile to bloom on your face. Loomis led you to Michael sitting on the bed and sat you on the chair next to him.

“I’ll be behind this door if anything happens to you, okay honey?” With these words, Loomis left the room.

You carefully sat down on the chair, folding your hands in your lap. The boy in front of you looked almost like a lifeless doll, so empty was the look in his dark eyes. He looked somewhere ahead and didn't even blink. You smiled slightly, deciding to use all your charm and friendliness.

“My name is Y/N. And what is your name?"

The boy didn't react. But you could have sworn you saw the focus of his eyes shift from the emptiness in front of him to you, seemingly appraising you. A pleasant burning sensation lit up in your heart when you realized that this boy was truly “special”, as your dad told you, and not some emotionless vegetable. It seems like that’s what doctors called such people, no? You weren't sure. But you really wanted to appear grown up and work like your dad in the future, so you wanted to start getting some knowledge about it right now.

“Your name is Michael, right?” you smiled your childish, somewhat toothless smile, “You don’t really like to talk, do you? I think yes. Then do you mind if I do the talking?” There was only silence in response. You giggled, “Silence is a sign of consent! So, I'm six. Probably you too? I haven’t been told much about you, to be honest.”

Now you leaned back in your chair, folding your arms over your chest and pouting your lips in a mock pout.

“This is so awkward. I want to grow up quickly so I won't be treated like a child anymore! Oh, you know, I really like to draw! I don't think you'll tell me what you like, after all, it's just me talking now, but next time let me bring sketchbooks and pencils? I think you'll enjoy drawing too! It's really interesting."

One moment there is darkness, and the next there is this gentle voice and a warm feeling of presence. Other... people radiated only coldness and anger towards him, but this pure soul was strangely kind and welcoming. He had already felt it once, when that unpleasant and stern man was in front of him, but then she was far away. Now she was right in front of him. A girl. She told him her name, and even tried to start some kind of cute, even somewhat stupid, childish conversation with him. There was absolutely no point in talking to this girl, but for some reason her presence was strangely comforting and almost pleasant. It was as if he was little again, at home. But now he knew that he did not have that warm, old home. Not after the voice in his head told him to kill his dirty sister, no. And yet now he wanted the presence of this girl, although he himself did not know why.

You have become a frequent visitor to this psychiatric hospital. You usually visited Michael once or twice a week, and Loomis very soon noticed the results. The boy really opened up to you. Even if it really couldn’t be seen with a simple glance, Samuel, as a psychiatrist, had long noticed the difference: the way Michael’s head tilted when he listened with interest to your stories, or the way he gave you certain unambiguous answers in his own way. It seemed that the two of you had your own language, understandable only to you two. Michael even smiled next to you (although it could hardly be called a smile, but the corners of his lips curled up slightly nervously when he saw you, although it only happened for a split second). For Loomis, this was indeed a definite discovery. The man noticed how the boy sat on his bed for a long time, waiting for you, and seemed to be calculating the time and day. The hospital did not tell him today’s date, because there was no particular need for this, but Michael independently realized that you usually come on Tuesday or Wednesday and always Friday. Surprisingly, his cold heart opened up to you.

At first, this really encouraged Loomis, because perhaps his patient was beginning to recover. But after two or three months he realized that he was mistaken. Michael's personality development only happened in exceptional moments when you were around. The rest of the time, he did not react in any way to the requests or words of the staff and doctors. Michael has become attached to you. No, rather, to some extent he became obsessed with you. Loomis saw that deadly metallic glint in Michael's dark eyes as the man walked back into the room, saying your time is up. Michael’s childish fists almost twitched, as if an obsessive desire to hurt the doctor arose in his mind, if only you would remain nearby.

As the years passed, the doctor realized that getting you into Myers' "treatment" was a bad idea. Now you are ten years old, and Loomis has reduced your meetings to twice a month. He noticed how this affected the boy.

Now Michael absolutely refused to make contact with any of the doctors, spending all his free time in his room, staring blankly at the ceiling. His wall near the bed was covered with your drawings, and on a small table in the corner of the room lay a half-empty pack of pencils and a new album. You brought it during your last visit, saying that you would draw it next time. Five weeks have passed since that time, and Michael still hasn’t dared to touch the ill-fated album. The cover with the cats was already fairly covered with dust, and the pencils were covered in red and black. Michael obediently waited for the next time, knowing that you would not deceive. It is so? You always came back, no matter how badly he behaved with doctors, right? He will wait as long as necessary, like a little faithful puppy.

The guy stopped counting the days, and the world around him turned into endless darkness. All these brainless doctors and orderlies, whose souls are each blacker than the other. Vile, dirty people with no compassion. He missed his little flower. A pure, cheerful creature who brings colors into his life, and with them light. Her soul was the only source of light in this endless dark pit. Why was it taken from him? They took away his source of warmth and light, his little sun. She will be back. She'll definitely be back. She's different. He knows.

---

It was an ordinary cloudy day at the Illinois State Mental Hospital. The sky was covered with a dense layer of gray clouds, threatening to burst into torrential rain, and fog covered everything around. The evening swayed the trees with thin tables with unprecedented force, carrying already fairly yellowed leaves for miles around in a simple dance.

You sighed nervously, looking at the fading nature outside the window. Finally, you turned your head in the direction of your father, who was enthusiastically giving you another lecture of instructions, completely not noticing that you were absolutely not interested in it.

"..dad. I’ve read his personal file three times already, I understand everything, okay?”

The man frowned, but exhaled in defeat, folding his hands behind his back. Even when he relaxed his face, a few wrinkles on his face remained, clearly indicating the man's age and the stress of his job.

“I know, I’m just worried about you.Are you sure you want to practice medicine with this particular patient? You know, there are several dozen more patients in your specialty, and less dangerous ones..."

“Dad,” you interrupt him with a frown, “You and I have already discussed this several times, haven’t we? Don't worry. After all, he is your patient, I know you will intervene if something goes wrong.”

Finally the man gave in. He nodded in agreement and briefly hugged you, patting you on the head like when you were a child. A short “ok” left his lips, and together you headed towards the ill-fated office.

The sound of a door opening. Michael didn't bother to turn his head towards the entering doctor. The guy knew that now again the meaningless dialogues on the part of the doctor and even more meaningless taking of pills would begin. He was healthy, the guy was sure of it. He had long ago become accustomed to the emptiness in his chest that had become painfully familiar to him and the noise of endless thoughts in his mind. And he didn't want to change that. It was as if, over such a long period of time, this state had become like a protective cocoon for him.

The room was filled with an unobtrusive sweetish aroma of some fruity perfume, from which Michael could barely restrain himself from wrinkled his nose. The heavy silence in the room was interrupted only by the steady tapping of women's heels. It had been a long time since he had been visited by a female doctor, something new.

"Hello, Michael."

These few words made the guy's heart clench unpleasantly. He stared in front of him, now fully feeling that long-forgotten feeling of warmth and light presence. That bright figure of white light appeared before my eyes again, like the purest angel on earth. A short sigh escaped from his chest, and his lips almost reflexively bent into a pitiful semblance of a smile. Still, he was really glad to see her. He knew she would return. He knew, even if that pathetic old man and his employees told Michael otherwise. He knew you were different.

"It's been a long time... I'm really sorry."

He remained silent, instead absorbing her every new word like a sponge thrown into the sea. Now he didn't care that she left, because she came back. The guy tried to remember everything: the aroma of her perfume, which now seemed so painfully sweet and pleasant, driving his entire pulsating mind crazy; the sound of her angelic voice is like a gentle cradle, lulling him in her tender embrace. He tried to remember everything. Now her fragile image filled his entire mind. He wanted to touch, touch, feel, show that she was his. Over the many years of being here, he realized that she was his, and he had to prove it to everyone. His light, his delicate flower, his sun.The guy was ready to fulfill all her instructions and requests, if only she would stay with him as long as possible. Stayed forever.

Now the girl came to him every day, and Michael could not imagine anything better. It was as if all his dreams had come true.

She was his personal nurse.

In the mornings she sometimes combed his hair. Usually it stuck out and was very messy and dirty, but now his curly hair looked clean and soft.

She brought him food, and sometimes Michael deliberately chose to pretend to be a brainless vegetable, if only she would feed him herself, gently bringing the spoon to his bitten lips.

Michael could have sworn that there was actually excitement and tenderness in her actions, as if she was worried and genuinely cared about him. And just thinking about it made his soul warm. Now he heard her voice every day, felt her gentle touches, felt her trepidation and care. But this was not enough. He wanted more. Michael felt a strange burning sensation when she talked to other people in the hospital, especially men. He began to feel an unpleasant itch, and images were scrolling through his head of how he could kill this vile guard and then pull her into his protective arms. Michael wanted her hands on his neck or in his hair, and his hands on her soft hips. He wanted her for himself and no one else.

---

That morning you came again to give Michael pills. You were the only one Michael allowed to give him his medicine. He would even drink poison from your hands. The main condition was that there should be no security either inside or outside.

You moved closer, gently lifting Michael's chin with your gentle fingers. He wrapped his arms around your hips, looking up at you, and obediently opened his mouth. You placed the colored tablet on his tongue, to which he quickly swallowed it, without water. The man’s hands gently roamed over your soft flesh, pressing you as close to him as possible. You gently massaged his tangled hair, lightly scratching his itchy skin from constant thoughts.

“Michael..” his name sounds like the sweetest honey on your tongue, the man is ready to listen to this for an eternity, “I’m sorry, but today is the last day of my practice.”

Michael raised his eyebrows slightly, snuggling into your gentle hand.He wanted you to explain what it was about and why you had such a sad expression on your face. The guy wanted answers, but you perfectly remembered your father’s request not to tell him about it. This could cause Michael to become aggressive. Still, you didn’t want to hurt him. So you just briefly hugged him by his strong shoulders and briefly kissed his forehead.

The next day you didn't come.

And every other day too.

Did he do something wrong? The evil doctors did not allow you to come to him again? Michael had many questions, and yet, the answer for him was the arrogant smiling face of Dr. Loomis.

---

It was Halloween evening. You have already distributed all your candy to the children in colorful costumes, who for a good few hours interrupted your peaceful existence with their constant knocking on the door. Now you were sitting relaxed on the sofa in the living room and watching your favorite horror movie, sipping sweet soda with pleasure. And so, at the next moment, when something terrible was about to happen in the film, you heard that ill-fated doorbell again. With an annoyed sigh, you stood up from the couch, setting the soda on the table, and headed towards the door. To your surprise, there was no one on the street. But as soon as you closed the door, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist. You tried to escape, hitting the stranger in the stomach with your elbows, to which you only received a muffled grunt. A strange metallic smell filled my nose. You turned around, feeling your heart beating wildly in fear in your chest. Your eyes met the emotionless eye-shaped cutouts on the latex mask. Is this some kind of joke? You wanted to scream, but were interrupted by the sharp sensation of someone else's lips on your neck. How did he manage to roll up the edge of his mask so quickly? You bit your lower lip in fear, pulling off the unfortunate mask with one sharp movement. Now a pair of sad dark eyes are staring at you.

“Michael?.. How you.. why are you here?”

The man just muttered something unintelligible, rubbing his nose against the skin of your neck.

Loomis worriedly dialed your phone number, putting the phone to his ear. His most dangerous and unstable patient has escaped. Possible options for his direction were his younger sister Laurie and... you.

“Y/N, baby, are you okay? I'm in the hospital now and Myers has escaped! If he headed towards you and something happened to you, I don’t know what I’ll do...” The doctor muttered nervously, wiping his own forehead, sweaty from stress, with his palm.

“No, it's okay, dad. I didn’t see him,” came the answer from the other side of the line. A steady, quiet snoring could be heard in the background.

#slashers x reader #michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers imagine #michael myers x you

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dystopicjumpsuit · 15 days

Note

DJ MY LOVE!

May I request, from the cuddle prompts, of you feel so inspired:

- Feeling the rumble of their chest when they talk while cuddling

- Needing their cuddles even though they have something else to do

With Tech! Haven't asked for him in a while and I think we could all use some Tech fluff right about now.

(If you get a bunch of asks for the same Clone or just feel a pull towards another clone, feel free to change it. 😘)

A/N: REBEL MY LOVE! Thank you for this! I’ve never written Tech before, and I was a bit intimidated, so I hope I’ve done justice to our boy. Also, you get two prompts for the price of one 🩵

Pairing: Tech x Reader (GN; reader is shorter than Tech but not otherwise described, aside from having a rough morning and a tendency to keep things bottled up)

Rating: T (but as always, minors DNI)

Wordcount: 789

Warnings and tags: fluff, cuddles, Star Wars swearing, adult language

Summary: You swear to the Maker, if ONE MORE THING goes wrong today, you’re going to lose your mind. Tech has an exceptional idea for how to help.

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“Dank farrik,” you muttered under your breath.

The kriffing durang fruit you’d planned on turning into muffins had gone off. It smelled like death itself, and you gagged as you tossed it into the trash compactor. With a sigh, you glanced at your chronometer and winced.

Late. Kark.

You snatched up your cup of caf as your brain raced to think of an alternative breakfast that you could pull together in a hurry before your scheduled holocomm. Not that Omega or the Batch really needed you to cook breakfast for them, but Benduday morning muffins had become something of a tradition, and you really, really didn’t want to see the matching disappointment in Omega and Wrecker’s eyes when you told them they would need to fend for themselves that day.

Maybe Shep has some extra—

“MOTHERKRIFFER!” you exclaimed, cutting off your own train of thought as the lid on your mug popped loose and you doused yourself in hot caf.

A quiet rustle sounded from the front of the Marauder as Tech slid out from beneath the control console and sat up to watch you, setting aside his hydrospanner. With supreme effort, you managed to keep your eye from twitching as you braced yourself for a well-deserved lecture on your language.

“Is everything all right?” he asked instead.

“Peachy,” you grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe off your shirt in disgust.

He rose quietly and approached. “I do not believe you.”

“What gave it away?” you snapped, flinging the towel into the sink with a frankly unnecessary level of force.

“You are upset. Given the relatively minor nature of the incident, I deduce that something else is bothering you. Do you wish to discuss it?”

“Not really.”

“Astonishing,” he said dryly.

“The kriff is that supposed to mean?” you demanded.

“Merely that I have observed that you often prefer not to discuss your struggles, though I hope none of us have ever made you feel as though you should not speak freely when something is troubling you.”

You blinked, too surprised to be offended at his earlier sarcasm. “You have?”

“Indeed.”

Well… shit.

“It’s nothing,” you lied. Tech made no response, but he didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “Fine. It’s a bunch of tiny somethings that have all piled up on top of each other, and nothing is going the way I had planned, and I’m hungry, damn it, and now I have to think of something to cook for breakfast, except I have no kriffing caf left to make my brain work, and I have no other fruit to make muffins, so Wrecker and Omega are going to give me the tooka eyes, and I have a stupid holocomm that I’m expecting at literally any minute, and I don’t even want to talk to them, but I feel like I have to, and I swear to the Maker, if ONE more thing goes wrong, I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind!”

You grabbed the towel and began to scrub the sink furiously, desperate to focus on something other than the conversation that you very much didn’t want to have. After a few seconds, though, you felt a weight on your shoulder. You turned to see Tech’s hand resting there, and for a moment you were so shocked that you stopped scrubbing. He was not usually one to initiate physical contact, and you had always tried to respect his boundaries.

“Tech?” you asked uncertainly.

“I have observed that you often seem to find comfort in Wrecker and Omega's hugs when you are upset. As Wrecker and Omega are not currently present, I would like to offer my own.”

“Are you sure?” you inquired, dumbfounded. “Aren't you busy with the repairs from Omega’s last flight lesson?”

“It can wait,” he replied. “Unless you would prefer not—”

His sentence cut off abruptly as you crashed into him, burying your face against his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. His arms closed around your shoulders, and he held your head in one hand. You slumped against him, turning your head so you could breathe.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“You are welcome,” he replied, the rumble of his voice vibrating against your ear as you rested your cheek against his chest. “I do not wish you to feel as though you must face all your struggles alone. Even the tiny ones.”

Just then, your comlink chimed with the dreaded holocomm.

“Do you wish to answer that?” he asked.

“Not really,” you admitted, “but I probably should.”

“May I propose an alternative course of action?”

“Propose away,” you replied.

“Remain with me, like this, and forget the holocomm,” he replied.

“You know what?” you asked. “That's an exceptional proposition. I accept.”

---

Want to request a ficlet? Check out this list of prompts!

More Bad Batch fics: Hunter fluff; Hunter spice; Crosshair hurt comfort; Crosshair fluff

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49

@anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @marierg @idontgetanysleep

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist

@cw80831 @kimiheartblade @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @yve-barr

@dangraccoon

#tbb tech #tech x reader #the bad batch #bad batch fic #tech fluff #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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toorusluvr · 2 years

Text

… ⇢ ˗ˏˋ F.O.M.L ࿐ྂ - FUSHIGURO TOJI

characters: coach!fushiguro toji x volleyball player f!reader

cw: college!au + volleyball!au + penetrative s*x + missionary + slight impact play (slapping)

word count: 1.9k

note from nis: f.o.m.l stands for fucks or makes love. the skipped scene is intentional by the way :))) i didnt want to drag unnecessary stuff so i just got into the smut part.

Everyone in your team was talking about what they should wear for the event tonight. Your college volleyball team finally made it to the final round of collegiate level, together with 10 other colleges from other states. Tonight’s event is a remarkable day for each and every one of your team members, including your coach.

Your coach, Fushiguro Toji, though he’s not really friendly and very strict, has worked so hard to get your team to this level. Coach Toji has been with your college’s volleyball team ever since 3 years ago when you first joined the team. The man’s body is literally sculpted and his abs can make everyone else around him drool at the sight of it.

He’s well, uh, not really fond of using nicer words. Surprisingly, it’s effective how being straightforward can lead your volleyball team to victory. His lead successfully brings justice to how hard your team has worked for the past few years, despite your college not wanting to boost your team’s potential.

With Coach Toji’s help and determination, your team finally made it to the top. Which is why your team was beyond excited to attend tonight’s event. You sure didn’t miss their genuine smiles and laughter in the locker room trying to decide which dress they should don tonight. Everyone’s happy, and so do you.

“Alright, girls, chop chop! Hurry up!” the assistant coach yelled from the bus’ door, asking your team members to hurry the hell up because she didn’t want to be late to the party. She informed you guys that Coach Toji was already waiting at the event.

Not wanting to get on the man’s nerve, you guys literally ran in your heels to get on board. After the assistant coach ensured everyone was there, she told the driver to start driving. Chit chatters filled the bus as you slowly felt yourself falling asleep on the shaking bus.

Once the bus arrived at the venue, your team members walked to the banquet hall together. As soon as you stepped foot into the hall, the familiar figure of your coach came into your sight. He was with… a woman. You have never seen her before.

Oh, right. Coach Toji kinda has a girlfriend, he mentioned it before maybe once or twice. Only because several other staff members were asking him about it.

The woman was linking arms with Toji, talking while smiling to each other together with a few other unrecognised faces. An uneasy feeling coiled in your stomach as his piercing gaze met yours. You diverted your gaze hurriedly, not knowing what to do because you aren’t exactly close with him either.

Yes, he is your coach but that does not mean you have a close relationship with him. He seems… unapproachable most of the time.

Your teammates gathered around the bar, whispering to one another while eyes fixated on your coach’s figure, stoic expression on his face as always, who was having a conversation with some other people. He was too busy with them, not sparing a glance to the team under his care.

“Hands to God, I’ve never seen our coach with a woman before. I almost thought he is… not straight,” one of your teammates opened her mouth, sipping on her cocktail after dropping the bomb out of the blue.

Your teammates gasped, all heads nodded in agreement. They all thought of the same thing. Today was one of the rarest days in history– seeing your coach with a woman!

Another one of your teammates’ laughter erupted, disrupting the momentary silence. “He looks… so fond of her. It’s unlike him. He almost killed us during practice but he looks different today. It makes me think… does he fuck or make love?”

Your drink almost spilled out of your mouth hearing the ridiculous question. The said teammate was known for her unfiltered words. Her question was out of pocket. But, your teammates’ response was the same as your answer.

“He definitely fucks,” the girl beside you grinned, laughing sinisterly before taking another sip of her cocktail drink.

Your teammates laughed. Their laughter echoing in the venue, all heads turned to the sound of their laughter. Your head hung low, not wanting to grab the others’ attention or accidentally meet their eyes.

“But he looks fond of her! My bet is on ‘makes love’,” another one of your teammates spoke but this time it was a different answer. Her answer was the opposite of the majority’s vote. All heads turned towards her, the looks on their faces showed concern.

Someone cleared their throat and your teammates let out an almost audible gasp. “I’m sorry. Just making way to the drinks,” the gorgeous woman apologised as she made her way to the bar. She was hesitating to interrupt the conversation that caused her to hear everything.

Your teammates were in full panic mode when Coach Toji’s girlfriend broke the conversation. Shit. She definitely heard your stupid bet on her boyfriend’s sex life. Their sex life. Shit happens and that’s fine.

“Sorry,” your teammates apologised under their breath. Coach Toji’s girlfriend dismissed their apologies, saying it’s fine and turned on her heels.

“He definitely fucks,” the woman took a sip of her drink, her red lips wrapped on the glass, slowly sipping on her drink as she locked gaze with the rest of your teammates. “It’s nice meeting you, girls.”

And, she disappeared into the crowds with her heels clicking on the expensive marble floor.

Your teammates definitely got goosebumps. You looked at her figure disappearing and blended with the crowd, something swirled in your stomach at that moment.

“So, whatcha say, doll? I told you that your posture needs to be more flexible,” the voice grunted softly as he pushed your legs above your chest, his thick cock penetrating your tight hole with force. You writhed in pain trying to adjust to his size.

“Pl-please, it hurts,” you gnawed your teeth into your bottom lip as Coach Toji pushed your legs further above your head. The tip of his cock was pushed inside you inch by inch, slowly bottoming out but the girth, it made you scream in agony plus the pleasure. He’s so big and… and it hurts so good that you could never look at him the same again after this.

Coach Toji felt your whole body squirm underneath him. His purpose for doing this was to test your flexibility, he said. But that was not at all his intention. The man had been eyeing you ever since he joined the club. Such a pretty thing. So delicate and fragile. He wants to break you, spoil you with everything he has to offer, and teaches you to be tough because you are so weak. So weak underneath him moaning and whining his name.

You were helpless. As much as you would love to hate the fact that you’re being used by your coach like this, you also wanted this to happen. It started when you had a dream about Coach Toji and it wouldn’t stop there. You wanted to feel him— feel his hands all over you and inside you.

“Bend your legs more, doll. Did you not hear a word I just fucking said?” He seethed, a firm slap across your face that subconsciously made you moan in pleasure. Did you just moan from being slapped? That definitely crossed one item from your bucket list.

Coach Toji does not tolerate disobedience. Ever. He tells you what to do, you fucking follow what he says.

He bent your legs, pushing the plush thighs against you. Your back arched, his cock hitting deeper into your g-spot. It was new. The whole feeling you experienced right now was new. Toji was introducing you to plenty of new things. Instead of telling, he preferred to show you it instead.

The pressure of your legs pressing onto your abdomen almost killed you. Coach Toji didn’t give you time to stretch your body, hence the pain. His hips started rocking slowly to build his rhythm before bringing your hand over his shoulder. Your hand was placed on his built muscle, nails clawing on his glorious skin. The bite of your teeth on your lips hurt. But not as painful as how Toji’s cock was stretching you out and pushing your orgasm over the edge.

Coach Toji grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes. His hair stuck on his forehead, sweats dripping on his temples. The sound of his grunts while burying his cock deep inside you drove you insane. The size of his cock that you couldn’t fit at first but now your cunt clenching around it and wouldn’t be the same without it.

“You’re so fucking tight. I love how you taste, doll,” he smirked. The scar on his lips inched upwards, showing how fucking attractive this man is. No other man could ever match the standard Toji has set for you the moment his rough hand touched your delicate body.

You moaned, eyes shut closed as his hips roughly snapped against yours. Toji won't stop until you come for him. His massive hands circled around your thighs, tightly holding your thighs together binding them close so he could fuck your tight cunt. The position only made you scream louder.

His pace was harsh and fast. ‘Coach Toji definitely fucks.’ You suddenly remembered the stupid assumption your teammate made just a few days ago. Now, you are his fucktoy, all his to use. He got you all to himself to satisfy his needs.

Coach Toji noticed the hazy look on your face. He gave a deep thrust— a sudden one that snapped you out of your thoughts. “Fucking look at me when I am fucking you, doll. My cock got you all dumb, huh?” His hand tapping your cheek firmly.

Your breath staggered, not knowing how to respond to his words. His piercing gaze looked down on you, his hips ruthlessly fucked your drenched cunt. The sound of his balls slapping against your plush thighs filled the silence. Your moans slipped out and he shut your mouth with an angry kiss.

His teeth bit on your lower lip in an unforgiving motion. You moaned in his mouth, your eyes locked together. “I’m close,” the last word dragged in a whiny voice. The tight feeling in your lower stomach filled your system. Your mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape, breathy moans escaped past your lips at Toji’s unforgiving pace. God, it made you want to scream louder and louder until you squirted around his cock.

But, Coach Toji was a better man. He knew you were close, and so did he, so he pulled out his cock, leaving you empty. His rough fingertips found your clit and he rubbed on the sensitive bundle of nerves furiously. Your breath was getting out of control, your hands gripping tightly on his shoulders leaving crescent marks on his skin.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, I’m gonna-” you started to squeal in a high-pitched tone. His fingers flicked your clit mercilessly until you squirted like you desired in your wet dreams. Coach Toji watched you struggle to keep your thighs open as you continued making a mess on the couch.

You panted heavily from the crazy orgasm you just had in your entire life. Coach Toji definitely fucks so hard, you ought to tell your teammates but that will jeopardise everything.

Coach Toji was determined to test your flexibility again. He definitely would work you out the next time he wants you again.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #fushiguro toji #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #toji smut

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teddyeyeseddie · 4 months

Text

The Cherrywood Motel

Starry Haze, Crystal Ball

rockstar!Eddie x housekeeper!reader

masterlist

(a/n: ITS BACKKKK AND SO AM I!! Enjoy my lovelies and visit my blog for some life updates!)

warnings: soft eddie, smut, minors dni, oral (fem rec), p in v, cream pie x 2, riding, showering together, a jump from last chapter.

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You lug all your clothes into the laundromat down the street, heaving the heavy bag onto the table before you once you’ve made your way inside. The smell of bleach and laundry detergent mixes in your nostrils as you sort your piles of dirties.

It’s early in the morning, the only person in the place being you and an elderly woman. You enjoy the quiet, only the soft whirring of the dryers breaking the silence.

You separate your lights from darks, throwing your first load in when a familiar voice resonates through the quaint room.

“Shit- fuck,” you look over to see Eddie struggling with a bag of laundry. You chuckle to yourself, your eyes meeting his. His face lights up when he sees you.

“Hey stranger,” he breathes out as he settles in at the table next to you.

“Hi Eddie,”

Ever since Eddie woke up in your bed, things had been different. Eddie seemed happier, his demeanor not so jittery. You talked more, Eddie revealing more about his life.

You learned he was really a dork. Knows a little too much about horror movies, still plans D&D campaigns for fun, and collects mugs from every new place he goes.

He’s become softer, more himself in the last few days. You found yourself getting closer to him, his magnetic force drawing you in with every little conversation.

His captivating personality had you expressing more things about yourself, like your favorite flower, how you got the scar on your shoulder, and all about your childhood cat, Mr. Snuffles.

Talking to Eddie when he was sober was easy, he didn’t go on unnecessary tangents, he wasn’t as flirty and he looked oh so pretty when he was healthy.

His usual red eyes now pure, no sign of distress in them. He even started taking care of his hair, his usual frizzy locks now smooth and curly. He was doing better. You were proud of him.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you today,” he says, pulling out all of his clothes and settling them into a pile. He gathers them all in his arms, walking towards a washer.

“Aren’t you gonna sort them?” you ask, chuckling to yourself as Eddie struggles with the large amount of clothes he has in his hands.

“I never do?” he says as if it's almost a question.

“Well, I’m sure you have some 200 dollar shirts in there that are begging to be sorted,”

“My uh- lady at home usually does it. This is how I used to do laundry when I was a kid,”

You roll your eyes, motioning for him to come back to the table.

You sort his dirty clothes for him, it feels pathetic but the smile he has on his face as you help him makes it somewhat worth it.

“You’ve gotta sort lights from darks. I’d suggest separating your whites too but I don’t want you to keel over,”

He chuckles, grabbing the pile of darks and carrying them to a washer. He puts in his quarters, handing you some so you can start the pile of lights.

“So what are you up to for the rest of the day?” he questions as he strolls back to the tables where your clothes still lay.

“Nothing really, apartment hunting for a little bit and then back to the motel,” you gather your pile of clothes, turning towards the washers and placing the items inside. Eddie swoops in front of you and puts quarters in for you, you playfully roll your eyes but smile up at him nonetheless.

“Oooh, that should be fun,” he scratches at the back of his neck, “I uh- owe you for bailing me out so just let me know what you need for the security deposit and I’ll write a check,”

“Thank you Eddie, but you don’t have to. I lost your jacket, I bailed you out, were even,”

Eddie shakes his head, curls flying in all directions at the erratic movement.

“Someone stole my jacket from you, you didn’t just leave it for anyone to take. Plus I can,so let me,” he states, eyes locking with yours in a stare.

“Just let me, it’s the least I can do-” you nod your head, allowing the man to help you pay your way into a new apartment.

A feat that was easier said than done, you had looked at 5 separate places with Christa, none of them being anything close to what you wanted or needed.

You finally decide to call it quits and return back to the hotel, smiling when you see Eddie waiting outside your door with a pizza box in his hand. Christa sends you a wink as you get out of the car, a soft “enjoy yourself” falling from her lips.

Eddie grins widely when he sees you step out of Christa’s car.

“Sorry- thought you were home from your hunting,” he motions towards your car that is parked a few spots down from your door.

“Kinda got stuck at our last place. Creepy landlord,” you straighten out the pleats of your skirt as Eddie sucks in a breath in through his teeth, wincing dramatically.

“At least you dodged that bullet,” he says as he leans against the doorframe waiting for you to open it, his slim shoulders doing a good job at boxing you in. The smell of his cologne makes your mind whir, gone are the days of dried puke and alcohol.

You unlock the door, Eddie’s hand pushing it open forcing you to duck underneath his arm. He lets the door close softly behind him once he is inside, being sure to lock the deadbolt.

He places the pizza box on the small table by the window. He draws the curtains, blocking out the rest of the world and turning the room into a space that was only for the two of you.

“Got your favorite,” he motions to the box with his thumb as he walks up behind you. You’re stepping out of your shoes when Eddie’s arm snakes around your front, under your arm and resting on your collarbone. He’s come over every night since the cleaning fiasco, you talk about the ten-day-whirlwind that the two of you have embarked on and get to know eachother even more.

Eddie spends most of his time apologizing when you recall anything from the short time of knowing him, ashamed of how much he had hurt you.

It’s been a week of take-out, today bringing you to day seventeen. Ten days of hell and seven of something in between a raging fire and a rumbling earthquake- scalding your skin and shaking off the dust settled deep in your soul.

His arm comes undone from you, his hand tracing down your tricep, over your elbow, ghosting down your forearm, finally grasping your hand as he draws you towards the radio sitting in the corner of the room.

Eddie liked to dance- he twirled to what he called your “teeny bopper” music, he swayed his hips to country music, he even danced to his own music when you forced him to listen to it one night.

Eddie danced with you tonight- his fingers fit perfectly through yours, his hand rested right in the dip of your waist, his lips looked pretty in this light.

“Are you thinking about kissing me, sweets?” He questions, a smile forming on his lips as he leans forward. You blush nervously, nodding your head. His smile gets even wider before he leans in, lips capturing yours.

Both his hands come to cup your face, cheeks tugging and eyes crinkled as he leans in further. His other hand comes to rest on your hip, pushing backwards until your knees hit the back of the couch. You pull away, shifting from foot to foot as you wait for Eddie to take the reins. He chuckles softly before capturing your lips in another soft kiss before pulling away and plopping down onto the couch. He pulls you into his lap, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, all the way to your shoulder.

His eyes meet yours, his hands fumbling with the edge of your sweater. A plea on the edge of his lips as he looks up at you. You nod, letting him remove the garment from your body. He audibly moans at the sight, your breasts bouncing freely only leaving you in your skirt.

“Please tell me you have panties on,” he mumbles, hand snaking down to your center. He bites his lips and groans when he’s met with your sticky folds.

“S’ laundry day,” you giggle.

His fingers trace through your slick, he has half a mind to shove the fingers in your face, make you lick yourself off of him. But When he glances over your face, your pouting lips and furrowed brow send his heart racing. He decides right then that you're an angel. He thinks there’s no way you're real, there is absolutely no way you’re here with him.

He wraps his arm around your waist, standing from his place on the couch. He walks you back to the bed as you kiss up the side of his neck. He lands you on the middle, arms caging you in as he leans down to kiss you. He’s much slower this time, desperate clashing of teeth melting to well thought out movements.

You pull away from him, hands coming to mess with the edge of his old band tee.

“You’re much too dressed for the occasion, Mr. Munson,” you giggle out. He smiles down at you, getting up to strip out of his clothes. You hold your breath when he pulls down his boxers, his cock springing out and slapping against his belly. It’s big and you’re sure he knows it.

He crawls back up the bed, kissing from your ankle to your neck. He splays kisses across your face, finally meeting your lips in a sweet kiss.

His eyes bore into yours as he pushes some hair from your face before kissing you again, but he pulls away much too quickly for your liking.

“M’ gonna eat you out now, kay’?” he mumbles against your lips, you nod, throwing your head back as Eddie begins to kiss back down your body. He stops at the waistband of your skirt, mumbling something to himself before hooking his fingers in the band and pulling the fabric over your bottom.

He moans at the sight of your center, leaning forward to press a kiss to your thighs before diving in completely. He licks from your hole, up to your clit, tongue dancing around the bundle of nerves. Your knuckles grip the white sheets, mind reeling as he works you up to an orgasm. He laps at your pussy, pulling away to spit on his fingers.

His ringed fingers come to push through the sticky mess the two of you have created, one finally pushing in, drawing a guttural moan from your lips. The cold metal of his rings bump against your skin every time he thrusts his fingers in and out. He works you up to three before pulling them out completely, mouth still assaulting your clit, causing you to squeal.

“You ready f’me?” he questions, mouth still between your legs. You tug on his hair, pulling him away from your center, nodding profusely with a smile on your face.

He pushes you further up the bed, settling in between your legs. His cock nudges at your hole, the tip catching inside, you mewl quietly when he pushes in. He leans down, arms settling on either side of your head, his hair tickling your nose as he looks down at you intently.

“So pretty,” You mumble, hand coming up to cup his cheek and draw him into a kiss. He smiles into it, pulling away and admiring the way your face contorts every time he punches that spongy spot inside you.

“S’ all you, sweets,” He moans, forehead pressing against yours as he drives into you. The pace he sets draws moan after moan from deep within you.

Your hand stays cupping his face, kissing him again, your lips barely brushing his when he pulls away.

“C’mon pretty girl, tell me what it is. Wanna know what I should be moaning while I ruin you.”

You shutter a breath out- your name falling off your lips and into the air.

“F-fuck..” he’s full on smiling, his eyes crinkling as he languidly thrusts inside you.

“Eds-Eddie. M’ close,”

“Shit-ok. Where do you want me?” He picks up his pace, cock nudging at all the right places.

“Inside- want you inside,” Your legs lock around his waist, forcing him to bury himself to the hilt as he spills inside of you.

He’s giggling when you finally release him, pulling his still hard cock from inside you and smearing around the mess that has formed between your legs.

“Look so good painted all pretty for me. Could take a picture and look at it all tour long. Would never haveta’ look anywhere else. Just me this little memory and my hand,” he’s pulling your ass cheeks apart, releasing them before his thumb hooks into your pussy as he rummages around on the side table- careful not to knock down the countless polaroids around the camera.

“Can I sweets? Take a pretty little polaroid of this pretty little pussy?” he thrusts his thumb in further, drawing more cum out of you. You giggle when you feel it run down your thighs as you give him a soft hum in response to his question.

He snaps a picture of your most bare area, the idea makes you blush but then there's the idea of Eddie- using it. That makes it feel alright.

“Just wanna take one more,” he says as his cock nudges at your hole again, the puffy skin wanting to scream no but the burn short circuiting your brain at the same time.

He snaps another picture once he’s half inside you, your hands covering your face as you giggle.

“Enough of that,” he says with a small chuckle as he tosses the camera back onto the bedside table. His hands grip your hips as he lazily thrusts into you.

After finally having enough of Eddie’s teasing, you push at Eddie’s belly, signaling him to stop. He flashes you a confused look as he pulls out but soon gets the idea once you scramble off the bed and begin pushing him towards the couch.

He flops down onto the cushions, legs spreading wide. Deft fingers wrapping around your hips as you sink down onto him, your arms snake around his neck and pull at the hair sitting at the nape.

Eddie looks up at you in awe, his eyes never leaving yours as you ride him. His lips are parted, soft breaths and moans tumbling from his mouth.

“Shit- baby I- I can’t last like this-” He groans as he tries to stop your movements. You grab his hand, raising it and placing it on your breast.

“C’mon sweets, come in me again,” He moans sweetly at his own pet name being used against him, his hips stilling once he is settled inside you. He buries his head in your neck as he comes, teeth biting in as he silences himself.

You let him stay inside you for a while, finally pulling off of him when Eddie begins to rub at the skin on your hips.

You’re up on wobbly legs, shooting Eddie a glare when he begins to chuckle.

He throws his hands up in defense and motions to the mess between his legs. Cum has dripped down his balls and pooled in his seat.

“Gonna need to spot clean this one miss housekeeper,” He winces as he gets up, collecting you in his arms and placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let’s shower, yeah?”

You nod, taking his hand as he guides you to the small porcelain tub. He turns on the water, testing it with his fingers before stepping in once it has warmed up. He extends his hand to you, thanking him quietly once you're standing before him in the tiny shower.

He takes a step back, moving out of the spray and allowing you to warm up under the water. You take turns getting your bodies warmed up, Eddie finally assuming his position behind you washing your hair.

“You mentioned tour,” you blush as you recall the memory from moments ago. Eddie’s stops scrubbing your scalp and sighs.

“I- I’m leaving,” he says in an almost whimper.

“Oh, when?”

“Two days,”

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ghouljams · 4 months

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Build Me a Castle of Memories Rating: M Word Count: 6.8k Tags: hurt/comfort, christmas fic, Ghostxf!oc/f!reader, background Pricexf!oc, dissociation, anxiety, grief, 09 Ghost's backstory, Ghost reconciling with his past, dad!Ghost, baby oc Summary: Ghost has never had what you would call a happy Christmas, but you have and that chafes more than he wants it to. He wishes it didn't, but he doesn't know how to stop it. Maybe he was doomed from the start.

“Simon, wake the fuck up, we got chores.”

Ghost folds his pillow over his ears and rolls over, away from the pounding of your fist against the door. There’s nowhere to escape the noise in the little one room house, but damn if he can’t try. He presses the pillow more tightly against his ears, squeezes his eyes shut. He feels like a kid again, your insistent knocking filling in holes in his memory he’d rather forget.

His father banging on the door, screaming as he tries to shield Tommy. His mother’s voice attempting to pacify him. The crack of skin against skin, the soft shocked noise that comes from being struck. A sharp yelp, a plea, but the banging on the door doesn’t stop.

Ghost jerks awake again. His mind struggling to disconnect from the past and focus on the present. How long have you been trying to wake him? He tosses the quilt off and grabs his mask. He needs to get away from this memory, and you’re just in time to help. The mask is pulled on as he goes to yank the door open.

You stare up at him, unapologetic for the early hour. Actually you look a little annoyed it took him so long to get up. Your eyes drop down, and Ghost leans against the door frame to let you look. One nice thing about Texas he supposes, it’s still warm in the winter. Warm enough he doesn’t need more than a pair of shorts to sleep in.

Your eyes pull back up to meet his and he cocks a brow.

You’re cute in an oversized jumper and shorts. He wonders if you’ve started chores, must have since your boots already have mud on them. “Is it a Ghost day today?” You ask, referring to his mask. He hums.

“What do you need, Princess?” He’s already tired of the direction this conversation is taking. Better to keep you both on track and avoid unnecessary topics. December is starting to chafe despite the climate. The feed store had giant candy canes out front the last time he passed it, and a tree lot has already been erected by the church. Must be a merry time of year, not that Ghost’s ever enjoyed it.

“Momma wants the Christmas tubs, and I need another set of hands with the trailer.” You explain, dangling the keys from your fingers. Ghost hums again, you shouldn’t have trouble with a few boxes of decorations, not enough to need his help at least. It’s a good excuse to grab some time alone with you though, one he’s happy to take.

You’re always a welcome distraction from the tightness in his chest.

“Lemme get my boots,” He grumbles, turning back into the house. He leaves the door open for you, knows you’ll follow him in and make yourself at home. It’s charming, you’re charming, if a little annoying.

Sure enough the door clicks shut behind him, and he hears you fussing in the kitchen with the kettle. Ghost is tightening his belt when you offer him a to-go mug of tea. It always tastes better when you make it, the thermos is warmer, the bitterness a little softer, the sugar a little sweeter.

He burns his tongue on the scalding liquid as you pluck his hat from the coat rack by the door and settle it on your head. You toss a smile over your shoulder at him, and it’s like a sunrise over the hills.

The darkness of memory scurries back where he can lock it. The house feels gentler somehow, he feels gentler. Softer around the edges when he rubs his thumb against your cheek.

“Come on ya big softy,” You laugh, patting his chest, “The quicker we get started the quicker we get done.”

Ghost huffs, “They’re Christmas decorations, how long could they take?”

Ten tubs in Ghost decides your mother is insane.

The shed that they’re all in seems dedicated solely to Christmas decor. There are light up reindeer and inflatables, boxes overflowing with lights, and tubs. Tubs upon tubs of heavy ass decor. You hand him another box to find space for on the trailer and Ghost is forced to reconcile with the fact you’re hardly breaking a sweat. You give a soft noise of effort when you lift a tub from the floor or pull one off a tower, but otherwise… Ghost spends a fair amount of time on the walk between the shed and trailer thinking about it.

Maybe they’re not that heavy.

He comes back to the shed to see you stripping your jumper off, the dark tank top underneath hits him like a train. You fold your jumper neatly and place it on top of the tub you lift off the ground with a huff. You blink at him when you turn to take it to the trailer, and a smile creeps over your face.

“Pick your jaw up baby, you’ve seen worse than this,” You tease, shouldering past him just to bump his arm with yours. Baby. You could call him anything you wanted and he’d have to stop himself from following after you. How can one little word make his chest swell and tighten?

How could he ever want to raise a hand to someone that made him feel like this?

Fifteen tubs, nine light up reindeer, and more lights than Ghost has ever seen. He boxes you in as you’re locking up, leaning heavily against his arm on the shed door. You turn to lean against the rough wood as you tuck the key back into your pocket. He holds your chin with his fingers, thumb rubbing against your skin as he takes you in. You give him a confused sort of smile and settle your pretty hands on his chest.

“You ok, big guy?” You ask, your voice light to disguise your concern. Ghost tips his head, quiet. It’s the season, he wants to say. It’s bitterness and resentment that creeps in every year at this time. It’s the smiles of kids swinging their parent’s hands and chattering about santa. It’s the sun shining and the wind blowing without a chill, like it would hate to ruin a perfect December with snow.

“Fine,” Ghost tells you. Your brows twitch down like you don’t believe him. He kisses you quick before you can ask again.

“Swear you got more of this stuff every year,” Price gripes back at the house, his smile telling Ghost he truly doesn’t mind. Your mother eagerly pops the lids off each tub to inspect the contents before telling Price where to take it. It’s a slow process, slower than the initial loading, but easy enough. Ghost takes a huge tub from you, this one clearly labeled “garlands.” It’s unwieldy, but not too heavy. He shifts it up over his shoulder to get it up the steps to the farm house’s front door.

“Thank you for helping Simon,” You mom smiles at him, her hand light on his arm. Something about her touch sears against his skin, her smile chokes him, he’s glad for his mask as he holds her gaze. He nods and continues into the house.

Outside he can hear your mom arguing with you about something. A well meaning sort of tone that carries through the air without yelling, never yelling. Your huffing and whining hardly seem to break the atmosphere. No harsh words, no physical altercation, no familiar ending.

Price passes Ghost on his way out and pauses. His eyes dart to him as he brushes past before he’s out the door again. Ghost sets the tub in the living room with the others. He pats the top, stares at the red lid, pats it again. His stomach twists. He pats it again.

Why can’t he move away?

He pats it. Job done. So why is he still standing there?

He pops the lid off the tub and stares at the pine green garlands, nestled in with fake snow and little red baubles. Christmas-y. His fingers skim the fake needles. Plastic, of course, crushed and bent in places from years of wear. Where do these go? Ghost glances around the room, it feels smaller with all the tubs. The first garland has been lifted from its place by the time you wander by with your own tub, and your jumper on.

“Better leave it, Momma’s particular about her decoratin’,” You tell him, setting your box on the dining table. Despite your warning you tug your tub open and pull tablecloths and centerpieces free. Apparently you’re allowed to help past moving boxes.

Ghost drops the garland back into its tub and presses the lid shut. He goes to grab another box.

For how many tubs there were, the actual decorating goes fast. “Plenty of hands,” You mum, Duck, she told him to call her Duck, tells him with a smile.

There’s a heavy weight on Ghost’s chest, something too large to wrap his arms around. He doesn’t say much as he helps get reindeer plugged in, and fluffy cotton snow tucked around ceramic houses. He finds himself outside with a cigarette between his fingers more often than he’d care to admit. The choke of smoke in his lungs is more familiar an ache than the other one. Nameless, because to name it would mean acknowledging it.

Ghost watches the wind rustle through the dry grass, his eyes trained on the wide horizon. He wishes he could change the shape of his shadow, knock off the parts that dig into his skin. He’s tired. Maybe he should find somewhere to go for the next few weeks, get away from the festivities. Just for a while. Just until it stops hurting. The screen door knocks against the frame behind him.

“You’re quiet,” You lean against the porch railing, eyeing him. You’re so damn observant it kills him. Ghost snubs his cigarette on the ashtray next to him and lets the last of the smoke leave his lungs.

“So I’ve heard.” He tells you, turning to push past you and back into the house. If he stays around you too long he might say something he can’t take back. It’s better like this.

Price is busy enough with the upstairs decorations that Ghost doesn’t feel bad making a beeline for the living room. Red and green cover the place. The mantle over the fireplace hosts a christmas village, the couch boasts flannel throws and christmas pillows, miniature christmas trees in various styles are set on every horizontal surface. Somehow the room feels warmer, the twinkle of fairy lights giving everything a soft glow.

How could he have anything to say around this? All this- Fucking hell why do you have to be one of these families? A happy family. You don’t even have a proper tree yet but there are already presents set in the corner Price partitioned off as the “tree spot.”

Ghost rubs his thumb against one of the garlands hung up around the entryway. So this is where they went. Your- Duck waves him over when he makes eye contact, offers him a baby of a hammer and a few tiny nails.

“Make yourself useful and tack up the cotton,” she smiles at him. He gives a short nod and follows the line of her fingers to the line of cotton circling the room, nestled neatly over a thick garland. Duck surrenders the step ladder to him and Ghost is quick to take over. He tucks the cotton into place and pushes the little nail into it, taps it with the head of the little hammer.

“We have to re-plaster every other year or so,” Duck says behind him, filling the silence with her voice.

“I can tell,” Ghost grumbles, eyeing the little holes that dot the wall. He tacks another length of cotton snow to the wall, squishes it up against the ceiling and drives the nail in. He looks back down at Duck and holds his hand out for more cotton. She’s already holding the next batch of it, apparently well versed in this whole decorating business.

“You should’ve seen the wall before we started fixing it,” She hums, “years and years of holes.” Ghost says nothing. These holes are nothing. Years and years of holes knocked into walls, covered by picture frames and curtains. “Most of these decorations have been in the family for years,” She tells him, background noise to the drone of his thoughts, “We still use my mom’s plates for Christmas dinner.”

“You ever broken one?” He asks, feeling his throat tighten as soon as the words are out. He squeezes his fist, the points of the nails digging into the meat of his palm.

“Of course,” Duck’s tone is alien to him, it’s all alien to him, “that’s what happens with old things, but I don’t need the plates to remember her.”

Ghost stares at the wall, the plastic needles of the garland, the red bows and white cotton. He bounces the weight of the hammer against his fingers, unseeing. There’s something at the edges of the statement that feels targeted, that speaks to an understanding he wishes she didn’t have. You don’t know me, it says, but I know you. Something wet tickles his fingers, he can feel the warmth of it dripping from his grip.

Remember when you had things you could carry with you? He asks himself. Pictures, smiles, something more than a memory? When’s the last time he visited their graves? Are they clean? Has anyone brought them flowers?

“They’re just things Simon,” his memory whispers, voice watery, like it doesn’t want him to see it cry.

Someone touches his arm, and asks, “Simon?” in a voice so close to his mother’s that he jumps, and nearly topples off the step ladder. A pair of hands press to his back to keep him steady.

“I’ll be alright,” his memory finishes, like a hand stroking his hair. He feels small. It hurts.

He drops the nails from his hand, lets the hammer fall free as he grips his wrist with a shuddering breath. Shit. Small puncture wounds dot his palm, nails still clinging to the meaty base of his thumb. He focuses on his breathing, pushing the pain down into its tightly lidded container as he steps down off the ladder.

Duck grabs his hand before he can shoulder past her towards the bathroom, inspecting the damage. Damn doctor. She clicks her tongue, the same way you do when you’re upset. She spreads his fingers out, opens his hand as she prods around the blood.

“Doesn’t look like any permanent damage done,” She smiles up at him, a mother’s smile where he’d hoped to see a doctor’s, “Just needs cleaned up.” Simon swallows.

“Let’s get it over with.” He responds, the same way he always does to medical.

Ghost studies his bandaged hand in the quiet of his bathroom, water patters against the tile of his shower in the silence. Plain gauze and bandaging, the same as it always is. No stitches needed. No permanent damage. Just plain gauze. And bandaging.

He rubs his thumb against the rough bandage, feeling its familiarity.

He sighs and leans back against the sink, presses his hand over his eyes to block the buzz of the overhead light. How much longer does he have to wait before it all stops hurting?

Things quiet down after the house is decorated. The holiday lulls into something almost palatable. You’re over less. In the week following Ghost finds himself sleeping alone three days in a row, finds himself unable to sleep when he does have you in bed with him. You hug close against his chest, your legs tangled with his and your breaths soft and even. He can’t lose the time he has with you to sleep, his lips press against your forehead as he feels like an outsider in his own skin.

“You should come stay in the main house,” You offer over your coffee, “until the holiday is over.” Ghost hums.

“Wouldn’t want to disturb the Christmas cheer,” He sips his tea, scrolling through the news on his phone. Never anything good, never anything that makes him happy he left the service.

“I want you there,” You press, “we want you there.” You always do that, make it sound like you aren’t enough to convince him, like he needs more than you to ask for something before he grants it.

“I like my space,” He looks up from his phone, and his heart twists at the sadness in your eyes, he fixes his eyes back on his phone, “I’ll think about it.”

“Maybe closer to Christmas? I know it’s not-” You hesitate, he hates hearing you hesitate, it doesn’t sound right to his ear when your confidence wavers, “With my parents around, I know it’s not ideal, or romantic, but-”

“I don’t like sleeping alone either,” Ghost finishes for you, swallowing his own feelings down, “I’ll think about it princess, promise.”

“Ok,” You smile, and kick your feet up into his lap under the table.

He spends the whole day thinking about it. Spends the day thinking about sleeping in a guest room, about seeing Price in the morning outside the bathroom, about family meals, about waking up surrounded by cheer when he feels anything but cheerful. He walks into the kitchen to grab lunch and finds the counters covered in unfrosted Christmas cookies, sprinkles and colorful icing laid out with joyful care. It makes his chest tighten uncomfortably, his memory working overtime to remind him of the clatter of baking sheets and the shouting that comes after the smell of burning flesh.

He skips lunch.

There’s something broken in him, Ghost knows that better than anyone, but he can’t stop the sharp edges of it from cutting. There’s something angry clawing at his ribs, licking his scars until they itch, choking his throat with dirt and earth. He snaps at Price while the cattle files past, and wishes his captain wasn’t so damn sturdy. “I know son,” Price tells him easily. It hurts more than it has any right to. All of it hurts more than he knows it should.

He holds you in bed at night and stares at the wall, tracing the path of the moon by the light it casts through the windows. He just needs to make it through the holiday.

Easier said than done.

Christmas seems to take over the ranch the closer the holiday gets. Presents appear piled under the tree, cookies tower on plates just out of reach of the dog, carols seem to always be playing, and the television happily hums with every holiday movie he could think of. You catch him under a mistletoe and Ghost feels like he’s quickly reaching a boiling point. Your joy, usually so infectious, now seems tailor made to destroy him.

He’s not mad at you, he knows he isn’t, knows exactly what this feeling is. It’s the same feeling he had in primary school watching other kids excitedly chatter about Christmas plans. Jealousy. Why did the universe see fit to give everyone else a happy family but him? He was just a kid. Kids don’t deserve that. Why did he have to go home to hell when you came home to Christmas carols and twinkling lights?

He tried so hard to be good,

And it never mattered.

Still, he doesn’t want to ruin the holiday for you. He follows you around town while you Christmas shop, smiles when you smile, offers you new jokes to hear you laugh, stops to look at the little display in the antique store window. Somehow it cheers him up, buying you a gift. It feels small, but genuine. He tucks the little felt lined box into his pocket and rubs his thumb against it when his thoughts start to drift away from you.

You squeeze his hand, your fingers intertwined as you walk. It feels reassuring for the first time in days.

With your gift in the back of his mind Ghost finally feels like he’s getting a handle on the whole Christmas situation. He can do this for you, he can give you a good holiday. You deserve a good holiday, even if he feels like a recruit getting pushed into action without so much as a vest. It still chafes at him, but Ghost has gotten good at ignoring uncomfortable feelings over the years. He shoves down the green eyed monster, and tries to throw a tarp over the old wounds that threaten to reopen.

He ignores the twitch of your mother’s brows, the clench of Price’s jaw, your hopeful smile. It’s strange how… easy it is to join the holiday, like you’d been waiting for him, holding a place for him to slot into. The warmth of it sinks into him, wraps around him gently where he’d thought it would try to pierce him.

He still hasn’t worked up the courage to take you up on your offer. He can’t look at you when he leaves, can’t see that tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It feels colder when he goes back to his little house. You’re so busy with your family, and he’s been holding himself back from you. He’s never been a coward before, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than letting you know how hurt he is, how broken he is to be jealous of your happiness.

Ghost tugs the towel off his mirror and stares down his reflection. His fingers squeeze the edge of the sink, knuckles white as he leans against the porcelain. It’s the season, he tells himself for the hundredth time, but it isn’t, is it? There’s a piece of his father lodged in his soul, dark and cloying, desperate to get out of the cage Simon shoved it in. The little voice in his head that asks why anyone else should have something nice if he didn’t get to.

He grips the sink tighter, keeps his eyes focused on their reflection.

The world is unfair and cruel. That’s why he joined the military, to even the scales. It’s his mum’s fault really. He swallows the lump in his throat. God she would have loved this, loved all this Christmas bullshit, pushed him to enjoy it, pushed him to stop holding you at arms length. She would have loved you, and you would’ve gotten on with Tommy like a house on fire.

The sink cracks under his hand.

It’s shallow, but he hears the break like a bell. It pulls his attention from the mirror as he rips his hand away and inspect the damage. He shoves down the guilt that tries to bubble to the surface. This is exactly why he’s keeping his distance. He wouldn’t be able to survive hurting you, can’t stomach the thought. He’s not his father, he can give you a good Christmas. He’s going to give you a good Christmas.

He’ll kill himself before he puts you through the sort of holidays he had.

Christmas eve creeps up without Ghost realizing, and all of a sudden he can't escape the warmth of the main house. There are no chores for him to do, you and Price having gotten up early to finish them. There's no help he can offer, Duck shoos him out of the kitchen. Every time he attempts to leave you drag him back to the couch. It's suffocating. Price follows him out to the porch to smoke, and he realizes he hasn't had a moment to himself in hours. Ghost can't turn a corner without bumping into someone. You're all just… hovering.

And yet no one has said anything. That almost makes it worse. The atmosphere inside the house is warm and festive, but Ghost can't help being reminded of a funeral. It's the sort of long dirge that seems to have no end in sight covered in a Christmas carol. There's plenty Ghost can ignore, but this is pushing it. He's both scrutinized and ignored.

You laugh and make jokes, Price snags cookies off the plate, Duck asks about santa. The dog is handed a bone and jumps around excitedly. The lights twinkle and carols ring through the house. Ghost doesn't think he's said a word in an hour, there's no point. “Big family syndrome” Soap had said once, “makes ya louder even when there's just the two of ya.”

It's too loud. It's too normal. It's too happy when he feels like he's going to break. All of the anger and hurt in his chest that wants so desperately to explode only makes it that much worse. He can't do this.

Ghost pushes back from the table when you settle your hand on his knee. He balls up his napkin and tosses it onto the table, turning to leave as your chair scrapes against the floor. He hardly hears when you call after him.

He just needs a minute of silence, a moment for his grief. He just needs two Goddamn seconds where he doesn't have to pretend he didn't lose everything. Where he can hate Christmas in peace.

Ghost presses his hands against his eyes, he can’t stem the stream of anger and hurt that pounds at his ribs. Why? Why can’t he push this down like he always has? Why does it feel so much bigger, so much meaner? It's never been this bad before, he's never had grief boil like this.

He doesn’t raise his head to the crunch of hay underfoot. You’re coming to try and comfort him, he supposes. He doesn’t want you to see him like this.

“Go away princess,” He grits, as you take a seat next to him.

“Oh that’s cute,” You mother hums, “she is like a princess isn’t she.”

Ghost looks up from his hands, glares at Duck to try and dissuade this line of conversation. Somehow this feels worse than if you or Price had come after him. He doesn’t know your mother well enough to anticipate her script. Open water without a life vest.

“I like to come out here when I’m upset too,” Duck smiles, looking out the open barn doors. The texas sky is darkening, the first pinpricks of starlight starting to make their appearance. Somehow it feels like Christmas, even without the cold.

“I’m fine,” Ghost looks towards the doors too, clasps his hands together where he leans over his knees. Duck hums again, quiet and patient. So assured that Ghost would spill his heart to her that he almost wants to. When he glances at her again she isn’t looking at him, her eyes watching one of the barn cats sleep with a soft smile.

“You know the first christmas I had with John was two years after Goose was born,” She tells him, “he was still in his fatigues, fresh from the airport, and I was so mad at him-” She laughs, “-because he didn’t want to hold her for a picture.” Something in her smile strikes Ghost as sad, he can’t take his eyes off of her. “He said he didn't want to get blood on her, and I-” a shaky breath “-I don’t know. Eight months in combat and he couldn’t touch his daughter, I just wanted to make him forget about it.”

“That’s your sob story?” Ghost raises a brow.

“That’s why our Christmases look like this,” Duck turns to him, “I’m sure your mother had the same thought.”

“You don’t know my mother,” Ghost grits, squeezing his hands tighter, “There wasn’t any- We never had a happy Christmas, the old man wouldn’t have allowed that.”

His father always felt so big. Always stood so tall and hit so hard. He was impossible to go against, impossible to ignore, the threat of him always hanging over Simon’s head. Christmas especially he seemed to haunt, a monster around the corner ready to pounce. He delighted in others' misery, it was no wonder he seemed to take such joy in destroying the holiday.

There was no father Christmas, no meal good enough, no decoration that didn’t end up destroyed. Good china smashed and ornaments shattered. Just things, his mum would say wiping snot from his nose, not worth the tears.

“It couldn’t have all been bad,” Duck tells him quietly, “your mum wouldn’t let it all be bad,” her grip on his hand tightens, “I wouldn’t.”

“It was all shite,” Ghost assures her with a harsh chuckle. “Just about the only Christmas that went well was-” Ghost stops, frowns as he stares out of the barn. Duck is quiet next to him, letting him sink into the memory. The first Christmas after he kicked his dad out. The first Christmas after Tommy had Joseph, his pudgy little fingers reaching for the shiny ornaments on the little tree they had. His mum had baked cookies. It was the first time she’d actually managed to get them all iced without anyone storming in to scream at her, or throw the tray on the floor. They’d sat on the floor playing Father Christmas, passing out presents with smiles. It was warm, and quiet. Just how he’d always wanted it to be.

Duck’s hand cups his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek with a startling gentleness. Simon looks at her and she smiles at him, something warm and watery in her eyes. He feels the tightness in his throat reflected back to him, feels the wetness tracing lines over his cheeks brushed away with care.

“You two would’ve gotten on like-” He shakes his head, looks away from the ache in his chest, “Doesn’t matter now.”

“She would’ve been proud of you,” Duck says, and it hits him like a bullet through the heart, “I am. We all are.”

And he realizes where you get it from, realizes why you change your ‘I’s to ‘we’s. It’s not a worry that you won’t be enough, it’s an assurance that he has more than just you.

Simon looks at his hands, unclasps them to rub his thumb against the pinprick scabs that dot his palm. It hurts, the ball of grief in his chest bounces around hitting nerves and making everything feel bigger and scarier than it is. It eclipses everything, impossible to ignore. Duck settles a hand on his shoulder and grief presses too hard against his throat. His vision swims, and a tear falls into his hand. Duck squeezes his shoulder, an ever present warmth at his side as Simon tries to stem the flow.

“It gets easier,” Duck's voice is soft, sympathetic, “but the good times always hurt worse than the bad ones.” Simon shakes his head, and looks at her over his shoulder, she swallows down the sadness in her smile. “I'm sorry baby,” she tells him, her sincerity hitting him the same as Price's, “I'm so sorry.”

Simon nods, he feels small and far away. He's too big to want to be held like a child, too old, yet Duck pulls him into her arms and he can't do anything but curl into her grip. His hands grip her jumper tight, keeping her held in place as he takes the offered comfort like a starving child takes grapes from the pale man’s table. There’s no judgement as tears stain her sweater, no harsh words or calls for him to “be a man”, only the quiet of the barn as Simon lets himself feel the grief he’d been avoiding all month. For years really. Ever since he found his family dead, felt the cold grasp of understanding wrap around him that he’d never have the sort of Christmas normal people have.

Not when his gifts were soaked in blood, not when he burned the last good things in his life.

“Why don’t you stay with Goosey tonight?” Duck offers, cutting through the tears, “The guest room is a mess, and I know she won’t mind.”

Of course you won’t, you’ve been trying to hold onto him all month. Trying to pull him out of the past as desperately as he was trying to avoid it. The first good thing in this chapter of his life. He should’ve been holding onto you, not pushing you away.

“You’re a good man Simon,” Duck mumbles, her voice quiet enough that he almost doesn’t catch the end of her sentence, “they wouldn’t blame you.”

He says nothing, just curls a little closer, and imagines it’s his mother saying those words.

The house is quiet when he and Duck walk back inside. Price sits on the couch reading, and opens his arms for his wife when she wanders over to him. His captain pulls her onto his lap and brushes her hair off her forehead, a quiet moment of affection in front of the fire that speaks to years of familiarity. He can only hope to have that with you someday, but first maybe an apology is in order. Simon bypasses the happy couple to go upstairs, following the lights to your room.

He pushes the door open as quietly as he can, watches you look up from where you're sitting on the edge of your bed. Your eyes water, but you smile for him. Simon steps inside, and closes the door behind him with a soft click.

“Momma finally convince you to stay here tonight?” You ask. Simon hums, and holds his arms out for you. It's entirely too endearing how quickly you rush into his hold. You press your head against his shoulder and Simon does the same, burying his nose against your neck to breathe in your familiar scent. Somehow it settles in his bones like coming home. God, he missed you. Missed the way you feel in his arms, the way you melt against him with a sigh like he’s all you’d ever need to be happy.

“You were waitin’ on me,” Simon says looking at the still made bed. The room is bathed in the soft glow of Christmas lights, and you stare up at him with a funny sort of smile, the kind that makes him think he’s said something colossally stupid.

“I’m always gonna wait on you,” You tell him, like it doesn’t mean the world to him. Always, you tell him, and Simon wonders again how one little word from you can make his heart feel like it will burst. You reach to cup his face, stroking your thumb over his stubble with a fondness he’s never seen before. It makes him want to tell you he loves you.

“I have something for you,” You say before he can spill his heart. You lean out of his arms to swipe a present off of the dresser next to you. You hold out a flat parcel, wrapped in brown paper with a neat red bow. It’s simple, but the way his name is written carefully on it, far flung from your usual chicken scratch, speaks to the care put into it. He lets you go to take it gingerly, turning it over in his hands to check the seams.

“We’re more of a presents on Christmas family, but I thought you might like this early.” You explain as Simon carefully slides his finger under the tape holding the paper together, gentle not to rip it as you watch him. He turns the picture frame over in his hand and freezes.

Grainy and just barely colored is a photo of Tommy’s wedding. The happy couple smiles up at him, with Simon and his mother standing at his brother’s side, while their new in-laws stand with Beth. His fingers trace the smile on his face, the way his mum holds onto his arm, happier than he'd ever seen her. He looks up to meet your eye, your unsure smile.

“Where did you get this?” Simon asks, looking back at a life he'd buried years ago. You step closer, settle a hand on his.

“I called a couple genealogy places in Manchester,” you explain, “figured your mom might've put an announcement in one of the local papers. They faxed a couple photos over.” You pause, unsure as Simon looks at the photograph. He looks back at you when you've been quiet a moment too long. “I have one of Joseph under the tree, I can go get it.” Your nerves bleed into your voice, your tone softer than Simon's ever heard it.

“I gotta have something to open tomorrow,” He tells you, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close to his side and kissing your forehead. “Thank you.” Simon feels quieter, you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze.

“I know it's not much,” you murmur, and Simon cuts you off.

“It's perfect.”

Somehow looking at the photo makes his heart feel lighter. It’s tangible, physical proof of the life he lived, and of the people he lived it with. He wonders if it was really so easy to find, you must have gone through a lot of effort to find this picture. The kind of effort you only put in for someone you love.

“Got something for you too,” He sniffs, settling the picture back where it had been.

“You do?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Simon flicks your forehead, and you swat at his hand. He grabs the little hinged box from his coat pocket and tosses it to you. You barely fumble it, popping the lid open with a smile. He almost worries you hate it the way your face screws up, your lips pouting and your nose wrinkling.

“I love it,” You tell him with a wavering voice, pulling the necklace free of its velvet prison. The little porcelain charm hangs gently from the silver chain, a tiny white goose with an orange beak and a blue scarf painted on it. You hold the charm in the palm of your hand, studying it. “Can’t believe you got me jewelry,” You joke, trying to cover the water brimming at your lashes, something Simon is happy to brush away with his fingers.

“Thought it was cute,” He supplies, you nod.

“It’s perfect,” You unclasp the clip on the chain, and hold it out to him, turning so Simon can pull the two ends around the back of your neck.

“I ever tell you that the bartender no-showed the reception?” Simon asks, helping you clasp the necklace. You laugh, trying to keep your voice down.

“No time like the present,” You smile over your shoulder at him, the sun peaking over the mountains just for him.

Simon holds his daughter up in front of the family Christmas tree, her little pudgy fingers reaching for the shiny ornaments as her eyes reflect the lights. She kicks her feet excitedly, cooing at the display and letting out eager huffs as she attempts to escape her father’s arms. He’s never seen anyone so excited about a few decorations, but the glee that radiates off of the baby is enough to lighten anyone’s mood.

“Don’t let her grab anything,” You call from the couch. Simon pulls Mary back into his arms and steps closer to pull a little fuzzy teddy bear ornament off a branch. He jingles it in front of her grubby little fingers with a smile.

“This one’s yours,” He tells her quietly, “don’t tell your mum.” Tiny fingers wrap around the soft toy, and pull it close. It’s amazing how different the holidays feel with a baby, it’s like experiencing everything for the first time all over again.

Mary holds onto the little bear and Simon holds onto the ornament hook, keeping it out of her mouth as she gums at the ornament’s ears. He’s almost tempted to let her keep it, except that the baby has more presents under the tree than any of them. The perks of being less than a year, he supposes. Having doting grandparents helps too.

Not that Simon can blame them. Mary smiles at him around the bear’s arm and his heart melts a little. Christ, how did he ever make something this perfect? “How many of these did you say you wanted?” He asks over his shoulder.

“As many as you can carry.” You hum. Simon bounces Mary in his arms, and pulls the ornament from her grasp when she switches her focus to him. Tiny fingers reach for his face, soft baby skin feeling over his stubble and giggling. He catches her hand and presses it to his lips, feeling the way Mary squirms in his arms, her chubby legs kicking excitedly.

“They’re all going to be good,” He promises her, “every Christmas-” he kisses her hand again, “-and every birthday-” another kiss, “-and everything in between. For the both of us.”

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