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shreddedparchment · 5 years

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Man and Wife Pt.03

The Marriage

04/08/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 7,253

*Masterpost in Notes Warnings: smut, protected sex, language, angst, teasing Sam off-screen

A/N: This is where this fic is going to start to get real folks. If you’ve read the stuff I write, you’ll know that I don’t shy away from tough stuff. This is just another. I promise that the angst will be worth it. I’m enjoying writing this so much because I think it’s helping me grow, to see relationships from different perspectives and to explore the way that relationships evolve. I hope you like this chapter. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You and Bucky don’t get to go on your honeymoon.

He knows you’re disappointed and he tries to make it up to you with several lavish dates.

One night he takes you to a five-star restaurant that Tony owns. The meal is free, obviously, though you'd gotten a look at Bucky's finances—“Y/N, it's our money. If you need to use it, use it.”—and he doesn’t need comped meals.

In fact, Bucky could have bought the restaurant from Tony if he'd wanted it. He pulls out your chair and he feeds you from across the table.

“Bucky, I don’t need all this. It wasn’t the trip I cared about; it was spending time with you.” You chew your food though, licking your lips because it's delicious.

Bucky's shoulders sag lightly. “I know. I’m sorry. As soon as we catch this guy, we can go on that honeymoon, but I doubt we'll see more than the bedroom.”

You chuckle and Bucky's eyes light up at the sound.

That night he takes you on the sofa. His love and apology pouring into every pump of his hips as he brings you to the edge of ecstasy and then falls over it with you.

He collapses on top of you then pulls you up and grabs another condom as he walks by the dresser into your master bath then pins you to the slippery tile wall as he ravishes you again while the two of you shower.

You and Bucky fit very well physically.

Then he leaves on mission again and you focus on work, counting the minutes until he's back. As your marriage rounds into month two, Bucky’s lovemaking only gets more elaborate. He buys you toys, soft feathers and silk scarves.

There's some play in the bedroom, nothing too crazy, but it's new to you and every time he ties your hands behind your back and he takes you from behind, your orgasm almost splits you in two.

Month two, is very much like month one, full of soft kisses and intense sex. There's very little time to sit and talk because Bucky is always leaving for a day or two at a time.

On the morning of month three, you pull open your door and smile at Casey who you’ve seen almost every day since you got married.

“Aren't you supposed to be unreachable for like six months or something? Why is it that you got married and I don’t miss you?”

You know her question is rhetorical, so you don’t answer. You also don’t want to think about the point she's trying to make.

“How's that new roommate?”

“Miserable. She laughs really loud. High pitched. The dog next door howls.”

You chuckle and place her cup of tea down on the soft chestnut brown coffee table then sit down so that you can face her.

“Where is he today?” Casey asks, reaching out for her cup of tea and completely ignoring your very subtle hints about not wanting to talk about Bucky.

You’re trying to wean her off caffeine. She's calmer when she's not full of coffee and as she questions you, she still sounds determined just not as confrontational.

“I don’t know. I asked but he had to go before he could tell me. I didn’t even get to kiss him goodbye.” You pout, leaning your head against the inside of your elbow where you have it extended along the back of your sofa.

Casey frowns. “I told him to take care of you.”

“He is taking care of me.” You assure her. “I just can’t wait for them to catch this guy so he can just be here. I miss him so much.”

Casey shakes her head. “What do you guys even talk about? Can he talk about his work?”

That’s a good question. You’ve never asked. You and Bucky are always planning for when he can be with you for more than a few days at a time that you haven’t asked about his work.

“We talk. Lots. About stuff we like and don’t like. He hates the cold. And um…he likes to draw. He likes math. The weirdo. What else?” You shut your eyes to try and remember the things you two have shared with each other while you lay together but all you can see are his sweaty abs, the curve of his muscular butt, and the thick spread of his thighs.

Jesus, your ears are hot.

“All you two do is fuck, don’t you?” Casey narrows her eyes knowingly.

You laugh because she's not completely wrong.

“No!” She narrows her eyes more. “And yes. We do spend a lot of time in bed together. He goes for hours, Case. And when he doesn't go for hours he goes over and over and over. He's got me doing things that I’ve never done before. We do talk. We do. But-"

“I get it, you’re drowning in dick.” Casey rolls her eyes.

You laugh.

“He's hot. I don’t blame you, Y/N, but you are going to get to know him better, right?”

“I do know him.” You pout. Refusing the idea that you and Bucky don’t know each other.

“You know his history, Y/N. Who is he? What's he like on a day to day basis? Does he scratch his balls when he sits watching TV? Does he clean his ears and leave the cotton swabs on the counter? Does he pick his teeth after he eats? What is your husband like?”

You swallow hard, trying to answer her questions in your head but you can't. You don’t know if he scratches when he watches TV because he hasn’t been home or out of bed long enough for the two of you to even watch a movie.

What if he hates all of your favorite movies?

Days later when Bucky gets home, these worries are rattling around in your head.

So, when you hear him pushing his key into the lock of your front door, you hurry to open it for him and stand with bated breath as you look him over.

A new routine you’ve formed is giving him a head to toe examination to make sure he's not injured. There’s always a bruise or two. Small cuts, but luckily nothing major so far.

He stands there, his hand extended out towards the lock, key in hand, and you can see the exhaustion on his face.

“You’re home!” You exclaim, grateful and excited to see him unharmed this time. Not even a bruise.

“I am.” He says and moves inside, shutting the door behind him as he lowers a large black duffel bag that you know has some of his work clothes and supplies, and places it on the floor by the door.

He looks freshly showered which means he's been back for at least a couple hours. A couple hours!

“You’re not hurt this time.”

“It was just a scouting mission.”

You take that in, grateful for his safety but wondering if maybe someone else couldn’t have gone for him. Did it have to be him?

Suddenly he's got his arms around your waist, pulling your attention back to him and out of your thoughts.

“I missed you.” He whispers deeply. You know that tone.

You place your hands on his wide chest and let him kiss you.

Did he miss you? Or your body? Not that you mind but what happens when he stops wanting your body? That happens right? The passion in marriages fizzles out after a while and when it happens to you and Bucky, you’re going to notice it more because you’ve been married now much longer than you knew each other before. All you have known is this passion.

You’re so lost in your mind that it must be affecting your kiss because Bucky pulls back and licks his own lips as he looks down at your face.

“Hey, everything okay?” He asks, startling you back to reality.

“Yeah.” You smile. “Yes. Of course. I just missed you so much.”

You reach into his hair, grazing your nails lightly against his scalp. He shuts his eyes and you push yourself up onto your toes to kiss him.

He responds to your lips instantly and you try to squash Casey's voice down as you just enjoy his lips.

He pulls you in, making your knees buckle like only his kiss ever has, but you’re not as lost in it as you usually get.

When he pulls back, he begins to trail burning kisses along your jaw then down the side of your neck, his tongue tracing small circles against your skin.

You feel the itch of desire moisten your core, but you pull back. Pushing on his chest gently.

“Bucky?”

He blinks, surprised by your refusal but he's not upset. He waits, watching you before he caresses the right side of your face with his cool metal hand.

“What is it, baby-doll?”

“Can we watch a movie? I picked out a few of my favorites. I don’t know yours but if you wanna watch something you like instead, we can.”

He furrows his brow, not confused but maybe curious? He doesn't seem to understand why you're suddenly going on about movies, but he quickly relaxes and smiles again, soft and kind as he reaches to take your left hand and lead you to the sofa.

The two of you sit and you grab the remote to scroll through the options. You look over at Bucky as he settles himself in low, leaning back so that his head is propped up by the back of the couch.

He's man spreading, relaxed, as he reaches up to wipe at his tired eyes with his right hand. You've got your body angled towards him, your knees bent up onto the cushions, as you steal slightly nervous glances at him and continue to scroll.

“You like Star Wars?”

“Uh…never seen it.”

“What?!” You look at him, but he looks uninterested, so you keep scrolling. “We'll do Star Wars another day. There are like a million of them. How about an adventure movie? Have you ever seen the Goonies? It's eighties old but really good. Fun.”

“Nope.” He rolls his head to the left to look at you, his expression stoic.

“We don’t have to watch a movie, babe.” You assure him, feeling weird about insisting when he doesn’t seem interested.

“No. No, I want to.” He assures you and smiles at you genuinely, then he yawns lightly, quickly covering it with his hand. “Pick whichever one you want. I haven’t seen almost any movies since I…Let's watch it.”

You feel better with the clear reflection of love in his eyes, so you push play.

As you settle in against his side, you take his metal arm and intertwine your fingers with his.

The soft fabric of his gray t-shirt feels good against your skin.

Suddenly, you sit up, the movie having already started.

“Oh, are you hungry? I didn’t even ask. I’m sorry. I can make you something?” You begin to get up, but Bucky places his slow moving metal hand on your knee to stop you.

“I already ate, Y/N. Just relax.” He rubs your knee and then leaves his hand there as he turns tired eyes to the TV.

“What did you eat?” You wonder. It is pretty late. It would be silly of him not to have eaten.

“Steaks and veggies and some pizza and some hot wings and-Do I have to name everything? I ate a lot. I’m stuffed.” He says the end with a laugh in his voice as he rubs his perfect stomach and you feel a soft ache.

“Where?”

“At the compound. Tony likes to throw these dinners after we get back from mission. Everyone was there.” He blinks hard, his eyes probably burning for sleep.

Everyone? No. Not everyone was there.

“Oh.” You look at the TV and shrink into the sofa, clinging to his metal arm as Data crashes through Mikey's front door but you’re not really seeing the kids. As you lay your head on his shoulder, you’re calculating the time that Tony's parties usually last. Not that you’ve seen any of the Avengers since your wedding… “What time did you get back, Bucky?”

When he speaks he sounds sleepy.

“I don’t know, early? The sun wasn’t up yet.”

Something akin to jealousy rages in your stomach. No, not jealousy but you do feel sick. Like you might throw up.

He'd been back all day and he'd just come home? You’ve been out of your mind with worry for three days. Why didn’t he at least call you?

You look up to ask him but find him with his jaw slack and his eyes shut. The dark curtain of his hair falls gently on the sides of his face. He looks so relaxed, so tired and peaceful that you bite your lip and shove your anger down.

You can’t wake him up now. He's been working so hard. You lay your head back onto his shoulder and tighten your hold on his arm, snuggling in closer to him. Trying to find comfort in his closeness because that’s what it has offered you since the beginning. Tonight, it’s not working though.

He responds to your snuggling however, sighing deeply, his lips smacking in his sleep before he leans his head against yours and continues to sleep.

You don’t really watch the movie. While Bucky sleeps, you seethe. Your stomach churns and bubbles with rage.

Three days! He'd been gone for three days with no word to you, which is fine because that’s how it's been since the beginning and you don’t expect him to call you while he's actually in dangerous situations but the fact that he's been home for most of this third day and he hadn’t even called to tell you that he was back…what are you? Are you even his wife?

As the credits roll and you pick up your head, you push his up with yours.

He breathes in quickly, a sudden gasp as he realizes he fell asleep.

“Oh, shit, sorry.” He blinks hard, chasing the sleep from his eyes as he sits up straighter. “I guess I was sleepier than I realized.”

You don’t answer. You’re afraid you'll shout if you do.

Bucky gets up and moves into the kitchen, pouring himself a large glass of water which he gulps down.

You get to your feet, pins and needles explode in your legs because your legs had fallen asleep.

You tug your t-shirt down and turn off the TV, your back to the kitchen because you don’t want to look at Bucky just yet.

You should be happy right now. Bucky is home. He’s safe. So what if he didn't call? So long as he's home!

Two large hands slide down the front side of your hips, two large thighs press against your back, and a pair of hot lips press an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck then press another just under your jaw.

Your body responds because of course it does! This is Bucky. You can feel him twitch behind you, growing hard from sheer anticipation.

“Y/N…?” He whispers against your skin and you shut your eyes, letting your body tell you what to do because your heart and mind are on the same side and sex is not a priority.

You turn around, wrap your arms around his neck and meet his lips in a kiss.

“Mmmmph.” Bucky moans.

You wrap both hands up into his hair and Bucky reaches down to hook his hands beneath your legs and softly in fluid motion, lifts you up.

You wrap your legs around his waist as he stumbles with you towards the bedroom.

You’re aware of everything happening. You can feel him strip you and then shudder with the cold air as you’re brought bare in front of him. His lips devour you, tasting as much of your body as it can but he doesn’t waste a lot of time on foreplay. Or maybe he does and you're too busy thinking to realize?

He has you on the bed, your legs spread and bent wide as he settles between them and in slow relishment he slides himself into you.

For one moment, you’re pulled from your anger and gasp as he fills you. Even after three months of constant sex, you’re still not used to his size.

He takes this as encouragement and brings the cold of his metal hand to your breasts which hardens your nipples. He takes them in his mouth suckling until he begins to thrust himself into you.

“Does that feel good, baby-doll?” He asks but you don’t hear him.

“Y/N?” He asks mid thrust, a quiet groan in your name.

No response.

He stills over you and places his hand on the soft mattress beside you so that he can hold himself up over you.

“Hey,” He says slightly louder, definitely not a moan, and that more than anything pulls you back to him. When you meet his eyes, you see confusion and worry in his narrowed brow. “Everything okay?”

You shake your head and Bucky quickly pulls out of you and sits to your right.

You get up, sliding along the sheets until you can stand up and pull your robe from the dresser to slip it on over your naked form.

You hold it shut, both hands clutched over your aching chest as fear of a fight—your first fight—turns your stomach into knots. Bucky slides to the edge of the bed too in all of his naked glory to sit with his feet flat on the ground and full of worry.

His beautiful blue eyes are overcome with confusion, you almost feel bad for doing this right now. Almost.

He places his hands on either side of his hips, holding the edge of the mattress firmly with his own nervousness.

You can’t seem to find your voice; you just stare at him. Afraid to start this because what if you’re just overreacting?

“Y/N, you’re scaring me.” Bucky admits, looking down towards your hands over your chest then right back up to meet your eyes.

“Sorry.” You gasp, fear making your voice shake. What if he gets mad because you’re mad? “I…I don’t know how to start.”

“Did I do something?” Bucky asks, his voice quiet and you realize suddenly that he really doesn’t know that what he did today was anything wrong.

However, your anger is justified!

“Bucky…you said you got back this morning?”

“Yeah.” Bucky nods. “Around four A.M. Why?”

You blink, thinking about how you'd been tossing and turning at four in the morning, wondering if he was okay. If he was on his way home. If he was safe and uninjured.

“Why didn't you call me, Bucky?”

“I didn't-wanna-wake-you?” He says the words slowly, his eyes wary as he gauges your reaction and the anger slowly growing in your eyes.

Your expression is less angry and more hurt.

“Bucky…” God, you’re saying his name a lot, and not with pleasure the way you usually do here in your bedroom. “I have been worried out of my mind since you left, and you get back early this morning and spend the entire day at the compound?”

“We had debrief and a few meetings after.” Bucky tries to explain, rushing to say it to try and chase away that hurt tone of yours and the pained expression on your face.

“You could have called! ‘Hey, Y/N, I’m home but I’ve got some meetings, so I won't be home until later.’ Fuck, Bucky, it's a two-minute phone call. I wasn't even asleep at four A.M.! I was here, laying in our bed, thinking about you and where you might be or what dangers you might be in.”

In desperation to hide your anger from him, you turn around to give him your back, clutching your robe tighter.

“I mean, I know you say you had meetings, but they took all day? Obviously not, since you had time to go to Tony’s dinner thing. I mean, it's almost midnight. I would think…” And you have to speak slower because your voice is going to strain as you shift to talking about why your chest feels like it’s caving in, instead of why you’re angry.

He didn’t call and let you worry? Angry.

He had an entire day to be with you and instead he spent it at the compound? Hurt.

“What?” Bucky urges you gently.

“I mean, you’ve been gone for three days. Don’t husbands want to come home to their wives as soon as possible? After your meetings, didn’t you want to be with me?” You shake your head to try and ignore the ache in your chest but it's no use. Tears stain your cheeks and you curse yourself internally for letting yourself cry.

You sniffle. You can’t help it.

“Are you crying?!” Bucky gasps, stunned.

“No!” You deny it, despite the tears still falling, your voice thick.

“Oh my God.” Bucky exclaims in surprise.

Here it comes. His own anger. Then he'll leave you for being a troublesome wife!

Instead of angry yelling, his large hands find your shoulders. He turns you around so that you must look at him.

You try and hide your face as best you can. You don’t want him to see you crying.

“Y/N…” He begins and his voice is so deep and soft, you look up into his stunning blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I should have called as soon as we landed. I'm…I’m just not used to having someone waiting for me.”

He reaches up, cupping your cheeks to slowly wipe away your tears.

“Please don’t cry.” He pleads, hurting because you are it seems. “I’m such a fucking idiot. Really. Of course, I want to be with you. I missed you so much.”

He leans down to press a kiss to your salty cheeks.

“I promise, I’ll call from now on as soon as the jet hits the tarmac. Forgive me. I won’t let it happen again.”

It takes a few more soft kisses to your cheek for his words to really register in your mind. But after they do, your heart is soaring. He's not angry at you for being angry. He's comforting you. Promising to call from now on when he gets back.

It doesn’t change the mistake he already made and your anger isn’t exactly gone, but it did shed light on a problem and now it's been resolved.

“I love you.” You confess and you can see the hitch in Bucky's breathing as your sudden confession startles him—but in a good way. “I worry about you. The idea of you getting hurt…I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me, baby-doll. Not ever.” He assures you then pulls you into a kiss.

Now that you can sort of relax—your anger is still pretty demanding—you can focus on giving Bucky what he needs.

After every mission so far, you've given him a release. Tonight will be no different.

His hands are already pulling your robe open, gripping your re-exposed body by the hips. You sigh against his lips as he pulls back a little, he leans in and licks your lips. It pulls your lips apart. The heat of his breath feels good against them. He kisses you once softly, then again. This time, he leaves his lips hovering over yours, both of your mouths open as the heat of the moment washes over you.

You push him back, walking him towards the bed until he falls back sitting.

You move back to the dresser and pull out a new condom. Gently you remove the one Bucky is already wearing then rip the small metallic packaging with your teeth.

Bucky watches with his mouth gaping in awe as you slip the condom over the tip of his cock then roll it down slowly, pressing warm and wet kisses against the vein on its underbelly.

Once he's ready, you stand back up and straddle his lap. Bucky's hands find your bottom as you line him up at your entrance then slowly impale yourself on him until you're sitting snugly on his lap.

Bucky's hands are claws on your bottom then he starts to move, softly, gently, apologizing to you with his body.

He curls his arms around you, pressing your breasts flush against his chest as he kisses the curve of your neck sweetly.

You know that he's sorry. You can feel it with every thrust, every kiss, when he looks into your eyes and then kisses your cheeks and the tear stains there.

More than anything, you can tell that he's sorry that he made you cry.

Bucky makes love to you tonight. It's not just sex and although you enjoy the way he's physically showing you how much he loves you; you’re still too upset to really enjoy it.

Bucky gets his release. Clinging to you tightly as he buries his face into the side of your neck.

You’re breathing hard and your heart is pounding but you get no big moment of satisfaction tonight.

“Did you-?” He wonders, but he sounds as if he already knows the answer.

You shake your head.

He looks back at your face, staring up into your eyes while you reach up to caress the sides of his face and push the sweaty strands of his hair back behind his ears.

He sighs, defeated, and rests his forehead against your chest.

“I’m sorry.”

Mornings in the Barnes household are usually full of soft disappointment. Why? Because every time you do get a few days with Bucky home, he's gone by the time you wake up.

This morning is no different.

You reach over to his side of the bed but find only sheets.

Opening your eyes, you glance at the empty space and sigh lightly, pouting because you wish he was there.

“You’re awake.” Bucky says from behind you and you sit up and twirl at the same time to look for him.

Clutching your sheets to your bare chest, you smile as Bucky moves over to you and shyly offers you a tray laden with breakfast foods.

There are eggs and bacon. Toast and blueberry muffins. Three pancakes with syrup, orange juice, and a small glass of milk.

“I wasn't sure what you were in the mood for so, I made everything.”

“You made me breakfast in bed?” You ask, delirious with excitement.

“Yeah. I can’t even begin to explain to you how sorry I am, Y/N. I never want you to feel like that again. I love you and I want to be with you.”

“Thank you.” You smile and lean in towards him.

Eagerly he places his hands on the bed and leans in to meet your lips for a quick peck.

“Oops. I forgot the jam." Bucky gets up and heads for the door. “Grape okay?”

“Actually, I don't-" But he's already gone. “-like grape jam.”

When he comes back, he puts the small jar on your tray and sits back down.

“I thought you’d be out already. Don’t you meet Steve to work out?” You chew on your eggs, talking out of the corner of your mouth.

“I called him already. We'll go once you’re at work instead.”

“Oh.” You swallow your food. “Actually, I have the day off. It's Launch day so Henry doesn’t need me to come in.”

You’ve been working at a small indie publishing company for the last four years. Although you're a copy editor, because the company is so small, you do more than your standard editor. However, as Henry is your boss, he handles all launches and you get to take a good break.

“Oh.” Bucky's shoulders slump as he faces this new dilemma. “I made plans with Steve and Sam. If I'd known you didn't have to work today-"

“You should go.” You nod and hope he can’t see your disappointment.

“Really?” Bucky reaches over, taking hold of your forearm.

“Yeah. Go. I’ve got a new manuscript to read anyway. I’ll be no fun.” You force a smile and he must see it.

“No. I’m not gonna go. I’ll call and cancel.” Bucky moves to get up, but you catch hold of his arm and grip it tight. You don’t want to be that wife that doesn’t let her husband go out with his friends.

“Bucky, go. I told you, I’ll be busy anyway.”

He looks uncomfortable. Uncertain.

“You sure?”

“Yes. Go.”

He clicks his tongue and then gets up, this time leaning in to kiss your lips.

“I’ll be back.” He heads to the door without changing out of his jeans and blue Henley. He must have his workout clothes in his duffel bag.

“I washed the dishes.” Bucky says as he reaches the door. “If they sit too long, they start to smell.”

Oops. You'd been so sad with him gone that you’d neglected the apartment.

“Right, sorry.” You force another smile. “I’ll make sure to wash them quickly next time.”

Bucky sighs and struts back towards you, when he reaches you he smashes his lips into yours. He kisses you breathless then leans back, his forehead pressed against yours.

“I can stay.” He whispers.

“Would you just go?” You say with a genuine chuckle.

The sound brightens the blue of his eyes turning them almost ice-like.

“Okay.” And he leaves.

You sit there for a bit, wondering whether not asking him to stay was a mistake. You feel sad about it, but you shrug it away, finish your breakfast, and resign to spend the rest of the day cleaning and working.

Or so you thought…

You’re pushing your vacuum down along the long stretch of carpet in front of your sofa then lift your foot to push the table out of the way so that you can get at the unexposed space.

As you finish, you sigh and turn the machine off, and arch your back as you stand up straight. You’ve been going at the cleaning for a good two hours and your lower back is begging you for a break.

“Ow…” You gripe to yourself, reaching back to massage the small of your back.

Your eyes suddenly fall onto the coffee table where a small glass of sweet tea you’d served yourself earlier has toppled over spilling the last dregs onto the shining glass that you just fucking cleaned not thirty minutes ago!

“Shit.” You turn to head back to the kitchen and find yourself colliding with a large mass of muscle.

“AH!” Your scream is ear splitting and your hands shoot out in defense, odd angles as you raise your palms and smack at the large body.

Bucky’s cool metal hand quickly covers your mouth, cutting it off before it can sound like more than a shout of surprise.

“Shhh, Jesus, darling. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He chuckles slowly at your exasperated expression as the fear in your eyes slowly dims and makes way for annoyance.

You smack his chest as he falls into low gentle peals of laughter. Not a chuckle but a real laugh. It shakes his shoulders and his belly juts out with each bubble of amusement. Luckily his beautiful body had been protected by his blue Henley, so your nails caused no damage.

He drops his hand, placing it on your right hip as his right hand rises to rest on your neck, his warm fingers tickling the small hairs on the back of it.

Your annoyance gives way to confusion as you watch his laughter shift into a soft chortle, his eyes squinty and beaming down at you brightly.

“Your first reaction to an intruder is to smack him to death?” Bucky asks. “Remind me to teach you how to punch.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know that I kicked and screamed when surprised in my own home. What are you doing here, Bucky? I thought you were spending the day with Steve and Sam?” Your heart is still pounding as your mind tries to assure your body that you’re safe and it’s only your husband, coming home.

Something about what you said makes Bucky’s eyes dilate and he suddenly pulls you into a ravenous kiss.

You don’t question his desire. You yield to it and push yourself up onto your toes, following his lead and slipping your tongue into his mouth as he opens his and sighs with contentment.

You two haven’t made out in such a long time. Kisses, sure. Desperate, passionate, necking during sex? Yes. But just making out? Just kissing him for kissing’s sake? He left right after you got married and has been leaving since…

Suddenly you break it because your heart aches with the memory of his unbridled passion for you and how he couldn’t help but corner you just to kiss you. The loneliness that you’ve been feeling but are too afraid to tell him about also doesn’t help with the ache of missed time.

“Oh, Bucky.” You gasp and bury your face into his neck.

“How can I spend all day with the guys when my girl’s got the day off?”

You know what this is in response to though.

“And you thoroughly pissed her off last night?” You pull back to look up into his face, setting your feet down flat.

The grimace he’s wearing tells you that you’re right in your guess. If he hadn’t made you angry last night, he might not be here right now.

Whatever. He’s home now. You’re not going to complain. “I’m so glad you came back.”

Bucky’s smile returns, soft and heavenly.

“Me too.”

The two of you stare at each other for a few moments, enjoying the feel of the other’s body so close.

“You hungry?” You finally ask, knowing what his answer will be. He’s freshly showered, his hair still damp. He came straight back after his workout.

“I’m starving.” He admits, reaching down to rub his muscled stomach.

“I’ll make you some lunch!” You exclaim excitedly. You’ve been looking up new recipes to try for him.

“Something fast? I’m really hungry.” He moves to gather up the cord for the vacuum and takes it towards the hall closet to put it away.

“Mmm.” Okay, change of plans. You’ll save the meatloaf for dinner or something.

You pull out a bag of penne pasta and toss it onto the counter then fill a pot with water and set it to boil. As you set to making the alfredo sauce from scratch, Bucky moves around the living room picking up the cleaning where you left off.

When you can, you watch him, enjoying the various angles of his butt that you get to gawk at but also the fact that he knew he’d interrupted your cleaning and is doing it for you.

“How was your work out?”

“Well, Steve and I left Sam in the dust on purpose. Lapped him like three times before we finally slowed down. I mean, I thought he was gonna cry.” Bucky stands up, one of his shoes and one of your hair ties in one hand while he presses the tips of his fingers of his right hand against his chest to indicate himself. “But Sam insisted that there was just some dust in his eye.”

You chuckle.

“Casey stopped by. She was on her way to some party in the city.”

“Yeah, her sister is having a baby shower. She’s due in three months.”

“You weren’t invited?” He asks, stopping his straightening to lean on his butt against the back of the couch as he looks over to you.

“I was.” You say off hand.

“Well, why didn’t you go?” He wonders and you can hear that confusion from last night in his voice again, so you look for his eyes and find them inquisitive. The small pucker between his eyes is so damn cute…how can he not know why you aren’t going?

“Because you’re home, silly.” You say with a light smile, shaking your head. “I wasn’t going to go out when I actually have you here.”

Bucky looks away from you, down at his feet for a long moment and you go back to cooking.

After a few silent minutes, two strong arms wrap you up, and you jump again, but because they’re familiar, you don’t scream.

“Jesus, Bucky…” You huff a laugh, leaning back against his chest but you keep your hand stirring in the pan so that your sauce doesn’t stick or get lumpy. “I’m gonna buy you a bell.”

“I have been gone a lot, haven’t I?” He speaks quietly but it isn’t a whisper. The scruff of his chin grazes against your cheek as he leans down to cuddle you.

“Yeah, but that’s your job. I don’t mind you being gone—I mean I do; I miss you when you’re not here—but you have to go away for work. Just…” You stop, not wanting to bring this up again. Things are so nice right now, in this moment.

“Just what, kitten?”

Kitten? Flutters erupt in your stomach and you lean to your left, so that you can look up at his face over your shoulder.

“Please don’t do what you did yesterday again. That really made me feel like shit, Buck.”

He suddenly buries his head into your neck, shaking it as if he’s trying to shake off the thoughts in his head.

You feel the press of his lips on your skin, but it isn’t sexual. It’s apologetic and loving. Soft and tender. When he pulls back, he rests the side of his head against the side of yours as you continue to cook.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I hate that I made you cry.”

“I know.” You assure him and turn to kiss his lips briefly. “Now go away, so I can finish cooking. You get to cook dinner though!”

Bucky smiles wide although there’s still a worry in his eyes and moves out of the kitchen to get back to cleaning.

It takes about forty minutes for all the food to be ready. You cut up some veggies and make him a salad first and then give him the pasta. Red wine is served but only you get slightly dizzy.

After lunch, Bucky washes the dishes and once the kitchen is clean, he insists that the two of you watch the Goonies again, this time, so he can be awake for it.

“Yay!” You squeal with delight and start the movie then settle into the couch on one end. To your surprise, Bucky goes to the opposite end.

You’re about to pout and shove over to him but he turns to sit facing you and then takes your left foot in his hands and with his metal fingers he begins to apply firm pressure to all the sore spots you didn’t know you had.

“Oh my God.” You gush, it feels so good.

“Hey, now. Haven’t you said that to me before?” Bucky teases.

Your neck and ears burn. “Shut up, perv!”

Grabbing a throw pillow, you chuck it at him as he chuckles at your flushed face, but easily catches the pillow and sets it under your knee to elevate it slightly.

While the movie plays, Bucky asks countless questions.

“Why is that guy in jail?”

“Why is there a race at the beach?”

“Where did all these kids meet?”

“Damn, what a mess. Who’s going to clean up that milkshake?”

“How can they afford a cleaning lady if they’re leaving because they’re getting bought out?”

“Bucky,” You laugh. “I don’t know.”

“I’m just asking! I mean, if they can afford a cleaning lady, they should be able to buy their house.”

Then it’s your turn to talk.

“Man, I miss when we could do that.”

“Do what?”

“Go out.”

“Uh, kitten, you’re an adult. You can go wherever you want.” He says in his best duh tone.

You chuckle and Bucky looks over at you, staring as your laugh dies off. You’re too busy looking from the movie to his hands caressing your feet to notice the look of utter love on his face.

“I meant as kids. Kids can’t just get on their bikes and ride around town anymore.”

“Why not?” He wonders, curious and he looks back to the movie as the titular Goonies ride their bikes away in escape of Brand, Mikey’s older brother. “Steve and I used to go all over the neighborhood on our own as kids.”

“They’ve got all those laws now. Kids can’t be out without adult supervision. They get kidnapped. It’s neglect. I guess I can see their point but at the same time, when do they get a chance to be kids? Casey and I used to run off to the park every day or each other’s houses. We explored the woods nearby before they developed the area. We made a lot of good memories in those woods.”

You lift up your foot and poke his side with your big toe.

“I had my first kiss in those woods.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, intrigued and teasing. “Who with?”

“Juan Delgado. He was this kid visiting this other friend of ours from Mexico. He was really cute. Short wavy dark hair. Dark, almost jet-black eyes. Pouty lips.”

Bucky pushes himself up and begins to crawl over you. “Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm.” You nod, and slither down a little more so that your head is propped up enough to watch the TV but you’re laying down a bit more.

Bucky grabs one of the throw pillows and as he reaches your head, he puts his right hand behind it and pulls you up just a bit so that he can slide the pillow behind your neck, so it doesn’t hurt.

Once you’re settled back onto the sofa, he lays himself on you. “Was he a good kisser?”

You nod.

“Better than me?”

“I don’t know.” You admit, then continue in a whisper. “We were nine.”

Bucky’s eyes are twinkling at you again. He presses his lips against yours, shutting his eyes as he tastes you. “Then, I guess you guys didn’t use tongue?”

Another kiss.

“Definitely not.” You agree.

Another, softer, slower kiss as he runs his tongue along the seam of your lips. As you part them for him, he pulls you into a heady smooch.

You’re out of your mind for a few seconds as he makes you drunk on his lips. When he pulls back, both your lips and his smack softly.

“I win?” He asks.

You huff another laugh, delirious still from his salacious tongue.

“Yeah.” You admit. “You win.”

With triumph curving his lips into a smile, he moves down just a little so that he can rest his head against your left breast, staring at the TV to watch the movie. His arms wrap themselves close around your sides, and he shoves his hands beneath your shoulder blades to both hug you and support your weight.

The two of you are so snuggled into that sofa and neither of you has ever felt so at ease. You’re both right where you should be. Your marriage may not have been conventional, but it was most definitely not a mistake.

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rosalynbair · 6 years

Text

Clockwork PT 2

Pairing: Armitage Hux x Fem!Reader Words: 5815 A/N: LORD. I had this written out for months…And then I scrapped the entire thing and re-wrote it 😊 I hope you guys enjoy this!! Also, a super big thank you to @thekillingquill for her help on this plot line, this wouldn’t be finished without her and i’m so grateful <3 Warnings: cheating, mentions of abuse (not really, just implied), some fluff, fear of a spouse, divorce, eloping, If I missed anything, please let me know!!

PART ONE

Tag List: @buckyslittlekitten @littleaestheticmonster @lumifuer @sdavid09 @imagine-this-motherfucker @lueyliee @gunsmoke-blu @vanadium-hill @velourpunk

Y/N The world seems so cold without you to share a bed with. My cot is small and painful on my back – I do wish that I could come visit soon to receive a massage from your small hands. You know how much I love them. I hope the funds in our account are treating you well, I do not wish for you to develop calluses on your hands because I was not a good enough husband and did not leave you with enough to get by happily. Mother wrote to me recently. She said that you have not visited her in months. She is lonely, please do so at your soonest convenience. I have enclosed our next location, please send your future letters there until further change. Your husband, Rodger. Your eyes scanned the calligraphed letters with a sigh that slips passed your lips. You glance briefly at your fingers that held the paper. Your nails were painted a delicate shade of rosy pink, no signs of wear or age affected your hands. You shake your head, tendrils of hair hitting against your cheeks while your laid the latter and the envelope onto the table beside your almost finished plate of eggs and toast. You look up, the lean orange haired man relaxing in his seat. A piece of toast dangling from his lips while his fingers wrapped around the mornings newspaper. As if feeling your gaze, his blue-green eyes met yours, an eyebrow raising as if to ask if the letter were truly that bad. You nod, giving Armitage a little eyeroll. He smiles around the toast, folding the newspaper and setting it to the side, his slender hand reaching up to take the toast out of his mouth. “I do wish that I could come visit soon to receive a massage.” You mock with a small octave change to your voice with a laugh. A snort leaves Armitage as he turns away, his body shaking with a chuckle. “I don’t ever recall giving him a massage.” You laugh, eyes rolling back into your head. “He writes as if this is a business exchange and not a letter to his wife.” You shake your head again, picking up your last piece of toast and taking a bite from it. You would never be able to describe how empty the letters you received from Rodger made you feel. Your bones went cold thinking about him coming home. There was no way you could ever adjust to a life with him in it once more. And yet you knew that if he did come home to you, there would be no way that you could fully live a life without Armitage with you. “Darling?” Armitage asks, noticing how your expression had dropped slightly. “Is everything alright?” You look up, catching his eye. “Everything is fine.” You say, biting your toast once more. “Don’t fib to me.” He tells you, brows furrowing together. You sigh, setting the piece of toast down back onto your plate, thinking carefully on how to word what you were going to say. “I… don’t love my husband.” “So you’ve told me.” Armitage nods, watching you with vague worry. “I love you.” You tell him, seeing him nod again. You sigh, reaching up to push your hair away from your face. “Well. When Rodger sends his… Letters. They make me feel strange. Almost as if I have no emotions left in my body… Does that make sense?” Armitage ponders, leaning back to cross his legs. “His letters displease you.” He states, leaving you to nod. “Yes, in a way.” You respond. “I know I don’t love Rodger. But, I can’t help but be annoyed that he doesn’t put more effort into the letters that he sends me. He hasn’t seen me in so long, there’s no longing in his words. Nothing to truly show that we’re married. Does that sound silly?” “Yes, it does.” Armitage tells you with a chuckle. You watch him light a cigarette that he had pulled from a small container in his pocket. He inhales, sighing the smoke out with ease. “Would you like me to send you letters?” “Armitage, I’m with you all the time.” You tell him with a confused look “Why would you ever write letters to me?” “To let you anticipate our next meeting my dearest.” He chuckles, giving you a slow wink “I’ll make them naughty, enough so to get your panties wet.” “Armitage!” You exclaim with a giggle, a blush creeping over your skin. Embarrassed that the thought appealed to you. He stands, walking around the table to kneel beside you. “Would you like that?” He asks, taking a drag of his cigarette again while his hand trailed up your thigh and under your skirt. “Would you like to get letters detailing exactly what I’ll do to you that night?” You nod slowly, pursing your lips as his hand snapped the band of your underwear against your thigh. “Good. I’ll send you one weekly.” Your embarrassed frown turns into a small smile. “I love you Armitage.” You tell him, watching him place a kiss to your knee. “And I love you.” He responds, protesting when you take the cigarette from his fingers. You press the red tip to the cool ceramic of the ash try, putting it out. “That’s a horrible habit to keep, my darling.” You tell him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll quit eventually.” He whispers, moving closer, neck straining in attempt to kiss you. You lean in again, placing your lips against his in a gentle kiss. ~ Each week you received a letter, each one somehow naughtier than the last. Each one made you blush and made your face hot with anticipation. You never knew that Armitage, your sweet Armitage could be as dirty as his letters. There were some occasions in which he would add a dirty limerick to the end of the letter – one that was designed to make you laugh. You found peace in each letter, allowing yourself for even the briefest moments to forget that Rodger had gone missing – and the fact that you had learned from his mother. Who had gotten the letter instead of you. His wife. It wasn’t that you cared about who received the letter, it was the fact that his mother showed up to your house and overstayed her welcome by hours. You were curled up on a seat in a small coffee shop, a tea in your hand and Armitage’s letter in your other, eyes grazing the newest words he had written for you. This one was particularly filthy, both of you knowing that you wouldn’t see each other for a few days due to how busy your week was. So many people to see and keep up the façade of grieving wife for. When you finished the letter and took the last sip of your tea, you set the teacup down. Raising to your feet. Your floral skirt shifted around your legs, and you ran your fingers down it quickly to smooth it out before reaching for your purse, folding the letter delicately and putting it into the bag beside your wallet. “Have a good evening miss!” The young boy behind the counter calls to you. You turn to him with a smile “And to you too Johnathan!” You say, turning towards the door. Shoes tapping on the tiled floor while you left the shop. You walked home slowly enjoying the view of the sunset over the city. While walking, you feel a stone wedge itself into your heel. But you were unable to remove the shoe to get rid of the rock without freezing your foot in the puddles that lined the cobblestoned street. Feeling the wind slowly picking up, you pulled the knitted sweater you were carrying, over your head, adjusting it around your torso. Your arms instinctively crossing over your chest to block the wind from getting to you. A man with a long pole with a hook on the end nodded to you. “Good evening ma’am” He says, pausing to light the street candle. “And to you sir” You say, giving a gentle smile, continuing on your way down the street, turning a corner, the wind becoming stronger as your began down the new street, less buildings there to block it from you. You kept your head down as you finished your walk, starting up the long driveway where you could already see your mother’s car sitting in front of your house. “Y/N!” You hear a voice, your name becoming lost in the wheezing wind that surrounded you. “Mama!” You call, hopping up the porch steps and embracing the heavyset woman in front of you. “Where have you been?” You sister asks, watching as you open the door before stepping in and wrapping her arms around you. “I’m so sorry” You flush “I was down at the post office in the coffee shop sending a letter again. Maybe this one will reach Rodger” “Oh darling” your mother gushes “How you must miss your husband” “You have no idea mama” You sigh, looking down and away. “I don’t know what to do with myself without him here” “You’re always welcome to visit the kids and I” Sarah says, kissing your cheek as she removes her coat and resting it on the hook beside the small hallway table. “How are the kids?” You ask, smiling at the thought of your small niece and nephews. “Growing like weeds!” Sarah gushes “Hannah lost her first tooth yesterday, and Jack has started school. We’re working on weaning Loren off of my breast” “How are they doing with their father back home?” Your mom asks, ushering the two of you into the parlor, helping herself into the kitchen to put a kettle on to boil. “They’re not quite sure what to do with him back full time.” She says, sitting delicately in a chair “Loren has almost no clue who his father is, and it’s been so long since Hannah has seen him that they have to work to develop a bond once more” “And Jack?” you inquire “Loves it” Sarah tells you, crossing her legs at the knee “I’ve never seen someone love their father as much as Jack loves Edward” “That’s darling” You say, smiling as your mother comes back into the room. “I wish Rodger had stayed long enough to give you a child” She says “It would have given you something to do while he was away” “I don’t think I would have enjoyed that.” You tell her honestly “With the stress of him being missing, I don’t think I would be able to properly take care of a child through my anxiousness and fear” “Oh yes” She sighs, “I’ve been speaking with his mother recently. They say they haven’t heard from you since Loraine came to visit with the news” “I don’t know what to say to them” You sigh “I become depressed every time that I’m there. All Loraine ever does is cry and read his old letters as if he’s dead and will never come back. I like to believe that he’s just missing. He’ll show up coming out of the distance with that handsome smile on his face eventually.” You hated lying like this, acting as if Rodger was the only thought that ever stayed in your head. Like he was the only man that you could ever picture beside you. As if you didn’t wish daily that the wedding portrait above the fireplace had a different man beside you. The night dragged on, even though you enjoyed the company of two females who were very close to you, you grew tired of talking about the war and gossiping about how a teenage relative was pregnant out of wedlock or how one of your aunts was sleeping with multiple men while her husband was across the country training new recruits. As you waved to them goodbye from the window, you closed the sheer curtains, reaching over to draw the thick ones over top. You turn, feet barely making a sound as you went up the stairs to the spare bedroom that you had taken over. You hadn’t slept in the master bedroom since Rodger had been deported. You push your skirt off your hips before unbuttoning your blouse. You set them in the small basket beside the dresser. You pull out a night gown, pulling it over your head before climbing into the small bed that rested in the middle of the room. ~ He walked into the house, body sore with the war he had faced. Horrors of death dancing in his eyes. The door had been locked, and he had seen no sign of you. There were no lights on, so he moved into the parlour, his body dropping into a chair that released a shield of dust when he hit the cushioned fabric. His eyes scan the dim room, the light fading from the sunset. Nothing had changed, you hadn’t moved anything around, nothing was added. The letters on the table made his assessing of the room pause, and he leans forward, bones popping with the movement. His fingers take hold of the letters, leaning his body back, one arm reaching out to turn on the small lamp beside him. The yellow light illuminated the area he rested in, his large hands sifting through the envelopes – not recognizing any of them as ones that he had sent to you. The envelopes were clean, pristine white. The address of the house written in neat, slightly slanted writing. These were not the dirt stained, sloppy writing letters that he had sent to you. He opens one of them, the neat writing consistent with the envelope. My dearest love, Your last letter has given me much to think about until our next meeting. I hope Sunday does well for you? I can’t wait to have you in my arms once more, to have your sweaty, withering body beneath mine. I’m going to take my time with you this week, I’m going to have you begging for me. Gasping for breath for what I’m going to do to you. The more he read, the more vulgar the words became. When his eyes hit the bottom of the page, his fingers tightened on the paper. Yours forever. There was no name signed, no return address. Each letter contained the same, no names written, no addresses other than yours on the envelope. He tried thinking that you were simply writing a naughty novel, but sending letters to yourself seemed unlikely. Useless in the process for writing. Were you pretending that these letters were from him? Was this your way of coping with the fact that he had been missing in action? Rodger set the letters down onto the table once more, looking to the window that covered most of the wall. The sun was set, and the night was fairly cloudy. And you weren’t home. No woman of your age should be out alone past dark. He stands, moving throughout the house to the kitchen, lazily making himself a cup of coffee. He was leaning against the counter, examining the most recent news paper when he heard the front door unlock. He could hear you speaking to someone. “Come in!” You say, laughing slightly “I’ll make you a tea, you deserve one after driving for so long today. Have a break before you head home.” Rodger was straining to hear the other person with you. Was it a man? Did you bring a man into his home? “Oh fine.” Came the reply. Sarah, he sighed. It was only your sister. He heard your footsteps coming to the kitchen. He set the paper down, watching the entryway closely as you came into view. You were exactly as he had pictured you the entire time he was gone. His eyes started from your flat clad feet, up the sheer panty-hose that you so often wore. You wore a dark blue dress, it clipped in at the waist, his eyes follow the buttons up your stomach to where the neckline accentuated your breasts. You were partially turned, speaking to Sarah with a permeant giggle. He watched your curls bounce when you turned to face the kitchen – face him. His eyes captured yours, his gaze taking in your pink cheeks and red lips. ~ You stopped. Dead in your tracks, Sarah bumping into you slightly. You were frozen, unable to choose between your instincts to run or your logic to return to your wifely duties. To greet your tall, dark, strapping husband who leaned against the counter in his uniform, a mug of coffee in his hand. “Rodger.” You whisper, trying to get your bearings. “Is that any way to greet your husband?” He asks, giving you a smile, even you could see it was slightly strained. Sarah falls quiet behind you as she looks at her brother in law with a grin. You feel her fingertips against your lower back, urging you forward. You stumble slightly, before walking slowly to your husband. Fingers touching his face the moment you were in reach. Real. This was real. “You’re here.” You whisper, examining his face “You’re here. You’re real.” Rodger nods, “Yes, I’m here. I’m real.” He tells you, his hands holding your waist. He firmly believed your shock was of happiness and not impending dread. His hands slide to your back, pulling you close to him. Against his neck, he could feel your tears begin. “It’s alright y/n, I will not leave again… We can start our family now.” You tremble as a sob wracks through you. Rodger holds you tighter, one hand holding your lower back as the other rests between your shoulder blades. “Should I leave to let you two catch up?” Sarah asks, watching you cry. You turn, shaking your head. “No, please don’t go.” Rodger, at the same time, says “Yes, we’ll catch up with you later.” You catch your sister’s eye, and she nods, moving into the kitchen to the kettle that sat on the stove. Her small hands wrap around the handle, walking to the sink to fill it up. “I can’t stay long, Edward has the kids, but I can stay for a tea.” You pull away from your husband, nodding. You reach around Rodger to grab two teacups, knowing that he hated tea and had his coffee anyways. Rodger watches each of your movements, how precise you are in avoiding being in arms length of him. You and Sarah make your teas, moving to the parlour, Rodger looming behind you before going to sit in his chair. You watch as he crosses his ankle over his knee, keeping his eye on you. You and Sarah sit on the love seat, beginning in on a small conversation, only Sarah tried to include Rodger into it. She often asked for his input, his opinion. The topic of the war or what had happened to him never once entered the conversation. You tried to smile at him, but even though you had never loved him, he was different. His face was hard, staring at the two of you. Examining you. It was quite a while before you realized the letters. They were resting on the table, all of them open and out of the envelopes. Rodger did not pretend to not see your reaction. He saw your face pale, the slight tremor of your hands that held the teacup. You in return, saw the malice that took over his face. It was then that Sarah declared that she should be heading home to her family. You nod, standing to say goodbye. You follow her to the front foyer, wrapping her in your arms. “Please come back with mama tomorrow.” You whisper, your voice shaking slightly. “Are you alright?” Sarah asks, concern lacing her features. “I don’t know.” You respond ever so quietly. “Just please, come back tomorrow.” “Does he hurt you?” She asks, her brows furrowing in deep worry. “He might.” You say, squeezing her once more before releasing her, Rodger wrapping an arm around her in an awkward goodbye. He had never liked Sarah. You step away from the two of them, watching Sarah slide on her coat before Rodger opened the door. She walks out, turning to blow a kiss to you, saying that she loves you. The door closes the moment she was on the porch. You stare at your husband, stared at him while he stared at the door. While his muscles tensed up. “Who is he?” He asks quietly… dangerously. “Who is who?” You ask, your voice small. “Don’t fuck with me y/n.” He growls. “Who is the man you’re seeing.” “I’m not seeing anyone.” You reply, stepping backwards. Closer to the parlour. To the stairs. Rodger spins on his heel, facing you. You suck in a breath, stepping back once more. His face was contorted with rage. “I was gone. Fighting for our country. For our future. And you go off to fuck another man.” He snaps, stepping towards you. “You were missing!” You gasp out, retreating through the parlour. “I thought you were dead!” He stalked you through the parlour, his eyes glancing at the letters for the briefest of moments before his eyes land once more on you, on your retreating form that was darting up the stairs. Fear raced through your veins as you gasped for breath. Your feet took you to the spare bedroom you had begun to call yours, the door slamming behind you. You turn quickly, turning the brass lock. When the click sounded, you backed towards the small balcony, hearing Rodger stomping through the upstairs, trying to see which room you had gone to. When he jiggled the doorknob, and you let out a small whimper. “Open the door y/n.” He orders. “I will not be locked out of anywhere in my own house.” “I don’t trust you.” You say, leaning against the wall, staring at the door in fear. “You don’t trust me? I don’t trust you. You slut.” He snaps at you, jiggling the doorknob again. You could hear a loud growl from him. “You are not welcome in this house any longer y/n.” He tells you, his voice quiet, yet it rang through your dark room. “I will not tolerate a disobedient wife. Either you submit, or I will speak to my lawyer in the morning for a divorce.” “I will not submit to someone who does not love me.” You say, your voice trembling. “And your other man loves you?” He asks with a dark laugh. “With a pussy like yours, he’s probably just using you.” “Like you’re using me for heirs?” You snap back, you hold your hands together, trying to get them to stop shaking. “I will not be used as a proud breeding mare.” “That’s exactly what a wife is for.” He tells you. “No! I am a human being.” You tell him, squeezing your hands tighter together. “And you’re nothing but a monster.” “You will be out of this house tomorrow night.” He snaps. There was a moment of silence, and then the sound of his footsteps stomping throughout the hallway. Followed closely by the slam of the master bedroom’s door. You tremble, letting out a relieved gasp. You shakily walk towards the closet, pulling out a small leather satchel you had once used for schooling. You were quiet as you moved throughout the room, finding your small prized possessions and putting them strategically into the bag. Every article of clothing that was folded and put into it was dirty from your basket. But dirty clothes were better than nothing. You set the satchel beside the door, changing into some cotton pajamas before climbing into the bed. You didn’t get to sleep that night. ~ In the morning, you were greeted to a loud knock on the front door, followed by two rings of the doorbell. You scrambled out of the bed, shaking as you changed into the same clothes from the day before, shoving the pajamas into the satchel. You slip on a pair of oxford shoes you had bought a while ago, lacing them up and standing. Your hands were trembling as you unlocked the door, picking up the satchel and exiting the room. You locked eyes with Rodger, colour draining from your face once more as you scurried down the stairs to the front door. You open it, revealing both Sarah and your mother, and a balding older man with a briefcase. Rodger’s lawyer. You usher them in, Sarah grabbing a hold of you. “Are you alright? Are you safe?” Your mother asks, her own hands holding yours. “He’s divorcing me.” You say quietly “Our marriage is over.” You mother stills, her eyes holding yours with a stern look on her face. “No one in our family has ever gotten a divorce.” She hisses. “The Bible does not believe in divorce.” “It’s happening.” You mummer, looking away from her. “What happened after I left?” Sarah urges. “He followed me through the house. He… He found letters from a man.” You say, shame filling your body. “What man?” You mother hisses, her grip tightening on your hands. “My…The man I love. He sends letters to me.” You whisper, not looking at the woman who birthed you. “Adulteress.” She hisses, her hands releasing yours, as if your hands burned her. “He has every right to divorce you.” You nod, knowing that your mother would never come around. You eyes find your sister, who was staring at the small table with a vase on it. A wedding gift she had given to you, yet it had never actually held flowers. Rodger had already begun to speak to the lawyer, and you followed his voice to the parlour, a folder open to show the already made documents. “I don’t want anything.” You say when you hear the topic of splitting assets. “Not the house. Not the money. I don’t want anything.” “If you don’t split the money… You won’t be able to live.” Sarah whispers from behind you. “I’ll be fine.” You respond, unable to look at her. “Just tell me where to sign, and I’ll be on my way.” You could hear your mother behind you muttering to herself on how you were disgracing the family. How she’d never get over the shame from this. How did she end up with a daughter like you. “I just need your signature here.” The man says, handing you a heavy pen. You see where he points, and you sign neatly. Setting the pen down and looking to Rodger. “You deserve better than a rushed marriage. Pick who you marry next, don’t let your mama pick her. I wish you the best.” You turn, returning to the foyer and grabbing the strap of the satchel. You glance to your mother. “You are not welcome.” She answers your unasked question, and you nod. Sarah lets out a little whimper as she watches you walk out the front door, leaving the heavy red wood open as the screen door slams shut behind you. Your shoes dig into the gravel of the driveway, and then clacking loudly on the cobblestone. You didn’t look back while you walked. You didn’t need to. There was nothing there for you. The only thing you were losing was your best friend. Sarah, you knew she was devastated right now. But life is life. ~ You follow along the familiar pathway into the city’s core. It was early, most shops weren’t open yet. But the bakeries were already making their day’s worth of goods. The scent bled out into the street, leaving you with your stomach rumbling. You arrive at Clockworks. You let out a shaky breath, following the alley to the back stairs that led up to the apartment. You walk up slowly, grabbing the key out of the pocket of your coat to unlock the door. As you entered the apartment, the small blur of orange darted to you, rubbing herself against your ankles. “hello sweet Milly.” You say softly, setting your bag down to pick her up, toeing off your shoes and walking into the kitchen. Her nose was in her fur, and you set her on the counter for a moment to fill up her food dish. Setting it on the counter beside her, you scratch behind her ear with a sigh. You hoped that Armitage loved you enough to let you stay here. Pushing yourself away from the counter, you set a full kettle on the stove, preparing a tea for both you and the sleeping man down the hall. You lift the mugs up, your footsteps silent on the hardwood as you walked to Armitage’s room. You use your hip to push the door open, walking into the dark room and using your memory to find the night table to put the mugs down. Armitage stirred at the sound, and you look over to your lover. His hair was very rarely disheveled, he was rarely ever so peaceful. But while he slept, he looked at least ten years younger. You moved around to the window, opening the curtains to let in the morning sun. You hear a small grunt from behind you. “Y/N?” his groggy voice mumbles. “It’s me.” You confirm, walking over to the bed to kneel on it. “What time is it?” He asks quietly, releasing a yawn that he hid into the pillow. “Just before seven.” You reply, crossing your legs on the bed before reaching over to grab your tea. “I made you a drink.” He mumbles a thank you, peeking over to you with half closed eyes. “What are you doing here?” He asks you. “Rodger came home yesterday.” You say quietly. You could feel Armitage stiffen beside you. And you didn’t have to look over to know that he had sat up. “What happened?” He asks, fear hitting him slightly. Were you here to say goodbye? “We signed the divorce papers before I left this morning.” You tell him, taking a long sip of your scalding drink. Burning your tongue in the process. “You divorced him?” Armitage asks, moving closer to you. “He divorced me.” You correct. You turn to face him. “He saw your letters. He was furious and got his lawyer to come first thing today.” “Darling –“ He starts. “Don’t tell me that you’re sorry.” You say with the smallest of smiles. “I’m a free woman Armitage. I’m a free, single woman. The concept hit him full on. His eyes lock with yours as a grin overtakes his lips. “I can court you – properly.” He says, as if to confirm what you were saying to him. “Yes.” You giggle. Armitage moves closer, any sign of being tired had faded, and his lips were on yours. You adjust, setting your mug on the table as he moved you, resting over you as you laid on your back, the sheet and blanket now resting over you. Your right leg was bent at the knee beside him as he peppered your face with feather light kisses. Giggles slipped past your lips, Armitage’s hand trailing up your side, gripping your wrinkled blouse in his fingers. When he kissed your lips, you reached up to tangle your fingers in his tresses. Only for the alarm clock on the table to blare out. Armitage lets out a grumble, pushing himself up onto his knees. His eyes find yours, and he’s sure you’ve never looked more beautiful. “Work with me today?” He asks, and once he sees you nod, he gets off the bed, holding his hand out for you to grab. You take it, letting him help you up off the bed. You tugs you towards him when your feet his the floor, and you stumble into him with a laugh. His arm is around you as he brings you in for a kiss once more. “I love you.” He whispers to you.

~ 1 year later ~ The light of the bright autumn morning shown into the windows of the courthouse. The candles around not needing to be lit. The minister before you holding a bible and a list of vows. You stood on a small dais, holding the hands of Armitage Hux. Your left hand held a beautiful gold band of small pearls, another band above it with a tear shaped diamond that hit your knuckle occasionally. You look up to Armitage, giving him a smile as you recited your vows. No one sat in the few pews in the room, other than another couple who was also there to get married right after you. You had spoken with them briefly, had enjoyed the woman’s excitement of finally being able to get married – even at her older age. She was in a much fancier outfit than you. An actual wedding gown with a long train and a veil. Much more like the dress you wore for your wedding to Rodger. So much unlike your calve-length white dress. You wore a small, cropped blazer with it and cream coloured heels. Your hair was curled and you had a string of pearls around your neck. A thin banded, small faced watch was wrapped around your wrist. A small wedding gift from Armitage. He had even gone so far as to engrave it for you. You smile grew as Armitage started to recite his own vows, ending them with the strongest of I do’s. He pulled you close when the minister announced that he could kiss you. His lips were ever soft against yours, and your let out a gentle sigh into the kiss. You could hear the chuckle from your husband. Your husband. You were beaming when you pulled away from him, following the guide of the minister to a small table where a marriage certificate rested with a pen. “We’re married.” Armitage whispers breathlessly as he signed his name. “We’re married.” You confirm with a giggle, signing your own name onto the paper. You watch as the minister also signed, lifting it up to hand to you. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Armitage Hux.” He tells you, smiling as you kiss your husband’s cheek. You could hear clapping from behind you, and you wave at the other couple. Armitage takes your hand, walking with you down the small aisle, wishing good luck to the woman and her fiancée before leaving the courthouse. The warmth of the day hit your skin, along with the gentlest of breezes. You look at Armitage, grinning. “What now?” You ask, squeezing his hand. “Lunch could be a start.” He laughs to you, leaning in to kiss your cheek as you walk down the steps of the building.

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux imagine #general hux x reader #general hux imagine #general hux x you #armitage hux x you #aarmitage hux imagine #armitage hux #general hux #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars: the last jedi fanfiction #rosalynbair #clockwork

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lindafrancois · 5 years

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How to Stay in Shape Working Weird Hours: Surviving the Graveyard Shift with Workouts & Meal Plans

If you work a 12 hour or night shift, this guide is going to be a game-changer.

Working weird hours provides a challenge for those looking to get in shape, so I’ll provide a step-by-plan to help you reach your fitness goals.

Because I’m nice like that. And I like you.

This is 100% doable.

After all, Batman is super ripped and he works nights too.

Today we’ll cover:

How to lose weight working a 12 hour or night shift? Diet is still the most important thing.

How to not gain weight while working 12 hour and night shifts: Avoid these things!

What liquid calories will help your 12 hour or night shift.

What foods to avoid on a 12 hour or night shift.

Workout routines for a 12 hour or night shift.

Prioritizing healthy living 24/7.

Weird hours be damned, I’m gonna help get you healthy.

These are the exact strategies we work with our night-shift clients in our 1-on-1 Coaching Program! Although each situation is unique, we have certain principles that are universal and can help you start living healthier even when your work life is crazy.

Want to see if we are a good fit for each other? Click on the button below to schedule a free call. We’d love to talk to you, no matter what!

How to Lose Weight Working a 12 Hour or Night Shift?

Now, whether you work weird hours or normal hours, diet is still responsible for 80-90% of your success or failure when it comes to staying healthy.

80-90 PERCENT.

This is both a blessing and a curse. It means you don’t need to freak out if you miss a workout after a long night shift, but it also means you gotta take care of yourself while you are working.

Simply put, if you’re not losing weight, it’s because you’re eating too many calories. So if you’re trying to lose weight while working a night shift or working 12-hour shifts, you need to find ways to eat fewer calories without driving yourself crazy.

I’m a fan of any diet that gets you to accomplish this goal, but you’re a unique snowflake, and you know yourself better than others. So any “diet” may help you, as long as you have access to food for that particular way of eating.

This isn’t a problem, as we have a plan for that!

This just means you need to become the master of meal preparation.

“But Steve I don’t have time to prepare food!” you say.

Yeah, I heard you.

What you’re REALLY saying is, “But Steve, preparing food ahead of time isn’t a priority for me.”

If you are working overnight shifts, you’re gonna need to bring in your own food. Want to know how easy it is?

Here are 3 easy steps to feed yourself on a graveyard shift:

Purchase a bunch of chicken breast on Sunday Night (or whatever night you actually have off). Cook them on a tray in the oven, ALL of them. Put them in separate containers or bags in your fridge.

Purchase a bunch of $1 steam fresh bags of frozen veggies. Stick them in the fridge at your workplace.

Need more calories/carbs in your diet? Buy some sweet potatoes. Microwave one and put it on your plate.

In about 3 minutes and minimal effort, you know have a well balanced meal.

“But that’s boring!” Sheesh, I have to do EVERYTHING, huh? Welp, get creative, sucka!

Chop up the chicken and put it in a big salad with whatever you prefer (and keep in your fridge).

Make stir fry, put some in containers in your fridge, and then heat it up on your break.

Google “chicken paleo marinade” and mix up how you prepare chicken. Or steak. Or pork. Or salmon.

YES, this does require effort. YES, this does require preparation. YES, it does work. YES, you will find your rhythm with it.

Again, it comes down to two things: priorities and excuses:

Do you REALLY not have time? Or are you using “I don’t have time” as a crutch to eat poorly and feel sorry for yourself? I’m currently playing the world’s smallest violin for you. And it sounds terrible, because I haven’t played the violin since second grade.

Is your job REALLY stopping you from being healthy? Or is it a convenient excuse to use when you go to Taco Bell or the vending machine?

Remember: nobody believes your excuses except for you. You can do this. Just don’t let “perfect’ be the enemy of the good.

How to not gain weight while working 12-hour and night shifts: Avoid these things!

Let’s talk about things to eat and avoid while on shift work: the good, the bad, the ugly.

Whether you’re at a desk or up stocking shelves or making your rounds, you probably deal with one of four points:

Exhaustion: Let’s be honest, when you work a night shift or early shift, you never get as much sleep as if you were sleeping during the night with normal hours.

Lack of “time.” If you’re working long days/nights and trying to raise a family/have a social life, food preparation probably doesn’t figure into your schedule. You need convenience, even if you have to pay a bit more for it.

Hunger: If you forgot to pack your “meal” or “meals,” your only option is to eat what you can find, which is unlikely to be healthy at that time of day.

Boredom: If you are making rounds or stuck at a desk during the middle of the night, there may be more periods of down time than if you were working during the day.

So you’re tired, hungry, bored, and struggle with time management. Where do you turn? Caffeine! Now, I have no problem with Caffeine. I wake up every morning and drink a few cups of green tea while sitting at my desk to write. We’ve even covered caffeine extensively on this site already. The short version? Don’t get caught in bad liquid calorie trap:

Empty liquid calories are the devil. If you are drinking soda, energy drinks, or lattes for the caffeine, understand that you are also probably consuming hundreds of calories and 50+ grams of sugar. And these extra calories are contributing to your waistline. So read the labels or do the research before you drink six Monster drinks, a case of coke, or a Coffee Coolata.

If you’re going to get caffeine, get it from a healthy source: Black coffee, green tea, and as a last resort, a no calorie or low-calorie energy drink (Monster Zero Carb, for example). Try to wean yourself off the gallons of caffeine and work your way over to black coffee/green tea as time goes on. Hopefully, once you start exercising, you’ll have more energy and need less caffeine to survive your shifts.

Avoid the drinks that don’t give you any nutritional value and are full of sugar and calories. See if you can get your caffeine from better sources. Speaking of better sources of calories…

What Liquid Calories Will Help Your 12 Hour or Night Shift

Low on time? Need a meal? Make yourself a smoothie!

Depending on what you put into it or where it comes from, a smoothie can be an incredibly healthy option for meals during the night or as you’re running out the door to your shift.

A few tips on making smoothies: Buy yourself a cheap blender (or, a ridiculously nice one). Have one at home, or in the break room at work.

Give this recipe a shot for a smoothie that will get you through your shift:

Frozen fruit (I usually go with the strawberries or berry medley from Trader Joe’s).

A cup of unsweetened almond milk, unsweetened coconut milk, or cold water.

A scoop of protein (I use Optimum Nutrition Vanilla, but I hear the Chocolate is delicious).

A few ice cubes if you want to ‘thicken it up’ a bit

(Optional) Organic frozen spinach. Doesn’t change the taste, but gets you a serving of veggies.

I drink a smoothie similar to the one above for a meal almost on a daily basis (though I add in extra carbs and calories because I’m attempting to pack on extra weight).

Can’t bring a blender to work? Stick a scoop of protein in a shaker bottle, and BAM – there’s 25 g of protein prepared in 60 seconds. Add a bag of mixed veggies from the microwave and you’ve got yourself a really weird meal that is pretty damn easy to prepare and pretty damn good for you.

A word of caution: Smoothies from Smoothie King don’t count, as they have more sugar than two cans of Coke and HUNDREDS of calories. Naked Juices are also terrible for you. They might look healthy, but they’re not. LOOK AT THE LABEL AND PAY ATTENTION TO THE SUGAR CONTENT!

Foods to Avoid on a 12 Hour or Night Shift

Now, along with empty liquid calories, let’s talk about empty food calories.

When you are at your desk, are you eating snacks while answering the phone or while on your rounds through the hospital?

Personally, I’m a big fan of No Snacking, as I find I tend to eat more calories than I need during the day, simply because I’m not paying attention (check out the research in that snacking article for more).

Bring some healthy snacks with you if you’re going to be snacking. My personal favorite would be apple slices with almond butter, but don’t forget almond butter can be very high calorie and easily over-consumed too

If you struggle with overeating, look at your snacking at your night job. Are you eating because you are bored? Are you eating because you’re not paying attention? Are you eating because you’ve trained your body to expect food every 5 seconds?

If it’s any of these things, try the “No eating AND _________” strategy:

No eating and surfing the internet.

No eating and watching TV shows.

No eating AND _____.

If you’re going to eat, that’s the only thing you’re going to do. This can help you not accidentally, absentmindedly over calories.

At the end of the day, it comes down to one thing: ACTUALLY taking an active role in your health. As they say, “Don’t sacrifice what you really want for what you want RIGHT NOW.” That candy bar won’t make you feel better long-term. Neither will those chips. If you want to change your life, you need to stand up for yourself and decide that you are going to make better decisions.

Workout Routines for a 12 Hour or Night Shift

Let’s move onto the other 10-20% of the equation: exercise!

It’s no surprise around these parts that I’m a HUGE proponent of strength training. Guys like Joe (above) travel two weeks a month and yet still manage to have tremendous transformation because they are smart with their time.

From an efficiency standpoint, no other type of exercise gives you as much bang for your buck (aka: the most results with the least amount of time spent exercising).

You can get an incredible workout that exhausts all of your muscles and burns a crazy number of calories (not just during the workout, but in the hours afterward as your body tries to rebuild all of the muscle). Just reference any Nerd Fitness success story, all built with strength training and healthy eating.

So, if your time is limited, and your focus is staying healthy/losing weight, you need to be strength training and walking.

When’s the best time to work out? When you will actually do it! If you find yourself too exhausted after your 12 hour shift (and I don’t blame you), then get your workout done before you go to work, even if you only have twenty minutes! Yeah, it might require you cutting your nap a bit shorter, but you’ll actually do it!

As far as the workout itself...

You don’t need to be going to a gym (though if you do, big lifts like squats, deadlifts, overhead presses, and pull ups are going to get you the best results – ask Staci), you can work out at home before your shift starts with a simple workout like the Beginner Bodyweight Circuit.

I know you don’t need a gym to grow strong because we see it daily here in the Rebellion. We work with coaching clients and design custom programs that take into account each person’s work environment, home environment, and equipment they have available. It works.

We also have the Nerd Fitness Academy which gives you more body weight routines and gym routines if you’re looking for specific instruction and exercise demonstrations.

If you are somebody that works a few days on (for long shifts) and a few days off, try this: a really intense strength building routine on your first day off from work and again on your last day. Two strength training days combined with walks and proper eating (on your work days) is more than enough to get you quality results.

Spreading out the Workout Throughout Your Long Shift

Don’t be afraid of simply exercising here and there, when you can.

Check out the Angry Birds Workout and split up your workout throughout your shift:

Do squats in the supply closet. Weirdo? YUP. Who cares?

Push-ups and planks in your cubicle.

Pull-ups on the bus stop overhang waiting to go to work? I’ve been there.

Dumbbell rows with your desk and briefcase/backpack.

Walking up the stairs on your break. Why not?

It all adds up, and every little bit is better than nothing. The strength training benefits are key, but there’s one other key benefit to exercising throughout the day.

Staying Active During Your 12 Hour or Night Shift

Along with strength training, just staying active will help you think healthy.

I actually have a timer (FocusBooster) on my laptop that goes off every 15 minutes to remind me to get up, walk around, stretch, do some push-ups, etc. Your phone can do the same thing! Technology, amazing.

Stand up at your desk if you can – mix up standing and sitting.

Go for a walk around the office. If you are a nurse or doctor you are probably already doing a considerable amount of walking to make your rounds, so keep it up.

The reason for staying active is so important is three-fold:

Every little bit counts. That push-up, those squats, that extra mile walked…they all add up!

Your brain keeps thinking “I am active.” Because it has to work more when you move! Remember, diet is 80% of your success or failure. When you exercise and constantly stay active, you are consistently reminding yourself that you are making healthier decisions, and these should carry over to your eating decisions too. Exercising and eating poorly is kind of like paddling a row-boat with one oar – you’re just spinning in circles. Work both together and dominate!

Exercising can make you smarter and more alert at work. Detailed incredibly well in the book Spark, studies have shown that exercising can increase brain activity and performance. Healthier on the outside, smarter on the inside = NERD FITNESS WIN.

Prioritizing healthy living 24/7

Remember, it comes down to one thing: taking an active role in your health.

1) Don’t use the job as an excuse, and instead remind yourself that you are in control. You don’t need anybody’s permission to get healthy.

2) It adds up. Every little change. Every meal you switch up. Every minute of exercise.

3) Plan out your day. Spending 5 minutes identifying what you’ll eat and when you’ll work out makes you WAY more likely to actually follow through with it.

Leave a comment and share your story and struggles with the Rebellion. I’d love to hear from you:

Do you work a night shift or have funny hours?

Have you had success and want to share your tips and tricks?

Have a REALLY funky job and need more help (Deathstar operator, daytime student/nighttime superhero)? Post below and I’ll see what I can do.

Let’s get weird with it.

-Steve

PS: Still reading? Want more help?

I’ll again remind you of our 1-on-1 Online Coaching Program.

Here’s how it works: we get to learn your goals, lifestyle, challenges, and situation: Kids? An old injury? Graveyard shift?

No problem!

We’ll then pair you with a coach from Team Nerd Fitness that fits your personality and situation. Click below to find out if we are a good fit for each other.

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Photo source: cross-eyed owl, taco bell sign, red bull, smoothies, chips, catdog

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