#well not peak. peak would be the first year- first few months of their marriage

[skitskatdacat63]

Boy King AU | Vettonso + Martian | 1.3k

There's something about putting the future emperor of the Holy Realm on his knees like this. About how easily he goes, how willingly, how obediently. What would his adoring public think if they could see him now. If they saw their beloved king pressed down like this, in the cramped space between Fernando's legs. When they realized their little boy king took it like he was a little concubine instead. 

Fernando's bitterness is lifted away in moments like these, like taking off a heavy cloak on a winter's day. It was hard to feel humiliated about his own situation when watching Sebastian debase himself like this. 

He always gives himself up so easily. When Fernando threaded his fingers through his thick curls. When he pulled them, and then when he pressed his face down further down into the vee of his legs.  Sebastian rubbed his cheek into the coarse fabric of Fernando's breeches and blinked up at him. Fernando had to smother an embarrassing sound; he was just like a little cat!

Sebastian quirked his lips up into an odd little smile and slightly rose up on his knees, "What's funny?" Fernando swallowed lightly and schooled his face back into being impassive, "Nothing. As you were." Sebastian simply smirked at him and let himself be pushed back down by the fist clenched in his hair. 

Fernando scoffed internally, there was only so much pleasure in putting the other man in his place when he instead acted like this, this degrading action, was his birthright. He took to ruling and indulging in carnal pleasures as if they were of equal gravity. To be privileged to hold such high station and also let himself be taken apart like this…Fernando felt embarrassed for him.

He is dragged away from his musings when Sebastian moved to settle his hands in Fernando's lap, clutching his hips over the fabric and slightly squeezing; Fernando fought against the urge to shiver. Sebastian pushed up the skirt of Fernando's waistcoat and smoothed his hands over the opening flap of his breeches.

His eyes darted up at Fernando again, a daft smile on his face. Fernando scowled at him, "What?" Seb's grin sharpened, "You could stand to be a little more gracious. This is your future emperor, and future husband might I add, kneeling for you on this dirty, depraved, derelict- ah–" Fernando tugged on his hair again and hissed, "Well then, why don't you show me how eager you are to perform your marital duties?" 

Seb licked his lips, completely unconcerned by Fernando's annoyance, and unbuttoned one side of the closure to Fernando's breeches and moved to open the other–

The door to the carriage flew open, arrival announcement dying on a wheezing breath as the servant took in the image the two kings made. One splayed across the seat, exuding power, the other kneeled, debauched, between the former's legs. 

One would be hard pressed to determine which was higher on the totem of power and titles. 

There was something gratifying about this to Fernando, about being caught. He had been humiliated enough throughout the entire courtship, what was one more thing? And, certainly, what was one more thing if he could drag Sebastian down into the dirt with him. 

"Oh Mark, don't act so abashed! It's nothing you haven't seen before, in fact, we have been in this very position not even a fortnight ago!"

Oh. Yes. That. 

It was hard to be completely pleased when he remembered how Sebastian had already spent years prior to their engagement sampling the palace's ample selection of fellow high-born men. And how all those men seemed to be completely and utterly wrapped around his little finger.

Fernando released his hand from Sebastian's hair as if it had burned him. He did not understand why he felt ashamed with Mark looking in on them like this. Fernando was the one marrying Sebastian, not Mark; Mark was just a lowly courtier who had the esteemed duty of spending practically every waking hour with the brat…something he himself was decidedly not looking forward to. 

Sebastian stayed kneeling, staring impassively up at Mark, still fiddling with the clasp on Fernando's breeches. Fernando gritted his teeth and looked up from where he was watching Sebastian's clever little hands; Mark stared back at him placidly. 

Mark's indifference made the entire situation worse. Fernando now felt as if he was not doing anything unique, not doing anything particularly new. How many other men had Mark caught Seb with in this exact position? Fernando felt like he was just another plaything of the boy king, soon to be boy emperor, except his position was forever, permanent. He was the "Kept King", the king who only kept his throne due to the whims of a boy who doesn't even understand what power is.

Mark coughed, "Well," he says, "Your Majesty, I do believe you have a meeting to attend." Seb pouted at him and whined, "We were just getting to the main course," but still braced himself on Fernando's thighs and got up off the carriage floor. 

Seb pranced down the steps Mark had placed next to the carriage, miming tripping sown the stairs, snickering when his action made Mark reflexively reach out to grab him, and then playfully skipped off the final step. 

Fernando couldn't help but stare as Mark made the weirdest grimace in response, and he inexplicably felt all his mortification seep away from him. Huh. Maybe Mark is-

Seb then turned around and frowned at him, seemingly disappointed, but his eyes are deceivingly sharp, "Fernando, I regret to inform you that I have other duties I must attend to, you will simply have to wait." He then grinned up at Mark next to him and giggled as the other man stiffened when Sebastian looped both of his arms through Mark's. 

He leaned all his weight on the other man, Mark not so much as shifting his weight, "Oh Mark, won't you carry me back to the palace? I'm so very tired after all the horse riding," Seb looked up at him imploringly.

Fernando observed as Mark rolled his eyes and shrugged off the man, though notably not pulling his arm from Seb's grasp, and he got the distinct feeling that this exact scene had been played out countless times before. 

Fernando clenched his jaw as he watched Seb turn and saunter off, Mark trotting alongside him like a loyal dog. Fernando was supposed to be the unaffected one in this partnership, the unflustered one, the unconcerned one. And yet here he stood, in broad daylight, in a foreign kingdom, on the steps of a carriage with his breeches half unbuttoned and his cravat in disarray. 

He heard a cough from beside him, jolted and looked to the side. Sebastian's loyal Horse Master stood there, lounging against the side of the carriage. Fernando had forgotten who had even been driving the carriage in the first place. After Seb has let himself be pushed down, his hair still windswept from their ride together, everything else seemed to fade away. His thoughts were reduced only to how he could mess up the younger man's hair further. 

Jenson grinned at him wolfishly, and casually crossed his legs,  "First time?" he inquired. Fernando glared at him. The other man laughed openly at him, "What? He's a busy man with big prospects. You're not his majesty's only conquest, you know. Now your throne on the other hand…"

Fernando seethed, it was one thing to be humiliated by the future emperor, but to be patronized by the king's horse boy? No. It would simply not do. He closed his eyes in annoyance, pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaled, and prepared a speech about how he was not about to be talked down to by a man who didn't even have a throne to speak of! 

But when he opened his eyes again and opened his mouth to begin his tirade, Jenson was already wandering away to tend to the horses. Dios mío, Fernando was not mentally prepared to spend the rest of his life with all of these impertinent morons. 

#i love how i kept saying to people: no no i shant write any fic for this. only art. #me like two weeks later: hey guys :) #this is just: i was sitting in class and had a drawing idea but then im obv not drawing *this* in class so my brain went into narrative mod #not exactly 'baby's first ficlet!!!' but moreso ive not written in a while so i hope its alright??? #but aaahhh this was actually pretty fun!! idk i think it was bcs i was also being brainrotted by the image of seb kneeling.... #maybe ill draw it. but it felt like something that needed the context of narrative and not just oo here is a drawing! #anyways you can always ask me for a directors cut-(PLEASE PLEAE BEGGING PLEASE) #see this is why im not cut out for writing fic #its not like i dont think it can speak for itself. more that im just an overly reflective person who wants to explain all my thoughts #if i wrote fic itd really be just: chapter 1. chapter 1.5 chapter 2. chapter 2.5 #anyways i think its pretty obvious but this is before their wedding and just like peak bitterness. #well not peak. peak would be the first year- first few months of their marriage #but this is fernando who is only just realizing how naive all his expectations of seb were and getting a glimpse of his future #but mostly: mindgames and power play and: whos actually really winning? #also my god jense is literally the best chara in this au. he is vibing and basically just witnessing ye olde reality tv #mark and fernando are always in a weird powerplay with seb(even if seb isnt even consiously doing so) and jense is just free from it all #hmm now how does one go about tagging fic #vettonso #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 #formula 1 #martian #sebmark #also idk why im always so concerned abt tagging when im basically just writing this for my little boy king following i have somehow formed #hahaha! it is art to me!: #catie.art. #boy king au

[cherrycola27]

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Eventual smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Series Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

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Chapter 4: A Wedding of Presidential Proportions

You couldn't sleep when you got back to the White House. You were pacing the floor of your room, trying to fabricate a believable love story for you and Bradley.

You would say that you'd gotten close during his campaign, and he proposed the night he was elected. That would explain why he risked his life for you after the last debate and why you held the Bible and danced with him at the inauguration. That would be believable.

You also had to think of a wedding date. It would need to be soon. Now that the people knew, they would push for a wedding. You settled on October. That would give you two months to figure this out.

You'd have to tell your parents tomorrow because you knew they would have questions, but you couldn't tell them the truth.

You were furiously trying to write notes down when you realized you should probably check on Bradley. It was almost two in the morning. You hoped he was still awake.

You grabbed your robe and note cards before sneaking down the hallway. You knocked once on his door before it flew open.

"You can't sleep either?" He asked you. "No. But I've been productive. You say as you enter his room.

You spend the next twenty minutes going over the tale you have spun for the two of you. He sits silently and nods along as you pace back and forth across the carpet of his bedroom.

"So, does it sound believable?" You ask him once you finish. "It does. You've really put a lot of thought into this." He agrees with you.

"Now, for a wedding date, I was thinking October because by the time the story gets out, we will have been 'planning' one for a few months." You tell him.

"Do we really have to get married? I mean, William and Kate dated for ten years before tying the knot." Bradley points out. "Yes, but their engagement was about a year. Trust me, I've thought about dragging it out, but with the digital age we live in, it gives people too long of a chance to find out we are lying." You explain to him.

"Okay, so after we get married, how long until we can get divorced?" He asks you. You stop in your tracks. You hadn't even thought about that.

"Well—" you begin, "If we get divorced in less than two or so years, people are going to be extremely upset. It will look bad on you, and the tabloids will start fabricating stories of infidelity between us, and it would tank your chances at reelection and my chances of ever working again." You continue.

"But, if we get divorced after two years, that would be peak reelection campaign time, and again, people would be angry that their favorite first couple is breaking up and it would give your opponents fuel for a smeer campaign and probably tank your ratings and cause a scandal." You tell him. Then it hits you like a ton of bricks.

"Oh my god." You breathe out. "What?" Bradley asks you as he sits up from his chair.

"The only way to prevent this whole thing from killing both of our careers is to stay together and get divorced after you get reelected or lose the 2028 election. It would be at least four years of marriage. Four years of a lie." You state.

You can feel the heat rising in your chest as the anxiety sets it. You being to pace faster around his room. Your eyes are wide with a far off look in them.

"Oh my god, we can't do this. We can't commit to this for FOUR YEARS Bradley. What was I thinking when I said that? I'll tell you what—I wasn't thinking. I didn't want the media to brand me as someone who slept her way to the top, but now I've sentenced both of us to a life of scrutiny in the public eye!" You shout at him.

"We can't do this. I was wrong about everything I said. I didn't have a plan, I wasn't thinking I just did, and now I've screwed everything up." Your voice starts to tremble. Your chest tightens, making it harder for you to breathe. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes.

Bradley can see the cracks in your armor starting to break. The facade that you wear so well is slipping. His heart breaks when he sees the first tears slip down your cheeks. He's never seen you cry before. Come to think of it, he's never seen you as anything other than put together. He's shocked to see you like this. Emotional, vulnerable, raw.

"Where's my phone? I have to call Jaycee. I have to have her publish a story saying that I was lying and that we aren't a couple." You choke out. Your hands are trembling as you try to unlock your phone, but it's no use. The device falls from your fingers and crashes to the carpet.

That's all that it takes for you to fall to your knees and sob. Rooster immediately jumps from his seat and pulls you close to him. You're babbling about how you're sorry to him and about how you can save his career by tanking your own.

It's killing him inside to see you like this. To know that he's the reason you're having a panic attack at three in the morning. He doesn't know how to respond. Normally, you're the one picking up the pieces for him. So he does the only thing his can think to do. He sinks down on the floor next to you and pulls you close to him. He tucks you under his chin and rubs your back to soothe you.

"Y/N. Y/N—please, take a breath. Look at me." Bradley tells you softly. He takes your chin and gently directs it to meet his eyes.

"Let's take a couple of deep breaths together. Come on, breathe with me. Breathe in—and breathe out." He directs you. He repeats this several more times until your breathing is back under control, and you aren't crying anymore.

"Okay, let's talk through this slowly. We have two options. We can get married, spend the four years together, and then get a quick and amicable divorce after the election. If we do that, we both have a good chance of being able to continue our political careers, right?" He looks to you for your approval. You nod your head.

"Or, you commit political suicide by saying what? You made up the whole thing because you didn't want the media slandering you?" He asks. "It seems like they would slander you even more if you said we lied." He tells you.

"I can tell them that I can onto you, I was harassing you. Trying to blackmail you or something. If I did that, it would save your image. I could never work in politics again, though. I'd have to leave D.C." You stutter out, the anxiety still not fully gone from your body.

The thought of you leaving made Bradley sick to his stomach. He couldn't let you give up your dream for him.

"No." He says. "I won't let you do that. I can't let you do that. I wouldn't be in this position of power if it wasn't for you. I can't do this without you. I need you." He tells you earnestly.

"We are already friends. We can do this. We'd only have to pretend for the cameras and in the public eye. Behind closed doors, it doesn't matter. We can fake it til we make it." He laughs.

"You sure?" You ask him. "Positive." He confirms. You nod your head and smile at him. He helps you up. You take a deep breath and feel some relief.

You pause for a beat, and Bradley can see the exact moment you put your mask back on. Gone is the vulnerability you'd just shared with him, and back was the bravado he'd seen you wear so well.

"You know you'll have to make sure any hookup you bring here signs and NDA, right?" You ask him.

"Come again?" He blurts out with a look of confusion. The sudden change in your demeanor has his head spinning.

"Look, Bradley, even if we have to be married for a bit, I don't expect you to be celibate the entire time. You won't be the first president to have a mistress, but you'll be the first with permission. You snicker at the last part.

"I mean I'll do the same." You reassure him.

Bradley is too stunned to speak. The idea of either of you having a lover made his heart ache. He couldn't stomach the thought of another man touching you or getting to see the side of you that you kept closed off from him.

"Yeah, I understand." He hesitated. The silence around the two of you was uncomfortable.

"Right. So, I'm going to call a jeweler in the morning so we can pick out a ring and make sure you memorize these cards." You tell him as you hand him some flash cards, breaking the tension.

"I have the ring covered." Bradley tells you. "What?" You ask him. Unsure if you heard him correctly. "I have the ring covered. I'll memorize the cards. For now, we both need to get some sleep." He rubs your arms in a reassuring way.

"Okay. You're right. Goodnight, Bradley." You tell him as you leave his room. "Goodnight, Mrs. Bradshaw" He calls down the hallway after you. You roll your eyes and try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

The next day around lunch, Jake storms into your room. "Wise-woman! Girl, what the fuck?!" He asks you.

"Jake, I don't have time for this. I was in a life or death situation. It was either fake engagement or political ruin. I did what I had to do." You explain to him. "I know, I know. Rooster already gave me the same speech. So you're really going to do this interview. Get married and all that jazz?" Jake asks as he comes to sit with you.

He flops down on the couch in your sitting room while absent-mindedly tossing a baseball in the air.

"Yeah, it's not ideal, but it keeps all of us employed. Well, let me rephrase that. It keeps you and Bradley employed. Meanwhile, I get to be paraded around as a piece of arm candy, and the only thing people are going to care about is what time wearing." You sigh.

"You know there are way worse things than being the First Lady of the United States. You think that no one is going to care about what you have to say, but Bradley will. He values your opinion more than any of his advisors. And you could have a serious social impact. Doesn't every First Lady have a platform that she focuses on during her time? Think of the change you could make. The good you could do in the world." Jake tells you. You hadn't really thought about it that way.

"Plus, do you know how many women in America would gladly take your place? I do, because I've seen the tweets and the tiktoks. Marrying Bradley isn't the prison sentence you're making it out to be." Jake finishes his pep talk to you before silently tossing his ball some more.

You sit there, taking in his words and processing them.

Neither of you is sure what to say until Jake speaks again. "So, on another note, your friend at the Post who's interviewing you—is she single by chance?" Jake asks you.

You laugh at his comment. Of course, he would ask you about Jaycee when you're having a crisis moment.

"Jake! You're such an asshole!" You laugh as you throw a pillow from the couch at him.

"Knock knock." Bradley comes in. "And that's my cue to go." Jake says as he gets up to leave.

Bradley comes and sits down next to you. He puts a small box on the table in front of you. "Go on. Open it." He tells you.

You open it, and your breath catches in your throat. Inside is the most beautiful ring you've ever seen. It's an oval cut diamond, easily five karats or better. It's flanked by two pear cut amethysts and set on a silver band.

"Bradley how—" you ask him. "Called in a favor." He tells you. You stare at it a moment before he takes it out of the box and slips it on your hand. "Size eight. Just like you said." He smiles at you. "Oval because of the Oval Office, right?" You joke with him. "Exactly." He breathes out.

"So, are you ready for this interview?" You ask him. "If I'm being honest, no. But I know that just like everything else, we can get through it together." Bradley kisses your cheek and pats your leg before getting up to leave. The skin where his lips touched buzzes with a familiar feeling that you're desperately trying to push back down.

Thanks to your careful planning, you made it through the interview with Jaycee. By the time you and Bradley arrived back to the White House, you were trending on social media, and #Wiseshaw was going viral. You had succeeded in pacifying the nation for a while.

Now, the real challenge began: planning a wedding.

..................

"Does it really matter so much about the flowers!" You groaned into the sofa cushion. The wedding was a week away, and instead, if sitting in on interviews for who was going to take over your position once you became the First Lady, you were with Jake and Jaycee picking out center pieces.

You had hated all of the aspects of planning the wedding. You hated them because over the past two months, you'd found yourself unable to deny the fact that you had feelings for Bradley. He truly was the man of your dreams, but the only reason you were able to have him was because of a lie.

Magazines, news outlets, and social media called you the perfect political power couple. The people ate up the engagement shoot you'd released, and the buzz of your upcoming nuptials was all anyone could talk about. People were rabid wondering what your dress was going to look like, who would be on the guest list, and most importantly, people wondered how long it would be until the two of you had children.

Of course, there was speculation that you were already pregnant due to how fast you were getting married from the time you announced your engagement. If only the people knew that your husband would never touch you like that.

You were broken from your thoughts by Jake.

"Yes, it really does matter, Wise- woman. You and the president are getting married. This is the closest thing America is ever going to get to a royal wedding." You looked at Jaycee and rolled your eyes because you knew Jake was right. This would be the first time a president had gotten married in office in over a hundred years. In the minds of many, this was a royal wedding. The two of you were the American Will and Kate.

"Jakey is just trying to be helpful as the best man and all." Jaycee tells you as she gets up to wrap her arms around him.

"If you two could keep it in your pants while I'm here, I would appreciate it." You tell them. You shuttered at the memory of finding out they were seeing each other. You had gone to Jake's office to ask him to sign off on some things, and instead, you found him and Jaycee, using his desk for purposes that it was not intended for.

"Oh c'mon, don't be such a grumpy gills. You'll be getting your taste of a man in power soon enough." Jaycee laughs.

"No, I will not. This marriage is a business arrangement. I'm not going to sleep with Bradley. I'm not even going to move out of my room." You tell them. You get up to leave as Jake and Jaycee shoot each other a knowing look.

.......................

Saturday comes quicker than you expected. All morning, people are fussing over you and helping you get ready. Jaycee is doing her best to keep you calm. You aren't nervous because you are getting married. You're nervous because your life is about to change.

You wonder if Bradley has the same knots in his stomach or if he is calm and collected.

The funny thing is, as he's getting ready, Bradley wonders the same thing about you.

He's paced around his room about five hundred times since he woke up this morning. You had no clue that Jake and Bradley's godfather Maverick had been trying to keep him calm.

He knows it's just about time, and his hands shake as he tries to tie his bow tie. You always make it look so easy. He growls in frustration before Maverick takes over. "The last time I saw a Bradshaw, this nervous was when Goose was getting ready to marry your mom. He was awful with ties, too." Maverick smiles at him, trying ease the tension. "They'd be so proud of you, kid." Maverick smiles as he smooths out Bradley's collar.

Soon, the wedding coordinator is coming to get them. It was time.

The wedding is to be held in the Rose Garden with a reception to follow in the banquet room of the White House. Everything is perfect. The chairs, the flowers, the table settings, the center pieces, the decor. All of it is fit for a wedding of presidential proportions. You'd spent two months going over seating charts, menu options, and cake flavors. Every time you asked Bradley what he wanted, he always responded with, "Whatever you want dear." You roll your eyes at the memory. Of course, he would be better in a fake relationship than any of your previous real ones.

As you put the finishing touches on your makeup, the thought of running crosses your mind.

You don't have time to ponder it though. It's almost show time. Your mother and Jaycee help you into your dress. It's a soft taffeta ball gown with ruching on the bodice. Its sleeves are slightly off the shoulder, and it has a jeweled belt at the waist. You could describe your dress best as "a modern take on Jackie Kennedy." Your mother helped you secure your cathedral length veil in your hair. She brushed a few stray hairs from your face before making sure your oval pendant was centered on your neck. Jaycee handed you your bouquet of lavender roses before grabbing the train of your dress and veil to help you out of your room.

Your father smiled when he saw you. Both of your parents were so proud of you. Their daughter was about to be the First Lady.

You took a deep breath as you walked out of french doors to the top of the staircase.

Your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest as your feet carried you down the steps. It felt like you were in autopilot.

The violin quartet began to play "august" as Maverick walked down the aisle, holding framed photos of his parents before sitting them in two reserved seats. Jake followed him with your mother before coming back. Several of his former Navy friends escorted your bridesmaids down the aisle. Then, Jaycee and Jake made their way down the aisle. As the song looped, you could help think about the irony of it all. The man that you were about to marry would never be yours, not really.

Soon, it was your turn. You smiled as you heard the first bars of "Wildest Dreams" start to play. If it was one thing Bradley knew about you, it was how much you loved Taylor Swift. It only seemed fitting that he would pick two of her songs for your wedding.

Damn him and his ability to give you butterflies. It wasn't fair.

Everything moved in slow motion. The walk down the stair case and down the aisle felt like the longest ten minutes of your life. You did your best to look the part of the perfect blushing bride, but it was so hard.

Looking out at the perfectly place chairs with their perfectly draped cloth covers and perfectly tied lavender bows made you feel sick.

The sight of the wooden pergola draped in in greens and tulle made your knees weak. The meticulous rolled out white cloth that was covered in dainty lavender flower petals for the aisle had the bile in your stomach rising to your throat.

Everything was so perfect. Or at least it would have been if this was real. Your father could feel you tense up as you reached the bottom of the stair case and turned to stand at the end of the aisle. He patted your hand to comfort you. Everyone rose up from their seats, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to look up and look at Bradley. He was standing at the top of the aisle beaming at you. Suddenly, all of the anxiety you were feeling melted away. A genuine smile crossed your face as you began to almost float towards him.

You watched him brush a few stray tears from his eyes.

Your eyes stayed trained on Bradley the whole time. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was actually in love with you.

"You look beautiful." He whispered to you as you joined him at the altar. "Your tie's crooked." You whisper back. "Sorry, I didn't have help." He chuckled before the officiant asked everyone to be seated.

The ceremony goes by in a flash. You and Bradley exchanged vows and rings. And soon you heard the officiant say, "Mr. President, you may kiss your bride."

You lean forward to press a polite kiss to Bradley's lips, but in an unexpected turn of events, he sweeps you into his arms and dips you before kissing you. Everyone erupts in applause. The officiant speaks once more. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to present to you, for the first time, President and Mrs. Bradley Bradshaw!"

Bradley grabs your hand as Jaycee hands you your bouquet before you walk back down the aisle under a sea of flower petals.

During the entire reception, Bradley doesn't leave your side as the two of you mingle. You have your first dance as husband and wife to a slowed down version of "I've Had The Time of My Laugh. You grin at his nod to the first time you danced with him. After you finish, its time to cut the cake. You enjoyed smashing some of it in his face more than you should have. Your smile never leaves your face. You can't believe how easy it is to pretend to be in love with him.

But that's all it is, pretend. You've signed yourself up to continue this charade with him for the next four years.

After the reception, you change into a white lace tea length dress. You and Bradley board Air Force one. You have three days for a private honeymoon. Bradley releases his duties to Jake for the time being before you leave.

Soon, you're touching down somewhere tropical.

You're exhausted by the time you make it there.

The two of you get settled into your bungalow. All you want to do is change and get some sleep.

"Can you unzip me? I want to take a shower. There's two bathrooms here if you want to shower too." You inform Bradley. He's happy to help. He unzips your dress. He sees the white lace of the bra and panties you are wearing.

"Thanks." You tell him before trapsing off to a shower.

Bradley groans and adjusts himself before heading off to the other bathroom. God, his right hand is going to be tired after this trip.

After an hour in the bathroom, you finally come out. You find Bradley sitting in a chair watching TV.

"You aren't in bed yet?" You question him.

"I wasn't sure which side you slept on, and I didn't want to assume." He says as he gets up and gestures to the huge bed in the middle of the room.

"Oh, it doesn't matter. I'm not sleeping in here." You laugh. He looks at you confused before you go to the other side of the room and on unlatch a door he hadn't noticed before.

"Did you really think I wouldn't plan a head to make sure we had two rooms?" You ask him.

"I—I shouldn't have doubted your abilities." He tells you, with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"It's fine. Look, we've had a long day. We'll talk more in the morning." You smile and kiss his cheek before walking into your room. "Goodnight, Mr. President." You call to him.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Bradshaw." He calls back.

He hears the sound of the lock on the door clicking. He sighs before dropping back into the armchair. He runs his fingers through his hair before taking a look at the silver band that now adorns his finger. He twists it a few times and sighs.

How was he going to get through the next four years of this?

Little did he know that just on the other side of the door, you were dying inside too.

A special shoutout to @thedroneranger for beta reading this chapter and listening to my rambles!

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lt-bradshaw @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @mj-l4 @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @chicomonks @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis

#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw smut #lt. bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #tgm #tgm smut #top gun rooster #top gun smut #red white and rooster

[cooliogirl101]

that little snippet with Sayuri and Shen Jiu makes me incredibly curious about that AU. How much interaction have they had up to that point (because I'm assuming it was the real Haitang at some point? Or did Sayuri wake up without powers so had to bide her time or something)? Also how differently would the plot go, because I can't imagine Sayuri would stand for Shen Jiu treating children poorly or the suspicions of Shen Jiu's martial siblings/old peak lords

Yeah I definitely viewed it as a transmigration thing, where Sayuri landed in Qiu Haitang's body shortly before the Qiu massacre. I guess in this verse, I saw her as more of a mixture of Lily and Sayuri-- more jaded than Lily, less hardened than Sayuri. Maybe a Sayuri who died early on, who didn't survive the fighting rings, who thought it was over and she could finally rest-- only to wake up in yet another unfamiliar body.

Playing the part of the innocent, naive, happy-go-lucky girl (at least until she gets her bearings) is one of the more challenging things she's done but if there's one thing she's learned from Sousuke, it's how to put on a convincing mask. She latches on to Shen Jiu because his wounds so remind her of her brother's-- that same ruthless drive to do anything in order to survive.

For the first few months of their acquaintance, Shen Jiu is in a constant state of bewilderment that the girl he'd always viewed as the epitome of innocence is, in actuality, kind of a bitch. He's never felt closer to her. Shortly after they come of age, Haitang suggests very calmly and reasonably that they get married after all. She times her proposal perfectly to the split second after Shen Jiu takes a sip of tea and pretends that his resultant sputtering and choking was not at all her intention.

("It's only practical, it's not exactly a secret that you and I spend the majority of our nights together. We might as well make the rumors official. Now I've always been partial to the idea of a fall wedding, what do you think? The leaves are always so lovely that time of year, all golden and red like-- yes, the exact shade your face is turning, thank you for demonstrating, A-Jiu.")

It's a purely platonic marriage, of course, but it does wonders for fixing Shen Jiu's reputation. It's an ongoing debate on Cang Qiong over who's scarier-- the Qing Jing Peak Lord or his wife, who was once rumored to make a Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python cower away with a single glare. Things go pretty well for a while.

And then Luo Binghe arrives.

(In one world, Luo Binghe goes to bed as the Emperor of the Combined Realms with an unmatched harem of over 600 renowned beauties. When he wakes up, he is 12 years old again, weak, powerless, and back at Qing Jing Peak-- the source of some of his worst memories, a place he'd once burned to ashes. Worse, he is back at the mercy of Shen Qingqiu, who is now...happily married to the woman who was instrumental to bringing him down?)

#hahaha i love the confusion lbh would be in #murder cat au

[sushis-wild-imagination]

Let's Get Married (Preview)

Lee Do Hyun X Reader

Words: 700

Summary : Fake marriage for reality tv to lovers.

Warning : Tooth rotting fluff, horribly slow burn, Lee Dohyun being a cutie over all.

Note: if you haven't seen the kshow "we got married" I would highly recommend watching a few eps before reading. It's fun I promise. The scarcity of kdrama actor fanfics is bothering. This is a full blown series. idk how many parts yet. I'm not delusional.

general masterlist pinned <3

We got married masterlist

----

Preview

"So, what made you do the show?" the interviewing staff asks you. 

You are a solo artist in the Kpop industry and also a newly debuted actor. You moved to Korea when you were around 18 y/o and all you wanted to do was make music. You got picked up by a company as trained for 4 years before debut. You still remember what your dad said to you “If you don’t make it you can always come back” they were very supportive of your music. They’d be the first ones to know what music you worked on. 

You were currently at a pre-show interview with the production staff of "Let's get married" that is a sequel of the show "We got Married" a popular show in Korea that had good ratings because the show brought two celebrities and showed the audience what it would be like if they 'got married'. They would do different tasks to bring the couple closer and end the show in 6 months. 

The show got cancelled because it turned out the show was too scripted. The reboot of the show however, the one you are a part of now, is a little different. The progression of the show as you and your 'husband' would be a lot more natural and will be given time to really get to know one another each other. 

The show also wanted a sneak peak into the domestic lives of the celebs mimicking shows like 'I live alone' and 'BTS in the soop'. There would be a few dates in the beginning, then you also get married and move in with your 'husband'. It would all be naturally documented and turned into a fun reality show.

The only catch is, you don't know your 'husband'. 

You’ll see who the staff picked out for you and who agreed to be on the show while shooting for the first date episode so the reactions of both parties are as genuine as possible for good TV. 

You giggle at the question, knowing your answer was going to be too real. "As a Kpop idol and now an actor, I don't really get time to date because I'm very busy with my schedule, but if this show lets me meet new men in the form of work, I thought why not" you smile sheepishly. The production staff also laughs at your answer. 

"What is your ideal type?" the interviewer asks you the next question. 

Your face lights up at that question and you shift in your chair. "I think I've always been very vocal about my ideal type, the closest I think is Lee Do hyun" You answer smiling brightly. 

"Why do you say that?" 

"I've seen his work, I'm a huge fan. I've also watched a lot of his interviews and variety show clips, if that’s who he is off camera as well, I think his extroverted personality would gel with my introverted personality, his sense of humour is exactly my style. He also looks like such a cute puppy.” you say like a schoolgirl talking about your crush. "I hope I'm not coming off as a stalker, believe me everyone, I am not” you giggle nervously while making an ‘x’ with your hands.

"Not at all, What do you want from the show? What do you expect to have at the end of this show, considering you will be living and eating with this person everyday for the next 6 months?” She asks you and that question makes you take a deep breath. 

“A friend” you ask in an unsure tone.  “I think, if not love, a friend, a companion, that’s enough for me. I believe if you live with someone, the least there is, is a sense of consideration, then slowly moving towards a friend, a companion” you nod while answering. 

The staff smiles at your answer. “This is the end of the interview, Thank you for your good work, see you in a weeks time at the shoot” 

“Good work today” you say to everyone and bow before leaving the set. The shoot started next week. You were excited. 

You were very curious to meet your ‘husband’. 

----

don't ask. tag list?

#lee do hyun #lee dohyun #melancholia #sweet home #youth of may #lee Dohyun x reader #lee dohyun fanfic #lee dohyun actor #kdrama fanfic #kdrama #kdrama actor #korean variety #we got married #fake marriage #I don't even know #kdrama 2022 #kdrama 2021

[barry-j-blupjeans]

Shake things up, 5, taakitz

5. this marriage was supposed to be a scam but, but listen,

--

Kravitz's door wasn't locked when Taako tried to open it, which he took as an obvious sign to come in. He had been in this room a few times before, though they mostly just chilled in the living room or one of the various offices around the house. Mansion? Taako felt shitty calling it a mansion, so it was just a really big and luxurious house. Kravitz's room was dark and there were various things piled up on his desk. The closet was open and Taako could see the crisp white suit they had picked out a few weeks ago hanging as he stepped further inside.

This whole situation was... weird. And wacky. Two words that Taako had previously been content with describing his life but bow it was all the wrong kinds of weird and wacky.

His show had been- not failing, per se, but not thriving either a few months ago. They had needed something to up their sales and views and for some godforsaken reason, Taako had suggested marriage. A fake marriage, of course, of course. Really, if anyone was to be blamed, it was Barry and Lup for putting the idea of marriage into his head in the first place with their beautiful ceremony last year.

But, as with any stupid plan, there were problems.

First, Taako didn't have anyone to marry. There were suitors lined up for miles, of course, but he didn't wanna marry someone who only wanted him to be famous. So when he met Kravitz- hot, downright handsome, peak "starving artist" Kravitz- it had been perfect. Kravitz could act and Taako would at least have some eye candy to get through the ceremony before the inevitable divorce two months afterward.

Then, the unpredictable happened.

He fell in love with Kravitz. Like, genuinely in love, not "I will smile at you on camera but otherwise please leave me alone" love. And, if Lup was telling the truth at all, which she claimed she was but Taako was gonna thrash her if she wasn't, then Kravitz loved him too. The plan was to wait until after the ceremony to tell him, but Taako can't really sleep with that sword dangling over him.

And, apparently, neither could Kravitz.

He wasn't in the bed. Taako shifted through some of the covers like Kravitz could somehow be hiding under them, but no, he wasn't there. As Taako turned back around, sorely regretting this idea, Kravitz cleared his throat. He stood by the door, looking awkward. Taako tried to pretend like this was a normal situation he had been caught in.

"Hail and well met," Taako said. Normal went right out the window.

But Kravitz smiled. Granted, awkward and embarrassed, but he was smiling.

"I- I was looking for you," Kravitz said. "But you weren't in your room."

"Well, uh," Taako said, bouncing on the heels of his feet. "Same hat."

"I... I have something I wanna say?" Kravitz said. He shook his head and seemed to try to give himself more confidence. He repeated, "I have something I wanna say."

"Go for it," Taako said because the "me too" died somewhere halfway up his throat.

Kravitz took a deep breath, stepping further into the room. He shut the door behind him.

"This is gonna sound... weird," he said. "And a little wacky, maybe?"

"Here," Taako said, hoisting himself up onto the bed. He patted the space next to him. "I'm down for weird and wacky, bones."

Kravitz nodded, coming forward to sit on the bed too. He looked at Taako and opened his mouth, but only made a little choking sound before looking away. A few locs fell from where he had them up in a bun. He steeled himself with another deep breath and tried again,

"I know the marriage was supposed to be a scam but I think I'm actually in love with you," Kravitz said.

"Oh," Taako said. Kravitz tucked a loc behind his ear.

"It's just that- like I knew you were a decent person," Kravitz said. "Everyone- everyone in the world is in love with you Taako, and while you might be afraid they aren't, I don't really think anything is gonna change that. But I didn't really realize why, because I didn't know who you were 'til a few months ago."

Kravitz looked up and Taako remembered the first meeting they had, in the garden a few floors below. Taako's manager and assistant had been there but talking to Kravitz that day had given him a terrible case of tunnel vision. He went over his assistants' notes yesterday and realized the only thing he remembered if Kravitz telling him he lived off instant ramen for most of his college career.

"People think you're kind of an asshole, but that you're still charming," Kravitz said. "Which is true! In the best way possible. But nothing ever mentioned how kind you were. Or that you'd make me soup when I was sick or that you were this funny, like oh my god-" Taako cracked a grin. "I just- I realized a few weeks ago that I was gonna get to marry you, like you, Taako, not famous TV star Taako. And I realized that I- I didn't wanna end that with divorce, even if it didn't mean anything. And I didn't wanna get married to you without telling you this because I don't think I could live with myself."

Kravitz let out a breathless, nervous chuckle, and Taako...

"Same hat," Taako blurted out, again. "Fuck. I mean, uhm- yes. Same. Yes, you- I get that."

Kravitz opened his mouth to speak again, but Taako beat him to the punch.

"You're a really shitty cook," Taako said. "But I don't mind because that means that everything I make you appreciate. And you're really supportive and just- hilarious. You're the third funniest person I know-"

"Who-?"

"Me and Lup in that order," Taako said and Kravitz grinned. "And- and yeah, babe, I- I wanna marry you. For realsies. I was gonna wait 'til after to tell you, but then I was like, I don't think I can say "I do" without you knowing I mean it, and I just-" Taako cut himself off, making a frustrated noise. Words were hard sometimes, goddamn. How did people do feelings all the time?

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, instead of finishing whatever shitty speech he had started.

Kravitz nodded, looking a little teary and already leaning in. Taako met him halfway, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. Kravitz wrapped his arms around Taako's shoulders, drawing him closer, and they definitely weren't sitting right before this but-

"Hot damn," Taako said when he finally, finally pulled back. Kravitz was halfway in his lap, flushed but looking so happy. Kravitz laughed, leaning in again. This one was shorter, but only because Taako needed to draw back and continue with, "we better do this every day or I'm actually divorcing you in two months."

"Just once a day?" Kravitz asked, looking as offended as Taako felt about that idea.

"Literally all the time," Taako said, kissing him again, and again. "I'm gonna start screaming if you leave the room for more than five minutes."

"I don't think I'd even last that long," Kravitz said, starting another kiss. Taako's back hit the bed, but they didn't break apart. He was going to be exhausted tomorrow. But between this and sleeping, Taako would much rather be here.

#taakitz #taako #kravitz #taz #taz balance #mine #asks #anon #ise cube writing

[luckhissoul]

continued from ( xxx ) @xradiant

the chair almost looks too small for perrin. the way he sits there is not exactly comfortable, is it? there's something off about the way he's sitting, the way he hasn't drank the wine. he simply swirls it around. there's an edge of deflection to his attempt a joke. blood and ashes, he was trying to make a joke and it wasn't even a very funny one, was it? he watches him a moment as he talks. it's more than that, isn't it? of course it is. any idiot could guess at that. maybe he was so bloody bored with life back in the two rivers. maybe with faile and the kids the boredom finally bit. that made sense, didn't it? he couldn't imagine being that settled.

marriage was supposed to do that to you. settle you. although he hasn't felt settled a day since he's arrived here. there were changes, like any woman would expect. light, but when was the last time he had gone out dicing or smiled at a pretty girl. there were chains in any marriage. but he was sure that faile had had perrin wrapped in ropes since they had been married. even if that kinda standstill seemed to suit him right enough. one would have to be mad to enjoy that. his marriage, well, his marriage was an entirely different situation. there wasn't much difference from loivng tuon and fighting in a war. and sooner or later he could feel it, with the dice bouncing around in his head, teh whispered rumors all around, a war was coming around again. much worse than the one that they had fought when they had first got here. the thin thread holding the seanchan together was going to snap.

but on the other hand they had never been stronger. the empire was at a peak, tuon had said this with a pride that made her all the more beautiful, all the more terrifying. there were some nights when he thought that she watched him carefully, from the corner of her eyes as if she were sure that he would some how topple everything that they were standing on. there were whispers on the air, in his ears, an unease that he knew eventually would grip him. the empire could only stand so long was what some said. and every day, the grid, the darkness, the - light, a change was stirring and he felt himself being propelled forward. did tuon know?

that draws him back to the question at hand. assassination attempts? light, in the past ten years there had been too many to count. the last few had left him with a scar across his chest and barely hanging on. tougher, and he couldn't tell if they wanted him dead for real or if they considered him a good enough prince of ravens now, after all this time. blood and ashes, this rules of the empire had never really stuck where he was concerned, had they? tuon had touched her hand to that scar not too far back and there had been some pride there, beaming in those wide brown eyes. he swore she loved him then. as much as she hated him when the whispers got too loud. they were always there. but the truth of it? was he even sure of how much of it was true?

"it's been a few months." he says with a breath of a laugh, a small shake of his head. funny that it comes off like a joke, doesn't it? a ridiculous joke. "seems like luck's still on my side." he rests back a little more comfortably in his seat. he's with a friend. that was the trouble here it was so hard to tell who was his friend. and who wasn't? his smile dies down a little, just a hint of it. trying to toy with humor so perrin doesn't take him too seriously, doesn't think the whole situation is that bloody dire. "it wasn't the rumors of another civil war that dragged you all the way out here?" what answer was he fishing for then? what good would dragging perrin into this mess do? no, maybe he was looking for that out. he could leave on whatever ship perrin was taking out of here and never look back. he could leave. "gonna scold me about how there's better ways to get out of a marriage?"

#v; after the battle #xradiant #xradiant ; perrin

[storiesaremylife]

Teaser 1

A/N: This is an introduction to some of the characters in my TSC future AU, some were created by my friends but most were made by me. My ask box is always open, so let me know your thoughts, questions, and who you think I should do next.

Clary refused to admit Jace won. 

Others may have said it wasn’t a competition, but it totally was and Clary lost. It was all the more bitter that she didn’t so much mind the loss, as it had changed her life for the better. Never as a teenager would she have imagined she’d end up here, her heart this full, her home this… loud. 

Three kids. That was the compromise. Jace wanted eight, Clary wanted one, so they’d agreed on three. No more, no less. Marriage was, after all, all about compromise. 

She was thinking about all of this as she moved through the Institute late one August night, checking on each of their sleeping children. Clary pushed open the door to the first room, the one that used to be Izzy’s, and wondered not for the first time how she could have produced such a daughter. 

Gabrielle Celine Herondale, whose first word had been “sparkle” and whose bedroom was decorated with so much pink and frills that teenage Clary would have gagged. However, she felt nothing but pride, knowing Bri had made that comforter herself. Her eldest daughter would be eighteen next month and had been showing interest in running the Institute after her parents’ retirement. She had such confidence. The only evidence of herself Clary saw in Bri came from the desk in her room that was littered in sketchbooks. Even her looks: her hair was more orange-pink than red, her eyes green but speckled through with gold. 

Not that her next child was any more similar, Clary thought as she peaked into the next room. While it was more blue than pink and sleek than frilly, it still far more a girl’s room than Clary ever had. Posters of famous Mundane teenagers were tacked up alongside those of famous ballets. Emma Lucine Herondale, who was two days shy of her seventeenth birthday. Emmie probably worried Clary the most. She seemed to have no interest in the Shadowhunter lifestyle these past few years, which was fine except she’d begun to alienate her friends and family at the same time. Even her best friend, Micah, seemed to be held at arm’s length. 

Unlike her elder sister, though, there was no doubt Clary’s genes ran through Emmie’s veins. While tall, proud, and beautiful like her father, she had Fairchild eyes. And her hair… her hair fell in long, near white curls. Like her cousin, Ash. Like Ash’s father. 

The next three rooms were nearly interchangeable as far as who slept in them. The first two were across the hall from each other, and for the last fourteen years there had been many sleepless nights thanks to the doors opening and closing.

The first belonged to their third child, the one Clary had assumed would be the last. The perfect three, the goal, and another girl. But when Brother Enoch had come in and announced that their three was actually four, that they would be having twins… well it was that moment that Clary knew she had lost. 

The room itself wasn’t changed much from the standard Institute bedroom. It was however… a mess. Papers and books littered almost every surface, and those they didn’t were littered in clothes. She could hardly see her daughter– Aurora Paige Herondale, better known as Rory– through the multitude of blankets and pillows stacked on her bed. Looks and personality wise, Rory was certainly the one most like her mother: fiery red hair, introverted, small build. Her twin was pretty much the polar opposite of her. 

Aiden James Herondale. Julian Blackthorn had jokingly called them the Blaze Twins, both because their names meant dawn and fire (respectively), and because of the way the pair tended to blaze their way through every Institute they’ve ever visited, Aiden in the lead. 

As much as Rory was like Clary, Aiden was a miniature Jace. He had those gold curls Clary loved, that sarcastic troublemaker grin, and the charm that got him out of that same trouble. Something did keep the twins from being perfect clones. Clary remembered when their eye color had settled, the confusion both she and Jace had had, the sadly fond looks Tessa and Jem had given the babies. She just couldn’t fathom how *her* babies ended up with *Alec’s* eyes.  

Aiden’s room was also the opposite of Rory’s with that same obsessive neatness Clary had never really understood about his father. It was also stacked wall to wall with books. Two full walls were dedicated solely to bookshelves, and there was a neat stack of them by his bedside. There were books of sheet music and comics on his desk, along with a few loose papers of what he was working on at the moment. 

After the twins, Clary was done. She’d agreed to three. She’d had three pregnancies. She’d ended up with four kids, which was four more than she’d ever pictured herself with when she was younger. And Jace had agreed. They had their beautiful family. They were happy. 

It was about 8 years later. Clary smiled at the memory as she pushed open the third door, the room with almost as many instruments as the music room itself. Jace had been on business in Wales, while Clary had been attending a local crisis: Emmie had taken some of Bri’s clothes and gotten them dirty. He’d returned a mess. He’d told her all about a boy he’d met in Swansea, whose eyes had reminded Jace of himself at that age. 

They knew about the process intimately, thanks to Rafe. There had been a lot of traveling back and forth between New York and Swansea, lots of fine print needed, but they’d had a new addition to their family: Rhys Morgan Rainwind, now Rhys Herondale. They’d been a bit worried, as he was only two months older than the twins, but the three of them immediately took to each other, referring to themselves now as triplets.

That should have been it. It really should have been. Ironic, honestly, for the girl who created the birth control rune to be the one to find out it wasn’t *one hundred percent* effective. 

The last room belonged to their youngest. Marylyn Stephanie Herondale, who would be four later that year. Her room now was decorated in a soft pink, filled with books and stuffed animals that her many siblings and family members felt she just *had* to have. She had blond curls like Jace, and green eyes like Clary, and the stubbornness and attitude of both of them combined. Mare could be anything when she grew up, and Clary had no doubt that she would be. Her daughter. Her baby.

So. Six. The agreement had been three, but of course nothing ever went the way Clary planned it. And of course, Jace won. And Clary couldn’t really bring herself to mind. So really, all was as it had always been. Clary closed the door and headed back to the room where her husband was already sleeping, looking forward to what tomorrow might bring. 

#tsc future au #the secret wonders #the darkest lands #the shadowhunter chronicles #the mortal instruments #jace herondale #cassandra clare #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #tessa gray #shadowhunters #jem carstairs #clary fairchild #clary fray #alec lightwood #clace #my writing #the lost time #isabelle lightwood #izzy lightwood #simon lovelace #gabrielle herondale #emma herondale #rory herondale #aiden herondale #rhys herondale #mare herondale #micah embervale #rhys rainwind #ash morgenstern

[hplovecraftmuseum]

It might be interesting to note that H. P. Lovecraft left New York City and returned to Providence, Rhode Island on April 17, 1926. Though he remained married to Sonia Greene Lovecraft till the end of his life, by 1926 the marriage was essentially over. Lovecraft had been all but abandoned by his wife when she left a high paying position with another company and tried to open her own hat shop. This was in New York City at a time when the economy was booming. Sonia Lovecraft was a talented and highly experienced member of the fashion community. It is therefore odd that she would not have taken great pains to research and calculate the risks associated with such an endeavor. Regardless, the new venture failed after only a few months and Mrs. Lovecraft eventually took a sales position 600 miles away. HPL refused to follow his new wife to the Midwest and remained in NYC in a tiny apartment. By all accounts Lovecraft fell into a great depression as he was robbed of much of his clothing and was forced to survive without decent heat and exposed to marauding rats. As a result of this state of nearly living as a prisoner he virtually stopped writing. One might ask how a couple who were basically newlyweds could have chosen such a dismal living arrangement. This was several years before the great depression took hold of the world. Yet, it might seem puzzling to the average person, that two adult individuals only recently married would accept such an arrangement. Well, this was Lovecraft after all and somehow this has been accepted without too much question by most critics. Curiously one of Lovecraft's most famed stories was completed almost as soon as he returned to his beloved home town of Providence, RI. In THE CALL OF CTHULHU the bloated, tentacled, demon-god and his cosmic city of unearthly architecture rises from the waves of the Pacific in the month of March. I have previously explored the noteworthy events regarding The Ides of March as they coincidently relate to many events of Lovecraft's life. Particularly his wife was born in March and he was married to her in NYC in the month of March. If we follow the narrative of THE CALL OF CTHULHU carefully we find that the threat of Cthulhu was at its peak in the month of March. However, it seems that by the first of April the danger had abated. April 1st was at one time considered the first day of the New Year. April 1st was once the traditional day of new beginning. Those who early on continued to celebrate New Years on April 1st were considered "April Fools". Well, Lovecraft was both an antiquarian and a keen student of history. Could NYC and Lovecraft's failed marriage to Sonia Greene have been emblematic of Great Cthulhu and his horrible tomb city? Humanity narrowly escaped a fate beyond imagination if Cthulhu had not been subdued by what seemed to have been sheer luck? Likewise Lovecraft himself found salvation in the month of April and his return to Providence. The sculpture in clay and mask of Cthulhu pictured below were created many decades ago by your curator, Richard G. Huber. The ceramic figure of Cthulhu sitting on his throne was created by artist, writer, and critic, the late Richard Tierney. The political cartoon of a tentacled monster symbolizing corporate corruption was a common theme even in Lovecraft's time. (Exhibit 454)

#lovecraft #sonia greene junoesque #great cthulhu #april fools day #Lovecraft's return to Providence

[earth-93]

BRIGADE FILES: INVISIBLE WOMAN (Part 1)

Stars & Stripes Hotline [Version 1.02]

C: \login\Artisan

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Directory of C:\BrigadeFiles\F4\STORM_SUSAN.txt

[file data =

Main Alias/Moniker: Invisible Woman

Legal Name: Susan Lowell Storm

Other Aliases: Invisible Girl, Susie, Nancy Thompson

Date of Birth: August 28th, 1979 (Age: 27)

Status: Alive

Species: Human Mutate

Sex: Female

Gender: Cisgender

Height/Weight: 5'6'' (1.68 m) / 120 lbs (54.43 kg)

Hair/Eye Color: Blonde / Hazel

Timeline (1978 - 1986): Sue comes from a family of ranchers of mixed background. Through both her parents, she's told me she is of English, Dutch, Shoshone and Comanche ancestry. Her grandfather was a code talker during World War II, and her father had a military career of his own. He served as a weapons expert, and took up contractor work with Stark Industries after his service. Franklin Storm took up the glitz and glamor of California living, which is how he first met Sue's mother, Mary. Poor Sue wasn't given much of an opportunity to savor her childhood. As early as five, she was playing the role of peace-maker in the Storm household, as her parents would consistently butt heads over money. Sue's buoyant and affectionate playacting was infectious, and would often succeed in placate their arguments, if for just one evening.

After a while, Mary had the idea to put Sue's high energy and need to please into something more productive (As well as something that would earn the family an extra income, ahem). Thus, she used her connections to land Sue a spot on "The Wolfe Pack," later renamed "Patsy's Playhouse" and "It's Patsy!", a children's variety show produced by the Timely Company. As the renaming of the show suggested, Sue didn't become the rising star of the "Wolfe Cubs," as they were called, but she did become close friends with the titular Patsy Walker. Sue took to child acting quite well, preferring to put on an act and be among the other Cubs, especially as things continued to deteriorate back at home.

Timeline (1986 - 1998): The Storm's marriage wouldn't survive the decade, even after the birth of Johnny. A visitation arrangement made around Franklin's new position as an on-site staffer for the Tomorrow Academy in New York led to Sue and her brother hopping across coasts every few months. Sue did not start out as an enrolled student in the program, but Franklin and the other staffers made accomodations for her after she displayed a remarkable aptitude in the curriculum, particularly in the fields of biology. Eventually, Sue's show would enter its "It's Patsy!" era, effectively dissolving its original variety show format and no longer holding the rest of the Cubs under contract. With that, Sue leapt at the chance to move to New York and become a full-time student.

Sue's time within the Academy wasn't long, barely getting a year in before Howard Stark's sudden death closed it down in 1991, but it was enough to affirm to Sue that becoming a doctor is what she wanted to do with her life. Unfortunately, that goal was upended when her father was convicted of perjury and her mother coerced her to return to acting to keep the family afloat. Begrudgingly, Sue paused on her college courses and reunited with her former Wolfe Cubs to star in the hit teen drama "Young Romance," where Sue played the bookish Nancy Thompson. For the next five years, Sue bit her lip, did all the public appearances her agents and mother asked of her, and carefully invested her money. By the end of her three-season contract, Sue passed off all her residuals to her mother, washing her hands of her control over her life, and moved back to the East Coast.

Timeline (1998 - 2002): Sue didn't have many friends while at ESU, working for her doctorate. All the other Wolfe Cubs—especially Patsy, once her solo career reached its peak—didn't keep in touch, and in spite of Sue's best efforts, Johnny took all the wrong lessons from the Southern California lifestyle. All of that was to say nothing of the small but persistent paparazzi, as well as all the people in her daily life who couldn't see past the character she played. That wasn't much of an obstacle for me, which is probably why Sue and I hit it off like we did.

Big shocker, I'm not that much into television, nor into tabloids. But even outside of my disability, I've always done by best to see the good in people, and as guarded as she was back then, Sue's character shone through even to me. It didn't hurt that, as a starving artist, I'll take whatever patronage I can get, and something about my sculptures really resonated with Sue. Despite how in-sync we were, it completely went over my head that around the same time, Sue became the apprentice of one of Phillip's colleagues. I would have warned Sue if I knew, but he must have made sure he and I would have never met in-person, nor could Sue ever casually relay things to me to tip him off.

Still, it really speaks to how smart Sue is that she not only was considered a worthy apprentice, but didn't fall for what this "mad thinker" was trying in the first place. Thankfully, Sue didn't budge on his covert AIM recruitment, opting to stay on school and complete her doctorate. The Thinker recommended Sue take up a consultancy job at a certain lab called Fantastic Solutions. This was probably yet another strategem, trying to get an inside person into Reed's own operation. In the end, I guess a whole lot of good came out of that one moment of deceit.

Sue knew Reed before, at the Tomorrow Academy. She had a schoolgirl crush, but she swears she didn't keep that crush going years later when they began working together. How she told it to me, what made her fall in love with Reed as adults was the utter sincerity by which he applied himself. After spending her whole life contending with fakers and manipulators, the transparency by which Reed sought to make the world better, even to the point of naiveté, was immensely endearing to Sue. She spent a great deal of time struggling with whether to make her feelings clear, whether it would be worth risking per professionalism with a fellow colleague.

Thanks to some encouragement from my own future beau, Sue threw caution to the wind, and to her relief Reed was very much receptive. The two kept steady for about a year after that, following which Johnny fell into some legal troubles. Without Sue even needing to ask, Reed readily volunteered to put Johnny up in the Baxter Building. She would tell me that that was the moment she knew she wanted to spend her life with this man.

continue file data? y/n]

#earth93 #comics #fanfic #marvel #comic books #fantastic 4 #susan storm #johnny storm #ben grimm #reed richards #invisible woman #invisible girl #patsy walker #mad thinker #alicia masters

[madmardybobshaw]

Born in 1886 in Montevideo, Uruguay, Delmira Agustini is one of the most celebrated Latin American poets of the last century, known for her precocious talent and tragically short life. Her work was strictly modernist but she helped to redefine the tradition with her intensely erotic verse that looked at the world from a woman’s viewpoint.

Agustini began to write poetry at the age of ten years old and, when she was just 16, went into the office of a prominent local editor in Montevideo and presented her first collection of poetry. She was met with astonishment and laughter by the editor but a short while later the work was published and garnered her national fame. She would write three more collections over the next few years.

The remarkable thing about Agustini was that she produced erotic poetry at a time when the literary world was largely dominated by the male voice. In many of her works Eros is the central character and it may well be that her early death has leant a certain amount of mystery to her verses. She was, essentially, a poet who had not reached her peak and many wonder what she would have been had she lived to a greater age.

When she published her third volume of work in 1913, Los cálices vacíos, Dario wrote the forward, praising her voice and her impact on the literary environment. With her star quickly rising, Agustini married Enrique Job Reyes in the same year. Whilst they had been engaged for five years, the marriage was destined to end in tragedy after only a short while. Barely two months after the ceremony, Agustini left their home and returned to her parents where she filed for divorce.

Despite this, she continued to meet with Reyes, now taking him as her lover and meeting in secret. In 1914, Reyes took out a gun and shot her, then turned the weapon on himself. Agustini was barely 28 years old.

Source: https://mypoeticside.com/poets/delmira-agustini-poems

#delmira agustini #latin poetry #female poets #uruguayan poets #true crime #murder suicides

[rafaeleliad]

a rare smile. a perfectly tailored suit. tracing your lineage back through time. the click of oxfords on a wooden floor. shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow. getting your hands dirty so someone else’s can stay clean. fastening your own cuff-links. doing whatever is necessary to win. the voice of reason. putting family above everything. a glass of scotch at the end of a long day. cigarette cases and crystal ashtrays. the ties that bind you. love which redeems; love which condemns.

statistics.

full name:  rafael eliad gracey nickname(s):  raff (but he despises nicknames, and will only allow a select few to call him this.) name meaning:  god has healed age:  thirty-four date of birth:  september 19th star sign:  virgo place of birth:  henley-on-thames, buckinghamshire current location:  city of westminster, london gender:  cis-male pronouns:  he/him sexual orientation:  bisexual religion:  jewish occupation:  director of public relations with the gracey group (of which he is also the de facto president) family:  benedict gracey (father, deceased) dalit eliad (mother, estranged) viola gracey (step-mother) hero gracey (half-sister) rosaline gracey (half-sister) education level:  BA history and politics (first class, university of cambridge) living arrangements:  owns a flat overlooking regent’s park (though he’s rarely there) financial status:  wealthy spoken languages:  english, french, latin, ancient greek, hebrew

inspirations.

edward fairfax rochester (jane eyre) sir thomas sharpe (crimson peak) edward lewis (pretty woman) fitzwilliam darcy (pride and prejudice) henry winter (the secret history) the knave of hearts (alice in wonderland) james flint (black sails)

biography. (sudden death tw, heart attack tw)

Rafael’s mother is the daughter of an Egyptian diplomat, and his father a well-to-do British rake.

He was conceived accidentally as the result of a youthful indiscretion, inspiring his parents to rush down the aisle to save face.

The marriage didn’t last. Although both parents loved their son (it was about the only thing they could agree on), the newly-minted Graceys were never meant to live under the same roof. His mother finally left when Rafael was four - she wanted him to return to Egypt with her, but his father wouldn’t hear of it. He hasn’t heard from her since (though this is likely due to intervention on Benedict’s part, not that Rafael knows it).

He’s always been really close with his dad - as a child he thought he hung the moon in the sky, and they spent as much time as possible together, working through all the books in the vast library of the Gracey family home.

His father remarried when Rafael was eight. To everyone’s surprise, he gets on very well with his step-mother (and he does call her Mama, even though they aren’t related by blood).

Rafael was eleven when his first sister was born, followed by another two years later. He was already too old to have anything in common with them, but he was utterly devoted to them nevertheless.

Started Eton at the age of thirteen. He was never particularly interested in the athletic aspects of the school, eschewing them in favour of academic clubs and social engagements.

Around this time he started to become aware of the truth of his father’s work with the Liddell family, who have been in their lives since before Rafael was born. He always knew he would follow in his father’s footsteps, and Benedict started him on the path at a young age.

After finishing at Eton, he attended Cambridge University, where he studied History and Politics. It was a given that he’d join the Gracey Group eventually, but a well-rounded education was imperative in the mean time.

His father suddenly died when Rafael was twenty-one, suffering a fatal heart attack just a month after he graduated from Cambridge. It shook him very badly, but he knew it was up to him to take care of the family now, and he’s never been one to shirk his responsibilities.

With the help of his step mother, Rafael stepped into his roles with both the Gracey Group and the Jabberwocks seamlessly, picking up right where his father left off.

He tries his best to keep his sisters out of any gang business. He rarely discusses the nuances of his work with them, so they’ll have plausible deniability in the event something goes wrong.

Rafael Gracey is the man you call when you need something fixed. He has connections everywhere, more money than god, and the kind of sensible, efficient personality that could make a person believe he’s capable of anything.

other things.

In spite of his not-inconsiderable wealth, Rafael only owns one watch, and is rarely seen without it. It belonged to his father when he was alive, and his grandfather before him, and as such has tremendous sentimental value.

He does not like nicknames. The number of people that can get away with calling him 'Raff' you could count on one hand, and two of those are his younger sisters.

Rafael is the sort of man that never seems to go home. He owns a beautiful flat overlooking Regent’s Park, but there's nothing to suggest that he actually lives there - it's almost clinical, kept meticulously clean, with hardly any personal effects to speak of.

His last proper date was so long ago, he genuinely can't remember when it was - or the woman's name.

He would rather have a starter than a dessert.

Once you have Rafael's loyalty, you will have it forever. The only caveat to this is if something you do directly impacts the safety or wellbeing of his step-mother or younger sisters, who he loves more than anything else.

This man is a workaholic. He’s addicted to workahol.

#rafael: about #sudden death tw #heart attack tw #lf.intro

[the-catbeast-lawfirm]

The spirit-witch

Once I was told about a witch who lived in a village along the river bend. She had no great skill for people to search wide or far for, instead she’d aid ailments and peak at the destinies of the babies born and marriage fates.

The village there worshiped a spirit who dwelt along the river banks. It made the crops strong and lightning shy all at the cost of strong life (according to most). They say every year the village would gather by the bank at the bend and a family would offer an animal in its prime and the spirit would drink its life away. -though I’ve also heard someone claim the offering was something else too, like fine gems or even human life, well.. whatever it was someone decided to disobey.

At first, when they gave the spirit the wrong thing it did nothing, it was nether angry or helpful but the village, too suborn to do what was right, did harm to the beast and earned its ire. That’s when the witch saw the mark of doom develop over the village and saw the fate of everyone within it change. From the elders who she gave her tonics to to the baby who’s fate she first read a month ago, all were fated to fall dead when the time for sacrifice came again.

She left that little village on the river bend searching shores and forests and caves for a power that’d change their fate. She asked mages and sorcerers and spirits of other lands. They taught her what they could but an answer for her problem didn’t exist or at least not one that suited her. So She formed one on her own in the depths of some dank cave.

She came back on the day of their demise and set sacrifice on those river banks, the spirit came but did not take it. Then ether by bargain or her own will she and the spirit joined as one, the magic used for such a deed tore apart the very village she’d set out to protect.

The earth around them cracked the water rose and lightning struck, winds tore apart the hands of lovers and embers of magic struck down strong men. Only a few were spared, about one for each family and as they gathered at the edge of disaster watching the two bodies combine, both woman and beast, alive and ethereal. In the end the powers of the witch and the powers of the spirit were never meant to combine and it lacked true control over itself. The new creature used its power to pull belongings from the rubble and call back the animals which had ran off, calming them with an otherworldly voice then it used stone brick and tile from the rubble around it and built that tower around it to contain its own power. The villagers took their things and moved away and the tower’s been there ever since.

I doubt the story’s legitimacy though I’m sure at least a little must be, that on the river bend there was once a village but it’d been destroyed and all that had been left was that tower. Still though it certainly was an odd tower, built of stone and brick and tile alike with no reason about it and not a single way to get in or even a window.

Everyone seems a little timid around it though there’s no reason to. Well, no reason aside from how old and unkept it was, surely whatever wooden structure it has underneath was rotten through. Teens come out at night when no one’s around and dare each other to touch it, maybe touching the very stone their grandparents touched on that very dare. It’d always shock a few with how it’d vibrate, though once you got your sense back it was easy to see that it was from how unstable the thing was.

It’s a miracle that the first stone only fell yesterday, and another miracle that it didn’t smack anything important on its way down.

I ran a finger over the fallen stone as I looked for where it fell. It took me a few minutes but I finally found the opening near the top.

I placed my hand on the tower’s side and felt that constant little shake before carefully running my hands across the pieces to see how loose they were. After circling around it I ran my hand a little harder over the part that was more stable, checking if the stones could slip from place. To my disappointment one of them shifted under my hand

I’d been chosen after old man Whitley passed to be the next ‘witchkeeper’. The term was only to preserve the legend’s importance honestly, my actual duties were to run people off so they wouldn’t hurt themselves here and to be the one who decides if this old tower finally has to come down. That final bit was what I’d come here for, while it’d been a death trap for as long as I’ve been alive and longer there was something wrong with the idea of tearing it down. It was as bad as being the person to suggest to put down an animal in the family, soon as I say anything half the villageis going to be down my throat telling me how everything’s fine. It’d be better if I started taking it down myself, safer for the kids too.

I put my hand over the loose piece and my other on the wall above it and check if pulling at the brick would make the whole thing too unstable then carefully pulled it out. As soon as I held it I backed up a bit to see how the tower was holding.

While the balance looked unchanged I watched as slowly the pieces underneath the brick I pulled tumbled inward making a hole far too large to leave alone for the night, not with how kids are.

The safest option for everyone else was for me to crawl up to the opening and carefully pull the pieces out then putting them back into place but the closer I got the more my heart wrenched, It felt like I could almost hear everyone mentioning my body being found in new rubble at the tower, my death being the thing that makes them agree to tear it down.

I’d been chosen after old man Whitley passed to be the next ‘witchkeeper’, the term was only to preserve the legend’s importance, my actual duties were to run people off so they wouldn’t hurt themselves here and to be the one who decides if this old tower finally has to come down. That final bit was what I’d come here for, while it’d been a death trap for as long as I’ve been alive and longer there was something wrong with the idea of tearing it down. It was as bad as being the person to suggest to put down an animal in the family, soon as I say anything half the village will be down my throat telling me how everything’s fine. It’d be better if I started taking it down myself, safer for the kids too.

I put my hand over the loose piece and my other on the wall above it and check if pulling at the brick would make the whole thing too unstable then carefully pulled it out. As soon as I held it I backed up a bit to see how the tower was holding.

While the balance looked unchanged I watched as slowly the pieces underneath the brick I pulled tumbled inward making a hole far too large to leave alone for the night, not with how kids are.

Stupid ideas always come to you late at night, I should’ve saved this for the morning.

The safest option for everyone else was for me to crawl up to the opening and carefully pull the pieces out then putting them back into place but the closer I got the more my heart wrenched, It felt like I could almost hear everyone mentioning my body being found in new rubble at the tower, my death being the thing that makes them agree to tear it down.

It was damp in there, bare soil that soaked the water but with no plants it had nowhere to go, I spotted the stones but also something else at first my blood drained, fearing I’d cornered a snake while needing to stay still but it wasn’t a snake, it was more like a pile of spider strings but true web never lies gracefully, not when touching itself at least.

For a moment I forgot where I was and what I’d been doing as I stared into what lied ahead and slowly crept to the silky white threads, not noticing as my shoulders slipped past the tower’s stones and bricks till the whole tower stirred with a craggly crick. The trance broke and my whole body froze as I carefully checked if anything was resting on me. Carefully I tried to move exactly how I must have when I crawled in, slower than a snail and tensing every time I brushed a stone.

Then the shining white treads I’d been drawn to began to move, sweeping to the side then lifting up. I lifted my head to see what was moving it and what it was, and as I did I found the world was stranger than I had bargained for.

Hair. The silk threads were long ribbons of white hair, and there was more, so much more, their glimmer gave the tower a glow winding from bottom to top all connected to what could no longer be called a woman, if it ever was. It’s body suspended from near the top with the hair holding it in place. A woman’s head with antlers of a deer. That was the easiest part to pick out, her neck chest and arms like a woman's but were equally part animal, her lower body similar to those of water mammals.

The creature cocked its head and again the whole tower shook as it studied the human that had crawled into it’s retreat. It was damp in there, bare soil that soaked the water but with no plants it had nowhere to go, I spotted the stones but also something else at first my blood drained, fearing I’d cornered a snake while needing to stay still but it wasn’t a snake, it was more like a pile of spider strings but true web never lies gracefully, not when touching itself at least.

For a moment I forgot where I was and what I’d been doing and slowly crept to the silky white threads, not noticing as my shoulders slipped past the tower’s stones and bricks till the whole tower stirred with a craggly crick. The trance broke and my whole body froze as I carefully checked if anything was resting on me. Carefully I tried to move exactly how I must have when I crawled in, slower than a snail and tensing every time I brushed a stone.

Then the shining white treads I’d been drawn to began to move, sweeping to the side then lifting up. I lifted my head to see what was moving it and what it was, and as I did I found the world was stranger than I had bargained for.

Hair. The silk threads were long ribbons of white hair, and there was more, so much more, their glimmer gave the tower a glow winding from bottom to top all connected to what could no longer be called a woman, if it ever was. It’s body suspended from near the top with the hair holding it in place. A woman’s head with antlers of a deer. That was the easiest part to pick out, her neck chest and arms like a woman's but were equally part animal, her lower body similar to those of water mammals.

The creature cocked its head and again the whole tower shook as it studied the human that had crawled into it’s retreat.

I froze under the eyes of something that should not exist

The thing looked at me almost expressionlessly, Its eyes large and bright yellow, empty as a deer’s.

“...Is there something you want me to do?” I asked finally, too scared to leave, or move.

‘no’ a silk like voice replied in my mind, ‘There’s nothing you can do that I can not.’ it told me as pebbles fell

“This place is crumbling, you can’t stay inside it” I pointed out, careful with my tone.

‘crumbling? I am what holds it together. Once this tower was supported by wood and fused together with lightning and sand but the wood became dirt and the fulgurite wore down and now I find myself holding every piece’ It told me as the pebbles lifted back into the air. ‘Only what was pulled by man tumbles without my approval.’ it added.

A tenseness tell from me then as I watched the pebbles follow her command. I pulled the rest of myself inside and sat cross legged beneath the spirit-witch.

“I’d found a fallen stone, came from up there, did you send it down?” I asked.

‘Yes. This has always been how I call the witchkeeper. I’ve called to give you my dismissal. After all this time my body and magic have finally settled into harmony and soon I will leave and once again roam the earth.’

“Then may I make a request?” I asked

The once-woman shifted her head and I felt the encouragement to go on.

“It’d be a great gift to us if you could preserve the tower, for the sake of heritage. Once it’s gone we’ll slowly start to loose your tale. The children will stop asking and they’ll only ever hear it once. All our ties to who we were will never return.” I explained.

The spirit gave a little nod then opened a hole in the tower large enough for me to walk out of. I made it home that night, never speaking to a soul and made it to my bed, never finding rest in the night as I went over all that was real and all that could be.

As soon as sunlight hit there were people at my door demanding I see the tower. I rose from bed and saw at the river’s bend the tower’s roof entirely gone. Out from the tower’s top was a stretch of silk-like branches with leaves all bright yellow and all around the outside were long thick vines which held every piece of ancient rubble in place, their base gold and their thorns silver.

We held a meeting later in the day and I told them my part, that the spirit-witch had found harmony and how what she’d left behind had been a gift but the story’s since shifted as I’m sure it had before and now they say that the spirit-witch is the tree growing out the old tower.

‘ts all to say that the title ‘witchkeeper’ is as empty as titles to come, still they’re all having me carry on with it and expect me to pass it on- they even insist I choose even though most of us hadn’t and the teens still sneak out to smack that ancient thing though it doesn’t vibrate with magic anymore ‘n they can clearly see that all that’s in it is an ancient looking tree but… in the days now people take their babies out to it and pick-nicks at the bend have become rather popular and all manner of other things. I plan to pass on the title of witchkeeper sooner than usual, feels kind of funny to have the title and I’m sure there’s a fool out here who’d take something so empty but I’m not quite ready for that yet.

Now I go to the banks at sunset and keep an eye on the grove just beyond the bend. I’ll never see the spirit-witch again but if I do I think it’s be here, along the bank.

#not sure if I posted this or not #autistic author #i was thinking of magic decay #where magic just disappears from the world it leaves behind

[aliceinwondervan]

Literally just downloaded the app, made my account, and went to make a post. I just can't get out of my head. I am so alone. I haven't had a Tumblr account since porn was allowed. Late last year I realized I'm a transwoman. Being amab in a marriage with one kid and another being considered - this destroyed me. My life instantly shattered. I had been building a future with my wife for over a decade. We've taken a few laps around hell and back. No matter what we were each other's constant.

Disclaimer: subjects like spousal abuse and struggles with mental health and thoughts of suicide are discussed below. There might be other triggers but my hand is cramping since I saved the disclaimer for last and I gotta stop typing.

I panicked. I messaged a friend who immediately accepted me for who I am. The next day my wife "had a feeling" something was up and instead of coming to me about it she snooped thru the thread with my friend and to say she got pissed is the biggest understatement.

To her I had to have known. To her I wasted her time. To her I was leaving to go frolic with all the other trans people. When in reality I grew up in a house with a very homophobic father. I hid my more "girly" tendencies because I was scared he would think I was gay. Which I am, being a lesbian and all, but at the time I was scared he would have thought my dude self was into dudes even tho I'm not. Anyways - my more girly tendencies turned out to be red flags that I was living in an egg.

With that tangent aside and in no particular order here is what I was subjected to for the next 3 months:

* I was arrested twice because she lied to the cops. The first time was a week after my egg cracked. She was trying to snap my phone in half so I put her in a mild headlock to try to stop her. I guess technically I was the first to get physical with her so I was arrested. Learned very quickly my anxiety doesn't do well with me locked in a small box so I called a bail bond guy who ended up being very chill about the whole thing and he got me out. The second time I was arrested led to me living in my car so that'll be at the end.

* She picked fights with me constantly. Same loop: she'd get a wild hair up her ass and find a reason to be pissed at me. Instead of talking she'd come in like I was supposed to be psychic or some shit and know what was going to bother her this time. Bingo, bango, bongo, fight would start - escalate to the point where I was peak pissed - she'd calm down a bit and start to act like I was psycho. Rinse and repeat.

* Her favorite lines during these fights and the reason they'd escalate like they did were aimed at my deepest insecurities. Imagine anything transphobic; she's said it. Imagine any power play a wife could pull; she did it. Her mission was to make my life so miserable I'd leave on my own.

* She outed me. She told a mutual friend of ours her fucked up, delusional, version. Recently I reached out to her brother, who was once my best friend, and he was super supportive in his initial reply but left me on read after. Can't help but feel like he must've talked to his sister.

* My wife isn't into chicks so we filed for divorce. It's been amicable as long as you don't count all the judicial threats she makes during fights.

* The second time I was arrested she started getting physical with me and the most I did was hold her arms and hands back. This led to a vertical line shaped bruise on her arm (that's how hard she was trying to hurt me) and since she called the cops and she was the one with a mark, I was arrested.

Again, vertical line. Apparently I karate chopped her or some shit.

Since I was on bail already for the same thing my bail would've been double the last bail. Couldn't afford it so I spent the next 5 days in jail. Remember the part where I said my anxiety didn't do well locked in a box? I'm on like 4 different meds and the one they ended up giving me was one I kept telling them I was off of.

Not a fun 5 days. I spent the first day in a turtle suit because for the first time in my life I was having intrusive thoughts of suicide. I'd never act on them but it still scared the hell out of me.

When it was ultimately dismissed I got out but couldn't go home because my wife had filed for a temporary restraining order for her and my kid that wouldn't expire for a few days. She was nice enough, in her words, to book me at a hotel.

Turns out I dig the car life tho. I make ends meet with DoorDash and am using this time at Rock Bottom to build a foundation.

Problem is it's very lonely being at Rock Bottom. Forgot to mention: my wife started dating someone a couple weeks after my egg cracked AND she reconnected with her ex that's been stalking her since they dated when she was 14. So she got our mutual friends, a new boyfriend, and her psycho ex. I have, thankfully, that friend I can message. But that's it. I started reconnecting with an old friend but we've hung out once so far so it's still kinda awkward and we're not at the point

When my ex isn't pissy we still get along like always. With time she'll come around but in the meantime I'm forced to live with myself. Ultimately this will probably be good for my but my god the pain is overwhelming.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Until next time,

Alice

#lgbt #transfem #transgender #divorce #male to female #mtf lesbian #depressing life

[providencepeakrp]

CHARACTER INFORMATION:

Character Name: Saul Weissberg.

Type of Connection: Third Ex-Wife (and Dr. Kathleen Clark's sister).

Connection Name: First Name UTP, but her last name would either be Clark, Weissberg, or Clark-Weissberg depending on if she went back to her maiden name or not after the divorce.

Connection Age: 40—55.

Suggested FCs: Alexandra Breckenridge, Jessica Chastain, Amy Adams, Anne Hathaway, Rachel McAdams, Melanie Lynskey, Carla Gugino, Christina Hendricks, Jennifer Connelly, or anyone else over 40 you can think of.

She can be a half or adopted sibling as well, so Lana Parrilla, Lucy Liu, Kerry Washington, Morena Baccarin, Sandra Oh, Jordana Brewster, Gabrielle Union, etc, are also options to consider! Basically a middle aged woman that has a classy/business-y vibe.

CONNECTION DESCRIPTION:

Saul and his third ex-wife were married for about six years; over five years in New York City and a year and nine months in Providence Peak. She grew up in Providence Peak and they moved to town a few years after her older sister Dr. Katheen Clark returned to oversee the local college. Their marriage before the move wasn't perfect, but it quickly deteriorated after the stress of the move and Saul opening his own firm in town. (It wasn't helped by Kathleen bad mouthing him every chance she got.) The divorce was somewhat amicable on both sides, but Saul still holds a lot of love in his heart for her and secretly hopes to one day reconcile. It's up to you on what she feels for Saul post-divorce! I've left her details as vague as possible so you can make up her name, fc, job back in Manhattan and current job in Providence Peak, etc. You can make up the majority of her background and personality, but it must stay canon that she's the younger sister of Kathleen, a native of Providence Peak, and that she did truly love Saul at one point in her life.

Do you need to be contacted before someone applies? Yes please!

#city rp #oc rp #town rp #alexandra breckenridge #jessica chastain #saul weissberg #takenconnection

[thoughtsaladblog]

Goodbye 2022

Here we are, yet again at the dawn of a new year. I’m currently spending my NYE like a totally cool person, i.e: alone in my house by choice! Although, no lie, I’m kinda digging it. Alone is where I thrive.

As I wonder at what fresh horrors await me (and this “great” nation) in 2023, I also look back at the year gone by. Honestly, even though last year swept by quickly it did still feel like the equivalent of 5 years. So much happened in the span of just twelve months that I still can’t believe that it was only a year gone by.

To begin with- I turned thirty. And with it came the fears of ageing and falling behind in life. But also a certain form of wisdom as well. I know I’ve matured in the span of one year more than I had in the last 5 years collectively. Sure, my disease may also have played a major role in the maturing but either way, a lot has changed in me. While I do still remain an avid overthinker- the things I tend to overthink about have changed. I dedicate much less time to worrying about dwindling relationships and people. My sole focus has been my work. This year I finally reached peak levels of workaholic, where I juggle four jobs, 7 days a week into the wee hours of the night. It’s been AMAZING! It’s exhausting but it feels so good to be productive. I mean I have no social life- save for maybe a week or so in April and a couple of weeks in December when I decide to come out of hibernation and socialise. But I feel so empowered. It feels good to make money, and to know that I survive completely off my own hard work and efforts. I’ve always liked the idea of being independent and it is my dream to be wholly independent as soon as I can.

So I’ve gone from worrying and wishing I could be younger and out having fun to finally seeing that what I truly love is being busy and productive. No amount of partying could ever meet the rush that comes with a packed schedule in which you work on autopilot. I earn and I get to spend and suddenly I feel like I’m my own man- or better yet, I feel like I’m overcoming limitations placed on women throughout history. I am the first girl from all my Sinhalese relatives living in Lanka to move out of my parents home- by choice and before marriage. I feel so proud because I feel like not only am I setting a precedent for other girls in the family who follow after me but I’m also living by my own rules. It’s a feeling of liberation that I can’t quite capture in so many words. It’s a thrill. The feeling of power and independence is always such a turn on- even if it’s about ourselves.

I also learned to value more important things in life and the brevity of human life and how so much of what we stress about truly means nothing in the grand scheme of things. From spending the middle part of the year stressing about the lack of a man and the hopeless attempts at finding someone through a dating app I evolved into spending the latter half of the year being grateful for things like movement and the ability to simply function. All it took was an autoimmune diagnosis, a few weeks of pain and limited movement and extreme hairfall before I realized that no man on this planet mattered more than my own abilities to function. My drive for independence meant that I needed to be able to function normally and on my own- suddenly that’s all I wanted. I valued the simple things- the things we take for granted. I learnt that there was so much God had already given me that I’d complained about and not looked after, and simply taken for granted. I learnt that I cherished those things and would fight as much as it took to retain them.

I learnt that I can actually live without my so-called best friends. I learnt that what I had for so long fooled myself into believing could be destroyed in a single relationship. That the trust I placed on people had been completely ill-fitting and that so often they can surprise you in ways that you don’t want to be surprised in. Dowaan proved to me how all that I had built him up to be as a friend was in no way what he was when it boiled down to it. When push came to shove he simply stood there agog- choosing a three month old “relationship” that started with cheating over a 10 year friendship that had been built on support and mutual understanding. And when I say choosing a 3 month old relationship- it didn’t really have a choice involved- simply a matter of standing up for his friend of ten years (his best friend) when his girlfriend at the time chose to take issue with his and my friendship. Better yet, it showed me who his girlfriend i.e: my best friend of 23 years, truly was. Apart from not trusting me, and trying to tear apart my friendship with Dowaan, it has since been revealed to me that she said some wonderfully “insightful” and completely false things about me to him during their courtship. What was truly the cherry on top was how at the end of that relationship and in the midst of the crisis in the one that followed, she still chose to call me and turn to me to be a shoulder to cry on despite all she had said. I feel like in learning and realising all this I’ve opened my third eye into the realities of the universe and the people in it. If I didn’t have much reason to trust humans, I have even less reasons now.

And the final lesson that came right at the cusp of the year drawing to an end, was to place more value and self respect on myself. A night of drinking and other shenanigans led to shameful sex with an old FWB in which neither him nor I were into it- thereby leading to a less than mediocre sexual experience that left me feeling more ashamed and in no way satisfied. I woke up feeling like I’d made my final big mistake for the year and it was all I needed to leave the bad habits that have held me back, in the year that was closing and take on the new year with better regard for myself. Sexual frustration should not be an excuse to shamelessly belittle myself, and going forward I hope to let my head make my decisions and not my libido. 

So much has happened to help me see more clearly than ever how much I need to watch out for myself, who my real friends are and what truly matters. This year was a great teacher. It taught me to love myself- not in the cringe-y Instagram influencer kinda way, but in the brutally honest, no-nonsense kind of way where I don’t let others walk all over me. And most importantly that I stop giving a fuck about people and incidents that don’t fulfill me, and choose instead to work on building my dream future for myself- because God knows, I deserve it!

[chrisevansredbelt]

Love and War

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warnings: SMUT, 18+ only, fluff and angst. fighting. violence. swearing. mob stuff. miscarrying. it’s a lot, like i’ve forgotten half of the warnings probably.

please read at your own discretion.

like 10k words maybe?

summary: where to fucking begin omg. you get hitched to a man in vegas you’d only known for two months. despite this, you’re convinced it’ll be picture perfect, he’s rich and hot and fucks you good. except he’s not telling you something. something that’ll eventually ruin your ‘marriage’.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

“Let’s get eloped.”

“What?” You stare at the drunken man before you, unable to contain the small smile that plays at your lips.

Eloped? You’d only met this guy like 2 months ago. Albeit, it’s probably been the best 2 months of your life.

When you had thought about marriage and settling down with a nice man, you never thought that would mean a very scary yet strikingly handsome, powerful, business man.

Business man. What a big, fat lie for what he really was. A cruel and evil mob boss.

When you’d met him at some fancy party being held at an appropriately fancy hotel, you knew nothing of him. You assumed that every man at the party had some kind of powerful business ties to each other and that getting in bed with one of them could mean a hefty financial negotiation.

That was what usually happened. Every now and then, a party would be held, you’d attend due to your connections that your father had. Your father was no different to the man before you. Only- you had no idea. He kept that part of his life away from you the best he could. He wasn’t completely involved, not a boss at least, but a very good and very likeable lawyer that had just gotten involved with the wrong client.

He- along with your mother, eventually died. A car crash. And ever since then, you had been alone.

Left with a large will, with almost everything now in your name, you managed to get on with your life with the help of friends and few of your parents’ close friends.

But that had to be about 5 years ago now.

Now, with said personal connections, you were permitted entry to many gala events. You never knew what or who they were celebrating, nor did you really care. Your fair share of friends were all there for one thing and one thing only. Well- actually a couple of things.

Sex, money, drinks… and maybe the food. Your more riskier friends were out for men to call their husbands, but they were delusional. No man in these parties were worthy of being husbands. Their heads were to far up their asses and in their own businesses to even notice a woman for anything more than a hole to fuck.

So… What was the exception with him?

“Yeah! Come on. It’ll be fun.” He grips onto your hands, noticing the hint of hesitation plastered across your face, “We don’t have to do all that wedding bullshit.” He scrunches up his face before smiling again. God, you loved his stupid smile.

You’d met him at just another one of these stupidly, useless galas. It was a big gala, something for a Tony Stark? In a big tower named after himself…

Anyway, you had attended like it was no other, actually invited this time rather than just rocking up and being granted entry. However, instead of you actively seeking out the attention of a certain man, sitting at the bar with your friends and collectively observing all the men in the room before spotting one, sinking your teeth into them with your not-so-innocent gazes and not-so-subtle indications to follow you to the bathroom. This time, you were sought out.

You’d seen him when you first walked in. You didn’t recognise him and that would’ve peaked your curiosity had his aura not been too scary for you to even consider him a target. You just knew he was trouble and not the good kind of trouble that you liked. So you steered clear.

Until he came to you. He kind of startled you when he approached you, sneaking up behind you and buying your drink before you could.

Your eyes carefully examined him up close now while he asked some silly little question like ‘what’s a pretty thing like you doing at a place like this?’ something like that.

You would’ve rolled your eyes had you not been so entranced by:

a. his cologne

b. his looming presence over you

and c. his metal hand?

His presence was different to all of the other men that would approach you. No, he approached YOU. On his own will. Unprovoked. And he knew something was going to bloom from it.

Of course, you had let him take you to bed that night. Probably the best sex you had in a long while, plus the biggest house you’d ever been in. Maybe the biggest cock you’d seen as well.

Aftercare was a bonus, if you could even call it that, your hot and flustered body instantly cooled down by his metal arm- which you got to find out was more than just a hand and rather his whole entire fucking arm. You hadn’t dared asked what happened, figuring it was none of your business and for the meantime, it would just serve you well as your own personal ice pack.

He’d made you breakfast the next morning- though to this day, you’re still unsure if he made it or if his cooks made it. He was too rich to make his own food, but he did bring it to you in bed on a tray.

That, was when you truly knew something about him was different.

He had gotten your number before ordering his own personal driver to get you home safely.

Two months later, he was flying you out to Vegas and wanting to get hitched.

And of course, you being the stupid, love struck and slightly drunk being that you are. You were actually considering it.

From the second he called you back and asked to take you out, he had showered you with gifts, affections and bloody good sex.

He took you to all the clubs he owned, hosted useless parties in all his hotels, used his name and reputation to get you both into free shit. Stupid wine tastings, yacht parties, fine restaurants, fashion shows, exhibitions, business expos that you mostly served as a side piece for him while he made business.

But you had so much fun. You would both giggle to each other, mocking the prissy, rich people around you. You’d buy a mini sticker handbook and go around sticking them on peoples clothes and have to hold your bladder as you watched him stick one on top of some bald guys head without being caught.

So much so that, your silly little heart had… actually fallen in love. “Can we still go on a honeymoon?”

He smiles wider now, moving closer to speak against your lips in a half-kiss, “Of course we can, my beautiful wife.”

You bring your arms around his neck and press a long kiss against his lips, “Well, then let’s do it, my beautiful husband.”

You didn’t even wait until the next day. You both just went out, bought his suit and a dress, woke Steve- Bucky’s second in command, and the rest of his crew to watch.

You were a little bummed that none of your friends were here to see it, all back home in New York, but it was an elopement, it wasn’t exactly meant for a crowd.

So, there you stood at the altar, looking into Bucky’s eyes with so much love and mostly lust. The words of the officiant going in one ear and out the other as you both stare at each other like you’re the only two people in the room.

The fat rock of a diamond nearly weighing your hand down. He had used the jackpot money from his previous winnings to buy it early this morning.

It’s only when he asks you if you take Bucky to be your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love, honour and comfort him and to keep him in sickness and health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live, that you finally pay attention.

“I do.” You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to contain your smile.

The officiant nods and before he can even get out the words, “You may-“

Bucky is pulling you towards him at full force and sticking his tongue down your throat. It’s an extremely heated and horny kiss and the sounds of his men whooping and cheering only encourage him more.

-

For your honeymoon, you decided on Europe. Well, it was mostly Bucky’s decision, begging you to go and that it wasn’t a dark and cold vampire continent like you had initially thought.

And he was right. Many places you travelled were fairly sunny and had the most gorgeous beaches.

Your favourites were Positano in Italy and Santorini in Greece.

Even though it was a honeymoon, many of Bucky’s men had accompanied the two of you there. Of course, they stayed in different rooms and took different cars, but they were always around. You’re certain it was for safety, but still… it’s a honeymoon.

And Bucky sometimes left you alone… to go work. You wondered where on earth he would go and what the hell he would possibly be doing. You figured maybe he had connections here? You wondered if that was part of the reason he begged to come here instead of staying in Hawaii for the full duration of your honeymoon. If this honeymoon was just an excuse for his business.

But you pushed those thoughts away when the next morning after he’d left, he’d always treat you with the best sex.

Your time in France was definitely the most romantic part of the honeymoon. Bucky had no business there so it seemed and instead of a big beach house, you had opted for a big, farm house castle in the fields.

Call it a comedown of the honeymoon. No long days in the hot sun, no salty hair, no sandy bodies. Just peace and quiet.

Domesticity, if you will.

There was a granny flat seperate to the house and all of Bucky’s men stayed there. It was big enough for all of them, and by the sounds of it, pretty fun. You’re sure it was just one big man cave and you were surprised at how little time Bucky spent with them.

No, you spent a lot of time together. Dancing, cooking, fucking. The sex was so much better here. It had… meaning? You don’t know what it was, it just felt different.

It wasn’t until one night, as you cooked dinner for the both of you and Bucky had come behind you and placed his hand over your stomach that you realised. You’re unsure if he did it on purpose or if it was purely an accident. But whatever the case, it made you feel… things.

And remember things too. What often came after marriage… on a honeymoon? Kids.

So, that night, as you straddled his lap in bed, your tongues dancing together as you softly grind your hips against his hardening boner.

You pull alway softly, placing kisses all over his face now and speaking in between the breaths you take, “What do you say… we create… the future heirs… of your empire?”

“What?” He softly laughs and you almost roll your eyes at his dense self.

“Babies, Bucky.” You laugh softly, bringing a hand down to grasp his length, missing the tentative look that washed over his face at the mention of kids, “Isn’t that what honeymoons are for?”

He looked at you softer now, sighing a little, “For real weddings. We got eloped, so it’s different.”

Your heart panged with sadness at his words. From the words themselves, the insinuation and also the conclusion that… he didn’t want kids?

You move off of his lap now, not a single part of your body touching him anymore, “So our wedding wasn’t real?”

“Baby, I never said that.” He grabs onto your hands, not missing the way your hands slightly pull back at the contact and he slightly curses himself for the way he’s made you feel, “Our wedding was just different, that’s all.” He tries to explain but it does no justice as you continue to avert your gaze from anywhere but him, “We rushed it. We don’t wanna rush something like this, do we?”

You look at him, observing the wholesomeness in his features and also the validity of his statement, pursing your lips and looking down to fiddle with the ring on your finger, “I guess not.”

“But I promise you, when we’re both ready and when the time is right, I’ll have all the babies in the world with you.” He pulls you closer by your hands and you collapse in his lap as he pulls your chin up to connect his lips to yours, “In the meantime-“

You let him fuck away the sadness that was eating at you that night. You wondered if he really meant what he said. Or if he thought you were just another hole to fuck… only permanently now that you were married hitched.

You wondered if you would ever have children. If his life was ever made for children. If this marriage would even last. You knew about being ‘married to the mob’ and how sometimes it would be more of a business deal, a move-up in the ranks, a sign of maturity. So that led you to wonder again, if he even truly loved you.

Well, from the way he was fucking you, it sure seemed like it.

-

Coming back from the honeymoon, you had moved into Bucky’s massive house, quit your job and took on the role as a loving trophy wife with full force.

You liked it for about a week. After that, you quickly grew bored.

You attended many more galas, this time with him glued to your side. No man even dared to look at you now. Some of them even seemed scared of you. And rightfully so. When you weren’t looking, Bucky would give every single one of them a piece of mind about who you now belonged to.

Your friends hated you for not inviting them to the wedding, but marvelled at the way you managed to pull Bucky. Like you said, these men weren’t made for proper wives. And you were still yet to figure out how Bucky was the exception to this.

Bucky worked every single day, from early mornings to late nights. Whether he was in his office at home, in his office at the tower, it didn’t matter. He was not to be distracted.

Of course, the odd couple of times came around when you had fulfilled that fantasy of interrupting him during work and he had bent you over his mahogany desk and fucked you senseless.

But lately, he’d been having constant meetings with his men, or Steve was in the room with him, or Sam was standing out the front door. Or he was just not home at all.

You knew it was probably just business as usual, but you couldn’t help but be a little concerned.

One night he even came home with a completely blood stained shirt that he’d brushed off completely, chucking it into the laundry room to be washed by one of the cleaners, before joining you in bed.

You asked no questions, just let him fuck all the pent up anger and guilt out of his system.

To be completely honest though, this new life of yours, moving into this big lavish house with a pool, a garden, a cinema and anything else you could think of in a rich persons house, it kept you occupied for a good while. So much so that you often didn’t realise how much time you were spending alone, without Bucky despite being newly married.

And once you had finally explored every nook and cranny of the house, Bucky began showering you in gifts and clothes, shoes and bags, things to further distract you of his absence. Though you already had many shoes and bags, it was hardly enough to fill half of the walk in wardrobe connected to your bedroom.

Your friends had visited plenty and you gave them yours of them house. You planned on inviting them over all year round, especially since by the looks of things, you were probably going to need their company. However, Bucky had explained to you how things at work were getting rough and just for a while, you would need to lay low.

You’re unsure what exactly this meant, if someone was after you specifically or if it was just a threat that Bucky was being cautious of. Either way you had obliged. What you didn’t expect though was to basically be kept on full lockdown until it was safe.

You had picked up every hobby under the sun to fill the time. You rearranged the furniture of the house at least twice a week. You colour coordinated nearly everything- clothes, books, dinnerware, pots and pans. You had read nearly every book in the house, including some of the stupid business/finance books in Bucky’s office.

There were times when he would take you out to dinner, but he always seemed on edge and Steve and Sam were always sitting at the next table over. It felt more like a meeting than a dinner.

Then they had come to an abrupt end and now you can’t remember the last time he had taken you out.

You knew he was keeping you out of his business, but God, it was beginning to be painful. You were just constantly left in the dark, whenever you asked about it, he would just tell you not to worry and change the subject. When you asked any of his men, they would shift uncomfortably and just stutter and stammer over their words until you eventually left the poor men alone.

Men were often stationed at main entrances of your house too so you couldn’t even sneak anyone in or out.

The endless gifts he showered you with were no longer enough. They were meaningless to you now, which pained you to say because they were so expensive, but you knew it was his way of shutting you up.

You would’ve thought he was cheating on you if it wasn’t for the fact that he was always willing to fuck you when he got home. He would also always text you with updates, little ‘be home late tonight, sorry honey :(‘, or ‘leaving work now, do you want takeout?’ or your fav, ‘tony was being a bitch. be home soon <3’

One night, however, he hadn’t sent a text. You were worried, tempted to call his phone or flick a text to Steve or Sam asking if they knew what was up. But you left it. Figuring it was still early and if it had hit 10pm, then you would start making calls.

You still had security on patrol, who would probably know of your husbands whereabouts, but they were at the front gates and you were already nestled in bed and really did not feel like making the trek down there anyway.

To pass the time, you put on a show. Just a few episodes of Stranger Things.

Though it helped to pass the time, it sure didn’t stop you from thinking about him. Every few minutes you’d check the clock to make sure it hadn’t hit 10 yet.

It had to be about 5 minutes before hitting 10 when you heard the front door faintly shut.

You thought he’d make himself comfortable in the kitchen, fixing himself some food or some alcohol. What you didn’t expect was for him to come straight upstairs, eyes half closed and completely disheveled.

You had to hold back a laugh as he fell face forward into your stomach, taking a deep breath as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Long day?”

He lifts his head up tiredly and playfully glares at you, “You don’t even know.” And he dropped his head back down.

You pouted, feeling the weight of his head against your stomach indicated just how tired he was.

“Maybe you should take a day off tomorrow… and we can hang out,” You suggest, fingers now massaging his head and you swear you feel him pur like a cat at the feeling. He just scoffs at the suggestion and you frown, “Do you ever get a day off?”

“Maybe Christmas?” He mumbled and you furrow your brows.

“We’ve barely spent a full day together since our honeymoon.” You note softly, not trying to guilt trip him or anything, just… persuading him, “What’s one day?”

“A lot of fucking paperwork and a pain in my ass?” He lifts his head now and rests his chin in between the valley of your tits, using your right boob as a pillow as he tilts his head and rests against it.

“Yeah, but you get to spend it with you darling wife so it’s totally worth it.” You smile cheekily, and he rolls his eyes, “Just one day and I’ll leave you alone until Christmas… or until I get really needy.”

“You’re always needy.” He pinches your side and you squirm and squeal.

“So, is that a yes?” You ask and he purses his lips for a moment, “Please, please, please, please, please-“

“Alright!” He groans loudly, “Now shut up and let me sleep.”

You smile to yourself as he closes his eyes. Finally! You get to spend more than 24 hours with your husband!

You sigh to yourself in contempt, before realising, Bucky’s still in his work suit and already half asleep. You quickly get to work in undressing him so that he can at least have a comfortable sleep in.

But of course, you undressing him had brought out the horny monster inside him and he was fucking you into the mattress before you could even kiss him goodnight.

-

Finally getting to wake up, via your own body clock and not at 5am by Bucky’s alarm, and be spooned by Bucky, was something you wished you could do every morning.

After fucking each other to sleep last night, you had barely separated the whole night.

Your body clock woke you at around 8am and you were surprised Bucky hadn’t already woke yet. But you were glad to see him at rest for once, he looked like he needed it and he looked so much at peace when he slept.

You kind of spent a good 10 minutes just watching him sleep, admiring his pretty face, before deciding you wanted to surprise him with breakfast in bed like he did for you when you first met.

It was a challenge to untangle yourself from him without waking him but you managed. He was in too deep of a slumber to even notice but that still didn’t stop him from gripping onto you with all his might.

You tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs all the way to the empty kitchen.

Before you had both slept last night, Bucky texted all the house workers and told them to take the day off. Even security were cut short.

It felt somewhat weird coming downstairs to an empty house. There was usually, almost always, another presence lurking around the house, cleaning, cooking or guarding.

It felt nice. Like this was actually your home. Even though it literally is, it just never felt like it until right now.

You quickly got to work in the kitchen, familiarising yourself with all the ingredients. You didn’t know what to cook with all the options you had at hand, so you just made everything.

Bacon and scrambled eggs, pancakes and chopped fruit can never go wrong.

You were almost done, you cooked nearly everything all at the same time so that one thing wouldn’t go cold while you cooked the other.

This was his only day off and probably his only ever chance at a proper breakfast, it had to be perfect.

Which is why when you heard him enter the kitchen, you used every single fibre and might in your body to push him back upstairs.

He had come up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder, making you gasp and spin around, “No! Go back to bed.” You reach up and cover his eyes, walking him backwards.

“Why?” He laughs and unclasps your hands from his eyes despite your efforts to keep them there.

You just pout as he takes a strawberry in his mouth, “I wanted to surprise you.”

“I am surprised.” He defends, motioning to the sight before him.

You roll your eyes, going back to the stove top to make sure nothings burning, “Yeah, but ever heard of a sleep in and breakfast in bed? It’s like, better than sex.”

You place the perfectly round pancakes onto the plate, followed by the eggs and the bacon.

When you turn back around, Bucky’s placing spurts of whipped cream onto the pancake before looking down at you suggestively, “What if you combine the two?”

You know what he’s hinting at, but part of you wants to punish him for ruining the surprise… even if it wasn’t entirely his fault, “Bacon and eggs and pancakes?” You ask dumbly, purposely misinterpreting the question. With your index finger, you scoop up a small amount of the cream and bring it to your lips, sucking it off and giving Bucky the best for eyes you can muster and it takes everything in you not to smile when you see his breath visibly hitch at the sight, “I don’t think that’ll taste as good as you think.”

Before you can even blink, he’s bending to pick you up by you thighs and throw you over his shoulder. You squeal and smack his ass as he turns around, grabbing the plate of food and the can of whipped cream before heading for the bedroom.

“Please don’t drop me!” You wrap your arms around his waist and feel his stomach contract and tighten as he lets out a small laugh.

It’s a wonder to you how he manages to walk up the stairs with you over his shoulder and the plate of food in his other free hand. Bucky wonders himself how he managed to restrain himself with your cute ass wiggling against his cheek.

Setting the plate of food onto the ottoman at the end of the bed, he lays you down against the soft mattress and you fall with a soft ‘oof’, smiling up at your husband when you both observe the dishevelled looks you both already wear.

Grabbing him by his neck, you pull him down to meet your lips in a very heated kiss. It’s so sweet, and you can taste the maple syrup in his mouth from when he’d licked some off the plate as he was carrying you to the bedroom.

You hum at the taste, finding yourself still licking your lips even as he pulls away, to get every last drop. As he brings the plate of food closer to the bed, he pulls out the can of whipped cream he’d stuffed into the band of sweats and you can’t help but laugh at his method of transportation.

Looking up, however, you see the once-cerulean eyes now a dark navy and take the hint as to where this is going.

Slipping your top off, you watch in delight as his eyes fly to your tits. Almost immediately, he brings the tip of the whipped cream van over your nipple, squirting a dollop of cream over each bud.

Poking a tongue out to lick at your lips, you bite your bottom lip as he brings his mouth down to lick the cream off your tits clean.

You squeal softly at the sensation of his mouth around your tit.

Figuring he was just unable to contain his urges, he squirted cream back over each of your nipples before bringing it down the nape of your stomach.

As he reaches the waistline of your pants, he takes it upon himself to shed you of your booty shorts, marvelling at how you went commando. Easier access for him, less fabric to ruin.

Placing a small kiss over your clit, he sprays one little spiral of cream over the little bud before finally marvelling at his work.

He groans as he takes you all in, fully bare before him and covered in sweet, fluffy cream.

Bringing your leg up to rest in his shoulder, he bites your calf, resisting the urge to just devour you whole.

“Don’t tease,” You beg, softly nudging his head with your foot. He glared at you playfully as your foot now massages his scalp and he quickly grabs your foot before biting a toe and making you scream. “Hey, unfair, why am I the only one naked?”

“Because,” He starts, grabbing his phone and snapping a quick photo before you can even cover up- but you don’t mind, you know it’ll be for his eyes only. After throwing his phone back onto the bed, he kneels down on the ground to come face to face with your cream covered pussy, “I’m a bit of a messy eater.” He smiles wickedly before diving into your cunt, your hands flying to his hair as he laps up the cream from your clit.

Let’s just say there were two types of creams that had entered your body that morning.

-

On top of Bucky’s load, the breakfast you had made had you absolutely stuffed. So much so that you had to untie the waistband of your pants to accomodate for your bloat.

“What do we do now?” You ask once Bucky finishes the rest of the food for you and places the empty plate on his bedside table.

“Mmm, I’m perfectly fine staying like this forever.” He pulls you closer to his side and reaches for the glass of orange juice you had fetched him after he absolutely destroyed your pussy.

“Me too.” You sigh, “But it’s your one day off and I’m not letting you spend it in bed.” Even though it lowkey pained you to move, you were only losing daylight by laying in bed, “Come on.” You pulled his hand to follow you into the shower.

And God, the sex drive on this man. You’d think that after cumming in your mouth and in your stomach only half an hour ago would’ve drained him out. But no, he lasted another two rounds in the shower.

You loved it.

-

It was kinda stupid to shower, seeing as you both jumped into the pool straight after.

It was the first time you ever used the pool. You just never had anyone to swim with before and you found no use in swimming alone. Plus, you weren’t sure you would’ve been comfortable swimming alone, with Bucky’s men watching over you… You also doubt that Bucky would’ve even let you do so if that was the case.

You had races to see who could swim the fastest, breath holding contests, marco polo, after that tired you out, you both sunbaked on the pool chairs for a bit.

You eventually ended up joining him on his chair so that you could both cuddle as you got to know each other more. It was very strange telling it how it was. Getting to know each other. To be fair, you’d only known each other for about two months before getting married. Really, you hardly knew anything about each other.

You only just found out his birthday, his parents names, his favourite colour and what he wanted to be when he grew up. And vice versa.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but by the sounds of Bucky’s stomach grumbling, you knew it had to have hit lunchtime by now.

Without a word, you got up off of his warm body and slipped your sandals on.

“Where are you going now?” He asks, completely dumbfounded as you run down to the garden.

“Hold on!” You yell back before disappearing out of sight. Bucky had counted the seconds that you were gone, panicking a little when it hit 2 minutes and 30 seconds. He sat up in his chair, keeping a close eye on the stairs that led down to the garden. If something happened to you this early, he’d be a dead man- “Lunch?” You ask, coming into view with a small basket full of…

“Cherry tomatoes?” Bucky asks with a laugh. There were other ingredients buried in there but the tomatoes were the most prominent item.

“I’ll make a pasta.” You shrug simply.

Bucky smiled to himself as he followed you back inside the house. He got lucky with you. Real lucky.

Maybe his job wasn’t so bad after all.

-

The pasta you’d made was demolished faster than you had made it. Bucky truly was a starved man. You guessed it was because he just wasn’t used to proper meals and was relishing in it while he could. You only had a few bites off his plate, still not enough room from breakfast.

But you would happily make Bucky food for the rest of his life if he asked you to. Something about it just made you happy, seeing him enjoy something you created gave you a lot of pleasure.

Maybe it was the housewife in you, you remember being told that your mother had always provided well for everyone. Maybe you inherited that trait.

After lunch, you’d both showered again. Completely innocent this time. Aside from Bucky’s lingering hands, you were both too tired to fuck again, let alone in the shower.

The time was only just hitting 2pm when you had both gotten out of the shower. So far you had no other plans in mind, but it didn’t matter anyway because Bucky had pulled you into bed to cuddle… and you both slowly fell asleep.

“We really shouldn’t nap.” You almost tried to fight it, despite the heavy weight of your eyelids.

It was his day off, remember! By the time you wake up it’ll probably be dark out and that’s like 5 hours of day light wasted!

But God, you were tired.

“Shhh, sleep.” Bucky yawns and pulls you closer.

You huff but finally give in, your eyelids winning the battle and plunging you into sleep.

-

You woke up to kisses pressed to your forehead, blinking your eyes up at the man before you as he had you engulfed in his arms.

He smiled down at you as you rubbed your eyes, “Good sleep?”

“Like a baby.” You moaned, stretching your limbs and almost orgasming from the feeling. “What time is it?” You ask and look over his shoulder at the analog clock sitting on his bedside. 6:06pm.

“What’s for dinner, lovely housewife?”

Shit. You forgot all about dinner, “I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it.”

As you both went silence in thought, it was strange. It was like you both unconsciously knew that you were both too tired to go out for dinner. Even though it would’ve been lovely and it was what you had hoped for when you planned this day off last night, you didn’t realise the extent of how tired you’d be after all your shenanigans.

“We could always get take out?” You smile as if Bucky had read your mind. Because, well, he did. You didn’t feel like cooking either and even if you did, you had no idea what.

“And watch a movie?” You add.

“Sounds good to me.”

-

Takeout choice for the night was a fuck ton of Chinese. Plus one pepperoni pizza because you had mentioned a slight craving for it as well as the Chinese and Bucky was jumping for the phone to order it. He said it was a ‘thank you for the good sex this morning’.

“What’s your favourite movie?” You ask, skimming through the movies, unsure of what to pick.

“I can’t remember the last time I watched a movie.” Bucky shrugs and you gape at him in shock. You couldn’t say you were surprised, given his lifestyle and the fact that he hardly saw you, how on earth would he be able to sit and watch a movie whenever he liked, “You pick, show me something I’ve missed out on.” He squeezes the ankle that wrests over his lap as you ponder the choices on the screen.

“Harry Potter?”

It was a classic. Nothing cheesy like a rom-com or, to put it realistically, something that Bucky would fall asleep through. It had lots of talking points and points of discussion plus, sequels as well in case you could have another one of these day offs and continue the movie series.

A girl can only dream.

-

After the movie had ended, you and Bucky had put away all the leftovers, figuring he could eat it for lunch tomorrow- adding it to the rest of the leftover food you had cooked for him today.

He gave you a piggy back all the way up to the bedroom after massaging your feet all throughout the movie. But then he threw you off his shoulder and into the bed and pretended to wrestle you so that was fun while it lasted.

Once more, you both showered together before finally, finally going to bed.

But of course, you were glued to his side the second you got underneath the covers.

It had to be your favourite position ever. Better than any sex position. It just felt nice to be in his arms. He was always so warm, and so big and strong and protective. It was nice.

“Thank you for today.” He presses many kisses into your hair and you smile, looking up at him before reaching up and placing a kiss on his lips.

“We should do it more often.”

“I’ll try.” He sighs and looks a little remorseful, knowing no matter how hard he’ll try, he probably will never, ever be able to do this again.

But you don’t know that.

You just offer a small smile in return, bringing a hand up to smooth out the frown lines on his precious face, “It’s okay, I get it.”

But you don’t, Bucky thinks. If only you did. It would make his life 10x easier.

-

Bucky would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous walking back into the office after his one day off.

As he passed by employees, they almost seemed surprised to see him… but mostly scared as per usual.

When he’d entered the main office space where the rest of his higher up coworkers were, he couldn’t deny the feeling of his heart dropping at the soft glare Tony had sent him.

“Heard you had a little day off.” He sighed, scribbling signatures on a few papers in front of him.

Bucky almost stuttered if it wasn’t for Steve giving him an encouraging nod. Don’t lie to Tony, stand your ground, was what it meant.

“She wanted me to.” He defended, and Tony quirked up a brow, almost challenging Bucky’s inference that you had control over him, “I felt bad, she’s just stuck in that house all by herself everyday. Plus it got her off my case.”

The last part of his statement seemed to have sufficed for Tony, as he just pursed his lips before opening up a rather thick file and laying its contents all over the conference table.

“Well, here’s the shit you missed.”

-

“How was yesterday?” Steve asks Bucky as they drive around the city, running errands.

“Good. Really good, actually.” Bucky smiles to himself, reminiscing on the day off he’d had 24 hours ago, “She made me breakfast in bed, then we fucked, then we showered… and fucked again.” Steve rolled his eyes but smiled, he couldn’t lie, that did sound pretty good, “Went swimming, then she made lunch, then we napped. Then we got takeout and watched a movie.” He finally concluded, “It was good.”

Steve glanced over at him for a second before averting his eyes back to the road. The smile on Bucky’s face and the way he had looked off longingly out the window told Steve everything he needed to know about you.

“You love her.” Steve states, matter of factly.

Bucky readjusts in his seat, sighing, “Love gets you killed. I like her.”

“Tony’s gonna figure it out eventually.” Steve shakes his head, almost beratingly, “You can’t let your feelings get in the way of this mission. Because they will… they already have.”

“I just said I like her.” Bucky lightly snaps, before remembering who he’s talking to. Steve’s just looking out for him and he’s right… “What do you think I should do?”

“Take a step back… act as if Tony’s around whenever you’re with her.” Bucky looks at him like he can’t be serious. But he knew it was valuable advice. “Look, it’ll not only help with the act, but if you really like her so much, it might even keep her safe. People will see that she doesn’t mean as much to you as they thought and they won’t use her against you.” Steve offers and Bucky sighs again, a trait he had become much accustomed to. “Just until it’s over.”

“Who’s to say she’ll still want me when it’s over?”

-

Bucky had basically resumed his schedule of work. From 6am to 6pm, gone and unreachable unless for extreme emergencies.

You guessed it was okay though. He had his one day off and you were grateful. You knew, in his world, it was kind of a lot to ask for, a whole day off from work, so you were very thankful. But you couldn’t help but slowly fall back into that slum of longing and loneliness.

So, whenever Bucky was home after work, you tried to steer into the direction of another movie or even sex. Anything other than just him coming straight to bed or going straight into his office.

“Hey,” You’d caught him in the kitchen after he’d come home one night. He must’ve thought you were asleep or something because the way he jumped when he saw you.

“You scared me.” He laughs a little before shutting the fridge and heating up the dinner you had cooked earlier.

“Sorry.” You kiss his cheek and try to ignore how tense he felt, “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

For a split second, you swear you believe he’s gonna say yes. Even he looks like he’s gonna say yes. But he quickly remembers what Steve had told him about a week ago and shakes his head softly, “Not tonight, Y/N. I got a lot of work to catch up on.”

“Oh.” You say softly, “Okay, that’s okay.”

He just smiled at you in thanks before taking his food out of the microwave and heading for his office.

In all truth, it wasn’t fucking okay. He just got home from work and now he’s… catching up on more work? What the fuck had he done at work then? Also, he runs a fucking mob how much work does he really need to do?

You know he co owns a bunch of hotels and restaurants and taxi companies but God, are there not other men? What about Steve? Does he do any work? Because by the looks of it, Bucky’s doing fucking everything.

Those were the thoughts that had raised amidst your little… tantrum. You had calmed down a little after an hour since Bucky got home and denied your offer to watch a movie together.

It was now nearing midnight and you were getting tired. Bucky still hadn’t come to bed yet and you were getting worried.

So you quickly threw on your gown, tried to make yourself look a little skimpy to at least… attract him into coming to bed. You were way too tired to do any work in that matter but if it got him to bed, then so be it.

You made your way to his office and knocked on the door softly before allowing yourself in.

He was looking quizzically at his computer screen for a quick moment, an almost panicked expression taking over his features when he saw you walk in. If only you’d known what he’d been doing on that computer. Totally wasn’t looking over years worth of your Dad’s digital banking history.

What you did see however, was the way he carelessly averted his eyes away from you. Hardly even acknowledging you. His wife. Just a reminder.

Sheepishly, you wait at the door now. Initially you planned on literally seducing him to come to bed. But now, now you felt a little insecure. Like he was annoyed at you. But you have no idea what you did and that was the most frustrating thing.

Maybe he just had a bad day.

“Are you coming to bed?” You ask, nails softly tapping against the wood of his door.

Without even taking his eyes off the screen, he just mumbles, “Not yet. Later.”

Your heart pangs with sadness and you just nod softly, “Okay… Goodnight.” When he just nods his head in reply, you feel like crying. He didn’t even have the decency to say it back?

You make no intention of pushing it though, leaving the office to trudge back to your cold and lonely bedroom.

It took you a while to fall asleep. Not particularly unusual as of late, but it felt a lot stronger tonight. Usually you’d be half asleep at around 11 and then when Bucky would eventually come home and join you in bed is when you’d finally fall asleep. So it doesn’t take a genius to figure the common denominator here.

Opening your eyes with a heavy sigh and confirming that Bucky was still yet to come to bed, you rolled over to your bedside table, the little digital clock flashed 1:24am.

Sitting up now, you squint your eyes at the hall outside of the bedroom, squinting to try and find any light from downstairs. You threw the blanket off your body when it was nothing but pitch black.

Tiptoeing along the cold floor of the upstairs, you tightened your robe… it was a comfort thing, felt more secure.

He was definitely shocked to see you awake and roaming the house at this hour, and he almost fled the kitchen when he saw you walk in if it weren’t for the half eaten breakfast in front of him.

Masking the fact that you were quite nervous for this confrontation, you made your way to the kettle and boiled yourself some water to make some tea.

As it boiled and as you got the contents ready for your mug, you spoke to him with your back turned, “Did you come to bed last night?” Of course, you knew the answer. But you wanted him to say it.

It’s a little silent for a moment and you wonder if he’d disappeared from the kitchen just to avoid the question.

“No.” He grunts, almost like he’s uncomfortable at the confession- because he knows it was wrong, “I fell asleep.”

Turning around now, your lower back resting against the edge of the counter, you just stare him down. You don’t know what you’re looking for, maybe the ring on his finger making sure it’s still there or a hickey in his neck from another woman.

It’s a rather uncomfortable stare, mostly for him than for you and it’s only when he starts to shift in his seat that you finally speak, “Is there something wrong?” Your arms cross over your chest and he finally looks up at you, “Did I do something?”

You think for a second that he’s going to apologise. To realise the effect his attitude is having on you and your perception of your marriage. You’re hesitant to confidently say it in the instance that you’re wrong, but it almost looks like he’s having some internal battle with himself.

But that idea is much short lived when he just averts his gaze back down to his plate and continues picking at his food, “No. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, when you act like you hate me, I’m gonna worry about it.” You scoff. You couldn’t help it, the words kinda just came out. Your anger kinda overtook you for a moment there and… it felt good.

Until, of course, Bucky stood from the stool he was seated at, the legs of the chair scraping harshly against the floor with a loud screech, “I don’t hate you.” He says simply, grabbing his keys out of his pockets, “I gotta go.”

That night, Bucky didn’t come home. You didn’t expect anything less to be honest, even though you should’ve… he totally didn’t hate you, remember?

-

Waking up alone was no surprise to you as of late. Stretching your limbs across the whole bed, you sighed blissfully as you remembered what day it was.

Maybe there was good reason why Bucky wasn’t in bed today.

Throwing the blanket off of your body, you made your way to the unusually shut door. You don’t remember shutting it last night, nor did you ever really shut the door- but you hoped this was all part of the surprise.

Except, if that was the case, why was it locked? “What the fuck?” You curse, twisting the knob more aggressively now before it’s being unlocked from the other side.

You didn’t even know the door had a lock- let alone from the outside, that just makes no sense.

The door opens and you step back a little as Sam peeks his head in, “Bucky’s in a meeting.”

“So?”

“You’re not allowed downstairs.”

Blinking at him with an ‘are you serious?’ look, you huff in disbelief, “I need to eat.”

“Just read a book for an hour and you can have all the food in the world.” He says simply before shutting the door in your face.

-

Sam had knocked on your door exactly an hour later, giving you the okay to come downstairs. You were hesitant, but when he told you Bucky was still wrapping up, you just pushed past him and headed straight for the kitchen, Sam hot on your trail telling you to slow down.

You didn’t listen. You were angry. And rightfully so.

You made yourself breakfast to finally settle your stomach and ate in silence as Sam patrolled the kitchen. Neither of you said anything, you just scrolled through your phone and ate passive aggressively.

Right on time, as you were just finishing up your meal, you heard Steve and Bucky’s footsteps approaching. Without missing a beat, without even acknowledging him in the slightest, you stood from your chair, emptied your plate and put it in the sink with a loud clank. You grabbed your phone off the counter and walked past Bucky without a word.

Bucky just rolls his eyes before chasing after you. You’re long gone by the time he looks for you, by the slam of the bedroom door, he figures where you are though, so he doesn’t have to look far.

He doesn’t bother knocking, just enters and immediately starts explaining himself to you, despite your turned back to him, “Look, you married into this life on your own accord and I vowed to protect you. So when I have to keep you upstairs, just know that it’s for your own safety-“

“I don’t care that you kept me upstairs!” It’s only when you speak that he realises your crying. You’re still turned away from him but the fault in your voice and the way you’ve wiped at your eyes is indicative of such. He’s left pretty speechless, unsure of what it is he’s done to upset you so, if it wasn’t the fact that he basically had you locked upstairs,“You forgot my fucking birthday.”

Bucky feels his heart drop to his stomach. Your birthday? He didn’t even know it was your birthday. Well, he… Okay, he forgot, but you only told him like once and it was like a while ago. He guessed that’s what happens when you marry someone you’ve only know for 2 months but still, he should’ve remembered to have write it down somewhere… you know, to make it seem real.

But part of him does feel bad. A big part of him actually. To have your birthday forgotten? On top of that being locked in your room the second you wake up… on your birthday.

“I’m sorry.” He speaks softer now, slowly approaching you, “I didn’t… know.”

You feel him get closer and you’re basically cornered now. You don’t exactly blame him for not knowing, but it still hurt. You would’ve thought the circled date on his calendar in his office would’ve at least helped him remember.

You almost jump at the feeling of his hands wrapping around your stomach and pulling you back to him. He hugs you from behind and you wipe the stray tears that have soaked your face.

It’s the first time you’ve cried in front of him.

Part of you believes that this is more than just him not knowing your birthday. It’s everything. It’s the being locked up in the house all day, never having any alone time because there’s always one of his men around, nothing to do, barely seeing him. The birthday part was just the cherry on top.

For about three years since your parents died, you had spent those birthdays alone. You weren’t ready to go out and celebrate without them just yet. They always made sure you’d had the best birthday, always topping the last. But when they had died, you lost all that and had nothing to replace it. Those three birthdays were spent locked up in your room all day, buried in your blankets with the lights off and the curtains drawn until the day passed.

The other part of you believes that’s why it’s hitting you so hard. Because in the last two years, you had gotten out of that behaviour. You would go all out for your birthday at fancy clubs, got spoilt rotten by people you didn’t even know.

So from the moment you woke up this morning, the coldness of the room as you sat in the middle of the big bed, all alone. It was hard.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He speaks into your hair, kissing the side of your ear, “We can go out tonight. Anywhere you like.” He promises and you smile softly.

Maybe you were just being silly. It wasn’t entirely his fault. He was a busy man, he’d probably forget his own birthday if it weren’t for you or Steve.

He’d called off the rest of his work things for the rest of the day and spent it with you instead. Because you weren’t going out until later tonight, you both decided to spend the remaining of the day inside.

Basically a repeat of that one time he got a day off, except today you didn’t have to do any cooking. But everything else was all the same, the fucking, the pool, the movie. Somehow, he ended up picking out gifts from you without even leaving your side, Pietro dropping them off as you continued to watch the movie.

The movie long forgotten by the time Bucky came around the couch with boxes and bags stacked on top of each other. Each gift seemingly more expensive than the next. You didn’t need any of it- nor did you really hold it over Bucky’s head that you needed to be spoiled. But you really didn’t expect anything less from him and it did feel nice… after the week you’d just had.

Your favourite thing that he’d gifted you had to be the Tiffany bracelet. Or the cooking apron, or the necklace with the letter ‘B’ on it, or the framed pictures of your ‘wedding’, or the Dior handbag, or the Hot Chick black and red Louboutins or the Hot Chick Plume Louboutins and the black Skims dress to go with it for tonight.

Or maybe the sex.

He made sure it was all about you, never not once focusing on pleasuring himself. Let you sit on his face and then tore you apart until it was almost too much.

Safe to say, that was definitely the best gift and you were able to get the best post-sex nap afterwards as well before going out for dinner… and then reliving what had happened only a few hours ago.

Falling onto his warm chest, you heave a blissful sigh as he runs his hands over your hair. You roll your hips one last time and clench around him as he twitches inside you, collecting every last bit of cum that’s leaking out of him.

He groans momentarily before placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Happy Birthday, baby.”

Yeah. Definitely the best gift.

-

“You have to try and keep your distance.”

“What?” Bucky asks, a little nervous at the stern look across Tony’s face.

“Rumlow wants to kill her.” Tony says matter of factly, as if it doesn’t mean as much as it does, “Or at least torture the information out of her or ransom the money out of us.”

‘Motherfucker’, is what Bucky thinks, but is too smart to say out loud for Tony to hear. Shifting nervously in the conference room chair, he thinks over his words, “Why should I keep my distance? If anything I should stay closer to her-“

“You’re already too close to her. Rumlow knows you ‘care’ about her now so he’s put a target on her. If you stay too close now, we can’t get him where we want him.”

“You’re not using her as bait.” Bucky speaks a little too fast for his mind to comprehend what he just said, and it takes Tony’s furrowed brows and menacing eyes for Bucky to realise his mistake, “It-it’ll be too dangerous… f-for her.” He quickly covers up, but it’s probably no use at the way he stammered over his words and kept averting his gaze.

“We have no choice.” Tony says, tilting his head a little now as he observes Bucky at the end of the table, “What does it matter? It’s not like she means anything to us.” He knows what he’s doing with his words, knows he’s trying to sus Bucky out of a confession or something, but he saves him the humiliation and just shakes his head, “Bucky-“

“I know.”

“Remember what you’re doing this for. If you can’t finish this mission-“

“I can.” Bucky’s heart drops to his stomach, not brave enough to hear the rest of Tony’s threat. Look, it didn’t matter how close Tony was to Bucky and the rest of his men- how much he presented himself as a father figure as their leader, Tony had expectations and if you didn’t meet them…

“Her father started this war. If it wasn’t for the money he left me, it would end with her.” He reminds Bucky, “And if we can’t find that money, then it will- and you along with her.”

That meeting had basically set Bucky straight again the day after your birthday. Of course, Tony had heard all about Bucky’s clearing of plans and the dinner he’d taken you out too.

He’d only heard of it because of the file that showed up in his desk the next morning of pictures of the two of you at said restaurant. Tony was no idiot, he knew who took the pictures- also the signed name on the back of the envelope in bright red pen also a clear indication. ‘Brock Rumlow’.

So, just as you thought you’d repaired the pothole in your relationship with Bucky, little did you know that would all come crashing back down on you.

He had, of course, returned back to work as per usual. That should’ve been your first indication that nothing had really changed. In a perfect world, you would’ve hoped he’d maybe stayed an extra hour or two in the morning to make up for what he’d missed the previous morning- but no.

No, it’ll probably be a while until you would happily wake up in the arms of your ‘loving’ and ‘devoted’ husband.

-

Your ears prick up at the sound of Bucky’s car pulling up to the driveway so early. It’s only about 5pm- usually he wouldn’t finish until 6, then get home at 10 if you were lucky.

Entering through the front door, he looked no different from what he usually did. Stressed and tired- maybe tonight… a little scared?

“Hey,” You speak softly, so as to not overstimulate him the second he walks into the house.

He turns his attention to you and his gaze lingers on you a little longer and a little stranger than you were used to. You couldn’t read his features- nor what he was thinking but it was very peculiar.

He then smiles softly, breaking out of his trance, before heading for the kitchen without a word.

Your furrow your brows, utterly confused. More so at his lack of affection than anything else, despite how used to it you had found yourself. God, isn’t that so fucking wrong? You’re used to your husband not being affectionate?

An idea popped into your head, though you weren’t sure how well it would fly, you figured it was best to give it a shot and at least let him know that you’re still trying.

Joining him in the kitchen, he drinks from a bottle of some alcohol in the fridge. Wincing from the taste, he catches you in his peripheral and you’re almost certain you startled him.

He just purses his lips as he screws the lid back on the bottle, barely paying you any more mind as he shuts the fridge.

Leaning tentatively against the counter, you subconsciously fiddle with your fingers out of nervousness, “Did you… wanna go somewhere tonight?”

Looking at you, it’s so hard for you to read his face tonight. Even harder for him as he suffers with an internal battle, on one hand wanting to indulge in your sweet offerings and be the loving husband he vowed to be- on the other, the words from Tony’s meeting burned into his skin.

Plus the envelope from Brock. He couldn’t take that risk again. Bucky felt a lot of emotions he didn’t know he had when he’d seen that shitty photo of you and him sitting at the restaurant from your birthday. The red dot from the pen of a marker drawn over your head like a fucking sniper target as you lovingly look at Bucky was what really set him off.

If anything, he was doing this to protect you now.

“I’m going to a dinner with Steve… business thing.” He quickly lies, praying to God that you don’t catch the lie despite his horrible attempt at keeping his ground. Ever since the meeting with Tony, he’d been on edge the whole day. The threat ringing through his ears almost every time he thought about you or looked at you.

“I can’t come?” You ask with a sarcastic laugh. You liked Steve and you wouldn’t mind joining them for dinner, even if they discussed business the whole night.

But Bucky’s silence and lack of amusement unsettles you.

“We went out the other day.” He shrugs and you blink bemusedly at him.

It takes you a second to gather your thoughts and you begin to feel your blood boil as he fails to redeem himself.

“So- I have limits on the amount of days I can leave the house?”

The way your eyes darken and the volume of your voice increases causes alarm bells to go off inside Bucky’s head, “Y/N-“

“I’m like your fucking hostage at this point.” You continue, only getting angry and louder, “What? I get treated to one night out a week? Do I need a fucking punch card to keep track of each one?”

“Everything I do is to keep you safe!” Bucky snaps, matching the same volume of your own voice, “All my meetings, every day at work, they’re the reason you’re still alive. By all means, take a walk outside by yourself, see what happens.”

It’s a screaming match now and you’re glad your house square footage is too big for any neighbour to hear you at the moment.

“Maybe I will. And hopefully get kidnapped by someone, probably’ll get better treatment than I do here!”

“Be fucking grateful.” He steps towards you and you surprise yourself when you don’t flinch, “You wouldn’t last a minute without me.”

“I do it every fucking day.” You spit back.

He roughly grabs your left hand, holding it up and showing your wedding band on full display, “What’s this then, huh?”

“A poor excuse of a fucking marriage.” You harshly pull your hand out of his grasp, “If anything, I’d be better off without you!”

For a second, the splittest of seconds, you swear you see his face falter and you worry that you went too far. But let’s be real, he took it too far the second he grabbed your hand which your sure has left a red imprint around your wrist.

“Oh! Is that what you think?” He laughs, chest heaving as you both breathe heavily from running out breath, “Okay.” He nods, backing away from you as he goes to leave the kitchen- in the process, knocking over a glass vase that housed some flowers he’d bought you on your birthday.

You flinch a little as the glass shatters on the floor, but it only makes you more heated as you follow after him, “Yeah, fuck off to your stupid dinner with your boyfriend!”

The slam of the front door almost prompts the tears that waited patiently at your waterline to spill over the edge. You aggressively wipe them away- not allowing yourself to cry over whatever the hell that was.

Maybe it was your fault for escalating it so quickly, but you couldn’t live like this.

Re-entering the kitchen, you tiptoe through the shards of broken glass that litters the floor and make quick work of cleaning up the mess he’d left in his wake of destruction.

Those were your favourite flowers.

-

“We had a bad fight.” Bucky sighs as he downs his second whiskey in the 5 minutes that he’s already been at Steve’s house, “Tony would’ve castrated me for letting her talk to me the way she did. Now she probably thinks I’m cheating on her or something… well, maybe thinks I’m cheating on her with you.”

Steve chuckles softly as he reloads his gun on the TV screen of whatever game they’re playing, “Really?”

Bucky nods, surprisingly not as embarrassed to confess the harsh words he’d let you say to him in the fight, “She called you my boyfriend. She was probably just angry.”

As Bucky pretty much allows his character to be shot dead, Steve looks over at his slumped form on the couch. He feels bad for him, he really does. Bucky’s obviously his best friend and he knows Bucky would never have wanted any of this to happen… you know, in real life.

“It’ll be over soon.” Steve assures Bucky with a promising look, knowing how much faith they both had in each other, “Once Tony finalises the plan, we’ll be able to get the money.”

“What about Rumlow?”

“He doesn’t stand a fucking chance, Buck, come on. He’s already lost, I don’t even know why he bothers.” Steve huffs

“It’s a lot of money.” Bucky answers for Steve, sighing heavily as he basically rethinks his entire life, “I just don’t want her hurt.”

Steve just nods, holding back from saying anything else because he knows it may not be the best of help for Bucky at this time. Instead, he just refills Bucky’s empty whiskey glass and restarts the game, “Come on, a few more games and I’ll take you home.”

That night, Bucky came home at around 1. He was ballsy enough to sleep in the same bed as you and you didn’t know if you were dreaming or half asleep, but you heard a soft ‘sorry’ and ‘I love you’ at around that time. But, from the way he’d left the bed empty and cold by the time you woke up, you assumed it was a dream.

-

Days went by and you continued to ignore each other- hardly by choice but just because he was either never here or you were sleeping.

You literally had nothing else to do. So you slept. And slept and slept and slept.

Each night it became more difficult to sleep and you often found yourself in bed, with your eyes closed, but never fully asleep.

You didn’t know what it was. It didn’t matter if Bucky was in bed with you or not, you just couldn’t sleep at night.

You waited tirelessly for Bucky to apologise… properly and not in the form of a dream. You didn’t want gifts or unlimited access to his bank account- you’d already given yourself that the night after the fight.

No, you knew any apology in the form of a gift would just be a way for you to shut up and forgive him. It wouldn’t work this time.

Though, the new flower vase and identical flowers that he’d replaced one random day, long after the fight did make you smile a little when you saw them.

The rest of the day, you’d wondered if today was the day. The day that he’d apologise or find some elaborate way to make up for it. You wouldn’t take gifts but maybe sex would do. Or dining out at a restaurant. Either or. You hadn’t done either in weeks and it was slowly driving you insane.

So, when Bucky had texted you, ‘Dinner tonight? x’, you couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face. Okay, this could work.

He’d take you somewhere nice, knowing how much you loved dressing up and going out to taste all kinds of elaborate foods, apologise over wine, drunkenly buy you a garden of flowers from a street vendor, take you for some ice cream before fucking you both in the backseat of his car and in the comfort of your shared bed.

You didn’t know what the occasion was- maybe he’s finished a project at work and was celebrating no longer having to work such long hours away from you which ultimately caused the divide in your relationship. Whatever it was, you didn’t care.

You were just glad to have your husband back.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You thought nothing of the way Bucky had tended up under your hold as you rested your head against his shoulder in the car, on the way to the restaurant. Too enamoured by the way he’d looked at you as you came down the stairs in your new black dress. You were okay with the silence, stupidly thinking he was saving his words for the dinner.

Nor did you think anything of the way he’d stayed silent the whole ride. You also missed how Pietro had constantly peered up at the rear view mirror to look back at Bucky and they’d exchange wordless glances.

It was only as he guided you through the sea of tables in the restaurant, eyes landing upon the full table that you’d realised… this was any thing but what you thought it would be.

“I thought we were going to be alone.” You whispered in his ear, tightening your grip in his hand as you near the table.

Tony, Steve, Natasha, Sam, and heaps of others you didn’t know all stared as the two of you approached the table- seemingly the last ones of the party to arrive.

“Well, you thought wrong.” He replies quickly before pulling his hand out of your grasp and shaking hands with his boss, “Tony.”

As you tentatively sat in your seats, you picked up the menu and observed all the choices. Despite the current predicament you were in, you knew you had to put up a front now for Bucky’s coworkers- sure that they wouldn’t exactly be pleased to watch your mess of a marriage unfold.

Whenever out at restaurants, you never knew what to pick and almost always sought out Bucky’s advice. So, purely out of instinct- as well as to continue the loving-marriage facade, you interlocked your hand with his and leaned closer to him, “What’re you gonna get?”

Many moons ago, so it seemed, when you had gone out to eat, a part of you would always be touching Bucky. It was a possessive thing for Bucky and safety thing for you. It let men know that you were happily taken (as if the fat diamond on your finger wasn’t enough) and let you know whenever Bucky sensed danger. It was usually nothing more than just a simple hand hold or a hold on your ankle or thigh. Which is why you thought nothing of holding his hand as you were.

But apparently he did. You felt him tense up first, and then he unfurled his fingers from yours and kind of balled it up into a fist on the table now.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged coldly.

But you barely heard it. Too shocked at what he’d just done. You felt so much at once, anger and hurt the main ones. What had you done? Why was he acting like this? The rejection stung badly and it left a sour taste in your mouth as you leaned away from him now and just kept to yourself.

It was like that for the rest of the night. You kind of realised that perhaps this wasn’t exactly the kind of dinner that you were expecting. It was a meeting, disguised as a dinner or some stupid shit like that.

You kept your head down and your mouth shut, only talking to the waiter in a soft whisper when he’d approached you and taken your order.

However, when the food came, you barely ate anything on the plate. The more you thought to yourself, the more upset you were getting.

Why had he just dropped your hand like that? Was it because of Tony? Or Natasha? What if he and Natasha had something going on? That wouldn’t surprise you, in all honesty.

You hardly listened to the conversations all night. It didn’t interest you. You’d heard enough of this stupid mob shit at home, you’d somehow managed to tune it out during the entirety of the dinner.

But time was still going by painfully slowly, and you had resorted to playing around with the food on your plate, counting each individual pea, separating the colours from each other, making pictures out of it.

You didn’t think anyone paid you any mind, and no one did- no one except Bucky.

He would eye you every so often to see what you were doing before glancing back at Tony, who’d send him a stern glance.

He knew what he had to do, to prove to Tony, but he just need to find the right time and the right words. Something he could bounce back from once the two of you got home.

It finally got to a point where Tony had finished the last drop of alcohol in his glass that Bucky knew he had to say something. Tony was getting impatient and you’d be an idiot to make him wait any longer.

“What’s wrong with you? Why won’t you eat?” It takes you a second to realise Bucky’s speaking to you. It’s only when you look up and see a few wandering eyes that you realise.

You set down your fork now, figuring you’ve made him mad and that pushing it any further is just going to be a headache for you, “I’m not hungry.”

“So why’d you order it?” His tone is so harsh and his stare is so… annoyed. But it’s like there’s something lingering in his eyes like he still cares?

Either way, his tone overrides it all and makes you cower in your seat, “I lost my appetite.”

“Of course.” He scoffs, “But you don’t care, right? It’s my money, after all.”

You furrow your brows and look up at him now. Money had rarely been an issue for him. Especially in terms of spending it on you. Everything you currently wore on your body indicative of such, so you were utterly perplexed at why it was an issue now, “I’ll pay for it myself then.”

“Your money is my money.” He almost laughs and you swear you hear a snide little giggle from Tony.

You embarrassingly swallow a breath, what did that even mean? To be fair, despite your inheritance, you had been basically living off of Bucky’s money. You didn’t think he would so willingly share that information with all his coworkers however, “Then I’ll take it to go.” You mutter.

“This isn’t a fucking Applebees, you can’t get a to-go box at this restaurant.”

“Then what the fuck do you want me to do with it, James?” You finally snap.

The table falls silent now and you’re certain part of the restaurant does too. You’ve never addressed him by his official name before, on top of that, swearing at him as well.

You don’t falter in your stance, you stand your ground and raise a tentative brow. On the inside, however, you’re terrified. The look on his face and the way it takes him a second to reply makes you nervous. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Without breaking eye contact, he leans in a little closer, “Go to the bathroom and freshen up, don’t come back until you’ve fixed yourself.”

It’s almost a threat, the way he says it.

You almost want to challenge him further, to ask him what he was gonna do if you don’t. But you’re on the verge of crying and you know better than to try your luck with a table full of criminals.

Everyone watches as you leave for the restroom. The air is tense and Bucky exhales a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“Good.” Tony nods, and a wave of relief floods over a Bucky’s nerves. He was unsure if Tony would’ve approved since you had snapped back at him. The way he handled it must’ve been satisfactory enough, “Now, her cards.”

Remembering the task at hand, Bucky reaches into your purse and grabs your wallet, passing it over to Tony, who lays it all out on the table, pulling out each and every card and using some special device to take quick scans of it.

“How is this gonna work?” Bucky asks, mostly to clear the tense air rather than to actually know the process.

“We’ll tap into all her accounts, we’ll find the money that way- there’s no other place it could be.” It was initially thought that the money your parents had left you was kept somewhere insanely secret- a storage container in the middle of nowhere, buried in their ashes or in their grave. But after a year of searching, to no avail, they figured it was back to square one.

Scanning your cards didn’t take long and once Bucky had put every single one back in their respective spots in your wallet and shoved it back in your purse, it was like nothing had happened at all.

The rest of the table engaged in lighter conversation now that the job was done for the night and they could all relax. Bucky, however, was probably the only one not yet relaxed as he couldn’t help but notice how you hadn’t yet returned from the bathroom.

It’d had to have been well past 20 minutes now and he was growing concerned that you’d run off or something. Knowing Tony would have something to say about it if Bucky had sought her out, instead Bucky leans over to Steve, “Go check on her, will you? Shes been gone for ages.”

-

The classical music that played through the bathroom speaker did little to calm your nerves as you sat atop the toilet seat, sobbing.

In this moment, you were so glad they had fully private bathroom stalls. You’re sure the elderly ladies or the snobby, sugar babies wouldn’t worry themselves with you had they heard you crying in the bathroom- probably would’ve hardcore judged you if anything and that was the last thing you needed tonight.

You tried to catch every tear with the folded piece of toilet paper in your hand, so as to not completely destroy your makeup and look an even bigger mess than you already were.

You wanted to leave. You want to go home, with or without Bucky, you didn’t care, and just sleep. Maybe even leave the country. You were humiliated, and scared. You honestly considered just hiding out in the bathroom until Bucky fetched you to go home. Or until he got so drunk that he just left without you- you could probably live in this restaurant, you’re sure you remember seeing a comfy looking couch in the foyer.

After a solid 10 minutes, your tears slowly dried out and you held your head in your hands, staring down at the pristine floor of the bathroom. Black and white marble tiles, spotless. Not a single speck of dust. It almost made you miss going to the clubs with your friends and marvelling at the laughably gross bathroom floors.

A knock sounded on the other end of the bathroom door and your heart dropped, “It’s Steve.” Relief. Just Steve. You stood on shaky legs and slowly opened the door for Steve, “Hey-“

You don’t know what took over you. As soon as he stepped foot into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, you just hugged him. To be fair, he did hold out open arms and the remorse on his face basically invited you in. But you’re glad that you did it, you really needed that hug.

He shushed you softly as you cried into his chest, rubbing your back.

“He’s so fucking mean.” You sniffled, basking in the feeling of just being held- it’s been a while.

Steve hesitated to speak for a moment, figuring out the right words to say that wouldn’t get him in trouble with you, Bucky or Tony, “He’s just trying to keep you safe.” Pulling your head from his chest, you look up at him utterly perplexed. That was keeping you safe? “You’ve become more than just a trophy wife to him and he can’t have that out there because then they know his weakness.” He knows he shouldn’t have said it, but it’s not exactly the truth or a lie. “Look, Tony brings out the worst in everyone- but especially Bucky… he has expectations and he’s very hard to please.” He quickly changes the subject to something more relevant, but worries about the far-off look you have as his words seemingly go in one ear and out the other.

“Is he cheating on me?” You ask him simply. You want to add ‘With Natasha?’ but don’t. You don’t even know why you asked in the first place- as if he’d even tell you over his best friend. But you trust Steve… maybe more than you do your own husband, and you just needed to hear it yourself… even if it was a lie.

Steve furrows his brows, looking down at your small and cowering form in his arms before shaking his head, “No, of course not.”

Never mind, it does no justice.

Shaking your head, you swallow the thick lump in your throat that had been growing ever since you entered the bathroom, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” You look up at Steve hesitantly, and he looks back down at you, half knowing what you’re going to say but also half hoping it’s not what he thinks… for Bucky’s sake, “I think I want a divorce.”

-

The ride home was painfully silent. The tension of the air was so thick it was almost unbreathable. Or maybe you were just having a panic attack and your throat was just closing in on you.

You tried to position yourself as far away from Bucky as possible. Legs tilting to the right, your whole body leaning against the door and looking out the window. Never not once did you pay him any attention or even breathe in his direction, scared you might do something wrong and make him yell at you again.

He didn’t end up getting so drunk he forgot about you. No, unfortunately, after your confession to Steve, you were led out of the bathroom and back to the table where you’d sat quietly until the end of the night. You didn’t speak a word, no matter how much Bucky looked over at you.

It was only when your home came into view that you felt like you could breathe again.

You couldn’t wait to just hide out in your bedroom, praying that Bucky would probably sleep on the couch tonight.

You got out of the car yourself, not bothering to wait for Bucky to open the door for you to get out like he usually did. That stopped a while ago…

You swear you heard him softly call your name as you basically ran up the stairs and into the warm embrace of your home.

Despite it basically being his house, full of his things and where he resided, you had still found a lot of comfort in it. It was the only place you really knew for the past few months and it really was home. Too bad the person you shared it with decreased that value the second he walked in after you.

As you slipped off your heels in the foyer, cautious not to scratch any of the floors with them, Bucky was able to catch up to you. It was literally like he was chasing you and you felt your heart race.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said as he caught up to you, shutting the door behind him. You paid him no mind, just grabbed your heels and began ascending the stairs, “Y/N-“ He calls again, this time hot on your trail, gripping your arm and shoving you against the wall, “I said I was sorry!”

You flinch, both because- well, he basically threw you against the wall and you feared he was going to do much worse. Your head hurt from where it collided with the wall, it seemed all the oxygen was knocked out of your lungs and your arm stung from his touch.

But the way he looked at you, it was like he was the one that got hurt. Tears had welled in his eyes almost instantly as you softly gasped for air and stared down at his retracting hand in fear. Pure fear.

As if you could look any smaller. The wall was almost swallowing you whole with the way you were backing into it, anything to get away from Bucky.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Bucky fumbles out.

You barely move an inch, too scared that it’ll set him off.

In a hesitant manner, Bucky descends the few set of stairs left and heads for the door. Hand hovering over the doorknob for a split second before opening it and shutting softly.

You found that it was only when he shut the door behind him that were you able to move again. You slumped against the wall, body no longer tense, sliding down to bring your knees against your chest.

You didn’t know why you were so surprised. Why you had gone into this relationship so blindly. Of course he would put his hands on you. He’s killed people for far little reason.

As Bucky pulls out of the driveway, he stops at the gates to talk to Pietro, the guard on duty.

“Watch her.”

He went to the first place he could think of. Steve’s.

He knew Steve would give him the best advice, tell him how it make it right. Only, even Bucky wasn’t sure there was a way to come back from this.

He wouldn’t even blame you if you’d already packed your bags and tried to leave.

Pulling up to Steve’s driveway, a common occurrence of late, he takes two steps at a time as he ascends the small staircase to the front door. Once reaching it, he pounds his fist again the wood until it’s swinging open in surprise.

“What the fuck, Buck-” Steve asks, having been woken up by Bucky’s abrupt pounding- however, softens his features and voice as he looks over his distressed state, “Are you okay?”

“I-“ Bucky shakes his head, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” Steve is genuinely worried, knowing Bucky wasn’t one to crack so easily, so whatever it was had to be bad, “What happened?” … What Steve didn’t know however, was that it wasn’t something done to Bucky, rather, what Bucky had done… to you.

Uncaring to the tears that well up in his eyes, too overpowered by the shame that rises in his throat, he averts his gaze away from Steve’s, “I… got angry.” Steve manages to connect the dots from that sentence alone and from the way he tenses up a little in disappointment, Bucky is quick to tell the rest of the story, “I didn’t hit her, I just grabbed her and… threw her up against the wall.” Not that it sounded any better.

Steve’s heaves a heavy sigh, unable to find the right words to console his best friend at the moment. He was his best friend, sure, but he hurt you… physically.

“I was trying to apologise, she wouldn’t listen.” Bucky continued to try and redeem himself but it’s really no use. There was no exception as to why he had to put his hands on you like that, “I didn’t mean for it to happen, I just wanted her to hear me out… She looked so scared, Steve.”

Steve didn’t say a word. He didn’t know what to say. But he knew what Bucky was here for, so he opened up the door to his house and let Bucky sleep in the guest bedroom.

-

You weren’t sure if Bucky came back that night. You didn’t know if you wanted him to.

Part of you knew he obviously regretted what he’d said and done that night, throwing you up against the wall inclusive in that. But he still did it.

However, in saying that, you still worried of his whereabouts. You didn’t know what he was capable of. He knew people and places, he had money and weapons. Those factors don’t exactly mix well, especially in his line of work.

After crying a bit longer and a steaming bath, you got ready for bed. Sleep was no longer your best friend, seeing as you could never get it anymore. There was just so much on your mind at all times, you were scared, you felt sick, you were alone. This big looming cloud above you always told you it was about the fear of the unknown.

You didn’t know what your future was gonna be like, where your husband was, when you’d be allowed to see your friends again, when you would get a good nights rest, when you’d start a family, how different life would be with your parents here, who was currently hacking into all of your credit cards and digital accounts to find the location of a particular sum of money your father owed Tony…

Natasha was who. She had tapped into all your cards, your phones, everything that was once private to you and your parents, now visible to her and Tony.

Of course, you would never know this. At least not now, perhaps later in a few years when you decide to finally check the whereabouts of this money and find it missing from your possession.

Natasha searched and searched through years worth of activity before finally finding it. The money. Tony’s money.

“It’s in the bank.” She gasps, staring at the screen in front of her.

Tony just stares at Natasha blankly, “Are you fucking kidding?” He rounds her to view the computer screen, the bank account detailing the money simply sitting in a safety deposit box. Tony laughs now, unbelieving in how easy this now is, how easy it supposedly always was.

The idea of the money being in safety deposit box was simply too stupid to even consider. No one in their right mind, who knew the value of that money, would just leave it in a place like a safety deposit box. Except, of course, you. Not exactly that you were an idiot… but you didn’t know the value.

And Tony quickly came to the conclusion that your fathers death came far too soon for him to have been able to plan the safety of that money in a place where it would do you no harm.

And so, the following morning of that discovery, Natasha and Bucky set out to retrieve the money. The plan was to transform Natasha into you the best they could- which meant 5 hours in a makeup chair and an hour rehearsing questions with each other to make it seem as real as possible that she was you and that she was married to Bucky.

(a/n: i’m very sorry to my non-yt readers, i didn’t even think of the issue with that^^^ and natasha turning into reader while writing bc i was just wanting to get this story out so fast. pls imagine it as any marvel woman u like. idk how i missed that i’m literally asian. but i’m sorry if i offended anyone.)

To be fair though, half the questions they rehearsed in the event of an emergency where they would need to know these random facts about each other, Bucky doubted you even knew the answers to them anyway and vice versa.

Clammy hand in clammy hand, Bucky and Natasha walk the steps to the bank. The two of them both have ear pieces for Tony to communicate with them if need be, but they’ve been doing this kind of undercover work for a while now. They know what they’re doing.

So it’s not exactly awkward anymore to have to be close to one another, to kiss or to even fake sex when they need to. It’s all part of the job.

They’re granted entry through to the vault simply by the ID’s Bucky had stolen from you early this morning. Natasha’s wig and literal prosthetics served their purpose well in convincing the bank teller.

A notary walks them down to the vaults, carrying the certificate of the box’s contents- something Natasha will take care of later.

It’s music to Tony’s ears hearing the locks of the vault click and it was only when he heard Natasha softly gasp that he wished he strapped them with body cams to be able to see the money.

“Lot of money.” The notary speaks, it’s almost comical the way her eyes light up, like there are actual dollar signs in her eyes, “Set for life.”

“Yeah.” Natasha smiles, squeezing Bucky’s hand out of pure excitement, “We wanna travel the world before we start having kids and figuring out what to do with the rest of the money. It helps to physically have it.”

Using the briefcase Bucky had brought with him, he begins stacking the money inside, communicating with the notary of everything he’s taking out and Natasha keeps a close eye on her body language, making sure she still believes this is just a happily married couple wanting to take out some money for a round the world vacation.

“30 million, huh? You travelling on a private jet?” She continued to marvel at the money, “You sure your Dad wasn’t in the mob?”

Natasha almost chokes at the question. Something in her malfunctions- probably stunned at the amount of money before her very eyes and for some reason she just nervously laughs in response. This only causes the notary, who was initially joking, to slowly furrow her brows.

“Oh! No, no, no. He invested a lot of money and was very good at his job.” Natasha quickly chokes out and the notary just nods in relief, “I can assure you he was definitely not in the mob. He put ‘em in jail!”

Bucky smiles along as the two of them laugh, but really he’s laughing at the way Natasha, after many, many years of undercover work, finally cracked. And for something so little. He would never let her live down the day she almost blew their cover and neither would any one else after he tells them.

After signing of the certificate, and shaking hands with each other, the notary bids them a farewell, “Keep it safe.”

It takes everything in Bucky and Natasha not to scream at the top of their lungs and frolic to the van where Tony and Steve are. But once they get inside that van and Steve speeds towards the office, “We fucking did it!”

-

“Ow.” You hiss, dropping the knife and pulling your hand towards you. You examine the finger that’s now covered in blood and wince at the big gash that’s exposing bone, “Oh, God. Shit.”

Not caring to drop blood all over the floor, you quickly make it to your phone and call for the home doctor that Bucky told you to call in case of an emergency. 911 was never an option for you, unless it was a fire or death. You were to call Bucky, Steve, Sam or Pietro if you needed police, Dr. Banner for the ambulance. If you or someone else was really dying and needed immediate help than the ambulance was permissible. You didn’t understand, but it had something to do with his job, of course, so you didn’t question it any further.

In the meantime, you covered the cut with a towel, told Pietro about the doctor so that he’d at least be let in without interrogation and then sat down at the kitchen island.

He came surprisingly fast actually and even had a siren on his car. It was the first time you would meet him so your expectations were very low.

But he patched you up nicely. He was extremely gentle and not how you imagined a… mob doctor to be at all. He made nice conversation too, seemed genuine.

Anyway, he had glued the cut shut with medical glue and cleaned you up, wrapping it in a thick bandage to fully secure it.

He gave you some medication for the pain and antibiotics. He seemed to have all these medications on hand… granted, you did tell him over the phone your situation so you’re sure he would’ve grabbed the necessities, but still… what else did he have?

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked stupidly, cringing at the way you worded it.

But he doesn’t care, he just nods, continuing to pack away his stuff, “Of course.”

“Is… there anything you could prescribe me with for sleep?” You ask and he stops what he’s doing, giving you a slight easier brow, “I-I can’t sleep much anymore and it’s driving me crazy I think. I feel so weak all the time… and I’m dizzy.”

“Sure it’s not the finger? The blood and bone might be making you woozy.”

You scoff, shaking your head, “I’m pretty sure it’s why I cut my finger.”

He gives you a once over, observing the dark circles around your eyes, the slight paleness of your skin. Part of him wondered if you really were sleepless, or just found yourself in addiction… but the way you asked him when you sure as hell could’ve just sought it out yourself told Bruce that you were telling the truth, “I’ll prescribe you something light.” He finishes packing away the last of his things and you nod gratefully. “I’ll send a prescription up to the pharmacy, it should be ready in a few hours and I’ll have it delivered ASAP.”

-

A celebratory dinner party was in order for Stark Industries that night. Expensive alcohol, even more expensive drugs. More so for Tony than anyone else.

But, Bucky quickly grew tiresome of it all. His mission was basically complete, and until Tony came down off his high, he still had about… maybe 3 days left with you. 3 full days of redoing exactly what you’d done together on his one day off, except this time even being allowed out. He fully planned to rekindle your relationship, makeup for every wrong he did you and persuade Tony into keeping you around… and you into staying.

Jogging up the stairs, he hoped you weren’t asleep just yet. It was late but not too late, and he wanted to talk, possibly persuade you into a shower before making it up to you with sex.

As he pushed open the door to your shared bedroom, your sleeping form nestled in the sheets of the bed made his heart swell.

Well… perhaps he’ll wait until morning then. Breakfast in bed! It’s like better than sex, right?

He couldn’t help himself though. He rounded your side of the bed and knelt to be level with you. He smoothed out your hair, lowkey hoping it would wake you… certain it would because of how light you slept.

He tucked the hair behind your ear and placed a kiss to your forehead. Again, he waited for you to at least shift, hitch your breath or for your closed eyelids to flutter… nothing.

“Y/N?” He shakes you a little. He’s aware he still knows little about you, but… something felt off. You still don’t wake and now hes starting to freak out. He grabs your wrist and checks your pulse, heart dropping when he realises how slow it is, “Honey? Are you- Can you hear me?” Frantically, he reaches for his phone but a bottle of pills on your bedside table catch his eye.

He immediately calls Dr Banner, almost threatening him to come to the house. Then he calls Steve. He’s gonna need help with the body.

Once he’s off the phone with Steve, he’s quickly back to you, ripping the blankets off of you and working his knuckles against your sternum. Tony taught him that.

He continues to call your name, softer now as he tries to keep calm. The sudden intake of air and the slow flutter of your eyes is probably the best moment of Bucky’s life.

“Hey, hey- Y/N, stay awake, baby.” He pinches the back of your arm as well before caressing your face in reassurance, “You’re okay.”

It takes a while for you to come to, but the moment you rasp out Bucky’s name and reach a hand out for him is when he finally relaxes.

The moment is short-lived however, as Steve enters the bedroom with Dr. Banner, Pietro following close by.

“What seems to be the proble-“

“You gave her fucking quaaludes?” Bucky’s on him in a split second, confident in Steve taking over keeping you awake, “You fucking work for Rumlow or something?”

Bruce furrows his brows, shaking his head frantically as Bucky latches onto the lapels of his coat, “N-no, I gave her valium.”

Steve asked you a few questions that you accidentally ignored, too concerned with Bucky and the nice doctor. You wanted to speak, to defend Banner but it tired you just thinking about speaking. You felt so weak, all your muscles felt deflated and your head felt heavy- even though you were literally laying down.

“This look like a fucking valium to you?” Bucky shoves the bottle into his face, “Why’d you give her valium anyway, you tryna drug her?”

“He came by earlier.” Pietro speaks, causing Bucky to raise his brow, expecting an explanation.

“She cut her finger with a knife and called me here. I fixed the cut, but she said she can’t sleep. I didn’t want to give her something that directly aids with sleep, so I just prescribed a light sedative.” Banner quickly explains, “I have the prescription somewhere in my bag-“

Bucky does believe him. He does. He’s trusted Banner with his life countless times before. So, it’s not making any fucking sense and it’s only making Bucky angrier, “Then how the fuck does she have quaaludes?”

“Buck-“ Steve intervenes for the first time, fearing for the poor doctors life.

Though Bucky doesn’t pay Steve any mind, he does loosen up his hold on Bruce’s coat a little and backs up a little from his face, “How’d you get the medication to her?”

“I didn’t. I prescribed it and it was delivered.”

“Where from?”

“The pharmacy warehouse… Maybe- see who packaged it.” Banner suggests, nodding to the bottle still in Bucky’s hand.

Bucky flips the bottle all around, looking for the label and any words indicating the name of his next victim. Looking over the fine print, his eyes skim over the jumble of words until he finds it.

‘Filled and packaged by Rollins, J.’

Before Bucky could even react, before he could even see red at the idea of Rumlow hitting so close to home, Steve calls out, “Buck,” Bucky turns and sees Steve gripping onto his phone in one hand and yours in the other, his phone lit up with the incoming call screen, the name of the caller… “It’s Fury.”

Bucky hitches a breath at the name. Fury. Calling Steve.

Fury only ever called if something had happened to Tony.

They know what to do, even if Bucky is torn between choosing work over you yet again. But this time it’s serious.

“Stay here with her. Make sure she hasn’t OD’d.” He orders Banner, “Pietro, watch him.”

Steve and Bucky exit the room and take the call from Banner, putting it on speaker as they linger further from the bedroom.

“The wars starting.” Fury speaks, “Rumlow messed with Tony’s coke. He almost died, Pepper had to stab him with adrenaline. Called an ambulance for safe measures.”

“Fuck.” Bucky mutters.

“He’ll be okay. He’s already up walking around and being a bitch.” There’s slight humour to his words and it at least makes Steve and Bucky feel a little better knowing that Tony wasn’t dead, “Rumlow knows we have the money and he’s not stopping until he gets it.”

“What do we do?” Steve asks.

The line is silent for a brief moment, “Start planning how to kill him.” The pair exchange unreadable looks to each other. It’s hard to tell whether they’re excited or scared… probably shocked is the best description as of right now, “Come to the tower as soon as you can, we’ll go on lockdown and devise a plan.”

The call quickly ends as Fury most likely has to get back to phoning every one else and gathering them at the tower for their safety.

But before Bucky can go back to the interrogation in his bedroom, he just shakes his head, bringing up two hands to run over his face and smooth out his hair.

“Even in my own house, I can’t protect her.” He rants, looking down at the floor, “I gotta send her away to the safe house or something-“

“They’ll always find her.” Steve interrupts, knowing damn well that now, more than ever, Rumlow would be targeting you in order to get to Bucky, to ultimately get the money.

Sending you to a safe house, all alone? He might as well just hand you over to Brock in that case.

“Not in Romania.” Bucky looks up at Steve now, who blinks at him a little stunned.

“Tony-“

“Fuck Tony. She’s my wife and I vowed to keep her safe.” Bucky snaps, “He’ll barely even notice and he’ll probably be glad she’s out of his hair, if anything.”

Steve figured he can’t argue with that, however at this current point in time, the pair have bigger fish to fry and need to get to the tower if they want to even consider their futures at all.

“Come on.”

-

As Bucky and Steve left the room, Bruce had approached you and you offered him a look of sympathy as an apology for the way Bucky had handled him.

He just smiled at you in return, silently telling you it was okay as took your heart rate and blood pressure. Giving you some cold water, you were able to sit up now and you felt a little better- still extremely groggy. That was the best way you could describe it.

“Do you have any particular concerns?” Bruce asks you and the striking pain in your lower half reminds you of such.

“My stomach,”

“Abdominal cramps?” Bruce asks, almost expectantly and you nod as he does too, “I might put you in for an X-Ray at the lab. It’s common to cramp up, but just wanna make sure he didn’t lace it with anything else.” He explains and you’re a little reassured that he knows what he’s doing.

Just as he packs away his things, Bucky and Steve renter the room. From their expressions and body language alone, you’re unable to tell what exactly happened on the phone call, but they do look… tense… er than usual.

As Bucky catches your eye, he’s reminded of the current predicament you’re in and looks to Bruce for updates on your status, “If it’s okay, I think it’s best to take her back to the lab at the tower to do some further testing, just to be safe.”

Bucky nods almost immediately, “Fury wants us all at the tower anyway. Going on lockdown.”

“Why?” Bruce asks, concern laced throughout his voice and from the way they’re interacting with each other now- it’s hard to believe that they were just at each other’s throats a few minutes ago.

“Tony got hit.” You, Pietro and especially Bruce all furrow your brows in concern. Hit? What does that mean? Like punched? Shot?

“Is he okay?”

“Adrenaline shot came in handy.” Steve nods and Bruce sighs softly in relief.

Adrenaline? Drugs? Like Pulp Fiction? What is going on?

“I might go ahead and check on him. I’ll meet you at the tower?” He asks, though it seems he already has answer by the way he’s zipping up his bag and heading for the door.

Bucky just pats him on the back and allows for him to leave.

Steve goes off into your wardrobe now and pulls out three black duffel bags you didn’t even know you owned and lays them out on Bucky’s side of the bed.

Bucky rounds the bed to you now, “Are you okay to walk?” He asks and you just nod, still very confused at what’s happening, even more so as Steve starts packing… guns into the duffel bags? “Alright, get changed and Pietro will take you downstairs. You just wait there, we’ll be down soon.” You just nodded again, still a little too in pain to talk as the cramp remained in your stomach.

Bucky helped you up from the bed and led you to the wardrobe where he helped you pick out a change of clothes to wear. Like Steve, he’d found another duffel while you changed and from what you saw, started packing all your essential clothing items. You were surprised he even knew which ones to grab having barely seen you wear them as often as you did to know that those were the ones you would take with you in a situation like this.

After you were changed, he continued to pack and handed you off to Pietro, who took you downstairs and made you wait on the couch while he went to go get the car ready.

You weren’t alone for long, because Bucky and Steve had descended the stairs almost seconds later with one bag slung over each shoulder, four in total.

Bucky had helped you off the couch once again and led you out to the front door while Steve locked up the whole of the house.

The car that Pietro had parked out the front of your house was different to the usual car you took. It wasn’t Bucky’s flash old Lincoln, it was the RAM truck he had buried in the corner of his 5 car garage.

You always figured it was for when it snowed or if you guys ever went camping somewhere.

Bucky helped you in the backseat, hand on your lower back as he gave you a push. You winced in pain as a particularly sharp cramp hit you, but you tried to hide it the best you could. Bucky went and helped Steve load stuff into the truck bed before rounding the car and sitting beside you, Steve sitting in the passenger side.

The wheels spun as Pietro gassed it out of the house.

You couldn’t help but notice the tenseness of the car. How Steve wasnt leaned back in his seat, how he stared out the window carefully. Plus the gun in his hand and the one resting against his leg on the floor.

You looked down, over at Bucky now. Same stance as Steve. Only one gun. His leg bounced anxiously as he looked around. After deeming the coast clear, he softly sighed and turned to you. You tried to avert your gaze as quick as you could, and hoped he didn’t see.

“You okay?” You look back at him now. His brows are slightly furrowed and he holds a small, almost apologetic, smile. You nod sheepishly and return a small, hesitant smile.

It’s late out and you haven’t seen a single car on the road so far. Pietro takes a few backstreets, but there were times where he’d run a fully red light and no one batted an eye. You found that your heart rate was quickening, so unsure of what was going on.

You quickly make it into the city- no thanks to Pietro’s driving and it’s not long before you’re driving down into the underground garage of the Stark Tower Complex.

Recognising the building from all the galas you’d attended in your younger years, you were even more confused as to why you were here. Didn’t they just say that Tony got ‘hit’? Why would they take you directly to the danger? Also where was Bruce? And where is his medical lab? It’s not in the tower is it?

Bucky offered his hand to you as you got out of the truck and you took it hesitantly. But you quickly figured it was for the better as your legs almost gave out underneath you once you found the ground.

He carried the duffel with all your things, whilst Steve carried the other two. Pietro went ahead and called for the elevator.

It was strange to be back here. It didn’t feel as fun anymore. Everytime you had come to this place, it was almost always for some kind of party or dinner or gala. Now it felt cold and tense- environments you’d definitely become accustomed to as of late but this just felt odd.

The elevator ride is pretty quiet except for Bucky and Steve talking in hushed voices. The dark lighting of the small metal box making your eyes feel heavy and you swore you almost fell asleep if it weren’t for the soft beep and the doors opening to a relatively busy floor.

You intake a quick, anxious breath at the sheer amount of people running around on the floor and you subconsciously tighten your grip in Bucky’s hand as the four of you walk out of the elevator.

Steve heads for the staircase and you all follow suit. On wobbly legs, you take the stairs one at a time, gripping both Bucky’s shoulder and the railing so hard your knuckles turn white. They couldn’t have made this a whole seperate floor that the elevator could’ve taken them too?

Reaching the top of the staircase, it was weird how it was suddenly a lot quieter. By the looks of it, this seemed like a residential floor? You didn’t know people lived here.

Steve takes you deeper into the hallway until you reach an unoccupied room. It’s a massive room, seemingly a mansion inside of an apartment. You thought it was unoccupied by the way no one was lingering about, but as you venture further into the room, you begin to hear hushed voices.

Entering the living space, you see a bunch of familiar faces. Sam, Natasha, other people who you forget the name of but distinctly remember one feature about them… for example, long hair guy, long hair guys brother with dark hair, young kid that looks prepubescent, blondie, old looking guy that flirts with Nat, Pietro’s sister, Pietro’s sisters husband.

“Why don’t you take Y/N to Bruce? Just make sure she gets there okay.” Bucky whispers to Pietro, who nods immediately and takes you from Bucky, leading you back out from where you’d just come from.

Great, more walking. But you’d much rather be out walking then in that room with everyone intensely staring at you.

“What is she doing here?” Tony asks Bucky in an aggressive, hushed whisper, sweat donning his forehead and he really does look like that scene from Pulp Fiction after Mia Wallace gets stabbed with adrenaline.

“Rumlow fucked with her medicine and almost killed her. Banners just making sure she’s okay.” Bucky quickly explains in the same hushed whisper, dismissing the pointed look Tony gives Bucky as he eyes the closed door that you’d just shut, “I couldn’t just leave her.”

Rolling his eyes, he motions for Steve and Bucky to join the rest of the team in the living area, “Come on, then, we got a war to win.”

-

Banner had sat you atop one of the medical tables in his lab. It was a flashy lab. You never expected for this tower to house anything like it at all, but from your journey to this place, it seemed this whole floor was just medical and science laboratories.

He monitored your blood pressure and your temperature. Took your urine and was now taking your blood. You winced as he inserted the needle into your arm, looking away from him so as to not pass out.

“I wanted to be a nurse, you know.” You try and make light conversation, both so that’s it not eerily silent and awkward and also to distract yourself from the needle in your arm.

“Really?”

“When I was really young.” You nod, “But I was never good with needles. And I wouldn’t have gotten into nursing school anyway.”

“Why not?” He asks, sounding thoroughly intrigued at your story now and now you’re starting to maybe regret bringing up this part of your life as a means to make conversation.

“I- Well, I could. If I bought my way in.” You said honestly, shrugging, “I just never had the right grades for that kind of thing.”

As he pulled the needle out of your arm and untied the belt, you watched as he put a small cotton ball and band-aid over where the needle had been inserted. You smiled a little at that, remembering times when your Mom would take you to get needles and injections and you’d always walk out with tears down your face, candy in hand and a cotton ball taped to your arm.

As he puts your tubes of blood into some special box, he helps you off the med table and walks you over to the X-Ray machine.

It intimidates you a little, the massive magnetic machine that you’ve heard extremely pleasant stories about. But you trust Bruce.

He gets you to take off any metal from your body, piercings, bobby pins, etc.

“Now,“ He sighs, “Any chance you could be pregnant?”

“Um…” You stuttered over your words, blinking at Bruce as you thought out your answer. You furrowed your brows in deep thought, trying to think back to the last time you and Bucky had sex- that in itself should be a good sign that you’re not pregnant, right? “No.” You answer.

He looks over you for a moment, before dropping his voice a little, “Are you sure?” He asks, “X Rays can be pretty dangerous for developing babies… Have you had intercourse this month?” You think a little bit harder now. Well, it’s pretty much been a silent war zone for the past few weeks- ever since your birthday. Oh, your birthday. You had sex that day, and that was like what? 4 weeks ago… maybe 3… oh only 2.

Plus, it’s not like you weren’t already having unprotected sex with Bucky long before that.

The look you give Banner when you realise just how possible it could be that you were pregnant, he rummages through his cupboards and hands you a pregnancy test, “Better safe than sorry.”

-

Pacing around the mini bathroom he lead you to had to be the worst 2 minutes of your life. Your heart was beating uncontrollably fast and your breathing was staggered.

You found yourself waiting longer than 2 minutes though, too scared to even think about the result of the test. After it was well past 5 minutes and you heard Bruce shuffling around outside the door, you knew it was best to just bite the bullet.

Opening the door, Bruce met you with a sincere expression, though a little concerned at your current state- unable to decipher the news, “Um-“ You can’t find the words that get caught in your throat as the positive test sits idly in your hand, “I’m-“

You’re not crying. Not yet at least. You’re just- at a loss for words. You’re pregnant. What’s Bucky going to think? Does he even want a child, let alone with you? Do you want this child? If Bucky doesn’t want it, but you do, then what?

As you look up Bruce now, it’s your turn to inhabit uncertainty in his expression. He offered you a small smile of congratulations at first, but it softly fled his face as he looked down at the test, “You said you had cramping?” He speaks finally and you nod tentatively, “Follow me.”

Clutching the test in your hand, you follow him as he leads you to another room. Similar to the last except instead of a big X-ray machine, it just has an exam table bed and a few other machines you don’t recognise.

He props you on top of the table and starts hooking you up to some machine.

“What’re you doing now?” You ask just to be sure, trying not to let it show how nervous you are.

“I’m just going to monitor the fetal heart rate.” He says reassuringly, pressing all different kinds of buttons on the machine, “And then I’ll do an ultrasound as well.”

You hesitate to ask your next question, too afraid of the answer… but he knows something you don’t and it’s eating away at you by the second, “Is something wrong?”

You almost missed the way he swallowed a small breath, looking up at you now with too much remorse and empathy that it only worried you even more, “Cramping can be a sign of a miscarriage.” Oh.

As the heart rate machine starts whirring and printing out the heartbeat, you don’t have the courage to look. Nor do you look at the screen of your ultrasound as he moves the wand across your stomach.

It didn’t matter that you weren’t looking anyway. You could hear it. Well, you couldn’t hear it… that was the problem. You had your answer already. There was no heartbeat.

As you swallow thickly, you finally turn to look at the piece of paper coming out of the monitor that clearly indicates a flat line. You still don’t look at the screen, afraid that if you’ll look- no matter what you already know, seeing it would just get your hopes up. Like there was still hope.

“I’m very sorry.” Bruce reaches out and rubs at your arm. It’s only a very small gesture, but God did you need it. It’s not like you could get it from anyone else. Not your parents, not Bucky.

Sniffling, and trying to blink away your tears you just shake your head, “Please don’t tell Bucky.” You whispers silently begging him with your eyes. You understand Bucky has every right to know, but you just can’t bring yourself to deal with all that right now.

“Of course.”

-

After that, Bruce had given you a moment to collect yourself. You were still yet to start violently sobbing, but you knew it would come later. You still needed to find out if anything in the medication you were drugged with had affected your body in any other way.

So you let Bruce do what he needed to do and finally got the all clear. Just your luck, however, Bucky had come to ‘pick you up’ as Bruce finished up.

He looked at you a little worriedly as you quickly dropped your head low and averted your gaze, but Bruce was quick to cover your tracks.

“She’s all okay.” He informs Bucky, “Just had to flush her system out.” He goes on to explain everything he’d done (excluding the other things of course) and Bucky just nods, every so often looking over you to make sure you were okay.

He didn’t press anything though, despite the fact that you looked visibly upset. He had just assumed you were upset with him for letting it all happen. He said it himself, he vowed to protect you when he married you and he couldn’t even do that.

It was silent between the both of you as he walked you through the tower. He said something about taking you back to the room you’d be staying in while you’re here, so that was reassuring. You could do with a good sleep right about now.

You no longer cared if everyone was still in the living area by the time you entered the room. You didn’t really care about anything. They could all go to hell for all you cared. They never cared about you so why should you worry about them.

They’re not even there anyway, so it didn’t matter. But you still kept your head down as Bucky took you into the room you’d be staying in.

It was big. Too big maybe. Just reminded you of how much space you didn’t need.

Bucky said something along the lines of ‘make yourself at home’ or something but you barely heard it. Ever since you’d left Bruce’s lab, it was like there was this persistent rigging in your ears.

You just nodded to whatever Bucky had said and let your feet take you into the bathroom.

You needed a shower. You felt dirty. You just wanted to wash away all the imprints left on your body from the last 24 hours. And you needed to cry. Long and hard.

It was mostly silent, knowing Bucky was right outside the door and would most likely hear it if you just let go.

Again, you easily lost track of time and the only way you knew that you had spent way too long in the shower was your pruney fingers. Also Bucky’s soft knocking on the bathroom door with a call of your name.

You stopped the shower, but dreaded coming out. You somehow still looked a mess. It was definitely obvious that you had been crying, but maybe you could lie and say you just got soap in your eyes.

You didn’t respond to Bucky, but he didn’t bother you again.

Standing in front of the mirror now, you frowned softly at the reflection of your stomach. Bruce had said something about letting it pass, but something inside you still held onto strands of hope that it was still alive. Your stomach showed no physical indication of it, but a girl could dream, right?

Getting re-dressed into your clothes for the night and brushing out your wet hair, you sighed to yourself and swallowed a nervous breath before opening the bathroom door.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks almost immediately and it takes a lot in you to not just fall to the ground and cry.

Instead, you keep your eyes to the ground and just walk past him to the other side of the bed, “M’fine.” You mumble, shoving your legs under the covers.

It’s silent then and you think that he’d given up- left it at that. But no.

He sighs first, rubbing his hands over his face before turning to observe your turned back to him under the blanket. He wishes he could just reach out and hold you and apologise and tell you everything was gonna be okay- that things were about to be a lot different. But he could really only do one of those things right now.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” He says, but it’s sound more like a plead if anything, “I want nothing more than for you to be safe and healthy… It’s hard though with everything going on.” He waits for you to respond, in any way- a shrug, a nod, a twitch in your leg, but it never comes, so he just continues, “That’s why you’re gonna go to my safe house in Romania for a few weeks.”

Now he has your attention.

Coming to rest on your elbows now, you lift your upper half and turn your head to look at him- for some reason, you hoped to think that he was just joking, but his face told you he was dead serious, “What?” You ask, your voice a little hoarse as you raised the volume for the first time that day.

“Just until the war is over and Rumlow is dead.”

“Do I even get a choice?” You ask, cutting your eyes at him and trying to decipher what the fuck he’s getting at with this, “You wouldn’t even let me leave the house but you’ll gladly ship me off to some foreign country-“

“You’ll be allowed out over there.” He tries to add like it makes it any better.

“That’s not the fucking point, what about my say in this?” Your voice breaks countless times and you curse yourself for sounding so weak.

“You don’t know how dangerous it’s gonna get here. It’s not safe for you to be with me right now.” He argues back a little.

You just scoff in response, sitting up now and turning your back away from him, “Yeah.” You agree. Yeah, it not safe for you to be with him at all.

Catching your words, he gets a little angrier now, “It’s not like I wanted any of this to happen!” He instantly regrets his voice, seeing how you flinch a little and even from behind, he can see how you’re scared. But when he hears you cry, he didn’t realise you were that scared of him, “Y/N?” He stands from his side and rounds the bed to come to your side now, kneeling in front of you and taking your hands in his.

Tears continue to fall down your face and you try everything to hide away from Bucky, but it’s no use.

“I lost a baby.”

You don’t know what came over you to come clean, but the words came out faster than you realised. It was more of a whimper, and part of you hoped Bucky hadn’t heard it- but from the look on his face, you know he did.

“You- what?”

Wiping your eyes, it takes you a moment to speak, “Banner made me take a pregnancy test before I did my X-Ray and it came back positive.” Bucky’s eyes light up the tiniest bit hearing the more positive part of the story, despite fully knowing that you had still lost the baby, “But I lost it. He said that I was probably stressed, and also quaaludes aren’t supposed to be taken when pregnant.”

Shaking his head as you shamefully look down at him with tears streaming down your face, he gets up off his knees and wraps his arms around you.

You didn’t care whether or not he would want to have the baby with you or whether he even still loved you at that point. If he hated you for losing the baby, or if he thought your body was broken. You needed that fucking hug.

-

After watching you sleep for a good hour, making sure that you were properly down and finally at peace, Bucky stood on shaky legs and exited the bedroom, softly shutting the door behind him.

Without moving, he just rests his head against the door tiredly, shutting his eyes and allowed one lone tear to escape before wiping it at the sound of Steve behind him.

“You good?”

Turning around slowly, Bucky’s glad it was Steve to catch him instead of anyone else.

Shaking his head, Steve pulls his brows together concerned and steps closer to Bucky as he lets out a shaky breath, “Y/N was pregnant.” He finally reveals, heart dropping at the way Steve’s eyes lit up and then dimmed at the realisation of Bucky’s use of past tense… was, “She lost it.” Bucky painfully confirms.

Steve often knew what to do in a lot of situations that Bucky didn’t. But right now, Steve was stumped. He didn’t think there was any right thing to do in this situation actually, so instead he just pulls Bucky in for a much needed hug. It seems everyone needs one.

“I’m sorry, Buck.” He pats his back reassuringly.

Neither of them cared if someone were to walk in and see. Bucky didn’t care if he looked weak. He knew he was. He couldn’t even protect you, he couldn’t protect your unborn baby- he failed.

So he was going to do everything he could to redeem himself.

Pulling himself out of Steve’s embrace, he heads for Tony’s office, “I gotta see Tony-“

Steve is hot in Bucky’s trail, following after him closely knowing damn well this could go either one of two ways. Very good or very bad.

“Are you insane?” Tony asks, arms crossed as he stares Bucky down after hearing Bucky’s plea to hunt down Brock and kill him… now.

“No, I’m not. We can do it.”

“How? We only just found out what we’re dealing with.” Tony reminds him, pointing to his own chest. Brock was bold, smart and quick enough to kill Tony, what else was he capable of? Oh yeah, killing you and your baby, “We haven’t even discussed tactics, soldiers, a time, a damn place, Buck.”

“And? The best wars happened on a whim.” Bucky argues, continuing to stand his ground despite the many valid points Tony presents him.

“And too many people died. We’re not losing men for Rumlow. We devise a plan so that there’s no fatalities on our side- it’s simple as that and there’s no argument.” Tony says and it’s clear to everyone in the room that that’s the final decision.

But that doesn’t stop Bucky like it once would’ve, “Well, then I want to be the one to kill him.” He basically demands, a bold move that even has Steve’s heart racing in fear for his best friend, “I was the lead for the mission, I should get to do it.”

But Tony’s not as angry as everyone expected him to be, having just been ordered around. Instead, there’s a look of intrigue over his face as he leans against his desk, “Why? What’d he do to set you off?”

Looking over at Steve briefly, Bucky just now realises he has to come clean, “He almost killed you.” Bucky starts off with, too hesitant to say the next thing, but figured it’s best to just bite the bullet and come clean- as long as it lets him be the one to kill Brock, “He did the same to Y/N… And she was pregnant…”

Tony’s stare wavers as he blinks unceremoniously, “You idiot.” He stands from his desk now, pointing at Bucky, “You were strictly instructed not to get her pregnant-“

“She’s my wife.”

“Your fake wife! That you honestly should’ve divorced by now-“

“It’s not fake anymore. I love her.” Bucky confesses flat out, standing from his chair now too so that he’s face to face with Tony, “And it doesn’t even matter that I got her pregnant, okay? She lost the baby. Rumlow killed my fucking baby before I even knew it existed!”

There was a lot that made Tony Stark a ruthless business man. There was little that made him cry or even feel an ounce of sympathy. The same went for a lot of other men in the mob. But there was a big, thick red line that almost every man would draw, and that was at children. No child gets hurt.

For the first time in a long time, Tony’s features soften as he takes in Bucky’s words, “I’m sorry.”

“She didn’t deserve any of this.” Bucky shakes his head, not even berating himself for letting the tears start to fall in front of his very own boss- no matter how weak it made him seem, “We didn’t need to do all this to get the money-“

“Bucky, come on-“ Tony grabs at Bucky’s face to calm him down, using his thumbs to wipe away his tears, “Okay, I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. You’re right, she didn’t deserve any of this… and whether she did or not, he’s not getting away with killing any child.” Tony basically promises Bucky, “But we have to plan this carefully. I’ll let you call most of the shots, but you just have to trust me on this.”

“We start planning now.” Bucky demands and Tony just nods, staying true to his word, letting him call the shots,

“Okay.” He nods, patting his shoulder, “How about in the morning, I think everyone’s still sleeping-“ He smiles and also manages to get a small smile from Bucky.

-

Waking up in the soft, cushy, cold bed almost made you forget everything that had just happened in the last 24 hours. Almost. You don’t think it’s possible to ever forget losing a child.

Sitting up in bed now, you stare out the large window that oversees basically the whole of New York. You liked people watching whenever you were in high buildings- it gave you some kind of strange comfort knowing that you weren’t the only person in the world who was going through something. It reminded you that everyone had their own little lives, their own issues. Sometimes it would freak you out just how many people lived in New York also but that was a thought for another day.

The opening of the bedroom door made you turn your head, relief flooding through you that it was just Bucky and not one of his coworkers coming to kick you out.

He smiled at you warmly, muttering a small ‘hey’ and sitting next to you on the bed cautiously, “Are you feeling okay?”

All you can do is nod in response. It was a bit of a silly question, of course you weren’t okay, but you appreciated that he was… trying, “Are you still sending me to Romania?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” You’re a little caught by surprise at how he’s giving you the option to decide whether or not you want to go to Romania, as opposed to last night when it seemed as if he was just going to throw you onto the next flight and see you later. You shake your head, “Then no.” You sigh gladly and give him a small thankful smile, “I’m really sorry, for everything… I just wanted you safe.” He begins and today… you really feel like he’s being genuine. Moving a careful hand up, you interlock your hand with his and squeeze, sort of as a way of telling him that you forgive him, “I’m sorry.”

Looking up at him, closer than you’re used to, but not a complete stranger to, you finally see the dark circles under his eyes, his bloodshot eyes, the small stubble growing on his cheeks. Bringing up your other free hand, you caress the spiky stumble, “Are you okay?”

Smiling, he places a hand over yours and just holds it against his face for a moment, “Yeah, I’m okay.” He moves your hand and places a kiss to it before both of you move in sync to rest in each other’s embrace, a long awaited- and of course, very much need interaction, “I promise it’ll all be over soon.” He kisses into your hair.

You’d spent the rest of the day exploring the tower by yourself. You had nothing else to do and Bucky was- you guessed it- at work.

But he’d told you that tonight would be the last night he’d be at work for a long time and that after tonight, he wanted to plan a vacation with you. Anywhere of your choice.

The tower seemed like this never ending maze and you were surprised by just how much actually fit inside it.

By the time you’d seemingly explored every square inch of the building and returned back to the living area, it was empty. There were a few people lingering when you had began your journey, but they were seemingly long gone now.

You furrowed your brows, honestly a little unnerved at how eerily silent it now was. So, you sat yourself down on the plush couch and turned on the TV- which of course had every channel, movie and tv show that ever existed- which meant you were well-occupied until Bucky would come back from wherever the hell he was.

-

“Shit!” Steve mutters, clenching his eyes shut as he clutches his bleeding leg.

“Steve!” Bucky yells, looking over at his best friend on the ground, quite literally watched on helplessly as the bullet disappeared into Steve’s thigh.

Seeing Sam run toward Steve, Bucky’s blood boils as he searches frantically for Brock in the sea of flames and rubble. Spotting the little rat, Bucky quickly aims his gun and shoots blindly into the general direction.

He can’t see much, but from the way a loud yelp rings throughout the building, Bucky knows he hit someone.

Tony and Natasha run back to the car now, not a single scratch on them as they immediately aid Steve.

Seeing as everyone was making their way back to the cars now, it was clear that the warehouse had been cleared out and that many- if not all, of Brocks men had either been killed or scared off.

But that’s not what Bucky wanted. He wanted Brock dead and what Bucky wants, Bucky gets.

“Get him to the tower!” Bucky orders Sam before fully bottling towards the warehouse.

“Bucky!” He hears Tony yell, but ignores it as he pulls out his smaller pistol.

Entering the now desolate warehouse with multiple bodies covering the floor, Bucky can hear Rumlow scurrying about like the rodent he is and smiles to himself. Spotting the bundle of gas pipes with danger signs planted all along the walls above it, Bucky shoots each pipe until he hears the burst of each one.

Then, slowly back away from the pipes towards the door, he pulls out the lighter from his boot, flicks it on and chucks it straight to the gas-leaking pipes.

He runs as fast as his feet can take him, until he finds himself on the floor. The brunt of the explosion too big and loud for Bucky to keep running. But he’s not dead- well, he hopes not.

He sees a light- but usually there’s only one bright light, right? Why are there two?

Sam skids the car to a halt right in front of Bucky as Tony jumps out and pulls him into the car like he did with Steve not too long ago, before Sam is jumping back in the drivers seat and revving off back to the tower.

-

You were half asleep by the time you’d heard the rumble of commotion coming from the elevators.

Your eyes shot open and you frantically sat up, worried that it was all finally happening. ‘The war’ that Bucky had always talked about. They’d find you and torture you and keep you hostage- maybe even kill you.

As you come to your sense and look over at the elevator, you’re relieved to see Bucky- but that relief is short lived when you see him covered in dirt and blood, “Oh my God-“ You stand from the couch, gasping abruptly when you see the rest of them carrying Steve who looks close to passing out- possibly death if you didn’t know any better.

“Where’s Banner?” Bucky asks you, having tried reaching Bruce multiple times on the way here, to not avail.

“Wh- Supply run.” You answer, remembering him coming up to the floor you’re on now and informing you he’d be back soon.

“Fuck.” Bucky mutters, “Okay. Go upstairs-“

Ignoring Bucky’s order, too distracted in the way Steve is literally bleeding out all over the marble floor whilst the others cluelessly try and console him, you realise you have to step.

“Steve-“ You approach him as they set him on the couch, assessing the bullet wound in his thigh, you grab the think blanket draped over the end of the couch and rip a long strip off the end with ease, tying it harshly above Steve’s thigh to stop the bleeding. He winces in pain as you tie the knot and you feel so bad for hurting him, “I’m sorry.” Looking down at the bullet hole, you realise that it’s gonna be best if the fabric of his pants aren’t in the way, “Hey, stay awake.” You slap his face softly, seeing his eyes slowly drift close but jolt awake when you make contact with his skin.

“Banners coming up.” Bucky announces and you just nod.

“Someone get me scissors?” You ask frantically and Natasha quickly jogs to the kitchen and back with a pair of scissors. You continue to repeatedly apologise as you cut around the wound, removing the fabric from his sticky skin causing him to groan.

Once the fabric is removed and you feel you’ve done the best you could to make sure Bruce can properly remove the bullet, you slap Steve’s face a few more times to make sure he stays awake.

When Bruce arrives on the floor, he quickly takes over, not even bothering to move Steve to the med lab, instead just getting to work and removing the bullet.

You left the scene to go wash your hands. Somehow you’d managed to get Steve’s blood on your hands and shirt.

You hoped he was going to be okay. You’re almost certain he would be, but you hope he doesn’t have to amputate his leg or anything. Though, it would be cool you guess- especially because Bucky. Metal arm, metal leg. Besties.

After you changed your shirt and washed yourself clean, you exited the bathroom to find Bucky just now entering the bedroom.

“Is he okay?” You ask, assuming Banner had finished taking out the bullet from Steve’s leg now that Bucky was no longer out there.

“Yeah, he’ll be alright.” He nods, “Banner said you did good stopping the bleeding and keeping him awake.”

Whatever Bucky said, goes in one ear and out the other as you eye the blood spots that stain his shirt from the inside.

“You’re hurt.” You tell him, approaching him to get a proper look at his injuries which just so happen to be small cuts and forming bruises.

“I’m fine.” He waves you off, “I’m not shot.”

Shaking your head, you make him sit down on the bed and rifle through your duffel bag to fetch the first aid kit you saw in there once before.

Grabbing the rubbing alcohol and a few bandages you pour some of the liquid onto a cotton pad before softly pressing it against the fresh cuts, the sting causing Bucky to flinch and wince.

“Sorry.” You apologise, wiping the cuts clean so that they won’t infect into something much worse, and bandaging them up.

“Thanks.” He mumbles after you patch up the last small injury, smiling down at you as you pack away the things back into the kit.

“Did you kill that guy?” You ask curiously, connecting the dots earlier that ‘The War’ had in fact started and was the cause of the teams dishevelled state.

“Probably.” Bucky shrugs, “Blew up his warehouse with him inside it. Killed all his men. If I didn’t kill him, then it definitely won’t be long. He can’t survive without them.”

“That’s good.” You nod, and despite the fact that Bucky didn’t exactly know for sure if he had killed that Brock guy, you still felt an abundance of relief knowing he probably wouldn’t be causing you any trouble anytime soon, “Y-you should shower.”

“Do I stink that bad?”

“You’ll thank me later.”

-

Despite Bucky promising you that after yesterday, he’d take you on a long vacation to any location of your choosing, that wasn’t exactly the case.

There were a lot of legal matters to take care of to cover their tracks in killing all of Rumlows men and Tony and Bucky had basically worked with their authority friends all day to conjure up an alibi as to what happened that night that wouldn’t land them all in prison.

You didn’t entirely mind. Now wasn’t the exact appropriate time to go on vacation anyway and besides, if you were on vacation, then who would look out for Steve?

Everyone else was so busy dealing with the aftermath of the war that you were really the only person who had time for Steve. But that was okay. Steve meant a lot to you- he was always so nice to you and you knew he’d probably do the same for you if Bucky wasn’t able.

You spent most hours of the day by his side in his recovery room, mostly just watching TV, but every so often monitoring his heart rate and vitals.

He’d lost a lot of blood, especially since no one had stopped the bleeding from the location to the tower and thus, he entered a coma whilst Bruce took the bullet out.

“Anything?” Bucky enters the room, startling you a little as you watched the TV on low volume.

“Hasn’t moved a muscle.” You shake your head, rubbing your thumb over Steve’s hand, “Do you think he’ll wake tomorrow?”

“Probably.” Bucky nods, “Banner said 2-3 days and Steve’s a unit.” You smile a little. Yeah, Steve was a fucking unit. Rubbing your shoulder, Bucky turns off the TV in front of you,“Come on, he’ll be okay. Come to bed.”

You set Steve’s room back into place, cleaning up your mess and tucking him in for the fifth time that day before placing a kiss to his head and wishing him goodnight.

Turning back around, you smiled as you saw Bucky tick his jaw playfully, “Oh, stop. He’s like my brother-in-law.”

“You never kiss me on the head like that.”

“You’re never in a coma.”

-

As you watch an episode of SpongeBob, your head whips around to Steve as you hear him shift in his sleep. Pausing the episode, you place your hand over his and watch as his eyes slowly flutter open.

“Hey,” You speak a little too loud, excitement taking over you as Steve finally wakes up, “How’re you feeling?”

He swallows before speaking, “I’ve seen better days.”

You smile as he offers you the smallest grin, so glad that he’s okay. Reaching over to his mini fridge, you pull out a bottle of cold water and Gatorade, handing them to him as he sits up slowly, “Here.”

He takes the Gatorade first, indulging the first few sips since it’s been two whole days since he’s had any kind of refreshment.

“You took care of me.” He says matter of factly as he puts down the bottle.

You roll your eyes, abashed, “I stopped the bleeding. Banner saved your leg from amputation.”

He opens his mouth to speak again, but Bucky’s booming voice entering the room catches his attention instead, “He’s alive!”

Standing from your seat, you let Bucky and the rest of the team catch up with Steve, telling him all about what happened with Brock.

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” You turn at the sound of an unfamiliar voice at your ear, heart picking up when you see who it belongs to.

Tony stands before you, and you know better than to turn him down, “Sure.” You hate the way your voice quakes a little when you answer him, following him on nervous legs as he nods to the living room.

You don’t exactly know what you expected him to say to you- or do to you. Part of you was scared he’d kill you- for what reason you weren’t sure but the possibility was definitely out there.

“You helped save one of my men.” He starts off with, your heart rate going back to normal as his face doesn’t seem as stern and he sounds… grateful? “I’m sorry I never really opened up to you. You’ve got your dads eyes and your moms smile…”

Blinking up at him, your mouth opens and closes like a stupid fish as you take in his words, “You knew my parents?”

“Somewhat.” He shrugs, “Weren’t on good terms when they passed. I guess I took my guilt out on you, you look so much like the both of them it’s actually kinda scary.” You had absolutely no idea. If you’d known he knew your parents, maybe you would’ve felt a little safer with him- or not. Because he was lying… “I’m sorry… redo?” He holds his hand out for you and you shake it immediately.

No matter what had happened in the past few days, things were really starting to look up. Bucky was a lot happier and had a lot more time with you. Natasha and Wanda even talked to you a few times.

Though, you had a few moments where you’d remember… you know, but Bucky was always there to console you.

So, you were very open to redos. New beginnings.

-

It was about a week later that it was deemed safe to go back home. At that point, however, you barely wanted to go back because you were having so much fun at the tower with everyone.

But, you knew that the quicker you were gone, the quicker you and Bucky could go on that vacation.

Practically jumping out of the car- both in excitement and because it was literally too high from the ground.

“Nope.” Bucky shakes his head, rounding the car from the passenger side and stalking towards you, dipping down and picking you up bridal style.

You squeal in surprise, but let him carry you up the stairs of the house.

You giggle as he struggles to unlock the front doors many locks, as well as hold you up while you press kisses to his neck.

He kicks open the door once he finally unlocks every lock and you bite his neck when he squeezes your ass.

“Let’s get married again.” You almost don’t hear it, because he said it so abruptly and you were in the middle of laughing,“Properly.”

“Wha- why?” You ask, halting all playful actions.

“Because,” He shrugs, “You deserve a proper wedding.”

Bringing your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to contain your smile, you nod, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

wtf shut up if this is bad i’m sorry

if you guys like this, i may do a part two bc there is still a lot that needs fo be unpacked but lol

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