#I’ve cried nearly every day the past week over this

[0ccams-chainsaw]

Genuinely how do I cope with not ever meeting David Bowie and never seeing him preform live and I never will and I don’t get to experience the albums as they come out or hear him on the radio or be blown away by the music videos help

[gffa]

Did you know I’ve probably cried like a dozen times from BATFAMILY fic over the last two weeks? I’m not a big cryer, so that’s saying something for me, by which I mean, I realize I have some incredibly intense feelings about fictional characters, but also fandom is phenomenal about hitting those feelings dead on in exactly the way they mean to do. And it’s great, hell yeah make me cry buckets in emotional catharsis!! And then balance it out with comfort or humor because my soul needs soothing, too! I have been reading so many comics lately (so many good comics, what is this, I’m not used to having comics I actually think are good) and I love the canon so very much, but part of the draw towards this fandom has always been the enthusiastic fic response, the willingness to explore things the comics themselves don’t always have time for, whether aftermath of events or psychological effects that aren’t necessarily intended but are fascinating to consider or just straight up downtime that’s not about a case because fic doesn’t need to make people punch things in every issue. The two go hand in hand for me and getting fun comics to read and fun fic to read has been really meaningful to me in a time when I’ve really needed that in my life. I hope that I can return the favor even a little by shoving a bunch of fics at you and only making you scroll a little to get through my Dick Grayson Problem. BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I’M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ May Our Memories Light The Way by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce, time travel, 1.9k      Bruce travels into the past and serves up an apology long over-due. ✦ Late Spring by halyordan, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.5k      Dick gets in his first ‘fight’ at school. Luckily, Bruce was an angry boy once. He knows how to deal with it. ✦ the color violet by TheResurrectionist, dick & bruce & cast, 2.6k      The address – 1007 Mountain Drive – told Alex two things: one, their patient was either going to be someone unreasonably wealthy or an unlucky service worker, and two, getting to the actual patient was going to be a bitch. ✦ as i was walkin’ by oh_fudgecakes, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.6k      Bored and chased out of the kitchen by an irate Alfred, a young Dick Grayson falls through a loose floorboard while exploring the attic and ends up in an locked storeroom housing an interesting set of journals. ✦ help me fill this hole in my soul by renecdote, dick & bruce & cast, 5.9k      Dick nearly drowns on patrol one night. He’s fine, except that he really isn’t. Alfred and Bruce take care of him when he gets sick and let him know that even though his parents are gone he isn’t alone. ✦ medio by newsical, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.1k      Loss, again. This loss was by his hand, by his own tongue, with words so sharply edged that they tore apart his mouth and left his lips bloody. The manor was silent, and he was alone. And Alfred’s half birthday was in three days. ✦ My Little Bird (is a Troublemaker) by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & clark & cast, 10.9k      No, not good enough, thought Bruce as he gripped the boy’s shoulders in his hands. Dick still didn’t move and the man had to resist the violent urge to shake the answer out of him. This wasn’t his little bird. This wasn’t his Robin, he would never do something like this. Dick gets caught drunk, Bruce loses it. ✦ things kept hidden by emavee, dick & bruce & cast, 9.7k      “Better hope the Batman doesn’t catch wind of you. Batman hates metas. He’ll make you disappear. That’s what he does.” “But I’d never hurt anyone,” Dick stammers. He doesn’t know very much about Batman, but he’s a hero, right? He fought crime, like Superman, and Superman was a hero. Right? ✦ (Not) Enough by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.3k      After the training simulation goes wrong, Bruce takes his kid home. ✦ i can’t promise (it’s not written in the stars) by konan_konan, dick & bruce & alfred & cast, 7.3k      Batman is following him, surely, but he’s smaller and faster and he’s not going to let someone take him and lock him up again. Wayne Manor, he’s learned, is just another kind of prison. It may be big and fancy but it is also empty and cold and he’s not going back. Tony Zucco dies tonight, he tells himself. It is the only thing that matters. ✦ what’s needed most by dizarys, dick & bruce & alfred, 1k      Dick wants to fly. Bruce would like that to not involve giving him a heart attack for once. ✦ two sheep counted, but not enough to sleep by batofgoodintent (crownedcrusader), dick & bruce, 1.8k      Dick hasn’t been sleeping. It’s a problem Bruce should have addressed by now. BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ (At the Very Least), I Can by sElkieNight60, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian, 3k      “… something is wrong.” That was Bruce’s voice, he would know it anywhere. OR, Dick Grayson + Full Body Paralysis ✦ Catch by sElkieNight60, bruce & dick, 2k      Raptor has Bruce in dire straits. Nightwing catches Bruce as he falls. Then it turns out Bruce never fell at all, he jumped. “Dick. I didn’t fall. I jumped. I jumped because I knew you’d catch me.” Childhood trauma never truly goes away, it seems. OR, the emotional aftermath of “Better than Batman.” ✦ Call Me if You Need Me by LiterallyThePresident, bruce & dick & alfred, 1.1k      “Master Bruce is rather distraught, you see.” and now Alfred sounded pained, “The dose he received was not enough to render him immobile, but it is causing some paranoia and unpleasant hallucinations. He… Well, he appears to be rather convinced that something has happened to you.” BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ Sons and Fathers by FabulaRasa, dick & bruce & jefferson & dick/babs, 4.9k     Dick has three conversations that needed to be had, at the end of season three. This is blatantly a “there I fixed it” fic. ✦ The Best Medicine by JpegDotJpeg, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cass, 2.2k      “I’m dying.” “You are not dying.” “This is it. It’s the end for me. I bet I have some exotic viral disease with no known cure and now I’m going to waste away into nothingness.” “I highly doubt that, Master Richard.” ✦ Look to the Stars by Zephyrra, dick & bruce & jason & hal & alfred & cast, lantern!dick, 8.3k      After Batman fires Robin for the last time, Dick becomes a Flying Grayson in an entirely new way: by becoming a Green Lantern. But no matter what kind of mask he dons, Dick Grayson has a way of (accidentally) changing history irrevocably. This is only the beginning. ✦ the courage of stars by theragingstorm, dick & clark/lois & jon & cast, 1.8k      When he really needs somebody, Dick goes to Metropolis. ✦ a great honour (to hold you up) by dizarys, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke, 2.6k      “For the last time, I’m not getting sick!” Jason and Tim exchanged skeptical looks behind Dick’s back. “You’re pale, shivering, and wince every time your bare skin touches the cold metal desk.” Jason ticked off on grease smeared fingers, “Sounds sick to me.” “Wonderful observations, Holmes.” Dick muttered, still looking through the microscope. “What does Watson have to add?” “That first of all, I’m Sherlock.” said Tim, “And my associate is correct. You should go get some rest.” ✦ i am tired of all these motherfuckin’ bombs on these motherfuckin’ spaceships by konan_konan, dick & bruce & damian & titans & background dick/kory & justice league, 4.5k      “Those generators won’t last long,” barks Batman. “We’re losing our window. What other plan do you propose, Nightwing?” He huffs. “I’m gonna blow up the ship.” or: when the justice league gets stranded in space, the teen titans come to the rescue. it doesn’t exactly go to plan. BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I’M GONNA THROW HIM AT HIS SIBLINGS BECAUSE IT’S FUNNY: ✦ abyssal plain by glassofwater, dick & jason, 3.5k      “What did you do?” “Exactly what he said. I killed him.” ✦ Bang, bang by Ididloveyou_once, tim & jason & cast, 5.5k      ‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’ Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then- ‘Don’t tell Bruce.’ ✦ Break the Ice by dizarys, dick & jason, 1.5k      He felt the blades pierce his body. It was at the height of his leap, back arched as he sprang backwards over the car. A bolt of searing hot pain shot through his side then thigh. But Nightwing still landed with grace and flung his escrima sticks straight into two gang members’ heads. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I’M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Not Quite Saudade by Wisptheraccoon, dick & damian & bruce & jason & tim & alfred & jon, 3.1k      Aka. The reason Dick is no longer allowed to leave on long missions without Damian. ✦ Scorpion-grass by Ididloveyou_once, dick & damian & bruce & tim, 2.9k      Damian gets hit with fear toxin and is forced to relive Dick losing his memories… Dick could’ve gone without knowing how the kid reacted to his amnesia. ✦ what’s waited till tomorrow starts tonight by theragingstorm, dick & damian & john/mary & cast, time travel, 63.4k wip      After an argument with his Batman, Dick Grayson, Damian finds himself in Dick’s past, with one of his greatest tragedies fast approaching and no easy route forward for either. As long as he risks being stuck seventeen years in the past, all he can do is live at the circus, with a family he never knew — and just maybe learn from it all. BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY’RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ When Wisdom Must Go by AnicomicQueen, bruce & dick & tim, 5.1k      Bruce experiences taking his children to get their wisdom teeth removed. Chapter 1: Dick (Age: 17) Chapter 2: Tim (Age: 16) ✦ So you’ll know where I’ve been by victoria_p (musesfool), jason & steph, 2.1k      “I just noticed your scars.” “We all have—Oh.” Jason drops his gaze again, runs his fingers along the faded incision on the left side of his chest. “No one else has one of these.” ✦ and when you’re in the trenches by dizarys, jason & tim & dick, 4.3k      When Jason stumbles across a shocking discovery, he’s forced to decide how much he truly cares about the people he used to call family. ✦ The Kids Are All Right by Browniesarethebest, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred, 11.4k      Dick and Tim are de-aged. It goes about as well as anyone would expect. ✦ World’s Saddest Breakfast Club by motleyfam, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & cass & steph & duke & cast, 7k      Following a couple of Very Bad Weeks™ (which may or may not have involved being kidnapped and mildly tortured), Jason decides the best way to cheer himself up is to break into the Manor for a 3 a.m. snack. Turns out he isn’t the only one awake. BATFAM FIC RECS - I CUT MY TEETH ON DICK & TIM AS CLOSE BROTHERS AND NOT EVEN CANON WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME: ✦ Not So Large but Definitely In Charge by dottie_dc (dottie_wan_kenobi), dick & tim & bruce & alfred, 6.7k      Alternate universes suck so much. Tim has always known that, but he’s never really grasped it, not until he and Dick were forcibly thrown into one a week ago. ✦ there’ll always be a few things, maybe several things by incogneat_oh, dick & tim, ~1k      Tim breaks the silence, half-glancing over his shoulder to murmur, “Pop-culture has taught me that you’re supposed to seek out your parent in the middle of the night. Not your sibling.” “Pop-culture isn’t a perfect teacher, Timmy.” ✦ will we ever get to the other side? by dizarys, dick & tim, 4.8k      Blockbuster is dead and Dick is lost. Haunted by that night and no longer Nightwing, he flees Gotham only to find himself back in Bludhaven on mob business. Now Robin is the city’s new protector and Dick is determined to avoid Tim & his old life. That is, until he finds Tim bleeding in an alley. ✦ World Gone MAD by Havendance, dick & tim & justice league, 5.5k      Ask the GCPD about the Joker’s death, and they’ll tell you he died of natural causes. Ask the Justice League, and they’ll tell you that it’s a matter that’s been resolved internally. Ask Batman and he won’t give you an answer, because he’s Batman. The truth of the matter, however, is this: Dick Grayson beat the Joker to death. ✦ Wake Me Up Before You Go Go by incogneat_oh, dick & tim, ~1k      He’s already halfway up the stairs, towards the window on the second floor landing, when Dick says, “Tim.” He turns back, says wide-eyed and guilty, “Mhm? Can I– I’ll get you a blanket? If you want?” – Or, Tim visits Dick in Bludhaven. ✦ unleash the beast (with a kiss on the cheek) by InkpotSprite, dick & tim & bruce & jason & stephanie, 1.3k      Dick’s chest tightened as his lips parted to say something that he’d truly regret. Before a soft pair of lips pressed against his cheek, then disappeared so quickly that Dick was almost sure he’d imagined it. If it weren’t for Bruce’s fractionally wide eyes, Dick would think he had. Slowly, he turned his head to the side. Tim smiled back at him. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE’S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ cat tactic of healing by CarrionCarnival, tim/kon, 2.1k      Kon finds a moderately sick Tim, and decides that it’s his problem to solve. feline style ✦ In the Corner Taking up Space by Louis_the_Snake, tim/kon & cast, NSFW, 5.1k      Tim gets roped into doing a simple modeling gig for Wayne Fashion with some of his siblings and realizes that everyone he knows is way hotter than he is. And the hottest thing about him is his ass. Which ends up plastered in every major city in the U.S. ✦ Thief by rotasha, tim/kon, NSFW, 1.8k      Kon walks in on Tim wearing his leather jacket. ✦ only touched you once by distracted_dragon, tim/kon, NSFW, 1.8k      Kon decides to tease Tim a little with his TTK. ✦ Missing Words by Violet_Witch, tim/kon & cassie, 6.9k      It takes Tim years to realize what’s always been there. ✦ What’s Real and What Isn’t by JpegDotJpeg, tim/kon & bart, 2.3k      Kon’s eyes almost glow in the dark, a luminescent blue so vivid Tim almost can’t stand looking at them, though he has a harder time trying to look away from them. “I thought you were having a nightmare or something. Your heart was beating so hard it woke me up.” Tim feels himself a flush. He can’t even sleep without bothering someone else. “Oh,” He replies, voice small. “Sorry. I’m fine, you can go back to sleep.” “You’re shaking,” Kon points out and Tim curses internally. ✦ you taught me the courage of stars before you left by popsunner, tim & kon & bruce & damian & lois & jon & cassie & cast, 6k      “He loved you, you know,” She says wistfully, meeting his eyes. Tim looks away. “I loved him too.” “Love.” “What?” “Love,” she repeats. “Not loved. He might be gone, but we don’t love him any less.“ BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR: ✦ Arguments with the Recently Deceased by JackHawksmoor, dick & bruce & clark & tim & cast, 7.9k      Dick just got back from a lousy, week-long adventure traveling in time. When his ride drops him off at the cave the morning after he left, Dick isn’t expecting to find Bruce in the middle of a complete meltdown. Dick realizes there’s been a mistake- Dick hasn’t been gone six hours, he’s been gone six months, and everyone thinks he’s dead. ✦ Solar Flares by glassofwater, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cast, 46.1k wip      Personhood, noun: the quality or condition of being an individual person. Son, noun: a man regarded as the product of a particular person, influence, or environment. Dick Grayson, noun: oldest son of Bruce Wayne, first son of Batman (i.e., a sum of parts, not a whole) ✦ Starlings in Winter by FromStarstuff, dick & bruce & clark & alfred & cast, 14.3k wip      When Dick was eleven years old he ran away from Gotham. No one could quite figure out why. Take your pick; there was a fight at school, a circus in town, and a song he can’t remember the melody of. Eleven-year-old Dick Grayson was flooded with grief, swimming in it, perpetually drowning. One day it was too much. ✦ Going Nuclear by wrsttballplayer, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cass & steph & alfred, time travel, 15.3k wip      Dick looked at his younger self; the way his brow twisted up in so much anger and his was chest heaving with pure vitriol. Dick remembered what fury like that felt like. He remembered the way it burnt in his throat. He used to spew that poison at Bruce all the time, hell even the Titans had gotten the bad end of his temper more than once. And yet, Dick couldn’t place the last time he had been mad like that. Nowadays, all his anger died into withering flames of resignation and compromise more often than not. ✦ Why Is Tim the Only One With Any Tact? by CamsthiSky, dick & tim & wally, 4.1k      In which Tim tries to mediate an argument between Dick and Wally. Things don’t go so well. ✦ You Won’t Wake Up Alone by DawnsEternalLight, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian, 5.2k      Dick’s captured and drugged and probably about to die. The last thing he wants to do is die in front of his family, especially not his baby brothers, all he wants is to be with Bruce and feel safe again. ✦ Hold Me Dear and Close to Your Heart by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & cast, 3.8k      Dick Grayson leaves his whole life behind when Bruce Wayne kicks him out. ✦ the flute of your whole existence by LovesFrogs, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & alfred, 4.2k     He could voice his greatest fears, weaknesses, or most secret dreams at the drop of a hat; all the things he’s never put into words before and keeps tucked close between his ribs. What kind of ammunition is his son going to ask for? What will he make Bruce admit, knowing he is incapable of a lie? ✦ The Kids Are(n’t?) Alright by avengemyheart, dick & bruce & tim & alfred & cast, rape aftermath, 3k      Dick saves a young rape victim from his babysitter and in the process reveals his own trauma. The problem? Dick is Batman at the time, and kids are blabber mouths. ✦ Cursed Silence by TheSilencer, dick & bruce & jason & tim & steph & cast, 3.4k      Dick Grayson is given a gift - to seal away his emotions. No one has a good time. ✦ Peeking Through the Tunnel Beyond by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & cast, read the tags, 2.4k      Or, Dick Grayson just can’t seem to free himself from his past. And this time, Bruce is there. ✦ soft clocks by dustorange, dick & bruce & damian & jason & tim & alfred & tiger & cast, 35.2k      Dick has amnesia during his time at Spyral. The family grapples with finding out he’s alive. Dick grapples with finding out he has a family. ✦ Never Say That by JackHawksmoor, bruce & dick & jason & damian & cast, 9.6k      "Calm down, I’m not aiming for anything vital,” Jason said irritably. Batman turned away from the man he’d just floored. “We agreed-” he began sharply. “I didn’t promise anything,” Jason snapped. He lifted his gun, muttering under his breath. “You ought to be grateful, it could be worse-” Or: the Bats have an extremely bad night in Gotham City BATFAM FIC RECS - SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED TO TAKE ALL THE SERIOUSNESS OUT OF THE ROOM AND STAY SILLY FOR AWHILE: ✦ there but for the grace of god by TheResurrectionist, hal & dinah & ollie & flash & j'onn & bat-kids & young justice & justice league, 3.7k      A Justice League fic where everyone argues about who’s the most beautiful and intimidating sexy from the Big Three and everyone has valid points. ✦ The One With The Bat’s Son by Maximum_Quinn, bruce & dick & wally & hal & billy, 3.4k      “Batman has seven kids.” Wally blinked. “You’re shitting me.” “Not even a little, I just overheard him and Supes talking.” “Oh my god,” he breathed, staring at Hal incredulously. “You don’t think -?” Hal nodded, slowly and seriously. “Batman could be Captain Marvel’s dad.”

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 43

Synopsis : Reader tries to distract Em from his disappointment.

Author’s note : Thank you (as usual) to @shady-577 who agreed to read this beforehand. And thank you to all of you who have been reading my stuff lately ❤️. I don’t have time to reply to every single Ask you send but I see all the love and I’m grateful for it 🥰

- Marshall, you’re going to kill me ! You nearly cried as the love of your life planted a kiss on your neck, signaling he was ready for yet another round.

- Of course not, he cooed. You’ve got more in you.

- I don’t think I do, you panted. I’m exhausted.

- Fine, he said with a small pout before kissing your temple. I guess I can wait a bit.

It had been nearly a week since he last set foot in the studio and, instead of working on his music, he had apparently decided to work on your cardio. Judging by his efforts in the bedroom, he was trying to determine how many orgasms it would take to kill you. He seemed to be horny all the time and, what was all fun and games in the first days of him staying home turned out to be exhausting. Sure, it seemed like champagne problems. Too much pleasure, too many orgasms… a lot of women would argue that, at least, you were with a man who put your pleasure first and foremost and that you were lucky. But you had reached the point of exhaustion. You were even starting to doubt whether or not Marshall was taking stimulants because it made absolutely no sense for a man his age to have such insane stamina. Thank God, he was just as skilled and attentive when it came to aftercare and, each time you reached your limits, he made up for it by dotting on you. Plus, with your thumb being broken, he was extra attentive. For the past seven days, he had been all over you and you hadn’t been able to get much done. Arguably, your broken thumb had been a pain in the ass but it didn’t help that Marshall wouldn’t let you leave the bedroom.

You let your head roll on the pillow while Marshall got up and went to the bathroom to draw a bath for the both of you. God knows your sore muscles needed it. You joined him a couple of minutes later and found him inspecting his face in the mirror.

- Your beard is getting too long, old man, you giggled. You need to trim it.

- You think ? He asked.

- I know, you said with a smirk. With the amount of time you spend with your face between my legs, I can feel it.

- Oh, he simply chortled. Sorry about that, babe. Yeah I haven’t trimmed it in a minute. I keep up with it when I go to work, usually but… you know.

- Yeah, about that, you hummed. When do you think you’ll go back ?

He sighed and looked at you, arms crossed over his chest. He didn’t seem too happy with the question but you knew you had to bring it up anyway. You stared at him, waiting for an answer.

- I’m not going back, he simply said.

- Marshall, you said softly.

- What ? He sighed. Don’t you like having me home ? We’re having a good time !

- You know it’s not that, you said softly as you cupped his face. But now that you’re talking about it… I don’t think my body can take it. Nor can the checklist of everything I need to do for the wedding. I’m behind on everything !

- Come on, he said with an eye roll. It’s not that bad.

- Twelve, you simply said.

- Twelve what ? He asked.

- That’s the number of times we did it yesterday, you giggled.

- If you were still able to count, I guess I didn’t do a great job, he said with a smirk before grabbing your waist. Might have to correct that.

- I swear to God, if you try this, I will cry, you giggled.

He chuckled and pulled you into his warm embrace as you both watched the water fill the tub.

- Are you going to share your secret, though ? You asked as you nuzzled his chest.

- Secret ? He asked.

- How do you do it ? You giggled. Viagra ?

- No, he chuckled. But judging by your complaints, if I were to take that, I would break you. I don’t know, I’ve always had a high sex drive.

- It’s through the roof, these days, though, you pointed out.

- I tend to have some phases I go through, he shrugged. I work like that. I find something and I pour all of my energy into that. Like when I got back to exercising when I got sober. I tend to hyper focus on things and not half-ass it.

- I see, you hummed. So… it’s not because I’m irresistible ?

- What ? Of course, he said. I didn’t-

- Relax. I’m just joking, you said before kissing his pec. I get it. Plus, sex is great when it comes to getting your mind off things.

- Right, he nodded. I need that, lately.

You hummed and entered the bathtub. You sat in silence, enjoying the warm water and Marshall’s embrace, gently stroking his arm.

- You know you can talk to me, right ? You nudged him.

- I know, he sighed. I just… I’m so used to pouring all of my energy into my work that now, I don’t even know what to do with myself. I have this anger, this energy…

- Have you tried writing about it ? You suggested. That usually works for you.

- I can’t, he groaned. Because if I write about it, I have to do the whole thing. Again, I can’t half-ass it. So I have to record it, speak it, rap it. I have thousands of recorded verses, just to ease my mind. I know it’s fucked up, but that’s how I work. But I can’t do that now because it doesn’t feel like a safe space anymore. Because some nasty shit I do might get leaked. And I can’t trust anyone, now.

You nodded and squeezed his hand, encouraging him to keep talking.

- And even if I could, I wouldn’t trust myself, he continued. Because… look at what happened. I hurt you. I fucked us over.

- We could always put the home studio back together ? You offered. No iCloud, all analog, you wouldn’t have to see anyone…

- I don’t want that shit in our home, he said as he shook his head. If I’m honest, I should have tossed it away a long time ago. When I was at the height of my addiction, I used to go to the basement and get high all the time. I don’t have good memories. But it’s also hard because rapping… it’s all I have, you know ? I’m just frustrated. Whatever. It’ll pass. I talked to the therapist about it. I’m working through it but it takes time. That’s tough to swallow.

- Right, you hummed. But… in the meantime, you’re just… not working ?

- I guess, he shrugged. It’s just as well, though. I guess being home will be good for me. For us. We’re still working through our own issues, doing therapy. We could use some time just the two of us.

- I like having you with me, you said lovingly. I just want to make sure you’re ok. So… are you ?

- I don’t know, he said earnestly. Honestly, I don’t think so. I’m mad at tracy for the shit she pulled. I’m fucking livid ! And it’s not only about the leak, you know ? But she was my friend ! She worked with me for almost a quarter of a century. Nevermind the fact that we dated, but she was there for every important moment of my life. Not just my career, bu my personal life, too ! She was almost an aunt to the girls, you know ? When I was heartbroken, I can’t even tell you about the number of times she was there for me. She was always the one telling me I deserved to be happy, she supported me in everything I did ! She was just as important as Paul. You haven’t been alive long enough to know what it’s like to be betrayed by someone who’s been in your life and working alongside you for this long but I can tell you… It fucking hurts. I always thought « If I can’t trust Tracy, I can’t trust anyone ». Well… I guess I can’t trust anyone. I really can’t. It feels like I’ve been lied to for the past twenty-five years.

- I hate to be the one saying this, but what she did, however vile, doesn’t erase most of the good times you had, you said tentatively.

- No but it does, he said. She ruined the most important things for me ! By leaking that fucking track, she hurt you, she ruined your reputation, she ruined my relationship with my daughters and she ruined the thing that makes me feel alive : music ! How the fuck am I supposed to go back to work after this ? I was fucked over ! All the things I worked so hard to build protect, they’re fucking gone !

You stared at him and saw tears well in his eyes, a mix of sadness and anger. His baby blue eyes gazed into yours before looking away as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

- I’m sorry, he mumbled. That needed to come out. I shouldn’t bother you with that shit. You have enough on your plate as it is. You’ve been through a lot and it’s my fault.

- Babe, no ! You immediately interjected. I did ask if you were ok and I’m glad you were honest. You’re allowed to be honest and vulnerable.

- That’s exactly how I feel, he sighed. Vulnerable. You know, when I was a scrawny kid whose life sucked, music was my safe space. It’s what made me feel good, allowed me to feel tough. I can’t tell you how amazing it felt, the day I realized I was good at rapping. I decided that I wanted to do it for the rest of my life. And it allowed me to channel all the feelings that were overwhelming for me. And even later, when so much shit went down… It fucking saved my life. So now, not feeling confident, and having been fucked over by one of he people I built everything with… It fucking sucks. I’ve spent the past week trying not to think about it. Every time I do, I feel fucking helpless.

You nodded sympathetically and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes before pulling you closer to him and burying his face in your neck. You weren’t used to seeing him so vulnerable and, even in the rare instances he was, he usually wasn’t so vocal about his feelings. You were happy he had finally spoken about it, and that he felt safe enough with you to tell you how he really felt. You held him and ran a hand in his back, gently stroking his skin, feeling him ease up against you.

- It feels good, he whispered. Thank you.

- You don’t have to thank me, you hummed. I love you. I want to be here for you, take care of you…

- It’s my job, though, he mumbled.

- It’s a two-way street, you know ? You giggled. We can take care of each other.

- I like that, he nodded with his eyes closed. I love you.

- I love you too, you replied lovingly. Now how about we get up, put on some clothes and watch Superbad ?

- I thought you didn’t like that movie ? He asked.

- I just don’t love it as much as you do, you shrugged. Plus, I know it’s your favorite.

He smiled against your skin and you stayed in each other’s arms for a few minutes before getting out of the bathtub. You got dressed and you ordered Marshall to get in bed while you went downstairs and prepared some snacks for the two of you. You were putting everything on a tray in the kitchen when he walked in.

- I told you to stay upstairs, you scolded.

- How are you going to carry everything, smart-ass ? He asked.

- With one hand, you shrugged.

- So that I have to get up and clean after your clumsy ass once everything’s on the floor ? Don’t think so, he chuckled. You don’t have to take care of me, you know ?

- I know. I want to, though, you assured him.

- What do you have in mind, then ? He mused.

- Well, believe it or not, I don’t really have a « my boyfriend’s been fucked over by a longtime friend and employee who turned out to be a bitch » protocol in place. So I’m giving you the « heartbroken bestie » treatment, you said.

- Which is ?

- It involves a bed, a movie, tons of snacks and cuddles. A face mask if you feel like it.

- I guess it’s worth a try, he said with a smile. Thanks, babe.

You went upstairs and stuck to the plan. You were in Marshall’s arms while you both watched the movie and he mindlessly played with your hair. A funny scene came on and you noticed he was not even paying attention to the movie.

- You’re not laughing ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

- What ? He asked. Oh. Yeah.

- It’s not working very well, is it ? You asked.

- No, it is, he shrugged. I mean… I don’t know. I’m just thinking about a lot of stuff. It’s hard to turn my brain off. I’m sorry. Does it usually work when one of your friends gets dumped ?

- Sometimes, you shrugged. If memory serves, putting on slutty dresses and going dances can work too, but I’m sensing it’s not for you. Though your music videos prove that you’ve worn your fair share of slutty dresses. Or… We could go for a drive.

- Sounds good, he said as he got up. We haven’t left the house in a week.

- Whose fault is that ? You asked with a grin.

- Mine, I know, he chuckled.

- I liked the drives we used to go on, you commented. I remember the first one. It was great.

- When I took you to the observatory, when we met ?

- No, the time we went for a drive in the Aston Martin, you corrected. Right after our first movie night. I remember feeling so good with you. Thinking « wow, he’s great in bed and I love being in the car with him ».

- It was fun, he nodded.

- And then, you broke my heart, you recalled. When you said nothing would happen between us, ever again.

- Stupidest thing I’ve ever said, he chuckled. Because I’m fucking glad we’re together. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

You squeed and kissed him before getting up and putting some shoes on. You headed to the garage where Marshall let you pick a car for your drive. On an everyday basis, he usually drove the Escalade because it was more practical and less flashy than the others, but night drives like this were an opportunity to enjoy his impressive car collection. You settled for the Lamborghini Aventador, much to his delight. You knew it was one of his favorites. As you were exiting the garage, he looked at you with a mischievous grin.

- The point of this whole thing is to cheer me up, right ? He asked.

- It is, you agreed. But why do I feel you’re up to something ?

- I have an idea, he said with a smile. How about you get behind the wheel ?

- Y-you want me to drive ? You asked nervously.

- We always talked about how I’d have to teach you, he shrugged. It makes sense now that you live here. If you knew how to drive, you wouldn’t need Uber or people chauffeuring you around. Honestly, I’m shocked you didn’t learn earlier.

- That’s because cities in Europe are centered around pedestrians, you explained.

- You’ve lived in the US for years, babe ! Come on, I’ll teach you, he said with excitement. You always say you like my car collection !

- Yeah, they’re nice to look at, but…. Do you really trust me with your car ? You asked. Especially this one ?

- A car’s a car, he shrugged. You have to start somewhere ! Come on, I’ll just show you how it works and we won’t even get out of the property.

- My thumb’s broken, you reminded him.

- Come on, people drive with splints all the time, he chuckled. Please ? We’ll have fun !

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow but his smile was so genuine that you ended up caving in. In your twenty-eight years of life, you had never bothered with learning how to drive, partly because the Europe infrastructure thing was true, but also because you were terrified. However you trusted Marshall with your life so you were ok with giving it a go. You switched places in the car and he quickly explained the basics to you. You listened carefully, trying to make mental notes of everything. You started the car as he encouraged you and walked you through the pedals.

- See ? It’s easy ! He said with a smile. Now, we’re going to drive a bit, ok ?

- Ok, you said as you tried to get your confidence together.

You managed to work the pedals and drove a bit around the house. Honestly, it wasn’t as scary as you thought it would be and you enjoyed it. You also liked having Marshall coaching you through the whole thing, a hand on your thigh.

- I did it !!! You shrieked in excitement. It’s actually really easy !

- Hang on, he chuckled. You haven’t tried driving stick, or in traffic. But I’m proud of you, babe. Now how about we go for an actual drive ?

- You don’t want me to drive on the road, do you ?! You asked in panic.

- Of course not, he chuckled. I don’t want to get pulled over by the cops. Or die. I’ll drive.

You switched places again and drove for a while, listening to the radio. Some hip-hop tracks that Marshall hadn’t heard yet came up and he listened carefully, commenting on a couple of bars. Most of the time, when he listened to tracks, he did so on his own but you actually enjoyed having him provide content, context and explaining the most intricate bars to you. Whenever he talked about music, you could see his eyes light up. You watched him lovingly as he rambled on, talking about an artist, commenting on their discography. At one point, you stopped at a drive-thru and ordered some food, before driving to the observatory where he took you, after you first met. You sat in the car as you watched the sun set, talking about random things.

- I like this, you commented.

- Yeah ? He asked. I’m glad. I can’t believe you had never had Taco Bell before !

- No, I mean, this, you said as you gestured to the both of you. Going on a drive, talking, enjoying sunset… I like this. I’m happy living with you and all, but I like going out of the house and just talking, and not just about what we did during the day. Is it crazy that I feel like we haven’t done that in a while ?

- No, I agree, he said with a smile. Does that count as a date, then ?

- I think it does, you giggled. I like dating you, Marshall.

- I like dating you too, babe, he said softly. Now that I have more time, I’ll be more present, I promise.

- You’ll have to go back to work eventually, though, you pointed out.

- I don’t know, he shrugged. I love my job. Music is… It’s everything to me, you know ? But maybe it’s a sign. Maybe I should put a stop to all of this. Maybe I could just sell Effigy, call it quits and focus on my foundation and my family life. Us. Maybe I should retire.

[reigningqueenofwords]

Clueless

Pairing: Past Bucky x Reader

Part 2 of Little Soldier

Will’s funeral had been just a week ago, but every morning when you woke up, it felt fresh all over. Not that you had been sleeping well. You were sure that wasn’t a good thing with you trying to heal, though. You did your best to avoid Bucky since that first morning. You just had no idea how to process what Steve told you. You had no idea how not to look at him and hurt . Getting over him was easier when you didn’t have to see, or hear him. Seeing him just made you remember the day you heard him say he never wanted kids. Even with knowing his reasoning now...it cut you worse than the knife that had been plunged into your side. Hell, Dom had been going between your room and Steve’s. One night with you, one with him. He spent the days with his aunts and uncles, but you and Steve made him feel the safest at night. 

Which was why, on night 8 (you were sure you’d always know how many nights since you buried Will), you found yourself at Steve’s door. Your hair was in a loose pony tail, you were in one of his shirts, and a pair of sweats. Sighing, you knocked gently, but hopefully enough that he had heard. It was nearly 11, which meant Dom had been asleep for hours. It didn’t take long for Steve to open the door, looking half asleep. “Doll?” He blinked, waking himself up more. “You okay?” 

You shook your head. “No, I’m not.” You sniffed. “I’ve barely been sleeping. I’m sore because I’m so tired.” You hadn’t told anyone how you were feeling. You’d been on plenty of missions worse that the attack on your house, after all. So, who were you to complain? “I…” You bit your lip, playing with the hem of your shirt as you looked down. “I was wondering if I could...sleep in here tonight?” You asked, wiping a tear from your cheek. 

Steve hated seeing you like this. Pulling you into a hug, he kissed the top of your head. “Of course you can. You can sleep in here as long as you need.” He promised, leading you inside. “Want to talk about it before we crawl into bed?” He offered. “You have to eventually.” 

You knew he was right. “Sure.” You caved, too exhausted to fight. “On the balcony?” You motioned, not wanting to wake up Dom. He nodded and the pair of you moved silently through to the glass doors. He grabbed a throw on the way, in case you got chilly. Leaving the door cracked behind the two of you, he put the throw over your shoulders. Gripping it, you hugged it close to you. “Every time I try to close my eyes I see Will.” You started, your voice soft. “Lying there, and I can’t help him. I see Dom, seeing him like that I as rush him to the safe room as fast as I can. I see the future we could have had disappear.” You leaned into him as he put his arm around you. “I know I could have asked Bruce for help sleeping, but…” 

“But you don’t want to feel or seem weak?” He finished for you. 

“Yeah.” You sighed. “That.” You had to be strong for your son. “We were going to adopt a dog for Christmas. He’s been asking for one.” That was the only thing that he’d put on his wishlist. “He told us the dog could sleep in his room, about how the dog would have so much fun in our backyard, and how he’d love the dog so much.” Your chest ached, getting this all out. Steve remained silent, just letting you talk. “We had finally decided on a wedding date, too! We planned to get married in May, and then he was going to adopt Dom…” The relationship that Dom and Will had had was amazing. Will treated him like he was truly Dom’s father. Steve rubbed your back, trying to comfort you. “We talked about having more kids, too.” He hugged you as you cried, wrapping your arms around him, gripping the back of his shirt. 

Steve couldn’t begin to imagine how you were feeling, but was thankful you felt safe enough to open up to him about all this. “Let’s go get in bed, and I’ll keep holding you.” He offered. “That helps Dom sleep sometimes.” The first few nights, if Dom couldn’t touch Steve in his sleep, he’d panic. You simply nodded against him. 

Everyone was surprised that Steve wasn’t at breakfast right away. Normally, he was one of the first ones in there. He ate, then went to train. Tony showed up in the kitchen before him. You and Dom were also missing. “JARVIS, where are Steve, Dom, and Y/N?” Nat asked, still worried about you. None of them had held back mentioning you around Bucky now that you lived there. Not that he saw you anyways. 

“In the Captain’s room, sleeping, miss.” He informed them. 

Bucky’s jaw clenched slightly. He had no right to feel jealous, but it was his arms that used to hold you at night. Not his best friend’s. Getting up, he walked out, leaving his food and coffee on the table. The others shared a look. 

Steve yawned as he opened the door, surprised to see an angry Bucky. “Buck?” He asked, furrowing his brows. 

“Can I talk to you?” He asked, his voice low. 

“Yeah, but out here.” He stepped out, shutting his door. “They’re still sleeping.” He rolled his shoulders. “What’s up?” 

Bucky shook his head. “That’s what you have to say?” He glared. “Y/N sleeping in your room now?” He pointed to the door behind Steve. 

Staring at him, Steve blinked a few times. “Last night, yeah.” He shrugged, not understanding his anger. “She showed up at my door, upset. She hasn’t been sleeping, which we both know isn’t good for her healing either physically, or mentally. I got her to finally open up, and then I finally got her to sleep. So?” What did Bucky expect him to do? Turn you away? “She just buried her fiance, and along with it, all their hopes and dreams.” He said softly. 

“She hasn’t even talked to me since she’s been back.” He sagged. “And she’s sleeping in your room. I just remember when it was our room. Hers and mine.” 

“Buck, that was years ago.” He said sadly. “You can’t expect her to rush into wanting to be friendly or anything.” He pointed out. “I don’t think she’s mentally in the right place to deal with whatever feelings may come from being around you again.” He wasn’t saying that to be a dick, either. 

Bucky nodded. “Should I take off for a bit or something?” He wondered. 

Before Steve could answer, Steve’s door opened. You and Dom were there, his small hand in yours. “Uh, Dom’s hungry, so I’m gonna bring him down to get something to eat.” You said awkwardly. “Thanks for letting us crash here last night.” You gave Steve a small smile. 

“You gonna eat with us, Uncle Steve?” Dom looked up at him, hopeful. His hair was still all over, making Steve chuckle lightly. “Please!” 

Steve smiled. “Of course.” He agreed. “Give me a minute?” He asked. Dom simply nodded, glancing at Bucky sideways for a moment. “Hey, wanna help me pick out a shirt?” He asked, offering Dom his hand. 

Dom bounced, taking his Uncle’s hand. The two of them went into Steve’s room, leaving you and Bucky in an awkward silence. “How’s your side?” He asked after a moment. 

You shrugged a shoulder. “Sore.” You said honestly. “Which is to be expected.” You were chewing on your lip, torn in two. Part of you wanted to run away from him. Run far away with your son. Part of you wanted to give him a chance to be your friend again, but what if he hurt you again? However, you didn’t see yourself going back to live in that house again, meaning that you would be around Bucky a lot. So would Dom. “Can we talk later?” You asked, and it was clear that you were scared. 

Bucky looked surprised but quickly nodded. “Yeah, of course. Whenever.” He agreed. “Is there any time you’d like?” 

“Uh, Dom usually likes to drag Steve to visit Tony after lunch. Seeing as Tony hardly joins us.” You shrugged. “Maybe then?” 

“Steve’s his favorite, isn’t he?” He asked softly, hearing giggles from behind the closed door. 

You smiled softly at the sounds. “Yeah, he is.” You sighed. “Tony is a close second, though.” You chuckled. “I think it’s the toys.” You joked. 

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. "Glad you had them." He mumbled. "I'll meet you after lunch? Common room?" He started to back up. 

"Yeah." You nodded, already nervous. He was gone moments later. Turning when you heard the door, you gave Steve a small smile. "We're gonna talk after lunch. Can you watch Dom for a bit?"

Steve grinned, lifting the boy with ease. "Of course." He agreed easily. "Maybe we can start getting ideas for his birthday?" He suggested. “I’ll help him pick a theme or something.” He went on. “That okay?” He asked you. 

“Sounds good to me.” You agreed. “Thanks, Steve.” You kissed his cheek before doing the same to Dom. “I’ll be down in a minute.” You just needed a moment to breathe, and collect your thoughts. You couldn’t hide from this anymore. You had to face your ex, the father of your son, and you couldn’t run away. No matter how badly you wanted to.

You were making your way to the kitchen very slowly, taking the long way there. “Hey you.” Tony greeted you, making you jump slightly. “Saw you walking around like a zombie and wanted to come check on you.” 

You gave him a small smile. “That’s saying something coming from you.” You teased. “I’m just taking my time getting to the kitchen. Steve has Dom right now.” You shrugged. “And, I have plans to talk to Bucky later after lunch...so my mind is all over.” 

He nodded. “I have some whiskey hidden in conference room four if you want some. Bottom right hand drawer of the double cabinet. False bottom.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “I get bored. And, I may have slept in there a couple times.” He admitted.  “You know, part of me wants to ask, but another part of me really doesn’t.” You chuckled lightly. 

“Probably for the best.” Tony shrugged. “It’ll work out.” He gave you a quick hug. “You have all of us. Take your time. Don’t rush through grieving him.” His voice was soft as he gave your arm a gentle squeeze. “You know where to find me if you need to talk.” 

That meant a lot to you. “Thanks, Tony.” You sighed. “I got a lot off my chest last night to Steve. I’ve been closed off, so I may take you up on that.” 

After you’d said your goodbyes to Tony,  you finally went straight to the kitchen. Dom was sitting on Steve’s lap, but was laughing at Clint for some reason. You smiled softly, thankful you and Dom had your family. You went to get yourself a cup of coffee and some toast, not thinking you could stomach more than that. 

Steve glanced at you, hoping now that you’d opened up, that you could start moving forward. “So, Dom’s school called.” He told you, making you wince. “I just told them there was an emergency, and that you’d contact them when you could.”

“Thanks.” You said softly, stirring some sugar into your mug. “I’ll call them later.” You sighed. 

“You like school, Buddy?” Bucky asked Dom, speaking directly to him for the first time. You could tell by his voice he was nervous. Of a six year old. 

Dom nodded, munching on a piece of bacon. “Uh huh! We color!” He beamed. “And count, and add.” He told him simply, shrugging his shoulder. He looked at Steve. “When can I go back, Uncle Steve?” 

You bit your lip, swallowing. “Uh, we’re gonna be staying here, baby.” You told him, skipping making toast now. Moving to sit next to Steve, you brushed Dom’s hair back from his face. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” 

“Okay…” He said sadly. “My friends, though.” 

“I’m sorry.” You sagged, hating this. If there was any way you could live there, you would. You couldn’t, though. Not without nightmares, and those terrible memories taking over. This wasn’t fair to him at all. “You get to see Uncle Steve all the time now, though, right? And Aunt Wanda!” You tried to cheer him up. “And JARVIS is here. Uncle Tony...Normally you only get to see them a few times a year. Now you get to see them every day.” 

Bucky watched you try to cheer the little boy up, by mentioning all his teammates. It stung more than he liked to admit. Getting up, he went to put his mug in the sink before heading to the training room. He wanted to sort out his thoughts before talking to you later. His mind was a mess right then. 

You did your best to keep yourself busy all morning. You did some laundry (despite being reminded that you didn’t have to), you played with Dom and Wanda (you lost every game of Go Fish…), and finally made you and Dom lunch. He sat on your lap while eating, asking about his toys. You told him you would see if you could get them soon. That’s the best you could do. Which your best made you feel like the worst. 

Finally, you were sitting in the common room, your head on the back of the couch. You’d caved and taken some pain medication for your side that Bruce had given you. It was kicking in, so you felt a tad bit relaxed finally. “Need a nap?” Came Bucky’s voice. 

Licking your lips, you lifted your head and opened your eyes. “Nah. Pain meds are kicking in.” You told him. “Did too much.” You admitted. 

He nodded. “Been there.” He moved to sit in one of the chairs. Running a hand through his dark hair, he chewed on the inside of his lip. “Does he know who I am? Like, I mean, not me...obviously, I’m the creepy guy.” He rambled. “But, like, did you tell him about me as his father.” 

That was a tough place to start. You shook your head, though. “No, I didn’t.” You answered him. “I met Will when Dom was three and a half. So, he’s all he’s known.” Your chest ached. “He’s never asked, either.” 

Bucky could understand that. “Would you have told him?” He asked, almost scared of the answer. “One day, I mean?” 

“And say what, Bucky?” You asked. “Tell him that his father didn’t want him? What would that have done to him?” It would have killed you to have been forced to tell your son that. “I can’t say what I would have done. At first it was literally taking it day by day, then it got to planning for the next week. I never planned years ahead.” You shook your head. “At least not when it came to that.” What did he want you to say? That you would have broken his heart? 

He sat back, trying not to get upset, or take it to heart. You were being honest, which is what he wanted, and needed. This conversation, no matter how hurtful, had to happen. “What about now?” He asked. “Will you tell him who I am? Or at least tell him not to call me the creepy guy?” That would be nice. Being called the creepy guy by his son sucked. 

Did Steve tell Bucky that he told you what Bucky had said? You had to gamble with whether he had or not. “Do you still think we’d be better off without you? That you’re a monster?” Your tone was soft, your voice very controlled. He stared at you. “Steve didn’t tell you that he told me…” You sighed. 

“No, he didn’t.” He ran a hand down his face. “When did he tell you?” 

“When I woke up.” You told him. “He was there within minutes, wanting to talk to me.” Having that on your mind for over a week had been eating at you. “You didn’t answer my questions, though.” You pointed out. “Do you still feel that way?” You honestly hated that he ever felt that way. Had he told you this years ago, things would likely be very, very different now. 

Bucky took a deep breath. “Yes, and no.” He shrugged. “I feel guilty. If I didn’t say those things, you wouldn’t have ever lived there. You wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. Dom wouldn’t have ever seen all that.” He explained. “But at the same time, him not knowing his father is the Winter Soldier is probably safer. He won’t grow up knowing what I did. Who I was. What I live with.” He hung his head. 

Hearing him like that broke your heart. “Oh, Bucky.” You sniffed. “Please don’t feel guilty. You aren’t the one who attacked the house.” You told him gently. “And that’s your past. That’s not who you are now.” He was far from his past. “You’ve done a lot of good, and still do. He’s lucky to have you as a father. Even if he doesn’t know that.” If he was closer, you would have put your hand on his arm, but you were way too relaxed to move at the moment. 

He licked his lips, letting your words sink in. He was torn. He had always believed you, and still trusted you so much. Yet, he was set in his ways. He doubted that self-loathing would ever go away. Seeing Dom daily ate at him. He never pictured himself as a father, but now he felt like a shit father. Especially seeing how everyone else was with him. Dom was so comfortable with each of them, lighting up when their attention was on him. “Tell me about him? His full name? When was he born? All that.” He asked softly, making you give him a kind smile. 

“His full name is Dominick Paul Y/L/N.” You told him, feeling hopeful that he wanted to learn about the little boy. Was he wanting to step into Dom’s life as a father? “He was born on October 5th at 7:35 am. He was 7 pounds and 4 ounces, 20 inches long.” You went on. “His favorite color is red, but blue is a close second. His favorite game is soccer, and had a little soccer set up in our backyard.” You looked down, a sad smile on your face. He couldn’t play soccer out in the backyard anymore. 

Hearing you sniff, he got up and moved next to you, putting his arm gently around your shoulder. He didn’t know what to say, or how to deal with this. Had you been together, he could comfort you easily. Now? Now he was clueless, and he hated it.

Tagging: @ilovetaquitosmmmm @vicmc624

[bradshawsbaby]

No Words

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST. Miscarriage in the second trimester, intense grief, marital struggles, brief reference to a D&E procedure, mentions of blood, a hopeful ending.

Author’s Note: This was not an easy story for me to write, but it was one I really wanted to tell. Though I have not personally experienced a miscarriage, it’s something that has deeply affected my family, and an experience that many women I know, love, and care about have been impacted by. I don’t think it’s talked about nearly as much as it should be, which is what leads so many people to grieve and suffer in silence. This story is a tribute to the experiences that many people I know have gone through. Please know that if you or someone you know has experienced a miscarriage, you are allowed to grieve and mourn in the ways that you need to. My heart is truly with you.

This story was written for @cherrycola27​’s #top gun taylors version challenge. It was inspired by the song Bigger Than the Whole Sky, particularly these lyrics:

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye You were bigger than the whole sky You were more than just a short time And I've got a lot to pine about I've got a lot to live without I'm never gonna meet What could've been, would've been What should've been you

There were no words.

As the days faded into weeks, and the weeks melted into months, you tried and failed more times than you could count to find the words to make those around you understand the devastation and grief that you were grappling with.

But there were no words.

How could there be?

How could there be words sufficient enough to explain the way you cried yourself to sleep every night, salty tears soaking your pillow until your body finally took pity on you and allowed you to fall into a restless, miserable slumber? 

What could you say to make people understand that the throbbing ache in your body, the pain that still robbed you of breath when you were least expecting it, was surpassed only by the unbearable agony in your heart? 

How could mere words convey the thousands of ways your world had fallen apart, the way your dreams had shattered, the way your soul would never be whole again?

They couldn’t. They wouldn’t.

And so you had stopped trying.

You had stopped responding to texts from friends. You no longer picked up the phone when your family called. You had groceries delivered to the house.

The kitchen counters, which had once been covered with home-cooked meals and baking supplies, were now littered with restaurant menus and take-out containers.

On the days when you did manage to drag yourself out of bed, you usually made it only as far as the couch, where you’d curl up under your favorite blanket and stare blankly at the walls surrounding you, walls that had been home for well over a year, but which now felt as foreign as the mysterious, far-flung kingdoms you’d read about in the fairytales you’d loved so much when you were a little girl.

But you were no longer a little girl. And this wasn’t a fairytale.

He was worried about you. You knew he was.

You could see it in his blue eyes every time he looked at you, his gaze brimming with the tenderness and deep love that had always made you confident he was going to be yours forever.

“Sweetheart,” he would whisper every night when he came home from work, kneeling beside you where you lay on the couch and gently stroking your cheek with his calloused fingertips.

His name, so precious and beloved to you, always sat right on the edge of your tongue, but you weren’t able to get it out past the lump that seemed determined to remain permanently embedded in your throat. So you’d just look up at him, the sadness in your eyes mirrored in his as he brushed your hot tears away.

And every night, he’d carry you to the bath where he would wash your body clean with gentle hands. If only he could do the same for your heart.

Tucking you into bed, he’d lay beside you and hold you close as you sobbed, “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby.” Over and over and over again, his name falling from your lips like a litany, your voice raw with desperation.

“I know,” he whispered, rubbing your back with his strong, sure hands and pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. “I know, sweetheart.”

But did he know? He was the only one who could understand what you were going through, but did he really know?

You weren’t sure that he did, and that knowledge cut you deeper than words could express.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You and Bob were supposed to be happy. You were supposed to be glowing and bursting with anticipation, waiting any day now for the newest member of your family, your sweet little bundle of joy, to arrive.

But instead, your womb and your arms were empty, and your husband came home every night to a wife who could barely make it through the day without falling apart, a wife who turned away from him when he reached for you, determined to hide from him the tears that still choked you every night, even four months later.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Everything had been going so well. The joy you’d felt when you first saw that little positive sign on your pregnancy test had been exceeded only by the look of pure awe on Bob’s face when you told him the news that he was going to be a father.

You’d had so many grand plans for how you were going to tell him, so many sweet ideas swirling in your brain for how you were going to make this life-changing announcement. But in the end, your excitement had gotten the better of you and you’d found yourself flinging your arms around your husband as soon as he walked through the door, sobbing and laughing in tandem as you shouted, “We’re having a baby!”

You’d done everything right. You took all your prenatal vitamins, went to all your appointments, took care not to put too much strain on your body. Every time you and Bob walked out of your doctor’s office, hand in hand with a new ultrasound picture of your growing babe, you felt like you were floating on air. Was it possible to be so happy?

Turns out, it wasn’t.

Because despite doing everything right, despite taking all your vitamins and eating all the right foods and following all the prenatal exercise plans, despite every appointment going perfectly, despite making it to your second trimester and telling all your family and friends, you were still met with the most devastating words you’d ever been on the receiving end of:

Your baby no longer has a heartbeat.

You had known something was wrong the second you saw the ultrasound technician’s smile falter, her brow furrowing as she gazed intensely at the black screen. The smile she quickly pasted on as she turned to you was tight, though not nearly as tight as Bobby’s grip on your hand as she rose from her stool with a murmured “Please excuse me for a moment” and hurried out of the examination room without a backwards glance.

Your mind knew what your heart refused to accept as the technician returned several painfully long minutes later with your doctor, who took the stool she’d vacated and lifted the ultrasound wand once more, pressing it firmly to your rounded belly. You felt the sob catch in your throat, saw Bobby lower his head as your doctor turned to face you with a sorrowful look in his kind eyes.

“Mr. and Mrs. Floyd, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I’m afraid your baby no longer has a heartbeat.”

It was all a blur after that. You were aware that your doctor was talking, but he suddenly sounded so far away. You could feel your husband’s eyes on you, his large hands gently squeezing and caressing, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the ceiling of the examination room. Had you ever noticed that it was painted light blue before?

The words came to you in fragmented pieces, none of them seeming to make sense.

Late miscarriage.

Often caused by chromosomal abnormalities or congenital defects.

Never detected in any of your scans.

Sometimes these things just happened, and no one could explain why.

Sometimes these things just happened.

Being so far along…it would have to be a D&E…could be performed right here in the office…recovery could take up to a couple weeks…

Sometimes these things just happened.

No one could explain why.

Sometimes these things just happened.

Why?

That was the only question, the only thought at all, that kept echoing in your mind after it was all said and done and Bobby finally brought you home, your body feeling battered beyond repair.

You didn’t cry at all those first couple days, when the anesthesia and the grogginess were still working their way out of your system. You saw the silent tears that streamed down Bob’s face as he held you—he’d taken off two weeks from work to take care of you in the aftermath of the procedure—but you just couldn’t understand. It was like your mind was trying to shield you from the awful reality, from the truth that your baby was gone, by blocking out any consciousness of it.

But that fragile illusion could only last so long.

When you woke one morning to painful cramps, tears glistening on your lashes before you had even opened your eyes, you sat up with a gasp and pushed the covers back, only to find your inner thighs and sheets soaked with blood.

You didn’t even realize you were screaming until Bob came frantically running into the room, his eyes quickly taking in the sight before him as he rushed to your side, cradling your face in his hands until you met his gaze.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he assured you, keeping his eyes locked with yours. “I’m here.”

“The blood, Bobby, the bl—”

“The doctor said it was normal. That it might happen for a couple weeks after the—after the—”

He couldn’t say it, but you knew. With sudden, sickening clarity, the pieces fell into place inside your brain and you could no longer hide from the truth of it.

Your baby was gone.

Once the tears came, they couldn’t stop.

Bob tried everything in his power to give you the comfort that you needed. He held you tightly as you sobbed for hours on end. He patiently accepted how you pushed him away whenever your paralyzing grief turned to raging anger, and he was quick to offer words of forgiveness when you tearfully apologized afterwards. He made sure you ate, made sure you took your medication, made sure you bathed each day, even when the thought of getting out of bed seemed an insurmountable task.

He was so good to you. He loved you so much. Through the haze of your own grief, you knew he was grieving, too. And yet, as the weeks passed into months, you found it harder and harder to talk to him.

There were just no words. Not even for the man who shared the burden of a grief as heavy and desperate as your own.

You had tried so hard in the beginning to make everyone see. To help them understand how you felt. But how could they? Your friends and family were so supportive, constantly checking in and asking what they could do to help, but the answer was nothing. They could do nothing to help. They couldn’t bring your baby back, and that was all you wanted.

Your grief was all-encompassing. You felt like you were drowning in it, and you couldn’t figure out how to make them understand that. You couldn’t make them see that you didn’t know how you were supposed to go on, living with this giant hole in your heart. It felt impossible that someone could still be able to breathe and walk and talk and go through life when their heart had been destroyed so completely.

But still, you tried. For weeks, you tried. You saw the sympathy, the sadness, the desire to help in your loved ones’ eyes. But you never saw that flicker of understanding.

No one understood.

A month after your miscarriage, you decided to try going back to work.

“Are you sure?” Bob asked, worry furrowing his brow after you told him of your intentions. “Mr. Buchanan said you could take as much time as you needed,” he reminded you. Your boss had always been a kind man, and that had proven to be even more the case in the wake of your unimaginable loss.

“I know, but I think it might be good to try getting out of the house. Maybe it will help start to take my mind off things,” you told him, trying to offer him a smile, though you had a feeling it came out more like a grimace.

“Okay, sweetheart. But only if you’re sure,” Bob nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He drove you to work the next day, squeezing your hand encouragingly before you could climb out of the car. “I’m going to keep my phone on me at work today. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

As it turned out, you needed him much more quickly than you could have anticipated.

After only being back in the office for a few hours, you locked yourself in the bathroom, the tears streaming down your face as you pulled out your cell phone with trembling hands and called your husband.

“Sweetheart?” Bob’s voice sounded anxious over the line as he picked up after only one ring. “What’s wrong?”

“Bobby, please,” you sniffled, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “I need you to come get me.”

Your husband didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Bob was the one who spoke to Mr. Buchanan, wrapping his arm around you and shielding you from the curious glances of co-workers as he led you out of the office building where you’d been working for the past few years.

Neither of you spoke on the drive home. Bob kept his gaze firmly on the road ahead, and you stared out the window, tears streaming down your cheeks.

It wasn’t until the two of you were finally back inside your house and seated on the couch in the living room that Bob slowly asked, “Sweetie, what happened?”

That was when you broke down completely.

“They didn’t even care!” you sobbed, your voice breaking as your shoulders slumped forward and you buried your face in your hands. “They didn’t even—they didn’t—” You could barely catch your breath, you were crying so hard.

“Hey, hey,” Bob murmured soothingly, moving closer to you and wrapping one strong arm around your shoulders, tucking you against his chest and resting his chin atop your head. “Slow down, sweetheart. You’re going to make yourself sick,” he told you in a gentle voice, rubbing slow circles on your back until you calmed down somewhat, small hiccups escaping your lips. “They didn’t what?” he prompted carefully, once he thought you had regained some of your composure.

You looked up at him then, your face streaked with tears and your eyes brimming with a pain he would have given anything in the world to take away from you.

“I—I wanted to t-talk about the—the baby,” you explained in a shaky voice, laying your head on his shoulder as he continued to rub your back. “I just—I wanted to talk. But—but no one would let me. Every time I tried, they just told me how sorry they were and then changed the subject. One w-woman even told me that it would be okay because soon I’d have another b-baby and then I’d forget all about this.” When you looked up at your husband, you saw the pained expression on his face at your words. “Forget about it? How could I ever forget about it? How?” you wailed.

Bob’s jaw clenched as he held you closer, brushing your hair away from your face and pressing kisses to your temple and the top of your head. “People try to be nice, but sometimes they don’t understand how ignorant their words are—how hurtful they can be, whether they mean them to be or not,” he said, his voice pinched as he tried to remain calm and steady for you.

“No one cared, Bobby! They didn’t even want to know his name! It’s like he didn’t matter, like he didn’t even exist. But he did!” you cried, wrapping your arms around your husband’s neck and clinging to him as you fell apart.

“Yes, he did, sweetheart. He did. He was our son,” Bob whispered, leaning back on the couch and pulling you onto his chest as you continued to weep.

You and Bob had known you were having a baby boy. You’d found out just a few weeks before you’d lost him.

“A boy! Oh my goodness, Bobby, a boy!” you’d exclaimed happily when you’d opened the envelope from your doctor’s office. “Are you happy, honey?” you asked, wrapping your arms around your husband and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Bob beamed proudly, turning slightly so that he could capture your lips with his own in a sweet kiss. “So happy, sweetheart. I love you so much,” he whispered, resting a hand on your small bump. “You and our little guy.”

The two of you had even picked out a name—Oliver Robert Floyd.

“We could call him Ollie,” you giggled one night as you and Bob were lying together in bed, fingers intertwined as you dreamed together of who your baby would be.

“I like that,” Bob nodded, his face splitting into a wide grin as he gazed at you. “And who knows? Maybe he’ll end up with a call sign of his own one day,” he teased.

“Oh, would you like that? To be an aviator like Daddy?” you asked, glancing down at your belly and poking gently. You felt a tiny flutter in response, which made your heart sing. “He says he’d like that,” you told Bob, laughing brightly as your husband lowered his head to kiss you.

But Ollie would never get to be an aviator like his daddy. He would never get to be a little boy with big dreams. He would never get to be a man who carried on all the things you and Bob had taught him. He would never get to be anything.

Your son was gone.

But he had been here once. He had been real. You had felt him.

You couldn’t just forget him. You would never forget him.

And yet your co-workers and colleagues didn’t even care to know that he had a name.

After that disastrous first day back to work, everything started to go downhill. Mr. Buchanan said you could take as much time off as you needed, and you did. You didn’t want to go anywhere. You didn’t want to do anything. You didn’t want to see anyone. You just wanted to be left alone.

No one understood. No one knew what it was like to have to say goodbye to the child you had never even gotten to meet, never gotten to hold in your arms or give gentle kisses to. No one knew what it was to wake up every day and wonder who your child could have been, would have been, should have been.

It was a pain, a grief, an agony that you carried alone.

As time continued to pass, and the hurt only seemed to get worse and not better, you found it too difficult even to talk to your husband about it. And that hurt, because you loved your Bobby more than anything in the world. But as the weeks continued to slip by, it felt like he was able to move forward, to continue with his life, while you were caught in this intangible place of mourning. He was moving on, and you were stuck here, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do much of anything.

Bob could feel the distance growing between the two of you. You knew he could. He’d reach for you, and you’d stiffen or pull away. He’d try to talk, and you’d tell him you were tired and needed to lay down.

The hurt that flashed across his face each time you pulled away was like a constant knife in your heart, but you didn’t know what to do. The chasm just kept widening every day, and you no longer knew how to cross it.

“I stopped by Dr. Morales’ office today on my lunch break and picked this up,” Bob told you one night when he returned home from work. You were sitting on the couch and just blinked at him blankly. He set the glossy pamphlet down in front of you. “It’s for a support group at the hospital. For women who have miscarried or lost their babies. Dr. Morales highly recommended it. He thinks it would be good for you.”

You just stared down at the pamphlet, but didn’t make a move to grab it. You didn’t say anything either, just continued to sit in silence.

“Sweetheart, I really think that we should—”

“I’m tired,” you said flatly, rising off the couch slowly and turning in the direction of your bedroom.

“Sweetie, please.” Bob begged, reaching for your hand, which you swiftly pulled out of his grasp.

“I just want to be alone,” you snapped, more harshly than you intended. Swallowing, you tried to look away from the pain that bloomed across your husband’s face.

“Of course, I’m sorry. I just…” Bob sighed, hanging his head. “Go get some rest.”

Turning away and fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over once more, you wrapped your arms around yourself and stumbled on unsteady feet towards your room. You resolutely refused to look at the door on your right as you passed by it, the door that had remained firmly shut since the day you had been given the news that your baby had no heartbeat.

All you wanted to do was sleep. At least when you were asleep, you could escape the pain that had been your constant companion these past four months. Not to mention, you could also escape the reality of the constant pain you’d been inflicting on your husband lately.

He was so good, so full of gentleness and love and compassion, and you just felt so broken.

Crawling under the covers, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried not to think about how perfect things had seemed just a few months ago.

When you woke with a start a few hours later, your bedroom swathed in darkness, you were startled to realize your husband wasn’t beside you. It felt as though he’d never come to bed at all. Trying to swallow back the nausea you sensed rising up your throat, you pushed the covers back and climbed out of bed slowly, padding across the room on quiet feet.

When you opened your bedroom door, you were met with darkness in the rest of the house.

Where was he?

Taking a tentative step into the hallway, you began moving slowly in the direction of the living room and that was when you saw the light up ahead. It was faint, as it was spilling from behind a door that was only partially ajar.

The door you hadn’t opened in four months.

You felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest, but you forced your feet to keep moving, one in front of the other  Your pulse quickened in your veins and your breathing grew more shallow the closer you came, until you were standing right outside the room.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, you carefully pushed on the door to your son’s nursery, widening the opening without stepping inside.

You had thought your heart was already broken beyond repair, but what you saw in that moment proved that that must not have been true, because you surely felt your heart break all over again.

There, kneeling on the floor beside the crib that he had proudly spent hours putting together with his own two hands, was your sweet husband, cradling the little teddy bear that the two of you had bought not long after you first discovered you were pregnant. The first gift you’d purchased for your baby boy.

Bob had his face buried in the bear’s fuzzy belly, his back turned so that he didn’t see you standing in the doorway. You were fairly certain he wouldn’t have been able to see you anyway, not through the tears.

Your husband was weeping, a heart wrenching sound that immediately cut through the fog that had been blanketing your heart and mind for weeks.

Letting out a soft cry, you immediately raced into the room that you had sworn you would never look at again—the nursery that you and Bob had spent so many happy weeks designing and decorating and organizing before all your big dreams had come to a crashing halt. Collapsing on the floor beside your husband, you wrapped your arms around him and held him close as he cried.

“Why?” Bob rasped, the tears streaming down his face as he lifted his head slightly, still clutching the teddy bear tightly to his chest. “Why?”

You felt the tears running down your own face as you shook your head, cradling his head against your chest and running your fingers through his honeyed hair. “I don’t know. I keep asking myself that same thing, but I don’t know. I don’t have any answers,” you admitted, resting your cheek against his soft hair.

Bob clung to you desperately, like a drowning man would cling to a life preserver. You held him just as tightly, the two of you weeping together in the center of the nursery your son would never get to see.

“I miss him,” Bob confessed quietly, his voice laced with such agony that it pierced you straight through. “He should be here with us, and he isn’t, and it isn’t right. It isn’t right,” he sniffed, his tears soaking the front of your shirt. “I miss him so much.”

“Oh, honey, I miss him, too. More than words can describe,” you cried, stroking his hair. “Every day, I wake up and for a second I think I’m going to feel him still inside me, or hear him crying in the nursery, and then reality hits me and I—I just can’t do it. I can’t even get out of bed some days.”

“I don’t want to either most days,” Bob told you, looking up to meet your gaze with his watery blue eyes. He’d never told you that before. “I wake up in the morning and I go through the motions and I get in the car and drive to work and I cry the whole way there.”

“You do?” you asked in surprise, eyes widening slightly. “You never—you never told me that.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Bob admitted, suddenly looking ashamed. “I wanted to be strong for you. I wanted to be your rock.”

“Oh, Bobby,” you breathed out, reaching to cup your husband’s face in your hands.

“You’ve been through so much, and you’ve been suffering, and I didn’t want to add to any of your pain or make it harder for you in any way. I wanted to take it all away. And I knew I couldn’t do that if you were worrying about me on top of everything else,” he explained, a few stray tears trickling down his cheeks, which you brushed away with your thumbs.

“We’ve both been through so much,” you insisted, caressing his cheek lightly. “And you shouldn’t have to carry your grief alone. We’re supposed to carry it together,” you told him, resting your forehead against his and closing your eyes for a moment. You took a deep breath before opening them again and continuing, “I thought—I thought maybe you were moving on.”

“What? No! Never,” Bob shook his head adamantly, cupping the back of your head and holding you close to him. “Did you think—oh, God, you didn’t think that I was just getting over it, did you?”

Your breath suddenly caught in your throat as you choked back a sob. “I didn’t know what to think. It felt like—I knew you were grieving, but our grieving looked so different and I didn’t understand yours and it felt like you were moving forward and I was just stuck here and I was going to be left behind because you were learning how to live with it and how to move on and I couldn’t and I—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bob gasped, the teddy bear still clutched in one of his hands as he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his nose against yours, seeking an intimate, close contact with you. “Oh, my love. No, no, no. I would never leave you behind. Never,” he promised, his lips brushing warmly against your forehead. “I was struggling because I didn’t know how to help you. It felt like everything I said was the wrong thing and every time I tried to get closer, you kept pulling back, and I was so scared to see you withdrawing like that, and I just didn’t want to push you too far. But I should have been honest with you. I should have let you see that I’ve been struggling, too. So much.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry,” you apologized tearfully, burying your face in his neck. “It’s been so hard trying to make people understand how I’m feeling. But I realize now that, as much as they may love me and want to help, they’ll never really be able to understand. But you do. You lost him, the same way that I did. You’re the only person I can share this grief with. And I’m so sorry that I pushed you away instead.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Bob murmured softly, wiping your tears away with gentle fingers. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry. Grief is messy, and right now we’re in the middle of the mess. I don’t know how long we’ll be here. Maybe a part of us will be here forever. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone but you. And I want us to get through this together,” he said, taking your hand in his and squeezing it tenderly.

“I want that, too,” you whispered, your voice cracking on the last word.

Bob pulled you into his lap and the two of you sat for a while in silence, your husband rocking you slowly back and forth as you sat on the floor of the nursery. You looked around at the walls, which you and Bob had painted a light blue—“Like the sky,” Bob had smiled when you’d chosen the color.

“I thought I’d never be able to come in here again,” you confessed, biting down on your lower lip. “I thought—I thought it would hurt too much.”

“I know,” Bob nodded, kissing the tip of your nose. “I know you never wanted this door open. But tonight, I just felt like I had to come in here. And when I did—well, it felt like a moment frozen in time, y’know? I looked at the crib and the rocking chair and the toys and the clothes and I just…” He let out a heavy sigh. “I just broke down. I just kept thinking about what could have been. What should have been. And who he would have been,” he murmured, running his fingers through the ends of your hair. “Sometimes I feel so broken, and other times I feel so angry.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” you told him, curling up against his chest. “I feel the same way.” You paused for a moment, turning something over in your mind before you went on. “I think part of me is afraid to let go of all this grief and anger because—well, because it’s all I have left. And if I let it go, I feel like it means I’m letting him go,” you admitted, your voice breaking as you started to cry again. “And I don’t want to let him go. I don’t.”

“Oh, honey,” Bob whispered comfortingly, squeezing you close to his chest. “I don’t want to let him go either. But you know what?”

“What?” you sniffled, wiping at your nose and looking up at your husband.

“We don’t have to,” he told you, grasping your chin in his hand and gazing deeply into your eyes. “He will always be our son. Always. No matter what some lady at work or anybody else says. He wasn’t just some moment, here one minute and gone the next. We’ll always have him.”

You nodded at that, your tears trickling down your cheeks and soaking his hand, which was still holding onto your chin firmly.

“But I don’t think that means we have to hold onto the pain forever,” Bob continued, kissing away your tears with gentle lips. “The grief will always be with us. We’ll carry it in our hearts forever. But I do believe that we’re going to be happy again. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not next week. But soon. We’re going to be okay, sweetheart. I know we are.”

And for the first time in four months, you really believed that. For the first time since your life had come to a standstill, you had hope that tomorrow would be a brighter day. Like Bob said, the grief would always be there, a pain that you would have to learn to live with over time. And you would learn to live with it, so long as you had this man by your side.

Shifting in Bob’s arms so that you were facing him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, a bit shyly at first and then with more confidence. “I love you so much, Robert Floyd. I always will. Forever.”

Bob smiled, a genuine smile, and cupped your cheek in his hand as he pressed another kiss to your lips. “I love you with all my heart. Forever and always.”

The two of you sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, for a while longer until Bob finally rose, lifting you up as well. “Do you mind if I bring this with us to our room?” he asked, holding up the teddy bear he’d been holding tightly to all this time.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” you told him with a small smile, leaning against his side as he led you out of the nursery. Once the both of you were out in the hallway, he reached back to shut the lights off and was going to close the door, when you suddenly said, “Leave it open.”

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked down at you.

You were quiet for a moment, but then you nodded. “I’m sure.”

Gazing at you proudly, Bob slipped his arm around your waist and led you down the hallway to your bedroom, where the two of you slipped under the covers and found your way back into one another’s arms.

And as you slowly fell asleep, resting safely atop your husband’s chest, you realized the ache in your chest had lessened for the very first time.

You and Bob would survive this grief, together.

You would be okay.

Your husband had finally given you the words you had been searching for.

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a rec list of A/B/O fics with touch deprivation! If you enjoy our rec lists and want them to continue, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word.

1) Get Nesting & Soft Knots | General Audiences | 5,714 words

Note: It is also locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

AU where Omega Louis who runs a nesting materials Youtube channel meets Alpha Harry who knits his own blankets.

2) Every Time We Touch | General Audiences | 5,806 words

Note: It is also locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis laughed when he heard the term professional cuddler for the first time. His doctor let Louis laugh and then explained the purpose behind the profession and how it could help Louis. It took a few weeks but Louis finally scheduled an appointment, now all he had to do was leave his car and walk into the house.

3) Tearing Me Apart | Not Rated | 6,079 words

Louis knew his heart was breaking and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew the day his best friend finally presented as an Alpha that he was his alpha but Harry kept breaking his heart. He kept bringing random omegas into their shared apartment and Louis just cried each night with a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise. His touch deprivation was getting bad but his alpha didn't know.

4) Everything Comes Back To You | Explicit | 8,643 words

Harry and Louis are childhood best friends. What happens when Harry has to move towns just as they are starting their secondary gender presentations? What happens when fate brings them back together years later in the most unexpected of ways?

5) Night Out | Explicit | 9,741 words

Note: This fic is the prequel to fic #xx on this list. It is also locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Symphony hall was the first place Louis had felt at home in this city, and he always had the box to himself. Until tonight. Symphony hall was the first place Louis had felt at home in this city, and he always had the box to himself. Until tonight.

6) Unfortunate Fortunes | Not Rated | 9,793 words

There are three stages of touch deprivation. Stage one is very mild, stage two leads to itchy skin and restless nights, but stage three is the worst. Omegas with stage three touch deprivation, rarely survive because the only cure for it is finding your true mate. Louis Tomlinson is an omega with stage three touch deprivation and Harry Styles is his new alpha neighbour who also happens to be a famous boxer-not that Louis knows.

7) Breathe Me In, Breathe Me Out | General Audiences | 14,263 words

Louis is drawn into a quaint candle shop in his desire to find ways to soothe himself while struggling with touch depri. It takes him two more run-ins and with the lovely alpha sales assistant, and a drop, to figure out the source of the scent that imprints upon him and calms his omega. Idiots to lovers.

8) Just Let Me | Explicit | 14,714 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The party was going well. So well, Niall had already sworn undying love to one multi-tiered chocolate cake, two friendly corgi-poodle mixes, Zayn’s hair, and the entire population of Los Angeles. So well, Zayn had only laughed and ruffled Niall’s hair and not even twitched towards a cigarette. So well, nearly everyone had spilled far past the boundaries of the night’s original plans, extracting bottles of vodka from the cabinets and losing a lot of clothes. Harry had proclaimed that he was finally going to throw a small and very grownup dinner party and of course here they were three hours later, fifty people half-naked in the pool. Soon to be full-naked, if Louis had to guess. Everybody in LA loved a heated pool. Everybody loved Harry.

9) Captain Cupid | Not Rated | 15,331 words

“Right,” Niall started, finally getting the opportunity to unleash his horrible plan. “Well, as you both know, I’m an excellent matchmaker. A human Cupid. The best of the best at finding one's mate. And I’ve decided it’s time to make money doing it.” “Oh, God no,” Louis groaned, picking up his empty plate and placing it in the sink. He needed to escape as quickly as possible. Or the one where Niall enlists his friends to help start a speed dating side hustle. Things don't go as planned... or maybe they do?

10) Your Touch Is The Only Thing I Feel | Mature | 15,979 words

Liam. Liam was finally here. Louis kept his eyes closed and cuddled farther into Liam’s side, revelling in the pheromones Louis’ body desperately needed. He wasn’t sure how long Liam had been holding him, but Louis figured it had to have been at least an hour by the way his body had loosened. The need of an alpha’s touch seemed to have been temporarily lifted from his mind. Louis listened to the sounds of the pub around him. It was louder than before he had fallen asleep and he briefly wondered why Liam hadn’t just woken him to go back to their flat. “Who the fuck are you?” Louis’ eyes flew open at the sound of Niall’s voice, and the arm that had been around Louis shoulders lifted in the same instant. He missed the warmth immediately. Louis looked from Niall’s stormy face over to the person who was definitely not Liam. The alpha Liam impersonator, who smelled a lot better than the actual Liam now that Louis was alert, looked back at Louis with wide eyes and familiar furrowed brows.

11) Etched In Salt (Is A Cathedral Of The World) | Explicit | 24,417 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Louis asks for very few things in life, and they are: to solve cases, to keep bad people from doing their bad things, to get good coffee, to go home to a spacious apartment with nobody else in it, and to manage his stupid telempathy powers with minimal interference. And now he's stuck in a tiny cabin in a snowstorm in the middle of god-awful-nowhere with Harry Styles. Because of course he is. Louis asks for very few things in life, and they are: to solve cases, to keep bad people from doing their bad things, to get good coffee, to go home to a spacious apartment with nobody else in it, and to manage his stupid telempathy powers with minimal interference. And now he's stuck in a tiny cabin in a snowstorm in the middle of god-awful-nowhere with Harry Styles. Because of course he is.

12) You Go Undercover (You Cross Your Fingers) | Explicit | 25,815 words

Louis didn’t think that motherhood would be easy, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for just how challenging it would be. He also wasn't prepared for a certain alpha called Harry appearing each time he needs help until accepting is no longer a difficult thing to do.

13) Dont Know Its Lost Til You Find It | Explicit | 30,614 words

Maybe it’ll be better this way. Maybe Louis just needs to distance himself, get over his crush so Harry doesn’t have to worry about his obsessive friend who feels too much and says too little. He wonders what this girl is like. What she looks like, what conversations they had to make Harry fall for her in three days. If maybe she’s just stellar in bed. If she smells like heaven or if it’s just the fact she’s a girl. He wonders and wonders, resists the temptation to stare at the alpha, and gets exactly no work done.

14) Compass To My Soul | Teen & Up | 31,439 words

Harry Styles, alpha, is 1/4 of the perfect pack, and 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time touring the world with his best friends and family. Louis Tomlinson, omega, is 1/5 of world famous boy band One Direction. He spends his time hoping his bandmates don’t notice him.

15) Here, And Where You Are. | General Audiences | 32,852 words

In a world where astrology is real and advanced, Harry finds out that Louis is his soulmate. The catch? Louis’s at the heart of a protest for omega/soulmate rights against the very case Harry is representing at court. Before they pass each other too many times, the universe takes it upon themselves to make them meet.

16) Too Young To Know | Mature | 35,412 words

Louis blinked awake and quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. This was the second morning in a row he had woken up after dreaming about Harry. “Babe, what’s wrong?” Eric asked as he held Louis tighter in his arms. Louis liked being the little spoon, except for when he’d rather be holding someone else. Which were the past two days.

17) Picking Up The Pieces | Explicit | 37,607 words

Louis returns to his hometown for the first time in ten years for his high school reunion and is faced with memories he’s long since tried to forget.

18) Give Me Love | Explicit | 41,041 words

Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.

19) All I Want For Christmas Is You | Not Rated | 43,248 words

A Christmas AU in which a soft alpha with gorgeous green eyes and an even prettier smile moves into Louis' apartment complex and turns the omega's world upside down during his most favourite time of the year - featuring christmas decorating, christmas markets, cookies in the making, and copious amounts of mulled wine (and kisses).

20) Your Touch Shouldn't Make Me Feel Like This | Explicit | 48,883 words

Uni AU in which Alpha Harry has been in love with his omega friend for the longest time and one motorbike trip to the countryside with Louis made him realize that he could no longer hold back his feelings.

21) Hold On To Your Heart | Explicit | 54,183 words

The Proposal AU, where Louis is the no-nonsense editor in chief of one of the largest publishing houses in the country, and Harry is the unlucky assistant that gets roped into a fake engagement to prevent his boss from being deported. Things don't go as planned.

22) Your Gift is Wasted On Me | Not Rated | 54,472 words

Omega Louis has severe touch deprivation and is averse to touch. But he’s fine. Really. Alpha Harry is the new neighbor who loves to bake cookies and is very curious about the omega across the hall.

23) Lost & Found In Oblivion | Explicit | 74,779 words

Omega Louis decided to hire an alpha for his heat to ease his touch deprivation, but little did he know everything would grow into so much more.

24) Invisible String | Explicit | 84,911 words

Louis swears on his life that that man came out of literal nowhere and he thanks each lucky star for having good breaks in his car. This strange alpha also happens to be the most beautiful being Louis has laid his eyes on. For some unknown reason, the omega feels safe around the alpha. It might seem strange, but you can't always explain why or how things are the way they are. All you can really be sure of is that they happen for a reason. There's a higher power (call it what you want) that knows better and definitely knows more than you do.

25) Saving Symphony Hall | Explicit | 124,766 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to fic #xx on this list. It is also locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.” “Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.” “Wait, what?” Zayn asked. “Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,” “What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand. “I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.” “That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

26) The Longer the Waiting the Sweeter the Kiss (It's Better My Darlin' I Promise You This) | Explicit | 160,589 words

It all started with a letter from his grandmother's Executor of the Estate. His life had been just fine in New York, he'd had a great internship, more friends than he knew what to do with, and a powerful family name to provide a million opportunities for him. But the minute he'd received that letter a desire for more was born. That was how he wound up here, stranded on the side of a dusty old road with a broken down car and a carry-on full of dreams.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[xocasper]

it’s beautiful how dynamic life can be.

when the internet found me, i was sick. i wasn’t dying, it wasn’t terminal, but i was undoubtedly decaying with every passing day. i spent weeks in bed, sleeping and starving, and some nights i’d mindlessly wander through dark parts of town. and i can tell you with 100% certainty that none of that is as poetic as it sounds.

when i left tumblr, i was nearly dead. genuinely. i would not like to trigger anyone, so i am warning you now that the next paragraph will cover a severe eating disorder.

i will keep it as simple as saying that i had a bmi of 13. i couldn’t leave my room. i was on a mood stabilizer that decreased my appetite. my body physically rejected and regurgitated everything i ate. my stomach was swollen to the size of pregnant person. i looked like i was a good seven months along. my body was holding onto every nutrient it could find. i lived with my parents at the time, and they body shamed me and constantly commented on the size of my stomach. my dad stood in my bedroom and watched as i chugged an entire bottle of magnesium citrate because he believed it was constipation, not starvation. no one wanted to help me in the ways i needed. to this day, i have no idea how my body survived that much trauma.

that was a year ago.

in a single year, i gained twenty pounds. i fell in love. i discovered that i am not aromantic, but simply cannot harbor romantic feelings towards men. i faced years of internalized homophobia due to religion with that realization. i had my first true heartbreak. many of them, over and over with the same person. the relationship was so toxic towards the end that they caused me to get re-diagnosed with type 1 bipolar. and no, i am not passing blame. i faced harassment and lies and stalking from them and their friends. it sent me into a manic episode so severe that i flew thousands of miles away because i believed that if i stayed, i would end my life—hence the re-diagnosis.

this is not all a trauma dump though.

life IS dynamic.

i finally think i’m beautiful. i’m learning to love my body. i’m accepting of weight gain. i’ve decided to enroll in college and will be leaving an incredibly toxic environment to stay on campus. i got a better position at work. i have wonderful friends. i stopped drinking excessively. i saw one of my favorite music groups live. i went on vacation for the first time in years. i left a debilitating relationship the day before my birthday. i must’ve cried too much the day i broke up with them because for the first time in years, i didn’t cry on my birthday. i got a surgery that changed my life in a million ways.

i’ve felt things i didn’t know were possible. i’ve cried until my eyes were swollen shut the next morning. i’ve had pregnancy scares. i’ve had ER visits. i’ve earned money and i’ve burned it. i’m in love with a girl.

i’ve learned that life is not fixed. change is possible. love is possible. the internet is not lying when they say that the sickness won’t last forever. the pain is temporary. this is not the end of the road.

i have more notifications than i can count. i have more followers than i ever imagined. but this isn’t about the numbers—it’s real, tangible proof that people will love you when you’re gone. you will not be forgotten, so do not leave. it’s worth it to stay. it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to hit the bottom of the well, and it’s okay to stay there for a while before you have the strength to pull yourself back up.

i’m incredibly grateful for everyone who read my work. whether you clicked on one or devoured my masterlist, thank you. you appreciated the only thing i loved about myself. i’m proud to say that there are so many things i love about myself now, past my writing and creativity.

you are all beautiful, kind people. it’s not always easy to see that, but existence is the most beautiful thing in the world. every day, you exist, and that in itself is a remarkable thing.

so thank you, for everything. i hope to hear from you soon.

xo,

casper

[ontheshroom]

request: reader and jack get into an argument before heading to his family’s house for the holidays. when they get there, they try to make it seem like everything is all good, but his family notices that it isn’t. Maggie, jack’s mom, saves the day.

I'm so sorry

Jack Harlow x reader

Angst

Tw:none

A/n: my heart :( I had to use this pic 😭

******************************

The past week has been tough between you and Jack. It seemed as if every day there was something new to argue about. Today Jack decided it’d be about how the both of you were going to celebrate the holidays.

“I don’t see what your issue is, Jack. I really don’t.” You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“Your plan makes no sense! You’re going to fly to Y/h/s, Alone! To visit your family a week before Christmas and then fly back to visit my family with me together?” He asks, annoyed.

“Yes, Jack. You’re going to be busy and my family doesn’t mind celebrating a week earlier. I’d rather see them for the holidays than not at all, but I’m also building my own family with you so I’d also like to celebrate the holidays with you!” You yell back.

“You’re just making this all harder than it needs to be!” Jack groans.

“Then what would be better, Jackman? What do you want me to do? How can I make this easier on you?” You ask him placing your hand on your hip.

“I don’t know!” He yells, throwing his hands up, and rubbing them down his face.

“Whatever, Christmas isn’t for another month. Let’s go we’re going to be late for Thanksgiving with your family.” You sigh, grabbing his keys and tossing them to him.

Jack follows you out of the house and unlocks the car doors. You get into the car and lean your body towards the car door. Jack pulls out of the driveway and starts driving to his mom’s house. The tension between the both of you is high and you just hope you’ll be able to drop it before you get to Maggies.

“Jack-“

“No, y/n I don’t want to argue anymore.” Jack sighs.

“I wasn’t trying to! I was going to ask if we could figure it out.” You mumble.

“Great, so now I look like an asshole.” Jack scoffs.

“Are you serious, Jack? Why are you acting like this?” You huff.

“Just leave it alone.” He sighs, pulling into Maggie’s driveway.

“Just celebrate Thanksgiving with my family, and just seem normal.” Jack orders.

You suck your teeth with a nod.

The two of you step out and you nearly rush to the door to get away from Jack’s bad mood. Over the last few years, you’ve been with Jack you’ve gotten incredibly close with his family.

“Hi, love!” Maggie exclaims as you walk through the door greeting you with a hug.

“Hi, Mags.” You squeeze her tightly, absorbing the good energy she’s giving you.

Jack walks in the door after you and you pull away from Maggie so he can hug her.

“Hi, my baby boy.” She greets Jack

“Hi, mom.” He hugs her back.

You go to settle in the living room with everyone else while Jack continues to talk to his mom.

You greet Brian and the two of you quickly get started on your routine game of Jangled.

Jack watches you during his conversation with his mom and he frowns at the sound of hearing you laugh not remembering the last time he’s even heard the sound.

“Everything okay?” Maggie pouts.

“I think I fucked up, mom.” Jack sighs, leaning his back against a wall.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve just been so stressed lately, and y/n’s around constantly and I’ve been taking it out on her.” He explains.

“She’s just been trying her best, but I find a problem with everything,” Jack says, looking up at his mom with tearful eyes.

“I don’t wanna lose her, mom.” He says, his voice cracking as a tear falls from his eye.

Maggie quickly pulls Jack into a hug as he quietly cries.

“Just talk to her, baby. You know her and how much she loves you.” Maggie assures Jack.

“Hey, mag-” Your heart shatters as you see Jack look up at you with his eyes full of tears.

“Is everything okay?” You ask softly.

“I think you both should talk.” Maggie gives you a tight-lipped smile and rubs your shoulder as she walks away.

“Jack?” You ask him, looking up at him with those eyes he swears could solve every problem he’d ever experience.

“I’m so sorry, princess.” He apologizes.

“I- I know I’ve been hard on you. I’ve just been stressed.” He explains.

“Baby, it’s okay. It’s so okay. I get it.” You pout, pulling him into a hug.

“It’s not. I’ll work on getting my stress out in a way that won’t hurt you like this. I’m so sorry, y/n.” Jack squeezes you tightly.

You lean back and wipe away his tears.

“I love you so much.” You smile, you stand on the tip of your toes, and kiss him.

The two of you wait a bit for Jack to calm down before you walk into the dining room to join dinner with his family. For the first time in a couple of weeks, you and Jack eat dinner and laugh together like when you first got together.

“Everything okay between the two of you?” Maggie asks the two of you on your way out.

“Yes, thank you for helping me out, mom.” Jack hugs Maggie.

“I’m always here, Jack. Just remember to be thoughtful and kind.” Maggie says, pointing her finger at him.

“And you, thank you for putting up with him through everything.” She says to you, pulling you in a hug.

“I always will. Dinner was amazing, Maggie. Happy Thanksgiving.” You tell her.

You and Jack walk to his car and Jack opens the door for you. He kisses you before walking over to his side and getting in. He pulls out of the driveway and gets started on the drive home.

[doctorstethoscope]

Sink or Swim || Bonus Blurb

Hi besties long time no talk <3 This little blurb fits into September!

series masterlist

contains: discussion of sickness and doctors/medical appointments, mention of food

wordcount: 1.5k

When you’d first started with the BAU, a three-day case nearly felt like a vacation. In and out of a place before the work week was done? It was like you barely even left, your routines completely unaltered. If the timing was right you wouldn’t even miss a workout class. 

Your life is so, so different now. With kids to think about, you felt every hour you spent at work after 5pm in your bones. The kids don’t think anything of it, which usually helps to soothe you, but when Bridgette called you on the second night and said that Lexie had been fussy and in pain since she finished her course of antibiotics right before you left, the weight of every hour since had felt like torture. By the time the jet touched down at Quantico, your skin was crawling. It was around 7; you knew that most of the team would stick around to finish their after-action reports, and Aaron would likely stay even later to review them, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.  After settling the things at your desk, you walked up to Aaron’s office, entering and closing the door behind you without knocking.

“Babe?”

“Yeah,” he answers without looking up at you— he’s not trying to be dismissive, just focused on the task at hand. 

“D’you think it would be okay if I went home? I just keep thinking about Bridgette and Lexie cooped up these past couple days– it seems like maybe the antibiotics didn’t work, and I’ve been torn up thinking about her in pain,” you say, feeling a little silly. You know you don’t need to explain it to your partner, but you feel like you owe your boss an explanation. “I can bring my after-action report home, or I can get it done first thing tomorrow—”

“First thing tomorrow is fine,” he says, looking up at you now, but he’s still all business. He rises from his chair when he makes eye contact with you and crosses the room to wrap his arms around you.

“She’s okay, hon. She’s sick, but she’s okay. The first time Jack caught something while I was away I was a mess.”

“So it gets better?” You sniffle into his chest, and you feel his half-chuckle more than you hear it. 

“Not really, no. You just get better at managing it,” he tells you, dropping a kiss to the crown of your head. “Go home to our girl, she needs you.” 

“Love you,” you tell him. 

“Love you too,” he says. “I won’t stay too late here.” 

“See you at home,” you say before you leave his office, quickly gathering up your things and leaving Quantico behind for the night. 

You can hear Lexie’s cries through the front door before you’ve even fished your keys out of your purse and you physically crumple. Your poor baby. You rush in, and Bridgette’s face washes over in relief when she sees you.

“Oh, honey,” you say, and you’re not sure which one of them you’re talking to. Alexis is making her displeasure clear, but Bridgette looks a lot worse for the wear. You cross the threshold and take the baby from her.

“I was going to take her to the doctor tomorrow morning, I made an appointment. She had Tylenol about two hours ago, I’ve been doing my best to keep her comfortable but—”

“Honey, relax,” you tell her soothingly. “She’s sick. Her discomfort is not a personal failure,” you remind her, parroting a phrase Aaron’s said to you in your less confident moments. Lexie quiets at the sound of your voice and the sensation of being in your arms, although her face is still twisted up in pain. It just about breaks your heart.

“Thank you,” Bridgette smiles. “Can I help you with anything else?” 

“God, no. You’ve been here for days. Feel free to grab something to eat before you go; I’m sure this one has kept you occupied all night, but you’re off the clock. I’ll plan to take her to the doctor in the morning and you can get some sleep. Jack was okay for you?” 

“He was an angel as always. I left him in bed, told him he could finish the chapter he was reading and that he should shut his light off and go to bed after that.”

“Thank you,” you smile. “We could not do this without you, truly.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she smiles back, grabbing her things and leaving you alone.

It’s not the first time you’ve been solo with the kids, not by a longshot, but you’re a little intimidated, and thoroughly exhausted from a tiring case. Lexie still in your arms, you head to Jack’s room, finding him asleep with the lights on and his book splayed on his chest. You smile fondly at him, gently maneuvering the bookmark into the book and the book onto the nightstand with one hand before switching off the light. 

“Alright sweetie. Do you think mama can get changed into her pajamas?” You ask Lexie in a little hush as you bring her into yours and Aaron’s bedroom, placing her on the mattress briefly as you reach for more comfortable clothes. Lexie makes her displeasure known immediately, squawking out a cry. 

“Oh, Lexie-loo, I’m sorry,” you coo. “I know you don’t feel good,” you say, reaching out to place one hand on her stomach as you use the other to shimmy out of your work pants and into a pair of pajama shorts. Your touch calms her, but only having one hand doesn’t exactly make undressing easy. You manage to change with minimal incident, scooping Lexie back up as soon as you’re done. 

“You’re tired, my baby. So, so tired,” you say, more to yourself than to her, as you bring her into her dark nursery and settle into the rocker. “Shhh, shhh,” you attempt to soothe her to sleep. She fights it every step of the way, stubborn girl, but her droopy eyelids win out eventually– you rise gingerly, attempting to transfer her to the crib, but she senses the loss of you in sleep and lets out a renewed, piercing cry. You’re overwhelmed and overstimulated, and willing Aaron to come home by the sheer force of your mind. 

“I know, sweet girl,” you say to her, leaning your body over the crib so that you can reach in and rub her back. “It’s okay, my girl, just rest,” you tell her, continuing to rub circles over her soft skin. “Shh, shhh,” you comfort her, even after she stops crying. She’s not asleep yet, you’re sure of it. You’ll just have to rub her back a few minutes longer. 

The house is quiet when Aaron makes it home later that evening, but the lights in the kitchen and the living room are still on, which is unusual. He takes his usual route through the apartment, setting the alarm and checking on Jack, who was sleeping peacefully. Lexie’s room is next, and he’s surprised to find you there, bent at the waist and halfway in the crib, sleeping as soundly as the baby. He smiles a little, coming up behind you and placing a hand on your back, where he was certain there would be soreness tomorrow morning. 

“Honey,” he whispers.

You wake with a jolt. “What?” You whisper out urgently.

“You fell asleep with the baby,” he orients you. 

“Oh, sorry,” you squint against the sliver of light from the hallway.

“It’s fine, angel. Is she okay?” He asks. 

“Bridgette made an appointment for her. It's her ear, still, but she’s grabbing at the other one now.”

“The infection probably spread before the antibiotics kicked in,” Aaron tuts. 

“We should get out of here before we wake her.” You say, stumbling towards the door. Aaron just chuckles, reaching out to stabilize you with a hand at your waist.

“How long was I like that?” You ask him once you’re back in your own bedroom. 

“Not sure. I left work about an hour and half after you did.” 

“Need a sick day,” you muttered into your pillow, but Aaron’s able to make it out. “I told Bridgette I’d take her. I think the past couple days were tough.” 

“She’s good to us,” Aaron says. 

“Our baby’s in pain,” you frown.

“Her mom’s home, so that helps,” Aaron reminds you. “She fell asleep in her mom’s arms, and she’ll see the doctor in the morning. The best thing we can do for her right now is make sure she has rested parents in the morning,” he says as he hurriedly changes into his own pajamas so he can join you in bed, clicking off the light before he does so.

“G’night, Aaron. Love you.”

“Love you.”

tagging: @spacecowboyhotch @honeybrowne @angelfxllcm @rousethemouse @infinite-tides @gspenc @anlin2058 @zetasaturno99 @realdirectionx @witheldclouds @sbeno22 @el-vs94 @hausofwhores

[pickalilywrites]

Levi and Petra's son arrives two weeks early, born on Valentines day. Modern AU

thanks :)

two weeks more

rivetra. modern au. 1072 words.

“I’m going in there,” Levi says for the tenth time that hour. It’s the twelfth hour, and he’s said the same thing at least ten times each hour. He must have repeated it over a hundred times by now, but he clings to it like a mantra even though he’s been barred from entering after the first time he had caused a scene. 

“You can’t go in there,” Farlan says, something he’s also repeated as many times as Levi has repeated his own words. He grips Levi’s arm with one hand, ready to restrain his friend like he’s done so many times before today. Like Levi, there are dark circles under his eyes after being up for the past twelve hours. “The doctor kicked you out after you made a fuss bringing Petra here.”   

“How does anyone expect me to sit still when there’s a whole child coming out of my wife?” Levi asks. He lurches forward, but Farlan pushes him back down against the chair. He snarls at Farlan, “Let me go!”  

“Do you want to be kicked out of the hospital?” Farlan hisses, glancing at Petra’s hospital room. A cry comes from the room and Farlan grunts as he pushes Levi back against the chair once more. “Levi, sit the fuck down! Isabel is with her. It’s going to be fine!”  

“Why is it taking so long? It shouldn’t be taking this long,” Levi protests. He tries to lunge out of his chair once more, but Farlan holds him down firmly. Levi glares at Hanji who is calmly flipping through a magazine beside him. “Hanji, help me!”  

“Help you what?” Hanji asks. They turn another page, not bothering to look up at Levi’s outraged face. They only look up every once and a while when hearing Petra’s pained cries, but otherwise they seem unbothered. “Do you really think it’ll help if you’re in there screaming at the doctor and nurses? They’re professionals, Levi. Just leave them to their jobs. It’s natural for the first labor to be the hardest.”  

“See? Listen to Hanji,” Farlan says through gritted teeth, still firmly holding Levi back against the chair because he doesn’t trust Levi not to escape at the earliest opportunity.  

“Two weeks early? The baby is two weeks early,” Levi reminds them. He’s been constantly reminding of this fact the entire time they’ve been at the hospital. He had memorized the exact date that their baby should have been born: February 28. It was a complete surprise when Petra’s contractions had started two weeks prior to the date their obstetrician had given them. They had planned to celebrate their last childless Valentine’s Day together when the contractions started late last night only a little after they had gone to bed. 

“Yes, the baby is two weeks early. We know, we know,” Hanji says with a nod. They fling an arm around Levi’s shoulders. “Shouldn’t this be, you know, the best day of your life? You’re going to be a father, you know.”  

“This is the worst fucking day I’ve ever had,” Levi replies. He turns his head so quickly at the sound of Petra’s cry that his neck nearly snaps.  

“I’d say Petra’s day is infinitely worse. She’s the one being ripped in half, after all,” Hanji comments.  

At Hanji’s words, Levi makes another attempt to escape from Farlan’s grasp but his friend tackles him back into the chair. 

“Hanji, you’re not helping,” Farlan hisses. It’s taking all of his strength to hold Levi against the chair, but he’s not sure how long he can keep holding Levi back after restraining him for several hours. 

“If you don’t let me go right now, I will kill you,” Levi growls, but Farlan continues to hold him back. Levi feels his panic rise when he hears Petra cry again behind the delivery room doors. He struggles against Farlan’s hold, trying his best to break free. It takes him a while to realize that Hanji is shushing him. 

“Do you hear that?” Hanji asks. They place a finger to their lips, finally abandoning their magazine on a side table. It’s the first time they’ve expressed any interest in what was happening in the delivery room. They lean forward, a smile on their face as they hear the sound of a baby crying replacing Petra’s earlier cries.  

Isabel bursts through the doors just then, two nurses following closely behind her. “Levi!” she says, but she hardly finishes calling his name when Levi pushes past her, unable to stand being away from his wife any longer. 

When he enters the delivery room, Petra is laying in the hospital bed exhausted. She’s damp with sweat, but she’s as radiant as ever. In her arms is a babe wrapped in a bundle of blankets, red-faced and crying even as he’s being comforted by his mother. When Petra sees Levi, she gives him a tired smile. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

“I should be the one asking you that,” Levi laughs weakly, unable to take his eyes off their newborn son. The baby is so small, but somehow the his presence has shifted his entire world.  

Petra shushes the baby, but it continues to fuss and cry despite her best efforts. She smiles a little sheepishly at Levi. “He was so impatient that he came two weeks early, but it seems he’s still upset even after being born.”  

Levi can only watch wordlessly as Petra comforts the babe, speaking to him lowly as he cries and cries and the nurses fuss around them. Eventually, he asks, “Can I hold him?”  

“Of course,” Petra laughs and gently hands the newborn to her husband.  

Levi cradles his son in his arms, holding him as if he were made of glass. He doesn’t even dare to breathe as he holds their son. As he takes the baby in his arms, the baby begins to quiet down, comforted by his father’s touch.  

“All this time, we were wondering why he came so early,” Petra says with a smile. She reaches out to touch their son’s forehead, stroking the little wisp of black hair. “It looks like he wanted to meet us as soon as possible.”  

“Lucky us,” Levi says as he gazes down lovingly at their son. Only a few minutes ago he had been in complete agony, but now he feels nothing but blessed as he holds his newborn with his wife beside him.  

[sugarsweb]

DAY SEVEN - PRAISE KINK. Kaname Tojou x GN!Reader (Originally posted Oct 12th)

Contains : GN!Reader, fluffiest smut ever, more fluff than smut, obvious praise kink, Reader & Kaname are both insecure, angst at the beginning but nothing too heavy, not proofread

Word Count : 1.7k

18+ content underneath the cut. By clicking 'Keep Reading' you are knowingly reading content made for people over the age of 18. Read at your own discretion.

Ever since you’ve known him, you and Kaname have gotten along like a house on fire. The second your eyes locked that fateful day, you knew, deep down in your heart, that he’d be important to you. When he first opened up about what he had gone through - most notably his coma - and you had been his shoulder to lean on when things got rough for him. He truly appreciated everything you have done for him. 

However, sometimes Kaname thinks you know him too well. Your watchful eye immediately notices when he gets lost in his thoughts, his stare turning vacant and almost… dead. It worries you, but you choose to keep that to yourself - but lately, you’ve noticed that look on his face more and more often, making it difficult for you to keep your concern for him at bay. 

You notice that same look on one of your weekly movie nights; you’ve taken it upon yourself to invite him over to your place and watch the most ridiculous things you can find, treating yourselves to your favourite snacks while unwinding on your couch from your usually-stressful weeks. It usually helps the two of you to relax, but one glance at Kaname and you can immediately tell how tense his shoulders are, the knit in his brow more obvious from the dark room casting shadows over his face. Usually, you have to coax your partner to be honest about his feelings, and it seems that tonight is no different. 

Taking the remote control, you pause the movie, which pulls Kaname out of whatever thoughts he was having. His head turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised in question, but the serious stare that you give makes him pause. 

“Is everything okay, Kaname?” You ask. 

You say his name so sweetly, a soft tone in your voice - it wasn’t judgemental, by any means - no, it was comforting, just like every embrace the two of you have shared in the past. Kaname notices the loving gaze you give him, so innocent and heartfelt, and he feels the walls he built crumble down. His shoulders sag, and he lets himself lean against you, forehead against your shoulder. 

“I just feel so weak compared to others,” He says quietly, but you hear him loud and clear. “I’ve lost so much weight since the coma, and I still haven’t gotten it back, even after all these months of rehabilitation.” 

Kaname nearly cries when your fingers card through his hair, a comforting touch that he didn’t know he needed. He sniffles - he knows your patience with him is endless, but he wants to tell you what’s been plaguing his mind, and if he pauses, he might back down and close himself off from you once more. 

“You could be with someone strong-willed and healthy, compared to my pathetic self. My hair feels so greasy, my skin feels weird, everything is just wrong.” 

“Oh, my love,” you coo, your other hand rubbing his back up and down, “you’re too hard on yourself.” 

Kaname finally lifts his head, his yellow eyes locking onto yours. He can see the tears forming in your eyes, and nearly panics, opening his mouth to apologise, but you silence him with a gentle, loving kiss. He immediately melts into it, the feeling of your lips interlocked bringing him solace. You pull away after a moment, pressing your forehead against his. 

“You don’t see yourself the way I see you.” You say. Your hand cups his face, turning it sideways so you can press small, gentle pecks against his cheek, your eyes closing as your eyelashes flutter against his cheek. Kaname’s face turns a light shade of red, a smile finally cracking at his lips as he gives you a quiet, light laugh. You give him one in return after pulling away from his face, and you place your head in the crook of his neck. 

“If we’re both being honest here, I feel the same way about myself.” 

Kaname stills. He knows that everyone is some level of insecure, but for some reason, it’s so hard for him to picture you feeling bad about yourself - you’re just beyond perfect to him, he can’t see a single flaw in you (...maybe besides you stealing his snacks, but that’s besides the point). He feels your eyelashes tickling his neck, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

You continue leaving delicate kisses along his jawline, throat, and any exposed skin you can find, until Kaname gently takes your face in his hands, making you look directly at him. You give him a small grin - one of your favourite features of his are his enticing eyes, the most beautiful shade of yellow you’ve ever seen. 

“Darling, you’re the most beautiful person to me.” He genuinely says. His eyes shift for a second before locking onto yours again, and he gulps before speaking again. “Can I… show you?” 

You immediately understand what he’s trying to say, your eyebrows raising in surprise. “Are you sure? We’ve never done anything like this before.” 

“Yes, I’m absolutely sure, as long as you’re okay with it too.” Kaname confidently answers. You nod, replying with a soft ‘yes’ as well, and just as your lover goes to lower you on the couch, you press a hand against his firm chest. 

“Why don’t you lay down?” You ask him. “Let me make you feel good.” 

And so instead, he lets you push him down against the couch. You straddle his waist, already feeling his hardness poke against you through your clothing - you’re not much better, feeling your underwear dampen with your arousal. 

Kaname’s hand tugs at your shirt, a silent question. You raise your arms, and he takes it off, throwing it behind the couch and into the darkness of the room. His own shirt follows soon after, and he struggles against the urge to move his arms to cover himself up once he realises his torso is exposed to you. 

His eyes follow your hand softly tracing the lines of his skin, sending pleasant chills throughout his body. He glances over to you and nearly chokes on his spit - the look on your face is absolutely love-struck and he has to do a double-take; how can someone as perfect as you look at him that way? 

And then he remembers; you feel the exact same way about yourself. 

His hands trace your curves, and he feels himself choke up at how beautiful you are. Your body stills, and it registers in Kaname’s mind that he’s spoken out loud. You give him a nervous chuckle, one hand coming up to hide your wide smile. 

“Not too bad yourself, handsome.” You tease him, and he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. His hand grasps your wrist, moving your hand from covering your face. 

“I love your smile.” He confesses, and you feel yourself throb even though his words are completely innocent. 

You lean over, trailing your kisses from his cheek to his neck, latching your lips around his pulse point and sucking. Kaname gently moans your name, his hand instinctively grasping your ass, the other gripping your waist tightly. Your teeth graze against him as you continue biting and lapping at his sweet spot, pulling away to show a developing hickey - nothing he couldn’t hide, of course. 

“So pretty…” You mumble, mostly to yourself, but Kaname still hears you, face flushing a deep red. “Can I…?” 

Your hands are hovering over his belt, and he nods - maybe a bit too quickly, but you don’t notice that, instead moving to take it off. He takes your pants off as well, and not long after, your underwear follows. 

His dick twitches, hard and ready, and you suck in a sharp breath seeing your partner on full display for your eyes to take in. Seeing his hair splayed out underneath him makes him look angelic, the most perfect being. 

“Are you ready?” He’s the one to finally take initiative, snapping you out of your loving - borderline lustful - thoughts. 

“Of course.” 

Your heart rate picks up as you feel the tip of his dick press against your hole, slowly lowering yourself down on his shaft. Your walls suck him in immediately, and Kaname gasps from the pleasing pressure, hands tightening their grip around you. 

“Shit, so good…” He swears - and you’re pretty sure that’s the first time he’s ever sworn in your presence - eyes scrunching up from the feeling. “You’re perfect, baby.” 

His praise shoots straight to your core, and Kaname feels your body react to his words. A rare burst of confidence washes over him, and he looks up to you, a smug smile on his face. 

“You like that?” 

You can barely speak, instead opting to give him an aggressive nod, your mouth going numb as you feel him fill you up in ways you couldn’t imagine. “Fuck, you’re makin’ me feel so good, Kana’…” 

He nearly whimpers when he hears you moan that out, his hips thrusting up into you out of desperation. Both of you are absolutely drunk on the pleasure and words you’re sharing. You grind down on him, feeling his cock rub against your walls, tightening up as he utters more praise. 

“So beautiful, just wanna make you realise that, want you to know–” Kaname interrupts himself when his dick rubs right against your g-spot, making you keen and mewl pathetically. The sensation of you around him makes it hard to stave off his impending orgasm, and his hand moves to rub your sex, intent on making you come. “Please, come for me, please, I wanna make you feel good–” 

The sound of his begging and the feeling of his shaft fucking up into you finally makes you reach your peak, and you climax suddenly with a wanton moan, followed by a broken cry of his name. The look on your face makes him follow in your steps, but he quickly pulls out, cumming on your stomach instead. You whimper, feeling so empty but so good, and his essence spread on you makes you feel dirty in the best way possible. 

Kaname babbles mindlessly of how good you are and how amazing he feels, finally coming down from his high. You collapse against him, and he wraps his arms around you, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head. 

“Let me clean you up, hm?” He suggests to you, and you nod, absolutely exhausted. He moves to get up, but your hand wraps around his wrist, grabbing his attention. 

Your tired eyes gaze up into his own as you give him a dopey smile. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He smiles, finally feeling content.

[randoms-fandoms]

pls write yandere general yunan x fem reader hcs :3 i luv amphibia owo

I’ve been looking forward to writing a yandere character! Here you go <3

Warnings: jealousy, (temporarily) one sided feelings, and of course yandere themes

🗡️ (for context, in this you’ll be a human woman who has been teleported to Amphibia several years before the Calamity Trio was)

🗡️ Yunan didn’t believe in love until she met you. Up until that day, she was a typical young woman, working hard because she loved her job and believed in King Andrias and what he stood for.

🗡️ That changed quickly. When you were brought into the throne room you looked on the brink of death— you’d been surviving alone for weeks on the outskirts of Newtopia before being found and captured

🗡️ Seeing you like that made her feel a certain way— possessive, almost. Angry at everything that had hurt you. Guilty that she hadn’t been there to protect you. She had never felt this way before, let alone for a stranger.

🗡️ She hated it at first. She felt like she was going crazy. She was beginning to get anxious and agitated whenever you were out of sight.

🗡️ Being so high rank meant she often had influence when it came to assignments, so she made sure she was in charge of guarding your holding cell.

🗡️ Once she had an excuse to spend all day with you, she felt better. Even though the first few days of your stay at the castle were spent nursing you back to health, she found it to be a very rewarding experience.

🗡️When you finally became lucid again after the worst of your sickness was over, she was the first person you saw. You were terrified, and cried when you saw her. she looked like a monster compared to what you were used to seeing. Her sharp teeth and impressive height were especially intimidating.

🗡️She was disappointed that you were afraid of her. A little bit angry, too— she had spent every day and night for the past week watching over you and protecting you, and you didn’t even want to speak to her? She didn’t know what to do.

🗡️For another few days, she treated you very very gently— she never raised her voice if you were around to hear it, even when other guards screwed up. She stayed outside your room to monitor who went in and out. She brought you your meals, and watched to make sure you were eating enough.

🗡️The first time she lost her temper in front of you was when some Newtopian academics visiting the castle suggested dissecting you to identify what new species you were— she didn’t hurt them too badly, but word got around and nobody dared to suggest anything like that again.

🗡️She didn’t recognize it at first when she was slipping into obsession. She denied it. She told herself she was just very, very dedicated to her post. There was no doubt about it though; she was hardly sleeping. You were all she thought about.

🗡️When she realized what was happening she was a little scared. She was awake one night, watching through the bars of your cell as you slept. You looked like an angel. You were perfect. She had never seen anything like you; she wanted nothing more than to worship you. This is not normal, she thought.

🗡️But she couldn’t abandon her post. She couldn’t abandon you. So instead of running away from her new, scary feelings, she confronted them head on and finally spoke to you.

🗡️Well, she interrogated you. Normal questions, like “who are you” and “where are you from”. She was surprised at how receptive you were, answering each question easily (if a little confusingly). She had gained a little bit of your trust by protecting you. But still, you wanted to be able to leave the cell.

🗡️Yunan’s heart nearly stopped when you said you wanted to leave. She couldn’t let that happen— if you left the castle, everyone in Newtopia would see you! They would never be able to understand you like she did. They might want to dissect you like those professors from before. All she said was “It’s too dangerous”, and you believed her. It wasn’t even a lie.

🗡️ After that the two of you became closer. She told you everything you needed to know about Amphibia, and you told her about earth. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. She felt a little embarrassed about how much she didn’t understand, so she’d just listen to you for hours on end. She even started keeping a journal to remember all the many things you told her. She didn’t want to forget one single detail.

🗡️ Though she still told herself the diary was for taking notes on this new other dimension, much of the time she would get sidetracked and just write pages and pages about how much she loved you.

🗡️ several months later, she no longer had any excuse when you would ask to leave your cell, which you talked about frequently. Every time she’d just laugh and smile, but the thought of you leaving was painful. She knew you would be suspicious if she tried to keep you any longer after Andrias granted you permission to go where you wanted, so she didn’t do anything… at least not immediately.

🗡️You moved out and were given your own room in the best hotel in Newtopia. Andrias was treating you well mostly because you were human and he was looking for the music box, but you were just glad that he was taking care of you.

🗡️That night Yunan slept in her quarters for the first time since being assigned to watch over you. It was her home, her own bed, but she didn’t feel nearly as comfortable as she did when she got to stay awake watching over you each night. You felt more like hers than her own home did.

🗡️She read and re-read old pages of her journal, detailing each conversation she had had with you… it was like a piece of her was missing. She knew where you were, though— she had been the one to escort you there and help you get checked in.

🗡️in the early hours of the morning, Yunan found herself standing on the balcony of your room, staring through the glass door to where you lie on your bed.

🗡️She tried to control her breathing; she was exhausted from climbing up the wall of the tall building, but she didn’t want to be too loud and wake you up. She knew the door had alarms that would sound if she tried to get in, so she was content to just sit on the balcony and watch over you

🗡️When sunrise came, she climbed back down. All day she meandered around the intersection in front of the entrance to the hotel so she would know if you left the building. Not seeing you worried her, but she was patient.

🗡️She repeated this the next night, and late that morning she saw you leave the building. She intentionally bumped into you, telling you that she just happened to be in the area, absolutely thrilled that she got to talk to you again.

🗡️she repeated this for weeks, watching over you to make sure you were safe, and occasionally indulging herself by saying hello. She was completely taken by surprise when you asked her out on a date, however— she never imagined that you would love her back!

🗡️Your first date was pretty average— a nice dinner together on the weekend. Yunan looked beautiful in the suit she wore. You made sure she knew it, too, making her blush with all the compliments you gave her. She had agonized over what to wear that evening, so she was glad to know you liked it.

🗡️Yunan had hoped that officially dating you would help ease her obsessive thoughts, and it did for a while— but being more affectionate as a couple only made her love you more! Whenever you were in public together, she would always hold your hand or put her arm around you to deter others from flirting with you.

Hope this is alright!

[lindsayrises]

7 Days

One week ago, I was sitting in the bathtub and I was terrified. I took a small sip of water from my water bottle and gagged on it. I spit/threw up the water. Then I started coughing and spitting/throwing up more stuff.

I woke up earlier that morning with a repeat of what took me to the ER in April. The thing that hangs in the back of my throat was so swollen, I constantly felt like I was choking on it. I could speak or breath, but not simultaneously.

I typed up some notes (since, ya know, I couldn't speak) and took myself to the doctor. I had never felt so scared, helpless, hopeless, and alone. I cried nearly the entire time I was there.

I'll spare you all the details of that morning and the days since, but I want to say this: This event forced me to put myself first.

I don't give a fuck if someone reading this thinks, "Oh, we've heard that before," because guess what? I'm.Still.Here. I could have given up a LONG time ago. Sometimes I'm embarrassed that I keep trying to do better, to be better.

In the past year I've said the following things in therapy:

I've stopped trying. I'm tired of failing over and over and over again. It's easier to not try than to keep trying and endure failing and the pain, shame, and embarrassment that it comes with over and over and over again.

I'm afraid to feel my feelings. I'm afraid I'll spiral down to a place I'll never recover from.

As I walked to my car after the doctor's visit on Thursday morning, I thought, "Maybe this will be the last time this throat thing happens. Maybe this will be a turning point."

And then I started to feel ashamed and sad and hopeless, because I've had other "maybe this will be a turning point" events that have led to zero changes.

The next second, I took my power back. I told myself, "No. This isn't a "last chance to fix your life" moment. Fuck that. If this (or something similarly scary) happens again, you'll get through it - like every other god damned thing you've overcome. You always have. You always will. You are still here. And that is a fucking miracle."

Before last Thursday, I had taken some steps to truly take care of myself. Some of these things I know I would have never done in the past. I started cutting out unnecessary things from my life. I deactivated my FaceBook account. For over two years I've been a letter-writer for the Run-Write-Fight program under the Still I Run organization. I notified that group that I would no longer be participating. I requested time off (Dec. 1 & 2) to take care of some things.

I cancelled last Sunday's reading group I've been doing most Sunday afternoons with a few former students. I have dates set for December, but I will not be continuing with it in the new year.

Last night was the first time in a week I slept in my house. For the past week I had been staying at hotels. I have spent the last week in hotels because I KNEW that was what I NEEDED to start to heal.  My house is a disaster right now.  Truthfully, it's been a disaster for months....years?  It's not dirty, but the clutter.  Ugh.  It's suffocating.

I have been so kind and compassionate toward myself the last week. Some negative self-talk has been creeping in a little bit here and there over the last few days, but nothing like it used to be.

I have been taking a notebook with me everywhere I go and journaling throughout the day and/or writing random notes, even "to do" lists. I have been buying things, lots of things actually. But I'm not buying little random shit that I'll forget about in a day. I'm buying things I need (like an actual winter coat) and things that are more "self-care" than "retail therapy."

To anyone who thinks, "Wow. Way to rationalize/justify spending money on more stuff," after reading that last sentence: Fuck.You. I am worth the money I've spent in the last week.

I am more calm and rested than I've been in a really long time. Months? Years?

I repeat the following things to me when I find myself getting stressed or anxious about something:

I'm ok. I'm safe.

I am brave and can be strong. I will be ok.

I am loved.

I do not need to explain myself to anyone. Ever.

I don't care what anyone says or thinks about me and my choices. I don't care about things I have ZERO control over. Caring so much about everyone and everything else led me to the terrified place in the bathtub on Thursday morning.

I am not responsible for anyone or anything else. I am only responsible for me and my actions.

I am enough. I am deserve and am worthy of health, happiness, love, and all good things.

I forgive myself and set myself free.

There are probably more, but those are the most frequent ones.

On Tuesday night, I stood in the most beautiful hotel room in the most beautiful hotel I've ever been in. And I started to cry. I wasn't crying the same tears that I had the previous days. I wasn't crying because I was choking on a small sip of water. These were not tears from fear, loneliness, helplessness, and hopelessness.

These were tears of joy, hope, relief, and pride. I am ok. I will be ok. I'm still here. I'm not giving up.

[wkemeup]

Play Pretend (II)

summary: In the aftermath of Munich, Bucky struggles to go back to how things were before. But now that he knows how it is to love you, he's not sure he can. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.8k warnings: smut (18+), mutual pining idiots a/n: here is the final part! make sure you catch up at part 1 first! gif by @crispychrissy

Bucky couldn’t get the image out of his head for days after the mission in Munich. Pictures of you laying so beautifully beneath him, the slight curve of your lips as a moan slipped past, skin so soft it begged to be touched and soothed and worshiped. He couldn’t let go of how you sounded, how you cried out his name or the gentle whimpers spoken so sweetly against his ear. He couldn’t stop craving you wrapped so tightly around him, your hands caressing down his arms, his back, his shoulders, your unbridged desire to touch every part of him, even the parts he despised.

Memories that found him in his sleep in the early hours of the morning, in the shower when his legs were weak and tired, at the breakfast table when you strolled in wearing a t-shirt down to your thighs and the evident curve of your breasts bare beneath the fabric.

Bucky tried to push the thoughts away. He tried to stop thinking of what happened in that cold, abandoned Hydra base. He tried to bury that longing somewhere deep, somewhere he’d never be bothered by it again. But it always came back in the image of you in that cell.

It plagued him. It taunted him.

He wanted more.

He didn’t know how to admit it. Not to himself, and certainly not to you. So, he did his best to suffocate those feelings, those cravings for something real, but they still found their way to the surface.

They spilled over on movie nights with the team and Bucky would find himself inching closer to you, in the gym when he took just a second longer to lift his weight from your body after a winded match that ended on the surface of the mat, on walks around the compound when he found himself wanting to capture your hand in his own as your fingers brushed by.

Those feelings slipped from his smothering hold on missions when he watched your back far more than his own, when he’d missed an obvious target in an attempt to clear your enemy line and ended up catching three bullets himself. He lost composure whenever you didn’t respond on coms or when you’d stumble back onto the quinjet with an injury you’d been hiding. He dove headfirst into fires and threw his body up as a shield and spent every night in agony wondering if you knew that he’d give his whole life to you if you’d asked.

It made him stupid. It made him reckless. It might actually get him killed.

But it hadn’t started in Munich. No, that was just the catalyst of it all. Bucky had loved you long before that drug infiltrated his system and left the two of you in an impossible position. He’d managed to keep his feelings at bay for years; hiding behind quick witted jokes and friendly banter and a genuine friendship and it had been enough. Honest, it had.

Only, now he knew what it was like to be with you. He caught a taste of what it would be like to make love to you and he didn’t know if he could ever forget and move on. It had been weeks since Munich and it still felt like it happened yesterday.

He had to do something to keep it from consuming him, even if it broke your heart. Even if it broke his, too.

***

“What the hell do you mean you can’t work with Y/n anymore?”

Steve groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day of debriefing with about a dozen agents making demands he was unwilling to compromise on. This, separating his best team, was among them.

“It’s just not a good idea, Steve,” Bucky said, arms folded tightly over his chest as he watched Steve pace relentlessly down the conference room.

“That’s ridiculous, Buck.” Steve slumped into the chair beside his friend. “You two are the best insurgent team I have.”

“Just trust me. You’ve seen how I’ve been in the field lately. I can’t keep a straight head around her, okay? Not after—” Bucky clenched his jaw, turning away.

Steve sighed, hanging his head. “You ever gonna tell me what happened in Munich?”

Bucky’s lip was chewed raw; scars over broken wounds, teeth digging into painful cracks. It was a nasty habit he picked up after Munich. He wasn’t used to this kind of nervousness; a deep and unsettling feeling churned to stone in the pit of his stomach.

“Reassign me, Steve,” Bucky asked again, firmer. He could feel Steve’s eyes burning on him, tracing every inch of his face, searching for a tell, but he wouldn’t find one. Bucky was trained better than that. He knew to keep his features cold, stoned, even if his heart was pounding against his chest. He wondered it Steve could hear it, too.

The silence hung heavy in the air.

“Alright,” Steve finally conceded. He shook his head reluctantly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Bucky sighed a breath of relief, the weight of months filled with a longing he couldn’t tame and painful twist in his heart slipping from him in seconds. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” Steve stood up from his chair, gathered the papers from the desk and made his way to the door. He paused just at the frame, turned around slowly to find Bucky had relaxed a little too much for his liking and added, “you’re going to be the one to tell her.”

“What?” Bucky scrambled out of his chair, nearly losing his footing and all composure as he stood to face Steve.

“You’ve been partners for years,” Steve shot back tensely. “She’s had your back on countless missions, saved your life on more than one occasion, and—come on, Buck— you guys are friends! The two of you spend every day together, even when you’re benched! You don’t want to give me an explanation? Fine. But you sure as hell owe her one.”

Bucky shook his head rapidly, hands clenching at the fraying edges of his t-shirt. “Steve, I—”

“Just talk to her,” Steve said, a heavy disappointment lingering in his voice. His lips parted, as if there were more he wanted to say, but decided against it. He hung his head, pat Bucky firmly on his shoulder, and left.

***

Had he always been able to hear his own heartbeat like this?

It was pounding in his ears, thunderous, deafening, and he swore just about everyone else on the floor could its thumping as he approached your room.

The door was open ajar with a small glimmer of sunlight streaming out into the dimly lit hallway. You were singly quietly to yourself – humming, maybe – as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring down onto your phone. You didn’t seem to notice him at the door. He knocked.

Your head popped up, surprised at the sudden intrusion and your eyes only narrowed upon finding it was Bucky standing below the doorframe. You looked at him for a moment before you turned back to your phone without saying another word.

He deserved that.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. He was still staring into the room through the small slit in the door.

You shrugged. “Depends. Are you still avoiding me?”

A sharp sting burned in his chest as Bucky tried to unclench his jaw. Truthfully, he had been avoiding you for days now. Ever since he made up his mind to ask for a reassignment. It didn’t matter if Steve shipped him off to Alaska or the Amazons or out into space with the goddamn raccoon; all he knew was that every minute he spent beside you was agony and he needed to get away from it – away from you – before it consumed him whole.

None of that was your fault. You didn’t know why he was suddenly too busy to spar on your usual weekdays or join the team for movie nights. He never told you why he suddenly started pulling away, cutting off all contact as if you hadn’t been friends for years before Munich.

“I’ve got something important to talk to you about,” Bucky replied, clearing his throat.

You sat up, sitting the phone down by your side as you recognized the tone in his voice. Clinical. Mission oriented. Business. He didn’t want it to sound so cold, but he wasn’t sure he could do this if it wasn’t.

Bucky stepped into the room, prying the door open gently with a slow squeak on its hinges as he closed it behind him. He’d been in your room dozens of times before, but somehow, in this moment, it felt like an invasion of privacy, like he wasn’t supposed to be there.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep focus. He took a few steps forward and gingerly sat on the edge of your bed, keeping careful distance as he wrung at his hands in his lap.

“I’m being reassigned.”

You furrowed your brow. He could practically hear your heart skip a beat.

“What? No. They can’t do that!” You shook your head, determined. There were traces of disbelief on your face – anger, too. Your hands gripped tightly into the sheets at your sides. “They can’t just reassign you, Buck. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Y/n, you don’t understand,” he started to say, but you were already on your feet, pacing around the room. It was how you calmed yourself when your thoughts were racing too fast. The stabbing pain in Bucky’s chest only seemed to dig deeper.

“I know the field has been messy lately, but that happens to everyone! They can’t split us up because of a few extra trips to the med bay,” you argued, wearing trenches into the carpet of your bedroom. You stopped abruptly. “Who gave the order? Steve? Tony? I’ll take this up with Fury if I have to, okay? I won’t let them—”

“Y/n, stop. Please.” Bucky hung his head. His right hand was red as his left clasped and tugged at the skin. He couldn’t find the courage to meet your eye but he could tell from the way you stilled that you knew what he was about to say. “It was me. I asked for reassignment.”

It didn’t seem to hurt any less though because your stance still faltered. It was barely noticeable, not to the human eye, but Bucky’s sensed were advanced thanks to his time in Hydra. He saw the way your body weight shifted just slightly, how your breath caught in your chest, the slight flicker of your eyes. Shock. Betrayal. Hurt.

“You said it yourself,” Bucky reasoned, trying to find excuses where there were none, “there’s been too many ER trips lately. I keep getting hurt.”

“Because you insist on using your body as human shield, Buck!” you retorted, arms flung out to the sides. “Just knock that off and we’ll be fine!”

Bucky shook his head, his lips curling ever so slightly though it didn’t touch his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it is!” you argued. You started pacing again. “Don’t be an idiot, Barnes. I’m not losing my partner. Go tell them you were joking or concussed and not thinking straight!”

“I’m not going to do that.” Bucky clenched his jaw. His right hand was starting to lose feeling from how tightly he was gripping it.

Why couldn’t you make this easy on him? You were supposed to be angry with him for ignoring you for the last week. You were angry with him and yet you still fought for him. He couldn’t make sense of it.

The pacing stopped again, though this time it came in slow, like a realization that found its way piece by piece until it melded into a visible image.

“Was it something I did?”

Bucky jumped up to his feet, instinctively wanting to walk towards you but you held your ground. He froze, standing several feet away.

“No,” he said firmly. “God no. You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/n.”

“Then what?” You raised your arms out to the side in question. “We’ve been partners for years, Bucky. I’ve relied on you all that time to have my back, to keep me alive out there, and—and—” you groaned rather loudly, “you’re my best friend! You can’t just up and decide you’re done with me and move on!”

Bucky frowned. “That’s not what this is.”

You shook your head, arms folding tightly over your chest protectively. “Sure feels like it.”

The silence between you was unbearable. Bucky didn’t have a good excuse. You were right to be angry with him. He was abandoning you. He was a coward. He was running away from a painful situation to avoid facing it head on because he was terrified to lose you. Though, as you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, pulling them away a moment later to find a soft glisten of reflection in their wake, Bucky started to wonder that were already true.

“Oh God,” you exhaled, a heavy realization in your voice as you turned to him. Your shoulders slumped. “This is because of Munich, isn’t it?”

Bucky flinched. He tried not to, but you noticed. A look of absolute devastation crossed your features as your lips parted, sinking down onto your bed.

“I knew things were different after that mission. I mean, how could they not be?” You leaned over against your thighs, letting your hair fall down to shield your face where Bucky could not see. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have given in. You couldn’t consent with that shit running through your veins. Not really. So— fuck – I completely understand if you can’t be around me after I—”

“That’s not what happened,” Bucky interjected sharply, shaking himself from the fear coursing through him as he crossed the room to you. He knelt down beside your bed and waited patiently for you to lift your head and let the curtain of hall fall away from your face. “I could have fought it. It hurt like hell, but I would have survived it even if we… if we hadn’t…”

He let his voice trail off, his cheeks turning a slight side of pink. He sighed. “The point... is that I wanted to. I really wanted to. And that’s the problem.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused.

Was he really going to tell you? Wasn’t this what he had been trying to avoid? Throwing away years of friendship to confess deeper feelings he was all but sure you’d never reciprocate?

But there was something about the way you were looking at him. With tears glistening in your eyes and a grief he couldn’t quite place nestled into the lines on your forehead, Bucky began to wonder if walking away would give him any relief at all. He wasn’t sure he could ever leave this room again if you were left blaming yourself for his crimes.

Bucky slowly placed his right hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb gently along the dimple. Your eyes followed his movements, watching curiously until he found the courage to speak.

“We’ve been partners for a while,” he started, clearing his voice when it came out shaken. You nodded. “I feel like sometimes I know what you’re thinking just by looking at you and when we’re out in the field, even in the middle of chaos, it’s like you can tell what I’m doing before I actually figure it out myself. We’re really good together. Out there. It’s hard to find that these days.”

You didn’t say anything and for that, he was grateful. He needed to get this out before he shut down completely.

“I think we only got that good because we’re… uhm… we’re close, you know?” Bucky took a deep breath, releasing his grip on your knee when he realized he’d started to squeeze it a little too hard. Your hand was sitting on your thigh, but you’d inched it closer to his, enough so the tips of your fingers overlapped onto his.

“We’re friends.” Bucky paused at the term, deciding it wasn’t strong enough. “It’s more than that though. I trust you with things I wouldn’t even tell Steve. You were the first person I felt like I could be myself around. Not the Bucky that Steve remembers or the one Hydra manipulated. This one. Whatever that means.”

Your whole hand covered his now, as much as it would allow. He glanced up to find your fingers curling under his, a slight squeeze to tell him you were still listening. He exhaled another breath and the pressure in his chest felt a little lighter.

“What happened in Munich didn’t awaken anything or… or open my eyes to something I didn’t know was there,” Bucky continued, his eyes trained on your legs, unable to find the courage to face you. “I’ve known how I felt about you for a long time. I was okay with it. I learned to live with it and manage it because being your friend and being your partner was too important to lose. But…”

He felt your hands squeeze his again.

“But after Munich… I don’t know how to go back. I don’t think I can.” Bucky didn’t dare to meet your eye. He could feel the words slipping past his lips before he had a chance to pull them back in. A waterfall of confessions he couldn’t hope to control. “It’s why I’ve been so reckless in the field, why I keep ending up in the med wing. I can’t shove it down anymore and it punctures me right through the goddamn heart when I see you surrounded by armed agents or when there’s a weapon aimed at you and my instinct is to run towards you. Screw what happens to me.

“I know you’re good at your job,” Bucky stressed, shaking his head. “I know you can handle yourself and you don’t need me to protect you but�� but I want to. I want to keep you safe and hold your hand when you’re getting stitches and curl up beside you at night just so I can remind myself you’re real when the nightmares get the better of me. I want… I want more than I should.”

He could hear the skip in your heartbeat, how it gradually picked up in pace the longer he spoke. Your breathing was shorter, too. Shallower. Bucky was certain it was all confirmation of the story he’d been telling himself for years.

“This… How I feel… It’s not good for us. As friends. As partners. I’m trying to do us a favor and just remove myself from the equation.”

Bucky still had yet to meet your eye. He’d turned to examining every detail he could find on the fabric of your sleep shorts, in the sheets you sat upon, in the divots and dimples and blemishes on your thighs. He wasn’t sure he’d have the resolve to leave if he looked at your face.

Several beats of silence passed by and Bucky wondered how it was possible you hadn’t lashed out at him yet. He expected you to be angry for driving a wedge between you with something as reckless as love and affection. He expected you to turn your shoulder, reject him for everything he was, because it was one thing to befriend the Winter Soldier, another entirely to love him.

Bucky slowly rose back to his feet, letting his hand slip away from your knee and your gentle hold on him fell away. He mistook your silence for acceptance, maybe even agreement. He cleared his throat, starting to back up towards the door.

“So, um,” Bucky said nervously, trying to fill the silence in his escape, “that’s why. I hope you can forgive me some day for all of this. I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”

Bucky barely had his hand on the knob when he heard the soft squeak of your mattress springs as you rose to your feet.

“You’re wrong.”

The sound of your voice startled him, enough to get him to look back at you before he could stop himself. Your hands were clenched at your sides, eyes red with tears, bottom lip chewed raw.

“Y/n, I—”

“You’re wrong,” you said again, almost angry and somehow that was a relief. It would make it easier for him to leave if you were angry, but you had different plans. “You’re wrong if you think you’re doing me some kind of favor by leaving.”

Tears were on your cheeks now and Bucky’s stomach lurched. This wasn’t what he wanted. This was agony.

He took a step closer to you. “You have to trust me, it’s not a good idea for us to—”

“You’re wrong,” you continued, cutting him off again as you rubbed at the tears under your eyes. “You’re wrong to assume that I don’t feel the exact fucking way about you and—and if you leave, Bucky, I swear to God it will kill me.”

Bucky froze. His heart stopped beating completely, might have plunged down through his stomach, broken through the floorboards and buried itself into molten lava and dirt, because of all the things he was expecting you to say, that was not one of them.

“Don’t do this,” you implored, voice a little broken, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t go.”

Bucky was at a loss. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t prepared for this. He never even considered you might beg him to stay, that you might feel for him in the way he felt for you. It never once crossed his mind. It felt like a dream.

“I miss you.” Your voice was so small and still, it nearly tore him straight in half. “I miss how we used to be. I miss seeing you smile and your stupid jokes at the most inappropriate times in the field.” You laughed to yourself, under your breath, and even through the tears it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. But you sighed, the smile falling away. “I miss you when you’re not here. All the time. So much it hurts. I feel like I’m going out of my mind when I’m not with you. You’re my best friend, but I… I also… I miss Munich.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and you only caught a glimpse of him for a second before your face was in your hands, trying to shield yourself from him.

“I know it’s wrong,” you murmured, muffled by your palms. “I know it’s not right to miss a moment when you were in pain and made to feel something you didn’t ask for, but… I think about it a lot and... how much I want more.”

Stunned silence. Throat dry. Heart pounding.

“What are you saying?” Bucky finally found the courage to ask.

You lifted your head, finally meeting his eye and there was a relief there as you looked up at him. Your shoulders eased. A soft smile returned to your lips and it nearly melted him completely.

“The same thing you are, I think.”

He swallowed. “Oh.”

Bucky watched, near frozen, as you crossed the room, bare feet padding softly over the carpet until you were only inches from him. The space between you closing as your hands slid up his arms, resting against his shoulders, cupping at the sides of his face, just observing, just feeling. There was no venom in his veins and yet, Bucky felt electrified under your touch. His heart stammered in his chest as your fingers wove at the strands of hair at the base of his neck.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you told him and he wondered for a moment if he stopped breathing entirely. "No Hydra chemicals. No foreign influence. Just us, okay? You and me.”

Bucky nodded, a little stunned.

Slowly, you inched up closer to him, your eyes drawing closed until you were a breath from his lips. Just barely grazing upon his own, waiting, and Bucky let his hands slid up against your back, tugging you closed against him, and captured your lips in his own.

It was different than the first time in Munich, less rushed, less desperate, but instead filled with a longing that had spanned years between you, coated in affection and heartache and need for one another beyond anything a serum in a lab could fabricate.

Your hands wove into his hair, his arms pressing you firm against his chest, and it was like you were holding onto him for dear life. Your feet began to carry the two of you backwards, dragging Bucky towards the bed, and you yelped as your knees caught on the edge of the mattress, sending the two of you spiraling onto the bed.

“You alright?” Bucky laughed, brushing away the hair in your eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows caged around your shoulders; most of his weight laying upon you in the sweetest comfort of pressure.

“I'm perfect,” you replied, bright smiles and joy radiating from every pore. It was contagious.

“We can stop here, if you want,” Bucky offered sincerely. He was riding a high he never thought he’d ever experience and anything you’d be willing to share with him was a gift within itself. He’d kiss you for hours if you’d let him.

“And if I don’t want to stop?” you questioned, staring up at him with a hunger in your eyes. Your fingers trailed down his t-shirt, dancing around the hem of the fabric at his hips. “If I wanted to keep going... If I wanted you...?”

“I’m yours, sweetheart.”

A simple answer. A true one. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

Bucky knelt back, tugged on the fabric of his shirt between his shoulder blades and pulled it over his head. You watching him as he tossed it to the corner of the room before he settled back down against you. Your hands ran along the lines of his muscles, over the scars and imperfections, and for once, Bucky didn’t shy away from the hands of a woman. It didn’t feel like a twist to his gut, he didn’t hold his breath. No – instead, it felt renewing, healing almost.

His hands slid under the waist of your shirt, inching it higher as he rand his touch along the curves of your sides, until you leaned up for him to help remove the fabric. It joined his shirt at the edge of the room.

Perfect and bare. Stunning in your nakedness. A privilege he never thought he’d be granted.

“You want to take a picture or...?” you teased him, noticing how long he’d been staring at you.

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t temp me. Besides, I’m hoping I won’t need a picture to see you like this again.”

“Definitely not,” you confirmed, tugging him down to meet your lips again.

It was laced in smiled and laughter and ages of holding back from one another all rolled into one. A freedom of taking your time, of enjoying one another, and learning to memorize your bodies. Bucky would have wondered if he were dreaming if not for the way you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against his hardening cock – no dream could produce a feeling like that.

With his lips on your neck, Bucky played with the hem of your shorts, waiting until you lifted your hips just enough to give him the access to slid them down your legs, removing the last remaining fabric along with it.

Bucky kissed his way down your body, mapping a trail from your neck, to the hills of your breasts, to your ribs, to the comfort of cushion at your stomach, to the crevices at your legs and inner thighs. He paused for a moment, setting his cheek against your thigh as he drew his fingers between your lips, separating them to give access to the sweetest parts of you.

You flinched a little as he touched your clit, a gasp emitting from your lips as your hands curled into the sheets. Bucky grinned, encouraged by your reaction as he began to circle the pads of his fingers at your entrance. Listening for the subtle changes in your breath, the moans the slipped past, and the curl of your fingers, Bucky leaned in and wrapped his lips around your clit.

“F-fuck, Bucky,” you whined, hands snaking into his hair and gripping tight against his scalp.

He smiled at the feeling, at the way you cried his name, and he pressed his slicked fingers inside of you. Perhaps it was the haze of the foreign chemicals the last time he had you under him like this, but he didn’t remember you being so vocal, so sensitive to his touch. It was a rush and he had to keep himself from rutted up against the mattress as added a third finger, curling them just enough and massaging at the walls as they squeezed tight around him.

Tongue lapping at the wetness, sucking around the sensitive bud of nerves, fingers perfectly drawing out the high as it built at your core, it only took moments before you crashed. You cried out his name, legs wrestling against him in the sensitivity as he drew out the feeling as long as he could, moving slower and slower until you stilled under him.

“Fuck,” you exhaled, a laugh entranced in your voice.

Bucky grinned, pleased with himself as he crawled his way back up the bed to meet your lips. He didn’t bother to wipe the remnants of your high from his mouth and you didn’t seem to mind as you kissed him, certainly tasting yourself upon his lips, and it only made him want you more.

“You’re turn,” you smirked, trying to slide out from under him as you licked your lips, but Bucky held you down.

“Next time, okay?” he countered and you sunk back into the mattress with a pout on your lips. “I don’t think I can last if you get your mouth on me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” you teased, running your fingers down his stomach until he began to shiver.

“Yes,” he chuckled, swatting your hands away playfully. He winked. “I’m gonna die if I don’t have you right now.”

“Jesus, Buck, don’t even joke,” you laughed, hiding your face in your hands.

“Hey, someone's gotta,” Bucky grinned as he tugged down his pants, kicking them off to land amongst the rest of the discarded clothing. “If it got me here, I’ll happily make light of a fucked up Hydra breeding experiment.”

“Would you have told me if it hadn’t happened?” you asked, voice a little softer, peering out from behind your hands.

Bucky stilled, his grin falling into something gentler and he shrugged. “Don’t know if I ever would have had the courage. I never thought we’d be here. Never could have imagined you’d feel the same way.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Would you have said anything?”

“I don’t think I really knew until you threatened to walk away,” you admitted.

“Well,” Bucky sighed, pressing a trail of kissed along your collarbone as he settled between your legs, his length pressing against your thigh, “good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

“Better not,” you murmured against his lips as you drew his mouth to yours.

Then, as he felt the hitch of your breath against his lips, he sank into you. Stretching walls and guiding your legs to wrap at his waist to offer an angle that left your jaw slacked. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips parted, and Bucky felt a rush unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Even through the smoke filled haze of that serum in Munich, he’d never felt an ounce of the relief as he did in this moment. To be completely and entirely yours.

He felt you squeeze at his shoulders, urging him to move, and slowly, he rocked his hips against you. Slow and steady. Needy. Until your nails dug into his spine and Bucky couldn’t prolong the tender build up any longer.

Chasing and chasing; higher and higher. Bucky could tell you were close from how tight your walls were clenched around him. It took near everything he had not to come on the spot, but he held on, waiting, watching as your lips parted, as the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard slipped past, and you cried out his name.

“Oh fuck—fuck—Bucky, don’t stop.” Your breath was hot against his cheek. “I’m so close. I’m—ah—”

A hitch in your breath and your whole body seemed to fall slack. It only spurred him on. Hips snapped, fingers rubbing quick circles at your clit, until you were whining and shaking under him, until he was satisfied with the blissful look on your face and he let himself go.

He spilled into you, rutting his hips in a few final, lazy thrusts as he sank into the crook of your neck, panting. Dizzy and content, riding a high that extended beyond his body, Bucky hummed into your collarbone as he felt your nails draw patterns along his back in gentle sweeps. It tingled on his skin, send shivers along his spine, and he never wanted it to stop.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You paused, just for a moment, before you resumed tracing the lines on his back, over muscles and scars alike. “Yes, Bucky?”

He could hear the teasing in your voice, the light-hearted laugh, the warmth that made him fall in love with you and his heart clenched. He wrapped his arms under your shoulders, the full weight of his body still pressing you down to the mattress, still buried inside of you.

“Promise me this is real.” An embarrassment crept up as he said it, though the drawing on his back didn’t skip a beat. “You and me. I’m not dreaming or stuck in my head. This is real, right?”

Your hands slid up along his shoulders to his neck, and then to the sides of his face as you guided him off your chest to meet your eye; more beautiful than he’d ever seen you, with a glimmer of sweat and an afterglow radiating in the smile lifting your cheeks.

“This is real, honey,” you told him, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips.

“Okay. Okay, good.” Bucky grinned, cheeks flushed in heat. He settled back against your chest, resting his cheek to your heart as you resumed drawing the lazy patterns on his back.

Perfectly content.

Warm. Safe.

Home.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[twilight-orchid]

How The Demon Brothers React After Fighting With Their SO

tw: some angst with resolution at the end, mentions of past arguments, insecurity.

Lucifer:

This man is petty as hell.

He doesn’t do the silent treatment, but he acts like you aren’t dating.

If you need to work on something together, you’re a co-worker.

At RAD you’re a classmate.

Around the house you’re just a housemate.

His poker face is immaculate and it will not crack when you’re around.

If someone didn’t know what was happening, they’d probably think you two barely knew each other.

However, you won’t notice, but as soon as you look the other way his eyes are on you.

He’s used to arguing with his brothers and is no stranger to explosive fights that end with he and the other person not being on speaking terms.

But you’re different.

He tries to go on with business as usual, but he can’t think about anything other than how much he misses you.

Yet, he lets it continue because he just can’t put his pride aside and apologize.

If you decide to sleep in your old room it’ll both hurt his feelings and royally piss him off.

He thinks you’re being childish and will be pretty rude about it, but that’s because internally his blood just ran cold.

It adds a degree of seriousness to the argument that he’s uncomfortable with.

Yes he’s mad, but he can’t lose you.

If you still sleep in his bed, he makes sure to scoot over to the very edge so he doesn’t cuddle you in his sleep.

In fact, the first night after the argument he’d probably put a pillow between you just to really punctuate the fact that he’s still upset.

I’d say it could go 4 days to a week tops without you making up.

After a point though, he just can’t function until the issue is resolved. He can’t sleep, he’s falling behind on his work, and he’s just generally not doing well.

You get called to his office one night and find him at his desk surrounded by piles of paper, disheveled and exhausted.

“MC, come sit down. I’d like to talk this through. Please.”

Mammon:

He’s so dramatic.

You dare defy him? The Great Mammon can’t believe this tiny fragile human would have the audacity.

The theatrics are just a front though.

His ‘The Great Mammon’ act is a mask for his insecurity, one he hasn’t had to use with you in awhile.

Even as the words leave his mouth he regrets them.

He’s going to be very uncomfortable with everything until the argument is resolved, but most of all himself.

He’s learned not to take his brothers too seriously when they toss insults his way, but words have a way of morphing to belief over time.

Internally he is going to be super hard on himself. 

Regardless of if the fight was his fault or not, he’s going to kick himself constantly for making yet another mistake.

He’s over the argument pretty fast. The anger quickly melts into anxiety.

Are you going to leave him? Do you hate him? Did he hurt your feelings? 

That being said, he doesn’t know if you’re still mad and he doesn’t know how to ask. 

As a defense mechanism, he defaults to how he treated you when you first arrived in the devildom.

Calls you human, disregards you, stuff like that.

If you decide to sleep in another room, before midnight expect him to be knocking on the door.

“Oi, MC. You awake? I just - I can’t - *sigh* Can we talk about this?”

If you sleep in his bed, he makes a point of sleeping with his back to you.

Less because he’s actually mad and more because he doesn’t want his image of you as he drifts to sleep to be a look of anger.

Though as soon as he passes out he’ll roll over and tuck you into his arms on instinct.

I’d say any after effects of an argument with Mammon would be resolved in a day, maybe two tops.

Leviathan:

Arguing activates his trolling the forums mode.

Goes back to calling you a normie and contradicts everything you say.

He’s less mad about the argument and more using the bitterness to cope with how upset he is.

He feels like a break up is less of an if and more of a when.

Why would someone as amazing as you settle for weird otaku like him?

Honestly doesn’t understand why you’re with him in the first place, so when there’s a serious argument he assumes its over.

Tbh don’t know how you and Levi would sleep together being that I doubt two could fit in a tub, but any deviation to your routine sends him into a panic.

It’s his reality check that the situation is serious and he needs to fix it NOW.

He’d have trouble apologizing in person. He can’t think of what to say, he stumbles over his words, and he feels like he’s on the verge of a panic attack.

Instead, expect a long ass text message.

He says how sorry he is, how much he misses and loves you, and legit begs you to forgive him.

If you sleep with him like normal, he’ll probably try to make up after laying there for awhile. His mind is going a million miles an hour and there’s no way he can sleep.

Still really has trouble verbalizing how he feels, so give the poor boy a break and take over the conversation.

He hasn’t had a serious relationship before and he doesn’t know what he should do to make it better.

So the after effects will last however long it takes him to read several mangas, watch some anime, and play a few games to see how the characters get over arguments in the story.

Satan:

Satan makes sure not to fight with you over minor issues.

He’s worked tirelessly to tame his wrath and he refuses to feed into it over a minor issue.

Thus, if you fight with Satan it’s a major argument and it’s explosive.

The aftermath isn’t much better.

He doesn’t want to risk blowing up again, so he’s frighteningly calm.

He’s an absolute master of the silent treatment.

He won’t say a word to you until he’s certain he’s calmed down enough.

For the first few days he’ll straight up leave a room if you enter.

For a good while the only way you can expect to communicate with him is through his body language and the expression in his eyes.

Satan’s biggest fear is losing control and lashing out at you. 

He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt you and he can’t stand the thought of you being afraid of him. 

He’s a whirlwind of emotions, so he isolates himself until he can figure out how to deal with it.

Not just from you, but from everyone else too. 

Satan will not share a bed with you for at least the first night.

If he got worked up enough to actually fight, it’s gonna take him time to simmer down.

And he’d rather not risk doing or saying something he regrets in the meantime.

Once he’s ready, he’ll approach you when he’s completely calmed down and has thoroughly analyzed the situation.

He’s considered both of your sides, tried to pinpoint what caused the disagreement to turn into a fight, and made a plan of action to prevent it from happening again.

“MC? I’ve been thinking quite a bit about what happened. Would you please talk it through with me?”

He won’t apologize for the argument if he feels like he was right, but he will apologize for letting the disagreement escalate into a fight.

Satan could go weeks without making up if necessary, but he tries to resolve it within a couple of days.

Asmodeus:

Wants to give you the silent treatment, but is physically incapable.

He can’t stand to have you ignore him.

He’s the type to go back to normal then suddenly remembers you guys had a fight.

“Wait, no! I’m not talking to you! I’m mad at you!”

His biggest downfall is that he’s so stubborn.

If he thinks he was right, he will die on that hill.

There are arguments with his brothers that happened a thousand years ago and he could still tell you exactly why he was right.

But with you, he realizes that doesn’t matter too him nearly as much as it usually does.

If it means going back to normal, he’ll forget who’s right or wrong.

If you sleep in another room, he’s beyond offended.

“What?! Well fine! I don’t want you in my bed anyway!”

Laying in bed alone is a different story though.

He can’t sleep. All he can think about is you. Your face when you sleep next to him, your smell, the feeling of his arms around you.

He 100% cries.

Finally goes and knocks on your door with wet, glossy eyes.

“MC? Can we talk about this? I can’t get my beauty sleep and my tears are wiping off all of my skin care lotion!”

Will throw himself into your arms before you can answer.

If you sleep next to him still, he rolls over and watches you sleep.

It puts him at peace and he decides seeing your sweet, resting face every morning is worth more to him than the argument.

He’ll initiate the conversation the next morning.

I think Asmo could make it a few days if it was a really serious argument, but he will not function well until you make up.

Beelzebub:

Wants to make up immediately.

He doesn’t like to argue, even less so with you.

Whether he was right or wrong, he blames himself. He’ll take all the blame in the world if it makes you happy.

He’ll go make you your favorite food and bring it to you.

If he thinks you don’t want to talk to him, he’ll leave it outside your door and text you to let you know it’s there.

He’s honestly devastated if you decide to sleep in another room.

You guys migrate to your old room when you want privacy from Belphie, but you almost never sleep separately.

Seeing you grab your pillows and march out of the room nearly stops his heart.

He goes completely numb and silent as he just stares at the space you had just occupied.

Like Levi, he thinks this means the relationship is over and he genuinely does not know what to do with himself.

He can’t even bring himself to eat, he just wants to lie there, lost and trying to grapple with his emotions. 

He’s another one who will absolutely cry, but unlike Asmo he will make sure no one knows it.

If you still sleep in his bed, he’s very nervous about it.

He doesn’t know if it’s okay to touch you, what he can or can’t say, stuff like that.

He just lays there stiff as a board not even able to close his eyes.

Honestly the fight would probably have to be resolved before bed. His anxiety just can’t take it.

I don’t think he’d initiate the apology. Not because he doesn’t want to make up but because his confidence is rock bottom in these situations.

He catastophizes and honestly thinks you hate him.

If you don’t initiate the apology soon, Belphie will. He can feel what his twin won’t say, and he knows Beel won’t approach you about it for fear of making it worse.

Belphie will lock you two in a room if that’s what it takes for you to make up.

Belphegor:

The embodiment of if looks could kill.

He won’t talk to you, won’t look at you, basically pretends you aren’t there.

If he must interact with you he’ll roll his eyes and sigh the whole time.

Tries to sleep through any interaction so he doesn’t have to deal with it.

He feels almost betrayed by the fight.

He thought the relationship was stronger than to have such a huge divide, so he’s really insecure about it.

After the first day, the anger has melted away to guilt.

He ‘s not guilty that you fought, but he is guilty about how he treated you after.

Guilt and self-blame have become unwelcome friends at this point. Guilt over Lilith, over his plans to destroy the human world, everything.

But more than anything else, the guilt for the fact that he attacked you weighs on him every day.

He moved past it quickly after, essentially pretending he hadn’t killed you, but that’s because he just couldn’t confront what he’d done. 

He feels like the luckiest demon alive that you forgave him, let alone  opened you heart enough to love him, and now it’s all in tatters.

Another thing to regret.

If you decide to sleep separately, it’ll hit him like a bag of bricks.

“You - what? Where are you going?” 

It’ll take him a second to process what you were doing, but then he’ll roll over and let you leave.

“Fine. Don’t let the door hit you.”

No one will see him for awhile. 

Belphie sleeps all the time anyway, but he just can’t make himself get out of bed.

If you don’t approach him to apologize, Beel will tell you that he’s been nauseous and randomly emotional which must mean his twin is coping very badly. 

Will beg you to go make Belphie happy again. 

If you sleep in his bed still, the argument will be resolved by morning.

He can’t keep himself from embracing you in his sleep, and it’s hard to say you’re mad at someone when you wake up in their loving arms.

It’s hard to pinpoint how long it could last with Belphie. If you don’t apologize first, he won’t let himself be conscious long enough to approach you.

This is both my first hc post as well as my first obey me post so I’m sorry if le boys are ooc. I just got this idea and couldn’t stop thinking about it so here we are.  Especially Belphie, he was hard to me for some reason. Let me know if you guys agree or disagree and if you want to send a request or ask, my box is open! 

[gurugirl]

The Tiffany Club Part 21

Summary: Back in NYC, Camille and Harry feel settled and back to normal. But then Camille gets a call from her parents and she begins to spiral.

Warning: Angst - Triggering topics (mentions of disordered eating as a means to self-soothe, toxic parents, and past trauma)

Part 20*

Part 21 ~Camille~

London in the winter is quite similar to New York City in the winter. It’s cold, windy, dreary, and coats and bundling up are very necessary.

Harry took me to all kinds of spots. He gave me to full tourist experience, and it was pretty magical.

After everything blew up with us when I ran off, I feel different about my relationship with Harry. He came after me. He does want me. I have to keep telling myself that I haven’t made a mistake with choosing to be with him. It’s hard to break the cycle of self-doubt and questioning myself for everything I do. Every bite of food I eat is met with me talking myself off the cliff. Before Harry came along I did things my way and never had to let anyone in. I didn’t need to care for anyone else or worry about someone else. But now I do. Now I have to allow myself to be vulnerable and in turn I must accept another person’s vulnerabilities.

The “punishment” I received from Harry was therapeutic in a way. I know it sounds nuts but it was like Harry knew exactly what I needed to feel how serious he is about me. I gave in to him. Completely. It was the first time in my life that I allowed myself to go into a bit of subspace. I don’t think I was totally gone because I was still aware, but somehow I was just happy to accept his love and let him show me without question. It was like my body said yes to him, surrendered fully, and my mind followed.

That night changed everything. Everything. Mostly in myself. It was like he hypnotized me and made me see how by trying to protect myself, I was actually hurting myself. More than his spankings hurt. And that fucking hurt.

I couldn’t sit properly for days on end. Harry was the best, though. Kissing my bum, putting ointment on me. He had me lay over his lap every night when we’d returned from trekking around London and he’d take a cool, damp, cloth and dab it over my sore bum, then put ointment over it. He’d make me lie like that for about thirty minutes every evening to let the ointment soak in and, as he said, so he could get a view of my pretty bum.

When we returned to New York City Barry was beside himself that we were back. His tale was whacking everything near him, causing his rear to swing him off balance. I nearly cried I was so happy to see him. My best boy ever. I am fully grateful to Richard and his care for Barry.

A few days after settling back home from our small vacation away in London, my parents called. I haven’t spoken to either of them in months. The last I spoke to my dad was in early September very briefly. And then I texted my dad a few weeks ago telling him I’d like to speak with him. He never responded, which I wasn’t surprised about. But I did feel it was important to talk to him and tell him to stop sending me payments every month. It felt wrong to continue letting him put money into my account when I had Harry now, and Harry was more than taking care of me financially.

It was a shock to see the incoming call. Harry was away at the office and I was doing some light research and chores in between when the call came in. A video call of course.

When I opened the call, there were my mom and dad. I hadn’t spoken to my mom since July probably. She and I weren’t on good terms ever since I moved away to New York City. A sinful place to live for a sinful girl.

It started with small talk. How are you? and what’s new?… and then my mom asked me about coming to visit.

“I just miss my daughter. I need to make sure you’re living your life righteously. I’d like to see your apartment and what you’ve been doing. So, we have booked tickets to see you next week.”

The whole experience of speaking to my mom has left me in shock. I’ve missed her so much and to hear her say she wants to see me and that they’re coming… I haven’t had contact with my mom in nearly six months and the holidays are coming so it would be nice to see them. But I have to break the news to them about where I’m living, and that I’m being taken care of by a rich man who loves me and treats me well.

So, as I listen to them tell me the plans they’ve made to come visit, I’m thinking of how to tell them what to expect. I can’t just let them come here under the assumption that I’m still living by myself. They won’t like that I’m living with a man I’m not married to, but I must be honest and tell them the truth.

“I’m so excited you both want to see me! But I do need to tell you something. It’s a recent occurrence but now that you’re interested in coming you should know, I don’t live by myself anymore.” I take a deep breath and sooth myself with reassuring words and kind thoughts about who I am and what I’m doing before continuing, “I met someone and I live with him. He’s a wonderful man, you guys will like him a lot. He’s from London. His name is Harry.”

I’m met with silence and lost looks from them both. I sit and wait for them to respond. My dad goes first, “Yeah? He’s taking the money I send you every month then?” My mom snaps her head toward my dad and gives him a look of confusion. My mother didn’t know about the money my dad was sending me, but it’s all too late now.

“No! Of course not, dad. He’s very wealthy, doesn’t need it. But that’s why I texted you a few weeks ago. I wanted you to know because I’ve saved all the money you’ve sent and I don’t need you to keep helping me. It didn’t feel right.” I can feel my mouth growing dry and my throat closing up. I’m trying to stay calm and confident, but my decisions are all on the table and being scrutinized by my parents.

My mother says something to my dad about the money and she looks hurt, maybe a little mad. My dad speaks softly to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. I can’t hear their quiet conversation, only every couple of words sounds clear and I can see their expressions.

My mom looks back toward the phone screen, “I knew it. I knew I would be disappointed. Your father talked me into this and I was so worried that he would be wrong and I’d still be left mourning you and your soul. I don’t know if I can take this…” my mother gets up and leaves the spot where they’re seated. It makes my heart drop. Her words are my biggest fear. She’s disappointed in me. She feels like she has to mourn me, like a death.

I can’t stop the tears from forming in my eyes at the notion I’ve hurt her again.

My dad speaks, “Camille, listen. We’ll still come see you. It’s a surprise to hear you’ve moved in with a man before you’re married but you’re still our daughter. We still continue to pray for you and seek God to guide you out of sin. We love you, but we don’t love the choices you make and I don’t know that we’ll be happy to meet this Harry. Perhaps we can arrange time with just you. I’m not sure your mother and I are ready to meet him.”

My tears roll down my face and drip off my chin as he speaks. All I want is for my parents to accept me and be happy for me. And to not want to meet Harry? I can barely get words out to respond to my dad. My lungs are one fire, my heart is sunk in my chest, my throat is closed up. My sobs are audible and my dad just sits and watches as I cry.

“Dad… I don’t… I’m so happy in my life. I just want…” I hiccup between words as I try to speak, “you and mom to be proud…” I let more tears roll down my face and I wipe them away. Barry jumps onto the couch next to me and lays his head in my lap. He knows I’m upset and his sweet presence helps me feel more calm and grounded.

“You’re not happy, though, Camille. Do you know how I know? You’re feeling so guilty right now that you’re in tears. God isn’t happy with you and so you aren’t happy with you. The guilt and shame you feel is all over your face. Come back to God and his ways and your life will begin to make sense and you’ll feel fulfilled again.”

It’s my nightmare happening in real time. I’ve dreamt of the words they’d say to me, the way they’d judge me and make me feel like I’ve done something wrong. It feels rotten and claustrophobic. I feel like taking myself into the bathroom and throwing up all my breakfast and then going to sleep until I don’t feel anything anymore. I’m sick to my stomach and I’m devastated by their reaction. I just want them to love me and be happy for me. I just want to be accepted by them.

I brush my hand along Barry’s head and close my eyes. I think of the words Harry has told me and how I get to make my own choices in life. I recognize that I am actually happy and that my parents’ words are traumatizing to me. They reopen these wounds with me every time we speak and it creates this expression of fear that manifests physically and emotionally and sets me back.

I realize to myself as I watch Barry’s belly rise and fall with each breath he takes that I’m where I’m happy right now. I’m okay without my parents and if they come visit, they’ll be invited to meet Harry and if they don’t want to meet him, they won’t see me. Because this is my life.

“I love you dad. Tell mom I love her. If you both…” I try to calm my voice, the leftover emotions and tears are still obvious in the way I’m talking, “would like to come see me, you’ll meet Harry. If you… refuse to see him, you won’t see me.” I let out a breath and squeeze my eyes closed for a second.

I can hear the exhale my dad makes, a disappointed sigh, “We’ll see, Camille. I’ll talk to you when you’ve thought this through. Your emotions are high right now because God is working on your heart. I’ll give you some time to soak in his presence and figure things out. I urge you to pray and keep your mind open to him.”

We end the call and it’s a relief to be off the phone. I call Harry immediately because he told me when I’m feeling this way to let him know. He doesn’t want me purging or doubting myself and I need him to tell me I’m okay.

“Hey baby.” His voice immediately calms me and I sigh.

“Hi, Harry. Uhm…” I start crying again because I’m so overwhelmed.

“Camille… honey… what’s wrong?” Harry sounds worried.

“My mom and dad called. It was awful, Harry. I’m so sick and tired of everything. I don’t know what to do.” I keep my hands on Barry and pet him.

“I’m coming home, baby. Can you wait right where you are for ten minutes? Don’t do anything. Get Barry and give him some love and I’ll be right home.”

Barry doesn’t move off my lap as I continue to let the tears fall. I feel ridiculous. I’m an adult woman and my parents’ words still have so much weight and significance to me. It feels like I’ll never free myself of this awful burden of needing to feel their acceptance. I wish I could just move on and block them, not let their view of things get to me like it does. I can’t seem to help it, though. But there is something that has me feeling like I can climb out of this mess and breathe in the end. That’s Harry. I hate relying on anyone because I always feel like I’ll be let down but if I don’t trust Harry then I can’t trust anyone and then I’m on my own, left to my own destructive devices.

When my tears are mostly dried and I feel my breathing settle I hear the front door open and Barry jumps off my lap and I get up to follow behind Barry to greet Harry. He puts his briefcase down and pulls me into his arms and squeezes me tight. No words, just his warm embrace. It good having him hold me. I feel okay. I can breathe.

He brings me to the couch and pulls me onto his lap, keeping his arms around me.

“Tell me what happened, Camille.” He keeps his eyes on me as I explain what was said and how it made me feel. I tell Harry that my parents are planning to visit but they don’t want to meet him.

“Well, you’re not going anywhere near them without me around. That’s for certain. Everything you’ve told me about your mom and dad is a red flag and you’re my girl. I’m not letting anyone hurt you. In fact, don’t answer calls from them if I’m not around. Okay? Until you can trust them to be nice, you shouldn’t have to deal with their awful attitude alone.” Harry’s face is set in a serious expression.

I nod, “Yeah, I told them if they wanted to see me they’d have to meet you. My dad acted like I’d change my mind, but there’s no way I’ll see them without you around.” I lay my head on Harry’s chest and close my eyes. The pattern of his chest rising and falling comforts me. This is a man I can trust.

“Let them come visit. I’d love to meet them and put them in their place if they start anything with you. I won’t stand for letting them get away with hurting you. I’ll take care of you, baby.”

“I’m so nervous, though. I really don’t want to see them and have you argue with them. There’s no changing their minds about their opinion of me.”

“And if they insist on being judgmental and speaking badly of you I’ll be kicking them out. You’re my girl. No one is going to say shit about you and not have some kind of repercussions for it. And they can’t stay here. They’ll need to find a hotel or something. Anyone who isn’t kind to you doesn’t get to stay in our home.” Harry rubs his hands up and down my back as he speaks. He’s so incredibly calming to me that I feel nearly fine now.

Harry cuddles me and we lie down on the couch together and fall asleep with Barry draped over our feet. There’s truly not enough space for the three of us but it works because an hour later when I wake up we’re all still piled on the couch together.

Harry makes me my favorite comfort food while I take a warm bath. He insists on pampering me for the rest of the day. I tell him it’s not necessary but he refuses to listen.

The following day Harry stays home with me and he encourages me to call my dad and tell them to come. Harry really wants to meet them and I have a feeling it’s because he wants to have a word with them in person. He’s very protective over me and most of my issues stem from my upbringing and the way my parents still treat me to this day.

Plans are set with my parents. My mom objects but my dad assures me they’ll be coming to visit. He’s also under the impression that they’ll be able to change our minds about letting them stay with us, even though I told them they’ll need to find a hotel. Harry has told me not to worry. He’ll take care of it and he’s not a pushover. Which is true. Harry’s confident and well spoken. He promised me he won’t be mean to them but he won’t let them say whatever they want or do whatever they want.

Every day leading up to their arrival, Harry asks how I’m feeling about everything. The only way I know to explain to him is that I’m comforted by his presence, and I feel like I can handle it when he’s with me. I’m nervous, but I’m confident.

On the morning they are due to arrive my dad calls me to let me know they’ll be getting a taxi to our house. My nerves suddenly take over. I’m cleaning and putting things away I don’t want them to see, making sure I’m wearing something appropriate, take Barry on a walk for my nerves, make lemonade and snacks for them, and try to keep myself sane.

Harry comes home when I’ve texted him that they’re on their way. He holds me for a bit and reassures me over and over again and I believe him when he tells me everything is going to be okay.

When we get a call from the front desk that our “guests” have arrived Harry holds my hand and looks into my eyes, “I’m right here. You are going to be okay.  If at any point you can’t handle it you can go into our bedroom and I will kindly tell them to leave.

The knock at our door startles both of us and Harry brings me with him as he opens the door, keeping his hand around mine. My mother is stood in front of my father and she looks worn and tired and even a little scared. I smile at her and then my father. They both have luggage with them, I note.

Harry lets go of my hand as I go in to hug my mother. She embraces me with a gentle hug and then walks inside with her suitcase and when I move to hug my dad, he puts a hand at my shoulder and gives me a stiff smile. He nods and then walks past, rolling his suitcase behind him. I’m not too surprised by his coldness. He doesn’t typically show love with gestures like hugs so I let it go as I take Harry’s hand again.

Harry greets both of my parents and tells them to leave their suitcases in the hallway and I can’t help but feel how awkward they both are. To be invited into someone’s home and to act as if they are being put out is so blatantly rude I feel like pushing them both out of the front door and telling them to start over again, but this time doing it nicely.

I get them both some lemonade and we settle into the living room. Our silence is awkward but Harry doesn’t seem phased by their bad attitudes.

“How was the flight?” Harry asks.

My dad looks to me and then Harry before speaking, “It was alright. We prayed before we boarded and feel we’re both being watched over and taken care of.”

It takes a few minutes for everyone to settle but finally when my dad speaks again I have to roll my eyes at his words, “What are your intentions with our daughter? Am I to understand she lives here with you?”

Harry smiles and squeezes my hand, “I love, Camille. My intentions are to make her happy and give her everything she needs. She’s precious to me. And, yes, she lives here. Is that a problem?”

I wish Harry wouldn’t have asked that.

My mom sniffs but otherwise stays silent where my dad sits up straight and keeps his eyes on Harry, “It is a problem. Yes. You two aren’t married and I’m afraid that means this union isn’t a happy one in God’s eyes. It’s living in sin. Without God’s blessing, which you most certainly do not have given the circumstances, you two are likely to not last as a couple.”

I swallow and feel my heartrate pick up. I look to Harry and he seems calm.

“It’s interesting how you put more faith in a fairytale creature than in your own daughter. But I’m not here to argue religion or whatever with you. I will just say I simply disagree with your assessment of the situation.”

My dad furrows his brow and frowns, “A fairytale? Are you saying you do not believe in God?”

Harry nods, “Bingo. But I do believe in your daughter. She’s sitting right here, flesh and blood. A real human with real feelings and thoughts in her head. You prefer a fantasy over listening and accepting your daughter. I feel bad for you.”

I am beginning to feel hot and my nerves are starting to take over. This isn’t how I imagined it but my picture of what this would look like was probably just a pipedream.

“And I feel bad for you. If you don’t believe in God you’re damned to hell, son. I think you should reconsider your stance.”

Harry lets out a laugh that sounds condescending and he looks down at you, “This girl here is amazing, beautiful and smart with the sweetest, kindest heart and there isn’t any God in this world that could make me feel otherwise.” Harry looks back to my parents, “You keep talking about what God thinks but you don’t care about what your own daughter thinks? Shame.”

My dad shifts and clears his throat, “Do no tell me how to feel about my daughter. I know her better than you do. I’m her father.”

Harry stays calm and I’m surprised by his coolness, “You are her father, and that’s shame.”

Before either of them can continue I speak up, “Let’s change the subject for now. Um… mom, dad? Would you like a snack? Uh, or maybe we can go out to eat?”

My mom looks at me like I’m crazy and my dad responds, “So you’d rather eat then get to the bottom of what’s really going on here?”

I nod, “Of course. There’s nothing to dissect here, really dad. I’m not changing anything about my life just because of your visit. But maybe we can relax and talk about something else. Going out to eat might be nice.”

My dad squints and looks down over my body and then back up to my eyes, “You do appear to have gained a little weight. Are you pregnant, Camille?”

I suddenly feel faint and my vision blurs to red as blood rushes to my head. My dad knows I’ve struggled with food. Even before Tiffany’s I had issue but that was because my dad and mom always wanted everything from me to be perfect. Perfect grades, perfect attitude, the best at whatever I did, and even the perfect body which came with restricting and limiting my food intake.

Harry lets go of my hand and stands up, “Please leave my home. We’ll try this again tomorrow when you’re both settled and feeling friendlier. Camille doesn’t deserve her life and her appearance to be scrutinized by either of you.”

I stay still and take deep breaths to calm myself. I know what my dad is saying is to get under my skin. I hang on to Harry’s voice and his presence to keep myself grounded.

“We had told Camille we’d be staying here with you. Sorry if you didn’t understand that but we’re not planning on getting a hotel. The cost is outrageous.”

Harry laughs again and walks around the coffee table and Barry follows him. Barry is usually quite docile and doesn’t worry himself with guests but I have a feeling Barry is feeling the vibe and he’s concerned now as he stands at Harry’s side. Harry pats Barry’s head and raises his brows at my dad, “Get. Out. Of. My. Home. Right. Now.”

My dad stands up and grasps my mother’s arm to pull her. She keeps her eyes on me as if I need to step in and say something on their behalf but I’m still reeling from my dad’s comment about my weight gain.

My dad looks at me, “Camille, I’m disapp…”

His words are cut off by Harry stepping in closer and raising his voice, “Do not finish that sentence! Leave now. Both of you!”

My mom and dad make their way out of Harry’s home silently and Harry slams the front door closed once they’re gone.

He immediately comes back to me as I’m still sitting on the couch and puts his arms around me and rocks me gently.

“Are you okay, honey?” He kisses the top of my head.

I nod into his chest and feel lighter now that my parents have left, “I feel better now that they’re gone. Thank you, Harry.”

Harry dotes on me and takes care of me during the rest of the day. It’s nice to be loved and taken care of. Even when my dad texts me later on that evening, Harry is the one to text him back, telling him that we’ll reach out to them in the morning.

He kind of feels like my hero lately. Harry has made me feel confident and happy and during the time we’ve been together he’s shown me what it feels like to be loved and to allow myself to love in return.

Thank you for reading! I’d appreciate any support you can give! Whether a comment, reblog, or buying me a coffee- it’s all appreciated.

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