#but then anytime ANYONE calls her eleven i was to strangle them

[andiwriteordie]

i’m a mike defender until the very end because i love my boy so so much but nothing makes me angrier than when he calls el “eleven” 

[lifeontop]

twelve chairs

An echoing room. A circle of chairs. A dozen people from all walks of life. There’s a lawyer. A dentist. A high school teacher. A cashier. A student. An Avenger. I don’t remember what the others do, their introductions have already been removed from my brain’s memory.

Someone (a feminine voice) is speaking. I can only register broken pieces of her speech. “…Wanda”. Without my permission, my voice joins the choir of “Hello Wanda” that rebounds off the walls of the worn down room. My eyes flitter to take in the surroundings. The room is small and bleak, the only decoration is a wooden cross on the wall. The white paint is peeling off the walls, revealing a layer of green paint underneath.

“I realized I couldn’t get through the day without my glass of red wine anymore.” I hear Wanda explain in the background. I’ve heard this story a hundred times before. Day after day, different people recount the same shameful story of how the thing they thought was their saving grace, the solution to all their problems, turned out to be their doom. It’s the story of so many women and men who were struggling to stay afloat and reached for the only thing that would help them survive. And when that very thing destroyed the lives and relationships they had fought so hard to build, they stuck to it, sinking deeper and deeper into their addiction.

My mind doesn’t stick around to hear Wanda's story. It’s no different than the lawyer’s story, they become undistinguishable after a while. With every mouth that utters the words “I couldn’t stop anymore”, the room seems to shrink, the walls closing in on me until they suffocate me and force me to escape to the outside world. For some reason, today my limbs don’t move, they stay seated on the wobbly iron chair.

I have been where my companions are. I have woken up in the morning with my brain screaming for the bottle. But I got over it. I changed. I dried myself out and rewired my brain until even thinking of taking one sip felt forbidden. And I was doing well. For five years, I was the only owner of my thoughts and feelings. Every word that left my mouth was mine. Every step taken, mine. And then, suddenly, it all came to a halt. Like someone had pulled the emergency break on my world. Half a bottle of vodka is all it took.

One sip. I feel fine. This isn’t so bad. Two sips, I won’t get drunk, I just want to loosen up and have a fun with my friends. Three sips. The voices in my head are growing quiet. The silence is blissful. Four sips. I can stop at anytime. Five sips. Why do I feel so nostalgic for this burning sensation that is spreading through my body? It keeps me warm, it makes me feel alive.

Six months pass by in a flash. The familiar warm feeling quickly becomes a heaviness that weighs down my body and strangles my thoughts. I get into more arguments. I fight with people I never want to fight with. I see the hurt and disappointment on my loved one’s faces. I am trying to stop. I can’t. I need someone to talk to, to confess my weakness. I don’t have anyone. The loneliness is driving me crazy.

I am ripped back to the present by someone calling my name. “Y/N! What is your story? Do you want to share with the group?”. Eleven pairs of eyes are staring at me, through me.

My story? My story is that of a person who made one bad choice, bringing out the worst version of themselves. It’s the story of someone who lost control and fell for their biggest fear. It’s the tale of a person that I don’t recognize when I gaze at my reflection in the mirror. A dark creature that I don’t want to be.

My mouth doesn’t open. My body finally awakens from it’s rigidity and I feel my legs carry me across the room, through the door and into the rainy afternoon that awaits outside. The doubt that has been clouding my thoughts for weeks seems to have dissipated. I know who I am. I am not an alcoholic. I am a person who drinks and struggles to stop. But I can and I will stop. I have done it before. I will do it again.

[dearest-bucky]

Jealous too (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: It is Bucky’s turn to get jealous when someone else gets too close with his girlfriend. 

Words: 4.9K

Warnings: angst, jealous Bucky, alluding to sexy times hihi

A/n: This is the second part to Jealous but it can be read as a separated one shot if you want (: @buckybarnesthehotshot here it is lol

Originally posted: April 29, 2020

Bucky Barnes is a fairly reasonable man. Key word: fairly. However, “reason” is barely a thing anymore when it comes to his girlfriend.

If there is someone on the face of Earth that he loves with every fiber of his being, that someone is without a doubt y/n. In the three years they have lived as a couple, not once did he doubt his feelings for her or vice versa. In three years they have lived together, not once did Bucky feel as if he wasn’t enough of a man for her, not once did he feel insecure or apprehensive when it came to their relationship.

However, all of the peace they had built together for this long, was about to be ruined soon. And not because of him. Absolutely not.

If anyone asked, it wasn’t his fault at all that a certain someone, uninvited at the compound and undesirable as hell, had a death wish. Yeah, Bucky Barnes was a reasonable man, simply not when some  punk couldn’t keep his hands off of his girlfriend. In this case, he couldn’t tolerate nothing.

It was getting annoying and he was growing tired of trying to stop himself from strangling the other man to death.  It almost seemed like he did it to mock him and that couldn’t sit well with Bucky. Everything had its limit and apparently the patience of the ex-Winter Soldier had already reached it.

“If you keep staring harder maybe he’ll choke on your death glare.” Sam was standing next to him, working out with some dumbbells while Bucky kept throwing daggers with his eyes behind the stupid agent’s back who was training a couple of feet away with Y/n. Training would be exaggerating it, he was fooling around and the worst of all it’s that his girlfriend seemed like she was having fun, giggling like a schoolgirl, and it was the first time Bucky wanted her to stop letting out those sounds. She only giggled for him!

“Shut up Bird-brain!” He grumbled out for Sam to hear and turned his attention towards the punching bag again, throwing strong punches to it until the bag was sent flying to the other end of the room.

That made y/n and the agent that was with her turn their heads towards Bucky and see what was going on. Y/n walked out of the ring and walked to her boyfriend, a smile on her face as she made her way to him. “Tony will blast your metal arm again if you keep ruining the sandbags babe.” She said jokingly and the super soldier let out a low grunt as a response to her.

“He can try.” Y/n laughed at his words, unaware of what was going on in her boyfriend’s head at the moment. She got closer to him and snaked her arms around his neck, lips pressing lightly to his jaw in a small kiss.

“I’m gonna go take a shower, I’m all gross.” She mumbled the words on his skin, her breath tickling him a little and was about to move away from him, when he placed both of his hands on her waist to keep her there, then locked his lips to hers in a fervent kiss, leaving her breathless. His hands moved slowly to cup her ass as he kept kissing her, lightly squeezing her flesh in his palms and she giggled in his mouth at his action. That sound he loved. Now she could giggle! With him she could giggle as much as she wanted, he never wanted to stop listening to that sound.

He kept kissing her with passion until they had to break away when they heard Sam making loud gagging noises. “Go to your room people. This is public area.”

Y/n laughed at his words and excused herself, walking out of the gym and Bucky followed behind her, but not before giving a dirty look to Brandon who was seemingly feeling awkward from all of the PDA going on in front of him.

Well, that will teach him.

****

Maybe he was overreacting, maybe none of it was true, and maybe y/n was going to hate him for this, but he couldn’t live like this anymore. Everywhere he turned he kept seeing his girlfriend with this Brandon guy and it was driving him crazy.

He was just about to enter the kitchen when he heard the voices of Natasha and Y/n conversing, and he couldn’t help but be curious of what they were saying. He knew whatever it was, if he was to enter the kitchen, they would stop talking, Y/n would walk to him to greet him because he had left her sleeping this morning when he got up from the bed, so he decided to stay behind the wall and keep listening for another moment before making himself present in there.

“Why didn’t it work out between you two?” He heard Natasha’s voice ask the question and now he was more curious than before. What was she talking about? Whom was she talking about? Between you two who?

He focused on the voices coming from the kitchen, trying to listen to Y/n’s answer. He had to know what was going on.

“Well,” He heard her begin speaking. “We dated for like a month or two and then he moved to L.A. Besides, Brandon and I were never serious, it was just fun.”

Brandon and I? Had he heard it right? Brandon had dated his girlfriend before him? What the hell!! He never knew anything about it. It seemed as if the air was tight in the space of the corridor and Bucky had to walk away before he choked on nothing. He couldn’t listen anymore anyway. Now that he knew the truth, he couldn’t help but think that all this time he had been the nuisance, maybe Y/n spent so much time with that other guy because she still loved him, maybe she wanted to go back with him. If that was what she wanted, Bucky wouldn’t stay in her way.

He loved her too much, but he wouldn’t keep her prisoner in a relationship she didn’t want. He would set her free.

He walked away quickly, not knowing where to go, he just wanted to leave the compound and didn’t stop even when he slammed his shoulder harshly against Steve’s who was walking past him. “Where are you going Buck?” He asked, but the brunet didn’t turn around to reply.

*

“It was just fun.” Y/n explained to Nat, sipping carefully on the hot coffee as she spoke. “He’s a good guy, y'know. But he’s been bugging me this whole month with that Kathy thing.”

Nat let out a chuckle at her words. “Isn’t it weird though? You’re his ex-girlfriend.”

“It would be weird if I had feelings for him.” She replied. “But I don’t. I don’t think I ever did. I liked him, yes, but that’s not a strong feeling. Besides, I love Bucky and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with him, why would I care about who Brandon likes.”

At the mention of her boyfriend, she stopped to think for a moment. Where was he anyway? He had woken up early for his morning run with Steve, leaving her asleep in their bed, and she had yet to see him for the day. Not even a moment later, Steve entered the kitchen and Y/n thought he would know the whereabouts of her boyfriend.

“Good morning ladies.” He greeted both of them and moved to the coffee machine.

“Morning, Stevie. Have you seen that boyfriend of mine?” She asked playfully.

“Yeah about that. I just saw him almost sprinting out of the compound, asked him where he was headed to but he didn’t say anything.”

That’s weird, Bucky would never return from his run and not see her. It’s a first. She didn’t pay too much attention though, thinking maybe he had to do anything out and forgot until the last moment, until the last minute. That had happened more than once.

She went on about her day, thinking he would come back as soon as he finished doing his own thing, whatever it was, and they would see each other later.

However that later came too late that night. It was almost midnight when Bucky returned to the compound. As soon as he entered the front door, Friday notified y/n that he had come back.

She had left him several messages in his phone, called him a couple of times, and despite the fact that Bucky wasn’t a genius with the new technology, he knew how to read messages, how to make phone calls. Yet he hadn’t answered to none of her texts. Y/n had spend the entire day wondering where was her boyfriend, why wasn’t he answering to her, why wasn’t he replying, and now she was still awake waiting for his return. When she heard Friday’s pleasant voice inform her that Bucky was finally back, she got up from the bed she was lying on, and started pacing around, waiting until he entered the room they shared.

*

If there is something he hates, that is not being enough, and not once during the last three years he had been with y/n did he have that problem. Today was the first day he felt as if everything about their relationship had been a lie, as if he was never man enough, never worthy enough of a love, of y/n’s love.

He couldn’t walk out of the compound fast enough, moving to the garage and hopping on Steve’s bike, the engine revving loudly while he made his way to the city. He needed to calm his head, needed to breathe some fresh air away from the stifling atmosphere of the compound.

The entire day was spent in Brooklyn, his safe place. Anytime he needed an escape from anything, that’s where he would go and he would always feel better. This time though, nothing seemed to help, seeing as it was well past eleven o'clock and he had been drinking his mind away in a small bar for the last three hours. Despite the fact that he couldn’t get drunk, the taste of the alcoholic liquid seemed like enough of a comforting, and that was all he needed, a little comfort.

He placed a couple of 20 dollars bills on the counter and grabbed his jacket, before deciding to leave the bar, making his way to the bike that was parked a few feet away. The night air was chilly, but he hadn’t been cold for a very long time and tonight was no different. The ride to the compound was shorter than he thought it would be, and he was hoping to find y/n asleep when he arrived.

She had texted and called him many times during the day, but he had only wanted to stay away, that’s why after the seventh message and second call he had decided to turn off his mobile phone.

He entered the compound slowly, quietly walking through the place to get to his room and twisting the knob of the door carefully,  he opened it, and he was surprised to find y/n pacing around the place, a worried look etched in her features. When her eyes met his, she walked to him in a few short strides and was quick to wrap her arms around him in a hug. Bucky was more than confounded by her reaction. Why was she worried about him? She had Brandon to care about anyway.

His arms were glued to his sides, unable to move them and hug his girl back, but Y/n didn’t seem to notice, her hold on him never faltering as she looked up to him to speak. “Where were you all day? I was so worried.” Her words held a hint of pain as she spoke them and Bucky felt bad for worrying her all this time, anyhow, that thought quickly escaped his mind when her words from the morning resurfaced in his mind again.

“I, um…” He started but didn’t know what to say to her, opening and closing his mouth again.

His breath fanned over her face and she could distinctly smell the alcohol. She scrunched her nose lightly at the smell and he always thought she was adorable when she did that, this time though, he didn’t stop to think of how cute she looked, he moved his hands and placed them to her upper arms to lightly push her away from him, suddenly the closeness was unbearable.

“Have you been drinking?” She asked, but he didn’t respond to her question, only moved away from her to walk towards the bathroom that was adjoined to their room.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” He mumbled as he entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him, but Y/n heard him nonetheless. She couldn’t understand his behavior. Bucky was never like this with her. During their entire relationship, he had never acted this way. If something was bothering him, she was the first person to know, she was the first to console him, to give him advice, to help him. Now it seemed as if she was nothing but a ghost he couldn’t see standing in the middle of their shared room.

She could hear the shower turning on, the water pouring down from inside the bathroom and she decided to get in the bed again, after his shower Bucky would get in too and they could maybe talk then.

Even that did not happen when almost 20 minutes later Bucky reemerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, walked to his closet and pulled out a pair of boxers to wear, then silently turned to lie down on the bed, next to y/n, but he turned his back to her and moved his body at the farthest end of the bed, keeping his distance.

Y/n felt her heart break at his actions. She couldn’t understand, for the life of her, what was going on with her boyfriend. She turned her body on the side, facing Bucky’s back, his indifference hurting more than what she had thought it would.

A few minutes had passed and Bucky’s breathing evened out, indicating he had fallen fast asleep. Y/n on the other side was struggling to calm herself down and giving in to rest. She tossed and turned on the bed for some time more and decided to get up, finally accepting the fact that she wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon.

She paddled the floor barefoot, her steps light and quiet and opened the door of her room to walk out. It was the middle of the night and everyone had retreated to their own bedrooms, not knowing what to do, she made her way to the common areas. Maybe she could watch some TV? it was better than sulking in the bed next to her boyfriend anyway.

She arrived there and grabbed the remote to turn on the TV, flipping through different channels until she stopped at one that was playing a movie. She didn’t know what movie it was, and apparently it had been playing for more than an hour, meaning she had missed most of the story, but she didn’t care anyway. She put the remote on the coffee table and glued her eyes to the screen, the flicking light of the figures tiring her eyes sooner than she thought.

As much as she tried not to, she fell asleep rather quickly, the movie still playing, but this time there was no one watching.

***

When Bucky woke up at 5:30, like every other day, he was surprised to see that Y/n was not in the bed next to him. He quickly remembered what had happened yesterday and grunted out sleepily, moving to the bathroom to wash his face and his teeth before his morning run with Steve.

Usually he met with Steve outside the compound, ready for the daily jog to start, but today it seemed like his friends had other plans. When he walked out to meet up with Steve, he didn’t see him there. Strange, Captain America was never one to be late, always punctual, always on time.

“Friday, where’s Steve?” He asked the A.I, impatient to start running.

“Captain Rogers is currently in the common areas.” The reply of the A.I was instantaneous and Bucky furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, yet he still walked back inside to go find him.

“Punk, what are you-” He stopped right in his tracks when he reached the common room, shocked to see y/n sleeping soundly on the couch, her body curled in a fetal position and her chin tucked in her chest. Despite the couch being one of the best - courtesy of Tony Stark, of course - it was obvious that Y/n was uncomfortably lying there. It was a rather small couch, not fit for an adult to sleep in.

Steve grabbed a blanket from the armchair and covered her body carefully, and she curled in the softness of the material more, letting out an audible sigh before returning to the silent sleeping. Bucky could only see her lying there, she looked so small, so innocent, he couldn’t help but think he had acted like an asshole the day before, but he didn’t have time to dwell on his thoughts because Steve grabbed his upper arm and almost dragged him out of the room, leaving y/n’s sleeping form behind.

“Care to tell me what is going on?” He asked his friend when they were in a considerable distance away from where y/n was sleeping. Steve’s voice was serious, he sounded almost upset as he asked the question. Bucky only shrugged in response, but the Captain wasn’t satisfied with that, so he spoke again, this time an underlying tone of frustration detectable in his voice. “You were out all day yesterday, and today your girl is sleeping on the couch. Come on now, tell me everything.”

Bucky only scoffed in annoyance at the words of his friend. “You know you can’t order me, punk. You’re not the Captain of my relationship with Y/n too.”

“No, but I’m your friend. The friend of both of you, and this isn’t good Buck..”

He knew Steve was right. He couldn’t just drown himself in his thoughts, he had to talk to someone, tell someone what was going on, and nobody was better than his best friend. “Come on, I’ll tell you on our way.”

And that he did. He told Steve about what was going on with him and Y/n, how he had heard her the other day talking to Natasha, how she seemed to always be happy when she was with that Brandon guy, more than she was with Bucky. He told Steve everything and then some more, feeling almost better after having bared his heart to his friend.

They ran their usual 5 miles before returning to the compound. Steve patted his shoulder affectionately and walked to his own room, throwing a “talk to her!” in an authoritative voice behind his shoulder and Bucky chuckled, then he disappeared behind a corner.

Steve’s advice was good, reasonable. Talk to her. He could do that, besides, it was the only logical thing to do. Talk to her. It would be better than giving her the silent treatment, they had been a couple for three years, they should be good at communicating with each other. Talk to her. Yeah, easy.

“Friday, where’s Y/n?”

“She’s at the gym, training, sir.”

He started a light jog to the gym, descending the stairs in two and three to arrive to her quick. Talk to her. Yeah, doable. He opened the door of the gym, eyes scanning the place to find her. Talk to her. Damn! There she was, running on the treadmill, her back facing the door in front of which Bucky was standing, and next to her, running on the other treadmill, was no other than fucking Brandon. They were talking and he was smiling, his head was turned to the side to look at y/n and Bucky could see the curve of his lips turned up in a smile. His stomach tied in knots at the sight.

Talk to her. Yeah sure. Whatever. He stood to the door, watching them silently for a moment, before turning around to walk out of the gym again. Maybe there was nothing to talk anymore.

When he turned around though, y/n noticed his figure just walking through the door from the mirror in front of her and quickly stepped off the treadmill, to run behind him. In less than a minute, she reached for him at the hall and called out his name.

He turned, surprised to see her there, but his eyes didn’t meet hers. They were fixed on some point between her chin and her neck, not daring to meet her gaze.

“Bucky..” She whispered and moved closer to him, her eyes searching for his desperately. Her hand moved to cup his cheek softly, and only then he dared lift his eyes to hers. “Can we please talk?” Her voice was barely audible, almost pleading and he could only nod. They walked together to their room and y/n closed the door behind her, wanting to have this conversation on private.

If Bucky wanted to break up with her, if he didn’t love her anymore, she’d rather be alone to hear that, she couldn’t bare to have the pitying glances of other people on her.

He sat at the end of the bed, visibly uncomfortable. It was almost as if she was forcing him to be there with her. “Can you tell me what is bothering you?” Her question was simple, she only wanted to know what was going on, yet, Bucky found himself struggling to find the words.

Talk to her. Talk to her. Talk to her. Steve’s voice kept ringing in his ears, and he decided to do just so.

“Sit.” He said shortly and she obeyed, sitting next to him, folding one of her legs under and turning slightly to the side to face him, waiting for his next words. Soon after, he began. “Listen y/n, I want you to know that I’m not mad at all, about anything.” His words were confusing her. What did he have to be mad for? What was going on? She didn’t dare to ask though, letting him take as much time as he needed to express his feelings to her.

“If you want to break up with me, you’re free to do so.” She only furrowed her brows in confusion. What the hell! Break up with him? Why?

“W-why? Why would I-? She started asking with a stammer, but Bucky interrupted her, wanting to finish first, then she could say whatever. She only nodded and let him continue.

"I know about you and Brandon.” He said and her eyes widened in shock at his words. Suddenly it all made sense. Every time she spent time with the agent Bucky would pout or get upset, or become possessive of her, kissing her senseless in front of everyone. Suddenly every dot was connected to each other, and a smirk began to grow slowly on her lips. Bucky was jealous. He didn’t pay any attention to her reaction while he was speaking though. “If you love him and you want to be with him, I won’t stand in your way. No matter how much it will kill me.”

At that Y/n snickered shortly and he finally picked his head up to look at her, surprised, almost offended that she had the audacity to make fun of him. “You think it is funny?”

She couldn’t resist anymore, erupting in a fit of giggles in front of him, slowly bringing her hands up to cup both of his cheeks and moving his face closer to hers. With eyes shining in amusement, she placed a quick peck on his lips, before speaking. “You big dummy.” She said and Bucky stared incredulously at her. “There is nothing going on between me and Brandon. I love you, only you.” Her words were spoken with an undoubted sincerity, but still he couldn’t believe her. He had heard her very clearly talking to Nat.

“But yesterday, with Nat, you said…” Her eyes widened in surprise. So this is what this is all about. She moved to sit on his lap, legs on either side of his hips and hands never leaving his face.

“You know eavesdropping is not good baby.” She nuzzled her nose to his softly and his eyes closed on instinct at her touch. “You heard me saying that we used to date, right?” He nodded slowly, eyes still closed. “That happened years ago Buck, back when I was still a rookie agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. We dated for almost two months and then he left and that was it.” She explained. She had never told him about it because he never asked her of past relationships, besides she never thought it was important enough to discuss. During the time she had dated Brandon, they had gone in a handful of dates and only slept once. It wasn’t even an established relationship. Anyway, now she felt as if Bucky deserved to know the truth, especially when she knew that he had become jealous of the other man.

Bucky peeled his eyes open slowly, glancing at her from behind his long eyelashes. “You don’t love him?”

“I don’t love him.” Her voice was unfaltering, reassuring him more. “I love you baby, only you.” She inched her face closer to his, their lips locking in a small kiss, before Bucky broke the contact and stared at her eyes again.

“But you’re with him all the time. What am I supposed to think when my girlfriend spends more time with another man than with me?” He pouted his lips and y/n couldn’t help but think that he looked adorable. She pressed her lips to his cheek this time, then to the other cheek, before speaking again. “I’m sorry. I know it looks bad, but he just wanted some help with Kathy. He wanted to get her attention but didn’t know how to start talking to her.”

“Kathy?”

“Yeah, that Kathy.” She said jokingly. From the very beginning, when said Kathy had her eyes on Bucky, y/n started calling her “That Kathy” and it had stuck as a kind of joke between them.

“I believe you.” He stated simply and snaked his metal hand behind her neck, to pull her face closer to him and kiss her. Y/n happily reciprocated, all to eager to feel his lips on her, kissing her with everything he had. They kept kissing and Bucky moved his other hand under her shirt, lazily exploring her skin with light touches. His hand inched upper and upper, until..

“Baby, I’m all sweaty.” She said and he grunted in displeasure, resting his forehead on her shoulder, his lips finding the skin of her neck and peppering feather-light kisses there.

“I don’t mind.”

Despite the fact that she desperately needed to shower, wanting to wash off the sweat from the gym, she had no intention in moving from his lap. She had missed him so much during the last 24 hours, the fact that he had been away not only physically but also emotionally had messed with her. She never wanted to live without him.

As Bucky held her close to his body, he kept thinking how much of an idiot he was for ever doubting the amazing woman he had in his arms, for doubting her feelings for him. She was his and he was hers, and that would be it for the rest of their lives.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t even fight for me.” Y/n spoke up a few moments later, distracting him from his thoughts, a playful glint visible in her eyes. “I thought you loved me.”

“Oh, I love you alright.” He grabbed her hips and laid her down on the bed, hovering above her, eyes glued to hers, and he lowered his head slowly connecting their lips in a kiss again. “But in all seriousness doll, I always want you to be happy.. Even if that’s not with me.” He took in a short breath. “I want you to be happy. If Brandon or anyone else does that for you, I’m not going to hold you back.” His eyes were glassy, unshed tears in them and y/n kept caressing his cheek with her fingertips.

“I love you too Bucky. And you make me the happiest I’ve ever been. I want you to know that.

He nodded his head and kissed her, this time more fervently, his tongue pushing past her lips and stroking her own, hands roaming her body freely and it continued like that until Y/n pushed his shoulder slightly, breaking the kiss too.

"I really should shower.” She said and he got up from the bed, discontent but didn’t say anything as she walked towards the bathroom, quickly losing the clothes she was wearing on her way there. “You know you can always join me there.” She said behind her shoulder and Bucky couldn’t follow behind her quicker than he did even if he tried, discarding his own clothes just as quick.

Yeah, Bucky Barnes is a reasonable man, but love is not. Love is never reasonable.

[sundropscribbles]

To a Fault | Eleven x Reader | 4.9K

Guess who’s baaaackk.. ♥️ Hello again, my dears! I’m so excited to finally be posting again! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I can’t tell you all what all your patience means to me.  This little request is for one of my darling anons — I hope I’ve not gotten too rusty! Enjoy!

By your personal standards, you didn’t have what you’d have referred to as a high tolerance to pain. If you were honest, what you had was really quite the opposite of any tolerance at all, and while it could be inconvenient at times, but it was something that you had always known about yourself — that you had always found ways to live with.  

Ironically enough, you remembered learning the technical side of it all once upon a time, during one odd lecture or another, in some old classroom; evidently, the human pain tolerance operated on a scale that had started out much more scientific than the not-so-smiley-faced diagram that most everyone had seen at least once at their local emergency department.  Funnily enough, it was something that you could almost hear The Doctor waffling on about in your head. It was exactly the sort of thing that he would have enjoyed flaunting knowledge about, you knew, and the more you thought about it, the more you felt the awkwardness of your situation at the present. Because you also knew him well enough to know very well that all of his enthusiastic rambling would dip into the realm of an angry lecture very quickly if he knew that you were currently holding your breath and gritting your teeth through what was easily an eleven — maybe even a twelve — on that old pain scale.

True as that was, though, you weren’t currently in the sort of situation that allowed for you to pause and lick your wounds, and you weren’t a child, anyways; you could knuckle through a little bit of pain. And that aside, the last thing that you needed was for The Doctor to have to stop doing what he was doing to worry about you. Though he would deny it, his priorities in general could go a bit askew from time to time, and if there was anything that he could never, ever bring himself to put on the back-burner, it was your safety.

As things sat, your distracting him would have meant his choosing between your comfort and the safety of the thousand-and-some-odd beings onboard the ship that he was currently using the TARDIS to tow out of the atmosphere of a planet doomed to implode on itself (and thus take everything and everyone nearby with it).  Obviously, you weren’t willing to let it become an issue.

It wasn’t as though your injuries were urgent, anyways — they weren’t. You weren’t seriously maimed or bleeding. You could still walk, and you could still breathe — well, for the most part. Any amount of pain had always had a tendency to knock the breath out of you, and today was no exception.

You’d have been lying through your teeth, though, if you’d said that you hadn’t been in a bit of a fog since you’d boarded the TARDIS.  You hadn’t allowed the full extent of it to hit you until then — until you were somewhere safe, familiar. The Doctor didn’t need your help anymore, not here, and so you had taken it on your own authority to sit yourself down for a breather.  Sitting seemed to help stifle the throbbing pain in your ribs that had yet to fade — that you weren’t sure would fade anytime soon, if you were honest. It was only so often that you were thrown sideways into a wall like a rag doll, after all.

“Well! I think that well and truly deserves a Geronimo, (Y/N), don’t you?” you hear The Doctor call to you from the other side of the console, and even despite your hunched over, close-eyed state, you snort. The next thing that you hear is his enthusiastic schpeel to the passengers of the rescued ship, so you don’t make the most enthusiastic effort to respond.

“Yeah, yeah,” you acknowledge him, voice hushed. “Geronimo.”

While he busies himself giving instructions to the passengers — be cautious, stay safely onboard the spacecraft, etcetera etcetera — you adjust your position in your seat beside the console. You have to bite down hard on your lower lip to stifle a low whine when the movement aggravates what you’re mostly certain will end up being couple of broken ribs, and you’re grateful in that moment that The Doctor’s attention is elsewhere. You’re almost certainly wearing your pain on your face, and keeping his suspicion at bay would have been infinitely more difficult had he been paying closer attention.

You predicament only gets worse when the TARDIS gives a rattle as she comes to a stop, and you can’t say for certain that you don’t black out for a solid few moments as she gives a final sputter of effort.  You hear The Doctor speaking once more the moment you’re able to focus again, but that’s not the only thing you hear. As you force your focus to stay concentrated upon your labored breathing you also notice the TARDIS making a few choice noises — insistent and agitated beeps and whirs that you can just tell are directed at you.  

You make a face at that and shake your head.

“Shut it,” you murmur, gesturing sharply with one hand. The last thing you needed her cluing The Doctor in to your pain, or — goodness forbid — the trouble breathing that you were currently dealing with. If the reveal didn’t come from you he would only be more upset, and it was only going to be a moment or two more, wasn’t it? You would be able address it soon. You wouldn’t have a choice but to tell him regardless (since you would be in no shape for further adventuring anytime soon) and it was really no big deal — that’s what you kept telling yourself.

The ribs that you were absolutely certain you had cracked at this point had other ideas, however.

The TARDIS gives a much more insistent, higher pitched groan as she sputters to a stop, and between that and the abruptness with which you sit up to shush her, you can’t even begin to stifle the sound that’s forced out of you.

You cry out, and the sound of it is something in between a grunt and a strangled scream. Your first instinct is to cover it up somehow, but even that is pushed to the back burner by the pain thats blossomed outward from your injured left side.

“Oh, bloody hell,” you whimper, eyes screwed shut as you do the best you can to catch your breath. Beneath the sting of pain there’s a horrid sensation — something of a grind, like something has gone and shifted violently out of place. You think, at the back of your mind, that you hear the TARDIS give another (much louder) chirp, but before you can even consider it, you hear The Doctor’s voice.

“(Y/N)?!” he calls, and before you know it, he’s at your side with a hand on each of your shoulders. “(Y/N), darling, what is it? What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, forcing yourself to smile through the agony as you meet his gaze. “It’s nothing,” you start, but before you can say anymore, he scoffs.

“Oh yes, that’s right, because you double over and shout bloody murder all the time,” he quips, and you look at him, wide-eyed and startled.  You’re rather surprised to find him smiling in spite of his sarcasm, and you shake your head, forcing a sigh out through your clenched teeth.  “Now tell me what’s going on, would you?”

He brushes a bit of hair back from your face with one hand as he presses for information, and it’s then, approximately, that you give in and let your guard down. He obviously knows that there’s something wrong at this point, and you know very well that he isn’t going to let it go until you explain.

“Blimey, it’s just — it’s my ribs, I think,” you admit, and move one hand to cover the offending spot. “When we were in the tunnels, and those — those snake-y things came up through the ground, I hit one of the rock walls quite bloody hard.”

He makes an almost offended sound in response, glancing between your hand on your ribs and your face as he looks you over.

“You never said anything, did you?” he begins, and touches the back of your hand gingerly. It takes everything in you not to wince at that alone, but you smile and acknowledge his question a quick shake of your head regardless, hissing as he begins nudging you gently backwards. The console seat doesn’t allow for you to stretch out very much, and to sat that you were grateful for it would have been a massive understatement.  Every inch you move intensifies the pain, and you’re not sure you’d be able to handle unfurling yourself completely.

“No, I —“ you begin, but pause to catch your breath as he prods at your side very, very gently. “I didn’t, because so many other people’s lives were on the line, and I couldn’t — I wasn’t going to get in the way of you saving all of them.”

The look he gives you in response to that is one of absolute bewilderment.  There’s an intensity in his eyes as he stares you down for a moment, and you’re just getting to the point where you feel a bit like squirming under the scrutiny when he finally breaks his stunned silence.

“That’s… that is completely absurd.  You’re completely absurd,” he snips, looking at least mildly annoyed as he lays his hand overtop of yours, atop your very injured ribs.  You narrow your eyes at that, and a tiny twinge of hurt rears its head as you struggle to process what he’s telling you.  It doesn’t last terribly long, though, because he’s quick to follow the insult up with something that lands much differently. “(Y/N), your safety is more important to me than anyone’s. I don’t care if it’s a city, a planet, or a galaxy — you’ve got to tell me when you’re hurt!”

It takes you a good second or two to process what he’s said, but the moment it settles with you, you blink.  Various emotions come crashing over you like a tidal wave, and it certainly isn’t easy to take it all in at once. There’s a warm fondness (thanks to his protective streak) , a tiny swell of pride (because he’d definitely just proven you right), and last but not least, an overwhelming feeling of love (for very obvious reasons).  The result of it all is a chill on your skin and a gathering of tears in your eyes, and while you breathe a shaky sigh out through your teeth, he mumbles under his breath and proceeds to lift your hand away from your ribs as carefully as he can.

“That’s exactly why I didn’t, though,” you argue, though it admittedly doesn’t have a whole lot of fight to it. How could it, after all?  “Making sure all of those people were out of trouble was more important than some painkillers that I could wait an hour for.”

He continues to grumble halfheartedly, first in response to your argument and then even more so as he so a he fiddles with your tee-shirt, moving it out of the way so that he can properly see the damage done to your body.  You look away at the same moment, almost as though you’re still trying to deny how bad the pain really is.

“And that, (Y/N), is one of the things I love best about you. You’re selfless, so selfless. It’s to a fault sometimes, though, because this is not the kind of thing you should be hiding!” he exclaims.  The abruptness with which he raises his voice startles you, and on instinct alone, you look back toward the thing that has him so upset.  The sight of it startles you as much as much as it seems to have riled him up, and your wince as you take it in.

There’s not a doubt remaining in your mind that your ribs are broken; your entire left side is a startling shade of burgundy fading to purple, and the darkest bit of color centers around that one spot, where you’d been sure you’d felt that sick grinding sensation earlier.  It knocks the breath out of you, a bit, as though the pain alone hadn’t been more than enough to do that.

“Fuck,” you swear, and shake your head as you look away.  

“Quite right,” he mutters.  You think for a second that he’s going to continue his irritated rambling, but to your surprise, he doesn’t.  He goes on doing what he’s doing in silence for a good moment or two, and the most you hear out of him is a mildly frustrated sigh.

“Darling,” he calls out to the room, and before you can think to question who he’s talking to, you feel something odd. The sensation almost feels like a blanket of very low voltage electricity settling over your skin, and it gives you goosebumps. The majority of your hair stand on end, too, but as quickly as it manifests itself, it’s gone.  You’re about to ask what’s just happened, but before you have the chance there’s a display flickering to life at your side; a display that looks very much like a digital recreation of your body.  Well — the shape of your body, anyways.  There’s no detail to the flickering image apart from a skeletal system, but even that focuses primarily upon the injured bit of you.  

“Thank you, Dear,” The Doctor muses, and proceeds to examine the image himself.  You realize, then, that he had been addressing the TARDIS, who had seemed to know from the get-go that you were quite seriously injured.  You hear her give a self-satisfied chirp in response to The Doctor’s thanks, and at that, you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

“How bad is it?” you ask in a quieted voice — a voice that, for all intents and purposes, says “okay, you were right and I was very, very wrong“.

“Bad,” he says simply, and you meet his gaze with a frown. “There’s nothing punctured and nothing bleeding, but you’ve got two broken ribs.”

You make a face at that.  You had hoped at the very least that you would be able to keep it to one broken rib — or better, none at all.

“Blast it,” you mutter, and then groan when he waves hologram-you away and turns his attention back on your real, physical body.  He moves to rest one hand across the violent blossoms of red and purple and blue that decorate your skin, and for a solid moment or two, he does nothing but look at you. You’re about to ask if there’s anything else you should know when he heaves a sigh, removes his hand, and drags his fingers through his hair in an exasperated manner.

“I’m perfectly capable of multitasking, you know.  One of the best, if I do say so myself. I excel at multitasking,” he complains, and you blink. “And frankly, I’m offended that you would think otherwise.  How long have we been together, (Y/N)?”

The longer The Doctor rambles the more frantic he looks, and even though you know that he’s genuinely upset, you can’t help but giggle (even if it does hurt like hell).  There’s also a tiny part of you that does pirouettes at the way he phrases things; “how long have we been together?” Like you’re an old, bickering married couple.  Even though that’s almost certainly not the way he intends it to come across — because goodness knows he’s never been one to blatantly acknowledge whatever feelings might be festering between himself and anyone he cares about — it makes you feel warm inside.

Together.

“And now you’re laughing at me!” he accuses you, and it only makes you laugh (and by extension, wince) even more. “Really, (Y/N), do you not trust me to take care of you and keep our immediate surroundings from going up in flames?”

“Of course I do,” you tell him, and he drops his hands to your knees, then, finally breaking out into a smile as he kneels before you.

“Then, for the sake of anything and everything good, let me know when you need to be cared for,” he insists, and you snort.

“Alright, alright! You don’t have to lecture me anymore,” you tease, moving as best you can to lay your hands over top of his.  “I think I’ve learned my lesson.”

You feel him turn his hands over, then, and you smile as you feel his fingertips brush your wrists, and then your palms as he moves to stand.

“You better have,” he says with an accusatory finger pointed in your direction, and you only grin.  “Right.  Now that I can get on patching you up, I think it’d be best if we laid you down.  There’s not a terrible lot I nor anyone else can do for a pair of broken ribs, but sitting around all curled over in this uncomfortable old seat is going to do even less to help you.  Does that sound alright?”

You keep a watchful eye on him, smiling privately as he goes on about your options, and when he looks your way for an opinion, you give a nod of agreement on instinct.  Your second instinct kicks in soon enough, though, and you make a rather pitiful sound as you consider what getting to your bedroom is going entail.

“Lying down sounds lovely, but getting there is going to be significantly less,” you point out reluctantly.  He seems to soften a bit at that, and he nods his head as he surveys you, evidently looking for solutions to your problem.  

“That’s not a bad point,” he admits, and you sigh softly.  There’s a part of you that regrets not stumbling off to your bedroom straight away; you had certainly thought about it, when you had still been making a significant effort to keep your condition under wraps.  While The Doctor would still have found out (because the TARDIS would have tattled on you, you were certain), it would have made this part of things a great deal easier.  

“I might just be able to make it easier, though,” he suggests, and you cast a curious glance his way.  You don’t get the chance to ask him what he means before he’s coming back your way and kneeling down once again.  He holds his arms out in front of him, then, and looks at you expectantly.  You look back at him, bewildered for a good couple of seconds.  “C’mon, then, all aboard,” he urges, and you blink.

It hits you, then, that his intention is to carry you to your room, and your cheeks turn a very warm shade of pink very quickly.

“Oh — alright, yeah,” you stammer, stamping down the immediate urge to ask him whether or not he’s sure of this particular plan.  The better part of you is screaming at you to shut up and let it play out, anyhow, and in the end you wind up following its demand.  It’s a bit of a process for you to even sit up straight, let alone to rotate enough that you can tuck your knees into your chest, but you manage, and soon enough, The Doctor slips his arms underneath of you and scoops you up.

He’s careful and particular as he tucks you in against his chest, making certain that he doesn’t agitate your injured ribs or jostle you too much as he stands up.  The state of you must very well stifle your own restraint, too, because the moment he has you settled into his arms you lean into him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and resting that way.  The pair of you aren’t physically affectionate very often, after all, so it’s definitely to your surprise when he turns his head and presses his cheek to your forehead.

“You see? It’s better when you let me dote on you, isn’t it?” he says in a tone of voice that’s clearly playful.  You can hardly help but smile, absolutely smitten as you nod your head and bring one hand to rest upon his chest, just below the deep purple bowtie he’s taken to wearing recently.

“Yeah, yeah… I suppose,” you sigh, intentionally dramatic in both voice and attitude.  You hear (and feel) him laugh as he begins walking, around the console and up the stairs toward your bedroom.  

It’s not a lengthy trek, and you’re thankful; The Doctor’s stride is long and no matter how careful he is his steps jostle you just a little more than your aching ribs might have liked. Soon enough, he’s lying you down atop your bedsheets as gently as he can manage.  He takes a moment to brush your hair back from your eyes again once he has you situated, just the way he had done earlier, and your heart skips a beat (maybe two) at that.

“Now that that bit’s handled.,” he says, straightening both his jacket and his bowtie as he gets to his feet. “I’ll be back in a mo.  I might not be a proper medical doctor, but I do have a few things that can help.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to respond before he’s off, hurrying back down the stairs and (assumably) into one of the TARDIS’s many storage room to retrieve the items that he’d mentioned.   You snicker as you watch him go, quietly amused at the way that he seems so intent on playing nurse. You don’t mind it a bit  — you don’t think you could mind it if you tried.  The Doctor is always busy, both in body and in soul, and to be at the center of his attention is a gift in itself.  

It’s not thirty seconds after you’ve laid your head back against the pillows before he’s back, with a smile on his face and the aforementioned supplies in hand.

“Alright, The Doctor is in!” he announces, and the sheer cheesiness of it startles a laugh out of you (and by extension, a low, pained whine). He shoots you an apologetic look, then, shrugging his shoulders as he gets to his knees at your bedside once more.  “Sorry — that joke never gets old, does it?  I don’t think so, at least.”

“No, I don’t think so, either,” you agree, and smile as he begins laying his makeshift first-aid supplies out across the nightstand at your bedside. You make your best effort to sprawl out a bit more while he does so; he can’t exactly tend to your injuries with you curled up as you’ve consistently been since the incident.  It takes an immense amount of concentration on your part not to wince or groan or tear up, but you manage it, and the next time you look at The Doctor, you find him watching you intently.

“I really, honestly can’t believe you sometimes, (Y/N),” he remarks, and you blink. “And that’s a bloody feat, isn’t it?  There’s not a lot of things left in the universe that surprise me.”

“I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” you argue without much fight, assuming that he’s still caught on you keeping this entire issue to yourself for such a long time.  You’d already accepted the fact that you had made a mistake, and you weren’t much up to hearing any more on the matter.

“No — I mean, yes, you did! And apology accepted,” he says hastily, shaking his head as he goes about nudging your tee-shirt out of the way as carefully as he can manage. “That’s not what I meant, though. I was just talking about you - generally, yes? Good.”

With that he turns his focus back on the supplies and picks out a particular-looking tube of something or other, and before you have the chance to ask what it is, he’s unscrewing the cap and gathering a fair amount onto his fingertips.  You wince, at first, when he takes the goopy something-or-other and begins applying it to the bruised bits of your skin, but it’s not even a few seconds later that all of the pain you’ve been dealing with begins to subside significantly. What had been an eleven or a twelve on your scale upon boarding the TARDIS rapidly drops to a nine, and then a seven, and then maybe a four.  

“Oh — alright?” you say, your voice soft and a bit high-pitched due to your surprise on both accounts.  “What’s—“

“Embulicaine — numbing agent.  Basically a lot like novocaine, but much, much stronger and a whole lot more effective,” he explains before you can finish asking.  You purse your lips and nod your head; you suppose you should probably have expected that an extraterrestrial first-aid kit would definitely contain a few things well beyond your Earth’s time.  

“Right,” you acknowledge him, watching with interest as he finishes up with the miraculous gel and trades it for what looks like a very large gauze pad,  which he proceeds lay across your ribcage.  He then gathers a wet washcloth to pat the thing down with, and to your surprise, it seems to adhere to your skin with that alone.  You shake your head a bit at that, smiling an awed smile as you admire both his work and the the supplies itself.  You look away a moment later, though, in favor of laying your head back into your pillows and closing your eyes.

You don’t expect him to elaborate upon what he had said earlier, not exactly — he’s not one to open up and be vulnerable at any capacity, and forcing it upon him usually doesn’t get you very far.  To your surprise, though, he rounds back on the subject of his own accord, a minute or so later.

“What I meant when I said I couldn’t believe you was — well. Just that. You’re human. So human. But you’re always going and acting like so much more — like no one I’ve ever met before, putting everything and everyone else before yourself,” he comments, and you have to fight the urge to open your eyes up wide and turn your startled gaze on him that second.  If there’s one thing you’ve learned in all your time with The Doctor, it’s that he can be a bit like a caged animal with his feelings, and if you rattle the bars, he’s likely to shy away or bite.  

“Oh, I don’t know,” you muse, opening your eyes and looking up at the ceiling for a brief moment. You close them again as you speak your next words, however, doing what you can to look and sound as noncommital as possible. “I think that sounds a little bit like someone else I know.”

You hear him scoff at that. The next thing you feel is his hands smoothing over the bandage as he finishes up applying it, followed moments later by a shock of cold that makes you suck a breath in through your teeth.  

“Well, you aren’t wrong, but that’s not the point,” he supplies, and it’s then that you turn your gaze back on him.  A smile plays on your lips as you watch him, no longer working, but instead looking intently down at the ice pack (the thing you assume is an ice pack, anyways) as he speaks. “You’re bloody strong, (Y/N), that’s what I’m saying.  And it well and truly shocks me all the time.”

A rosy color heats up your cheeks for the second time in an hour as you process his comment, and the intensity of it only grows as he looks your way and smiles an unusually vulnerable smile.

“And while I’m very much not in support of this hiding-potentially-life-threatening-injuries-from-The-Doctor idea, I’m also unbelievably proud of who and what you are,” he concludes, and to say that you were overcome with butterflies and gratitude and unabashed happiness in the moment would have been putting it incredibly lightly.

“Thanks, Doctor,” you say softly, and he nods his head, shying away once more in favor of gathering up his first aid supplies and dumping it all back into a pile on your nightstand.

Not much is said for a good few moments, but you don’t mind; it’s a good opportunity to take it all in — the day’s events, the overall state of you, The Doctor’s rare openness... it’s all quite overwhelming, as a whole, and a moment of quiet is exactly what you need.

And The Doctor seems to agree, because as soon as he has things sorted, he kicks off his shoes and rounds the bed.

“Right then,” he says as he rolls onto the mattress next to you. He shuffles up behind you, careful as ever as he cuddles right up with one long arm slung over your shoulders.

It’s a pleasant surprise, and you raise an eyebrow as you turn your head as well as you’re able to look at him.

“What’s all this?” you ask. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m definitely not complaining, but—“

“Next of The Doctor’s orders. Now hush,” he insists, and you snort.

“Alright, alright,” you muse, and settle in once more.

“As proud of it as I might be, all of your bravery scares the hell out of me sometimes,” he reasons, and you laugh softly.

“Fair enough,” you murmur.

It may be unusual of The Doctor be quite so clingy, but you’re not about to deny him.  And, well… it was doctor’s orders after all.

[timetravelingheart]

Consequences Chapter Eleven: A.M. Imagine

Smut, smut, smut. And a little bit of fluff. 

_________________________________________

September and October came and went in a blur, and now they were nearing the end of November. The air had turned crisp, most of the trees were bare, and daylight came and went so quickly that Tessa felt like she barely had any time for a real-life outside of work and school and all of her commitments. 

She had tried her best to watch as many Leafs games on TV in the evenings when she could, even just having it on in the background while she was writing or grading papers. She even attended a couple of home games with Steph and one his with parents. Ema had gotten her phone number so now they texted fairly regularly, especially when they were both watching his games in their own homes. 

But exams were coming up soon for her students and that meant some of her own deadlines were rapidly approaching so watching from home had to suffice for the most part. She had been nervous about how Auston’s hectic road trip schedule would coincide with her own commitments, but so far so good. 

They had minor hiccups here and there, particularly when Auston felt like she wasn’t taking good enough care of herself and she felt like he was overstepping and intruding on her independence. Or when he had a bad game and was a little snippy with her when she just tried to be positive about it and all he wanted to hear was ‘yeah Auston, you’re right, that game was shit and the refs were brutal’. They were quickly learning the ins and outs of each other’s love languages and communication strengths and weaknesses and learning to where they both needed to work on themselves and how they could better express what they need and want. 

It made the distance easier when he called her every night after a game, and if it was a home game, he usually came over to sleep at her place if he knew she had a lot of work to do. She loved that he didn’t mind coming over to her place even though it meant they didn’t always have privacy with Lydia home. In fact, it actually made her fall for him even more when she would sometimes come home after him to find them just hanging out and laughing and watching shows. Auston and Lydia developed a brother-sister relationship that she also developed with Mitch. It was always important to her that Lydia liked whoever she was with because when push came to shove, she would always choose Lydia over anyone else. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like that would be an issue anytime soon. 

It was a Wednesday night and Auston had just returned from a week-long road trip, so Tessa was really looking forward to seeing him. Unfortunately, she got stuck at the office doing paperwork so she told him to just go ahead and hang out with Lydia at their place. When she walked in the door from the cold outside, her heart grew three sizes when she heard the laughter coming from the living room. It surprised her to see not only Lydia and Auston there but also Mitch and Steph. They appeared to be deep into a game of Cards Against Humanity.  

“There’s the woman of the hour!” Mitch turned to her, getting up from his spot on her couch to wrap her in a big hug. “Fuck, you’re cold!” he pulled away quickly, letting her take off her jacket. 

“Hey, who said you could hug her first?” Auston shoved Mitch out of the way to lean down to squeeze her close to him, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” Tessa said softly, beaming up at him. 

“Hey, move it loser, I get her next,” Steph yanked on the back of Auston’s sweater to pull him away and walk into Tessa’s open arms. “Hey chicky.”

“Should I get up and hug you now or...?” Lydia looked up from her spot where she was burrowed under blankets on the couch, clearly having no intention of moving.

“Nah, I think we’re good,” Tessa winked at her before plopping down next to her and getting under the blankets. “Sorry guys. How long have you been here?”

“Just about an hour,” Steph replied, taking her seat back on the loveseat next to Mitch.

“And just enough time for Steph to be kicking all of our asses at this game,” Mitch muttered, looking at his two winning cards to Steph’s seven. 

“Turns out knowing two of the other players well and having the same genitalia as the other makes this a pretty easy game,” Steph shrugged, winking at Tessa. 

“The same genitalia?” Tessa repeated, confused. 

“Girl humour is apparently a thing, according to Mitchell,” Steph rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. 

“It is!” he shouted, as the others laughed. 

They all hung out for a bit longer, just catching up, until Mitch, Steph, and Lydia all started to get up to leave. Tessa got up so she could hug them goodbye, before turning to Lydia. 

“Going to see Miles tonight?” she asked her best friend. 

“Yep,” Lydia started putting on her ankle boots and a jacket. “So, you know, don’t wait up or anything.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Auston yelled from his spot on the couch. 

“From what I heard, that doesn’t leave very much to not do, Thighs,” Lydia grinned at him., sending a cheeky wink his way. Tessa’s eyes widened to saucers, before pushing the three laughing loons towards the door. 

“Well on that note,” Tessa blushed, keeping her eyes far away from where Auston sat. “We’ll see everyone later. Drive safe.”

Once everyone was out the door, Tessa waited a beat before turning back to find a smirking Auston. 

“So what exactly have you told Lydia about us?” he admonished. 

Tessa shrugged innocently. 

“Probably no more than you’ve told Mitch,” she replied, knowing it was likely true, before walking back into the living room and moving to straddle him, placing her knees on either side of him, her burgundy sweater dress bunching right below her heat to expose her soft legs to him. Her hands trailed up his arms slowly before fisting in the hair at the back of his head. She pulled him back gently by the hair to place a kiss on his awaiting lips, letting it deepen naturally as they sunk back into the sofa. 

They pulled away after a bit, both breathless. 

“Hi,” she whispered against his lips, opening her eyes to gaze into his. 

“Hi,” he repeated, pecking her on the nose. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Aus,” she shivered as his hands pushed her sweater dress up even further as he explored her thighs and her lower back. She let out a sigh that he caught in his mouth, pulling her back to him so he could ravage her. She let him break their kiss momentarily so he could lift the sweater dress over her head. He gently slid one bra strap down her shoulder, placing light kisses where it used to be. He repeated the action on the other side before moving his hands to cup her bra-clad breasts and push them even closer together. He stared up at her as he placed another kiss in the valley of her breasts. She held his gaze and when he pulled away, she pulled his face up to hers to reconnect their lips, all passion and fire, and urgency. He unclasped the bra, removing it from her body completely.

Keeping their lips connected, Auston went to lay them down but was met with resistance. He pulled away from her, confused. “You okay?” he asked softly, massaging her lower back. 

Tessa’s breath caught in her throat. She had been ready for this moment for a while, but the timing just never seemed to work out. With Lydia out of the apartment and the desire she was feeling deep into her bones, she knew this was it. She leaned forward and placed a much softer kiss on his neck, just under his ear.

“I’m ready,” she whispered. 

Auston felt every hair on his body stand up at her words. He pulled away from her to search her face, to make sure she was certain. 

“Tess, are you sure?” he whispered back. He had been ready since the first time they kissed, but he never wanted to push her or make her feel like he wouldn’t be happy to wait for her. 

“More than sure,” she replied. She removed herself from his lap, looking down to see him straining in his black sweatpants. Definitely sure, she thought. She reached down to grab his hand, pulling him to his feet and guiding him to her bedroom. He watched his girl walk in only a black thong and knew he would have followed her anywhere. 

When they reached the edge of her bed, she turned back to face him. Standing up on her tip-toes, she placed a trail of kisses along his neck, stopping to bite softly just under his ear, eliciting a throaty groan from him. Jackpot. 

Before she could reach his lips, she reached for the hem of his sweatshirt and lifted it over his head. He leaned forward to pull her into a kiss, but she pulled back before they could connect. She shook her head at his questioning stare before reaching for the hem of his sweats and pulling them down his legs, sinking herself to the ground with them. When she gazed back up at him, he felt another groan in the base of his throat. 

“Tess, you don’t have to,” he started, but she was already pulling down his Calvins and taking him into her mouth. She gave him a few sucks before kissing the tip. It definitely wasn’t the first blowjob she had given him, as they had become very familiar with each other’s bodies recently, but he always wanted her to feel like it was her choice and not his expectation. She gazed up at him, tugging as she did. He let out a deep moan, his eyes fluttering closed. When he opened them again, she was still watching him, her bottom lip tucked under her teeth. “Do not look at me like that right now,” he tried to sound assertive but his voice was strangled. 

“Like what?” she replied innocently, before sending him a cheeky wink and taking him in her mouth again. His hand went to the back of her head, not applying pressure, but just needing to touch her somewhere and ground himself. He willed himself not to lose it right there. He pulled away suddenly, pulling her by her elbows up to a standing position. She merely looked at him curiously, as if she didn’t know the effect she was having on him. 

“I’d really like to last so I can at least feel what it’s like to be inside you tonight,” he laughed haughtily. He pulled her in for another searing kiss, his hands tangled in her hair as hers gripped his ass cheeks. He gently guided her onto the bed, watching as she used her elbows to shimmy further up the bed until her head hit her pillows. He started to climb over her, stopping to hook his fingers under the only remaining material between them, slowly pulling it down her legs and tossing it to the side. He kissed up one of her smooth legs before reaching her heat and stopping. She knew what she was in for, and while she was also craving the feeling of him inside her, she wanted them to take their time tonight. She shivered as he placed featherlight kisses on the insides of her thighs and her hipbones. He hooked his arms under her thighs, sliding her down closer to him to place a long, warm lick on the centre of her heat. 

Tessa bit back a moan as he did it again and again, before settling there, his fingers and tongue going in and out in a way that made her stomach clench. She didn’t think either of them would last very long tonight. “Aus, I’m close,” she stuttered out. “Maybe we should just-”

But he kept going. He wasn’t certain he would last once he felt her around him, so he wanted to make sure he got her off first. He could feel her getting wetter, her lower body trying to lift off the bed as he held her down by her hips. He could feel her trying to hold it in. 

“Let go, baby,” he urged. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” He pumped two fingers in and out, watching as she came undone in front of him, one of his absolute favourite sights. When she had relaxed slightly, he climbed up and settled himself between her legs, their hips touching. He circled her head with his arms, placing gentle kisses all over her face as she continued to come down from her high. 

She directed his lips to hers so she could taste herself on him. They kissed languidly for a bit before it turned passionate again, Tessa feeling Auston pressed up against her lower stomach. “I want you,” she whispered. 

“I want you so bad, baby,” he replied eagerly. “Do you have a condom?”

She nodded towards her nightstand, watching as he reached over before opening the packet and sliding the condom on himself. She was on the pill and had been for years so she knew it protected her that way. They had both also discussed getting tested to make sure they were clean, which they were. But part of her still wanted that extra precaution, and she was happy Auston did too. She figured eventually they’d probably stop using them, but for now, it made sense. 

Auston lined himself up at her entrance, feeling her thighs tighten around his hips. “Are you sure?”

Tessa nodded. It had been a while since she had sex and Auston was fairly large, so she felt a little nervous about potentially feeling any pain. 

Auston rubbed her again with his fingers, making sure she felt ready so she’d feel minimal pain. “You have to say it, Tess.”

“Yes,” she moaned, his fingers making her wet again and stretching her slightly in preparation. “Yes. I want this. I want you.”

Auston nodded, lining himself up again. As he slowly pushed inside her, he watched her face for any sign of pain. Not seeing any, he pushed deeper, leaning down to take her mouth in his, letting her adjust to his size. When she reached down to squeeze his ass and push him further, he knew he could start moving. 

They moved together, kissing everywhere they could get their lips to reach, touching everywhere their hands could go. They found a rhythm for a while, Auston lasting longer than he had expected when Tessa felt a familiar clench in her abdomen. “Aus,” she moaned, “Aus, I’m so close.”

“Me too, baby,” he grunted against her neck, “me too.”

A few more thrusts and Tessa could feel herself letting go, unraveling around him. Her orgasm pushed Auston to his, the clenching too much for him, his high reaching as quickly as hers was coming down. When he finished, he dropped his sweaty body on hers, careful not to crush her. They laid like that for a while before he leaned up, placed a kiss on her lips, and eased himself out of her. He walked into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and came back with a warm washcloth. Tessa hissed as he cleaned her up, feeling overly sensitive after her second orgasm of the night. He tossed the washcloth in her hamper before climbing under the blanket and wrapping her up in his arms. Tessa laid her head on his chest, finding the rhythm of his heartbeat to soothe the rapid pounding of her own. 

“Tess,” Auston broke the comfortable silence, trailing the tips of his fingers up and down her bare back. 

“Mm?” she replied, already starting to doze off. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispered, nudging her head with his nose. “I don’t think I tell you that enough, and it’s not just because of tonight.”

“You’re pretty amazing yourself, baby,” she kissed his chest before letting out a yawn. 

“Thanks for taking a chance on me,” he kissed the top of her head one more time before curling his body into hers so they were embracing, her face smushed into his chest, her arms tucked together as he wrapped his around her whole body. 

They drifted into a peaceful sleep in each other’s arms. 

Until they woke up in the middle of the night eager for another round. 

When the sun finally came up, they were exhausted, both mentally and physically, but it was worth it. They could hardly keep the grins off their faces and hands and lips off each other as they moved throughout her kitchen to make breakfast together, sneaking kisses here and there. 

And when they got a little too heated and their eggs burned, they simply tossed them in the trash before running off to her bedroom pulling off articles of clothing as they went, breakfast long forgotten. 

[curiousdamage]

Babysitting part 3

Day 20 of the writing challenge,  For @dream-beyond-the-fantasy and @missviolethunter !

Karate Kid Fandom- A Careless Man’s Careful Daughter Universe

I own nothing.

Bobby helps Becca babysit the twins.

Two hours later, they'd managed to get the twins fed, bathed, and in their pajam­as without anything worse than a flooded bathroom floor from Emily not shutting the shower curtain completely. Nothing a few towels and a mop couldn't fix.

Now, they were watching a movie in the den. The girls loved “Annie”, so turning it on was a sure-fire way to get them to calm down a without the fight of actually saying these horrible words.

Becca and Bobby were cuddled on the sofa while the twins were laying on the floor near the television.

"Sorry you're stuck watching this," she apologized. She loved “Annie”, too, but knew a lot of people their age saw it as childish.

"Nah, it's cool. I was just thinking that Jessie would like it,” he replied.

Becca grabbed the ringing phone off the end table. "Hello. Kreese residence. This is…, oh, hey…, no, they went to that wedding in

Santa Monica."

"Oh! I'm telling," Emily crowed. "You're not supposed to tell people we are home alone!"

Becca rolled her eyes. "It's just Uncle Terry. He can know we are home alone. He needs to be warned in case you two blow something up this time," she said to her sister before laughing at whatever was said on the other end of the line. "Whatever. You know you'd come help me…, Yes, sir. I think, Mama said about midnight, but this cousin has been left at the altar twice already, so really…, I'm surprised they haven't gotten back already…, Yes, sir. I'll tell him…, Yes, sir. Bye."

She hung up the phone to see the twin’s angry faces that she hadn’t let them have the phone. "He didn’t want to talk to us, he wanted to talk to Daddy. Watch the movie or go to bed.”

"We'll watch the movie," Amy said, pulling Emily down beside her.

Becca sat back down beside Bobby, slipping her hand in his.

Once the movie was over, Emily and Amy went to bed with little fuss. Becca was pleasantly surprised until they came running down the stairs shrieking about how some "huge,” ugly bug in their bedroom.

Becca rolled her eyes. "Don't mess with it. It won't bother you."

“It's flying all around," Amy said.

"What if it lands on us?" Emily asked.  “We can't go to bed until Daddy gets home to get rid of it." she sat down on the sofa.

Becca rolled her eyes. On the one hand, the bug probably was not real. On the other hand, if she went up there and it was a moth, she’d scream louder than the twins.  She hated moths, just something about the way they flew at you…, she shuddered.  

Still, letting the twins stay up until Mom and Dad got home at midnight was equally out of the question.  Mom would have a cow if they were too tired to go to Mass the next day. She bit her lip, then looked at Bobby and smiled, what she hoped was sweetly.

“Would you mind getting rid of a possibly imaginary bug?”

“It’s not imaginary!” Amy insisted.

“Sure, Babe,” he laughed, following the twins up to their room. He came back down a few minutes later, with his cupped hands held out in front of him.  Emily ran down and opened the front door.  He let the rather large Tiger moth go on the front lawn.

“Can you go to bed now?” Becca asked the twins.

“I guess,” Amy grumbled.

“Come on,” Emily said, grabbing her hand and stomping up the stairs. “She just wants us to go to bed so she and Bobby can smooch.” Becca covered her face, turning bright red. “I’m going to strangle her one day.”

“Come on,” Bobby said, with a laugh. He pulled her hands away from her face.  “Let’s go watch a movie or something until I have to leave.”

“Okay,” she agreed, happy that he wasn’t going to make a big deal about what Emily said.

In the den, she looped her arms around his neck.  “Thank you for getting rid of the super huge, ugly but not imaginary bug for me.”

“Anytime,” he said, pulling her close.  “I’ll take care of all the super huge, ugly bugs for you, real or imaginary.”

“My hero,” she laughed, kissing him, letting him pull her in his lap as he sat down.

Not more than a minute later, the front door opened and shut.

“Becca?” Cara called out.

She quickly slid off his lap and sat on the sofa, trying to smile and look innocent when her mother came in the den.

“Hi, Mom.  You’re home early.  What happened?”  It was only nine thirty. “She got left at the altar again,” John laughed, coming in behind Cara.

“Really?” Becca covered her mouth to keep from laughing.  That would be mean.

“No, not really,” Cara replied, shoving John playfully.  “They eloped because Aunt Eleanor was being a pain in the behind.”

“Yeah, right,” John scoffed. “How come your aunt was the only one who knew that?  Has anyone ever seen this guy?”

“Of course, they have,” Cara couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity of the situation herself. “But, honestly, I’d believe it.  I’d believe Aunt Eleanor was the reason she was left at the alter the other two times.  The one wedding I was in as a teen, Aunt Eleanor got upset because the Matron of Honor was pregnant, and she just couldn’t have pregnant people in the pictures.  The girl was like two months.  You couldn’t even tell.  She’s crazy. Eloping was the only way Susan was going to get married.” She looked at her watch, then back at Becca and Bobby.  “Thanks for babysitting, though.  It’s still early.  Why don’t you two go get some ice cream or something?  You can stay out until eleven, just this once.”

She didn’t have to offer twice.

The End

[nancyswhlr]

Nancy please! Maybe them waking up and just snuggling and kissing and bring fluffy af?

Nancy stretched, her limbs aching as she uncurled herself from the position she slept it. Tucked into her boyfriend’s side, as always when they were fortunate enough to share the bed, but her legs were sore and were unable to be released by being entangled with his own. She’d laugh if she was awake enough to.

Once they got more comfortable, more used to each other and crossing the line of being kind of friends who fought a monster together those two times to being an actual in love couple, they got used to saying things and teasing each other (it was easier for her than Jonathan, who lived in his shell). In the back of her mind she recalled that, Nancy could hear Jonathan complaining about her being too early of a riser a little while back. It was something he was not shy teasing her about now. She defended herself, it wasn’t her fault the Byers family didn’t know how to wake up before eleven, every single member loved sleeping in. (Something she wondered if that annoyed Hopper when he had to be at work by sunrise.) Then again, after the year they had, the Byers’ deserved the sleep.

She countered, obviously. Saying she had things to do and he shouldn’t sleep so late. They both got over it pretty quickly though, she lounged in bed for the 30 minutes earlier he’d wake up. A very mature couple thing to do, to compromise.

She shifted a little to see Jonathan’s complaints would be confirmed. It was just after 9:00 and he was still sleeping sound-fully on her flower patterned sheets. She wrangled around, gently in his embrace, to face him. Without thinking about it, she brushed the hair out of his eyes softly. He leaned into the touch despite the peaceful look of sleep on his face.

Good. She thought firmly, a desire sparking inside of her to yell about impatient sassy Nancy that jokingly rode her boyfriend for sleeping in. It was a cheesy domestic couple-y thing to do, but she also knew how he struggled to sleep. How he hardly got more than a few hours some nights. How he worried, how she wasn’t the only one of the pair to jolt awake due to nightmares. Old habits die hard and sometimes she was so nearsighted, so desperate for things to be normal, she forgot about the situation they were in. Things were never going to go back to normal, but she decided she didn’t want normal ever again the second she shot out of Murray’s guest bed. She chose him then, and he was right there, choosing her.

And suddenly, there a was thump from down the hall, breaking her from her dreamlike haze. At this moment, she chose him and chose to let him sleep. But now she was going to kill her brother. He was safe for now but that was only if he didn’t squeal on her to their parents. In return, his secret crush on El was safe as well. Still didn’t mean he couldn’t be just a little bit quieter when he was probably sneaking out or getting ready while they were trying to sleep. Her eyes went to Jonathan, who was stirring softly.

He shifted against her a few seconds later, Nancy not bothering to not still look up at him. She’d even be impressed he woke up this early if he wasn’t awoken. She met him with her wide eyes, apologies already said without words. He stretched a little, and grumbled something that sounded like a cross between “good morning” and a yawn.

She laughed, despite herself. “Good morning to you too.” She was still curled into him, legs and all. “Sorry ‘bout that.” She was speaking low, still sleepily.

He laughed into her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.” He replied just as sleepily, and Nancy let her fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. She also found herself wishing the thin layer of her nightgown between him and her collarbone was gone.

“Eleven’s going to hear all about the time he cried when he lost the D&D campaign they worked 3 days on.” She supplied instead of acting on her previous thoughts. She scolded herself, she really didn’t use to be so…like this. Everything Jonathan did made her want him though.

He laughed against her, the sound vibrating her just a little. She felt warm though as he lifted his head, meeting her eyes. He didn’t even dare to tell her it was fine again, or to let it slip that El probably already knew that story.

“He could tell your parents,” He muttered instead. Now it was Nancy’s turn to laugh lightly.

“He wouldn’t dare.” She shrugged, unfazed. She had just as much leverage as he did. The only risk they ran was if he snitched about him climbing up her window at midnight. Or the less often “sleepover at Allie’s” when conveniently the rest of the Byers’ family was out for the night.

Jonathan just smiled, letting himself fall forward to catch her lips with his. Just like every other time he kissed her, she felt electricity in her veins and shivered involuntarily. She really wished her nightgown and his undershirt weren’t an obstacle right now.

She was enjoying this way too much for being in her pink girly bedroom, her family downstairs. She let out a soft moan when he mumbled her name, thoroughly being swept up in the moment.

“Nancy.” A loud bang at her door shot them both away, Jonathan’s arms reflexively tighten their grip around her.

He was so dead. “What do you want Mike?!” She shot out of bed like a bullet, already feeling more bitter and cold when Jonathan loosened his grip so she could do so. She decided she vastly preferred the Mike that snuck out super early to eat breakfast with Lucas or bike to the secret cabin he wasn’t supposed to know about. She hoped she looked as annoyed as she felt when she opened the door.

“Sorry I thought you’d like to know about the code red! Mom was about to come and get you before I offered, a little gratitude here?” He explained, exasperated. Nancy suppressed an eye roll, she was in no way grateful for her little brother interrupting them twice in one morning.

“Can’t you tell her I’m sick or something?” It sounded more like a command than a question.

“And have her come up here shoving chicken soup down your throat? She won’t leave you alone the rest of the day.” He finished with a knowing look and Nancy groaned, hating that he was right.

“Fine. Tell her I’ll be down in a little.” She grumbled, still keeping the door shut around her as much as she could. There was no point, it being the reason he was lying to their parents. But she didn’t need him intruding.

“What should I say?” He shrugged and Nancy felt herself getting more and more frustrated.

“That I’m busy.” She replied, shortly.

“Making out with your boyfriend that spent the night? Fine.” He moved to turn away.

“Mike!” He turned back at her biting his name, not looking particularly interested. “I’ll give you a ride to El’s later if you tell them I’m having a-a bad hair day or something.”

His sullen mood was wiped off in an instant. “Sweet!” He took off down the stairs and Nancy groaned, rolling her eyes one more time before shutting her door.

She turned back to her bed, more accurately the inhabitant of it. “I want to strangle him sometimes.” She shook her head.

Jonathan just laughed, already looking more awake. Nancy decided she hated it as she fell back into bed, stopping his movements of trying to get out of it. “You’re not leaving.” She replied to his questioning look, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Nance-”

“It’s Saturday.” She insisted, making a point of being conniving as she snuggled back into the covers. “Your mom probably already knows where you are too.” Nancy supplied, answering the reason he hadn’t brought up yet. Even though she knew Mrs. Byers’ was the happiest with their relationship, she was still a parent. Even though Nancy was welcome over anytime, she wasn’t cool with sleepovers all the time. Plus, despite the fact he acted like it for most of his teenage years, it was harder for her to see Jonathan be so grown up, someone who had a serious girlfriend he spent nights with when he rarely spoke to anyone before Nancy Wheeler.

“I was thinking about your parents.” He corrected her. “Who would be less than thrilled to find you in bed with Jonathan Byers.” Despite the drag on himself, he smiled and Nancy rolled her eyes.

“They don’t care who I’m in bed with, trust me. They just like to pretend like they care.” She moved her hands to loop around his neck as she spoke.

Jonathan just laughed a little, not that she gave him a chance to reply before kissing him once more. His arms found their, rightful place, around her waist again as she leaned into the kiss more, both of them surrounded by the duvet.

Just as they opted to lay in a more comfortable position, completely swept away in the moment again for another few minutes, Nancy’s door knob turned.

“Nancy, sweetie? Are you okay?” Her mother’s voice called from the other side of the door.

“Mom, I told you! You should’ve seen her hair, she looked like she got electrocuted!” She could hear Mike at the bottom of the stairs. He failed and was dead to her but was ultimately going to give him the ride anyways.

She groaned silently, letting her head fall on Jonathan’s shoulder. “I’m fine.” She called back, probably sounding muffled.

“Sweetheart, your breakfast is getting cold.”

“I’ll, uh, be down in a second.” She lifted her head to properly reply and let the breath she was holding out when she heard her mother’s footsteps fade away. After a moment, just as she suspected, she looked to her boyfriend giving her a look like almost screamed “I told you so”. “Shut up.” She mumbled against his lips, not letting him say anything before giving him one last peck. Then they were detangling themselves fully to get up.

She was partial ways content with an outfit when Jonathan was finished getting dressed, ready to escape out her window. “Are you still coming over tonight?”

“Of course.” Nancy nodded, her eyes still on the shirts she was debating to wear and not him. “You’re still taking me to the movies right?” She went with a pink one before turning to face him.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Will might want to tag along.” He didn’t bother looking apologetic anymore, they were used to kids crashing their date nights by now.

“Yeah, I’m sure Mike and El will tag along too.” She tried to sound annoyed but she honestly couldn’t. They got enough alone time as is, and the kids seemed to understand not to crash their dates too often. Jonathan gave her a questioning look though. “They got her a new wig apparently.” She shrugged, that being answer enough. It wasn’t technically safe enough yet but she didn’t see the harm of the party sneaking Eleven out to see a movie for a couple hours before it was legally allowed.

After that Jonathan said his goodbye, kissing her cheek quickly. She still found herself amazed at how…sweet he was. They were in a quite incriminating position not ten minutes ago but he still pecked her cheek before ducking out of her window. They were an actual couple now but he still floored her.

She was left blushing like a teenage girl in love when he did something as innocent as that, but that was she was. She spent the rest of her time getting ready trying to push down the smile on her lips and blush on her face before begrudgingly trenching downstairs. She just really hoped her hair looked disheveled from sleep and not from her boyfriends hands in it.