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grippingbeskar · 2 years ago

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old partners, new plans

— joel miller x fem!reader

—warnings: explicit content minors dni (oral m receiving, mxf) swearing, very minor dom!joel but it’s like not an established thing

—a/n: back at it!!! hope you guys enjoy! i love writing for joel sm. he so sexy <3

“That was not the deal.” You growl, squaring your shoulders.

“Deals change.” Is all the reply you get, Joel still leaning against the frame of your door. You can hardly see him there, the dark of night shrouding him in something akin to mystery— at least, he would be mysterious if you hadn’t already seen every inch of him.

“You know that’s not fair, Joel. I’ve waited ages for this opening, and I’m fucked without the pills to trade.” You take a step towards him and lower your voice, knowing people have been hung in the centre of town for even thinking about leaving, let alone having an entire plan like you did. Or had. “I need to get to them.”

“You don’t even know they’re out there.” You bite back a laugh, turning away from him. You hear the click of the door behind you, and Joel sounds louder as he finally steps into your house. “This is a bad idea— always has been. You got no proof, no solid plan… you’re fucked with or without the pills.”

“Oh, because you’re so sure Tommy’s still alive? That plan is so well thought out— huh?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not! My family is out there, and they’re waiting for me. I know they are. I’ve had this plan for months— months, Joel! You know what this means, and you choose now of all times to hold out on me?!” You shout now, head under his chin staring up at him.

“I’m not holdin’ out, there’s nothin’ I can do about it. My guy ain’t getting back for a week, and I can’t just pull strings I don’t have.” Your heart plummets. The look in his face seems genuine— broken, sad… but it doesn’t make you any less angry. “I can’t help you.”

“But you were fine taking my batteries and tools. And my route to the outside for the last six months. All that you were happy to take me up on, but now it’s time to pay and you’re suddenly empty? I don’t buy it, Joel.” You say his name harshly, with none of the need and honey-like sweetness you remember from those few months of bliss before you told him you were getting out. Before he iced you out completely. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. As what— some kind of pay back?”

“You know that’s not—“

“Why? Because I’m not sleeping with you anymore? That’s fucking low, even for you. And you are the one that stopped that, not me, so don’t blame your blue balls on me just cause you can’t deal with the inevitable.” You suck in a quick breath, wishing you could take the words back.

Oh, he’s fucking angry now. Before he was letting you rant, letting you yell at him because he knew he was in the wrong but something about your comment made him flip.

Neither of you had mentioned what happened. How that night, when you told him you were leaving, he just got up and left your bed, never coming back. Sure, you were blunt and maybe a little harsh when you told him you were going, but he didn’t even look at you for a week. Only when you went to him to ask for the last piece of your escape plan, he managed to look at you, but even then he was short and harsh like you had been. Like you’d done something to him personally— left him cold and alone in a giant bed, words you never got to say still stuck in your throat. How he never gave you a chance to finish, to explain, to ask him to come with you. Find both of your families.

It was the first time you’d really spoken at all since then— conversations that used to be never ending and comforting turning to surface level communication, only speaking when necessary. Sure, you were shouting at each other right now but at least you were talking. Anything was better than silence.

“Don’t you ever fucking say that to me. Don’t you dare tell me I had anything to do with you leavin’. You did this to yourself— to us.” He didn’t yell, but you sort of wish he had, because the low, growling tone of his voice was somehow ten times worse. “You were the one who wanted to leave. I never—“

“You don’t have to remind me.” You don’t let him finish the thought, instead cutting him off and diverting your eyes to the fists at his side, straining with fury. His knuckles were bruised, either from work or a side gig he didn’t tell you about. He never told you about anything anymore.

“I got no pills. I’ll dump ‘em in the old spot when they come in. Try not to get yourself killed ‘til then.” He turns to leave, and you feel your stomach flip. This will be the last time you see him if he comes through. The last time you spoke.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “Hey— I didn’t meant that, alright? You really want to leave it like this?”

“You’re going. Probably gonna die out there. What’s the point in talking about it?” You want to yell, want to fight him on it but he wouldn’t even listen— “You’re signin’ your death sentence outside of these walls alone. Don’t blame me for not giving you the push.”

“Joel, just wait a second.” His hand stills as it moved to grab the door. “I don’t… I don’t want to leave you like this. I never wanted to leave you. If you just let me—“

“You made that bed weeks ago.” He stares ahead, never letting you finish and still not turning around to look at you. Your heart freezes at the thought of him walking out that door. You want to leave— but you never wanted to do it alone. Even after weeks of silence and rough edges, you’d take any time with him over… well, anything.

“Let me unmake it. Just… please don’t walk out on me, Joel.” You take a few tentative steps, gauging the progress you’ve made. His spine straightens when your fingers dance up his back, gentle and slow. You catch the bottom of his shirt and slip under, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palm and the way he sighs— as if your touch relieves him. “I hated how I went about… things. I never meant to have it turn out like this. Us ignoring each other.”

“Well, that’s what happened.” His head turns ninety degrees, eyes looking over his shoulder as you walk your fingers higher. His shoulder blades, always full of tension, relax under your hand, and you trail your other hand up to find the other, watching his eyes flutter closed as you dig your palms into the muscle there.

“I know. It was unfair of me to spring it on you that night, and I shouldn’t of said the things I did. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t say anything, but he sighs again as you continue to manipulate his muscle. You wish he’d take his shirt off so you could do it properly, but this would do for now. “But you never let me finish— that day.”

“I heard…fuck. I heard what I needed to hear.” His head drops down, chin to his chest as you step up on your toes and massage him in slow, steady circles. You hadn’t touched him in so long, you were nearly burning with just this intimacy alone, but you had to bide your time. Coax him in slowly, like a scared lone wolf— tempt him closer with paced, quiet movements until you could get your chance.

“Let me fix it. Fix this.” You say softly, your heart slamming against your chest.

“You’re still leaving. Can’t fix that.” His voice strains, and you run your hands lower to dig into the muscle of his back.

“Yeah.” He sighs again at your answer. “And you still hate me for it.”

“Yeah.” He copies you, and you try to ignore how much the simple word affects you.

“But we still have right now.”

“What’s the— shit, that’s good.” He shuffles back into your touch. “What the point?”

“Cause I can make you feel so much better than this. Don’t you remember?” You are nearly begging, but if memory serves you right, a few ‘pleases’ seem to make him do just about anything. “This is just my hands, but my mouth… my—“

“Yeah. Yeah, I fucking remember. Think about it every night.” You run your hands up again, but this time take his shirt with you and bring it up over his head. He moves, finally, grabbing the collar and shucking it off his shoulders, letting the fabric pool at his feet in front of the door.

“Let me make it up to you. Please, Joel.” He groans when you press harder, feeling how his muscles have gone nearly placid under your touch now. “Even if it’s just tonight. If you still hate me, you can leave and not look back, but I… I can’t stand this thing we have going on. The quiet. I can’t do it. Please.”

He turns around, towering over you as a mass of unkept, wild curls and a burning need in his eyes. It makes you smile, that look in his eye— because it’s been so long since he’s looked at you with anything other than hatred. Now, he needs you. Needs what only you can give him, and even if this could be the last night of it, you couldn’t help but think it would last forever with how heavy his gaze was.

“You wanna make it up to me?” He’s tilting his head in question, watching your hands move up and down his torso in teasing strokes.

“Please, Joel.” You see it splinter, his final plank of resolve shredding and dispersing on your floor under the weight of your words. Your voice nearly cracks with desperation— you need it as badly as he does.

“Get on your knees.” You blink at him, your fingers trailing down his toned chest before nodding and obeying his command readily. Joel was always a giver— always spending hours on you and you alone, and he fucking loved it— but tonight you had all but begged him to take. Lose a little bit of that control he clings so tightly to, watch the tension loose from his shoulders as he forgets about everything but you.

You trail your lips along his lower stomach as you sink to your knees, eyes never leaving his— ones that have practically turned onyx black as he watches your path, chest rising and falling rapidly. He moves his leg before you hit the ground, and it’s not until your bare knees settle into something a little softer than hard wood floor that you realise he’s kicked his shirt under you.

Even when he acted the part of hating you— he never stopped thinking of you.

Your fingers shake as they fumble with his belt, Joel making no move to help you as you struggle with the loops. When you finally break it free, Joel’s hand reaches down and threads your hair through his fingers. His thumb trails the highest point of your cheekbone, and your eyes flutter as you involuntarily nuzzle into his touch. It’s comforting and warm, and the intimacy of him knowing how you like to be touched even on your face has your cheeks burning. You think you catch him smile at you, and then your focus snaps back to the sight right at your eye-line when you pull his boxers and jeans down in one go.

“Missed your cock, Joel. Fuck.” You are nearly mesmerised at him in front of you, words spilling out as he stands in front of you completely naked while you remain fully clothed. He groans, head rolling back as you wrap your hand around his base.

“I bet you did. Can remember how loud you used to be— I fucking loved that.” Even if the compliment is purely physical, compared to how little you’ve gotten from him it boosts your ego through the roof. You can’t wait any longer, wrapping your lips around the tip of his straining cock. “That’s it, darlin’.”

You don’t tease him, but you do start slow. Despite how much you want to suffocate on him, have him fuck out any of that hate he’s still holding so he can’t think of anything but your mouth, you know he likes it to start slow. It’s like he’s denying himself, even here, that he doesn’t deserve the instant gratification. Like he wants to suffer through it first— a little bit of pain to accompany the overwhelming pleasure that follows.

“Fuck, you’re good. Just like that.” He praises, his hand sneaking back to the nape of your neck. Not pushing, but instead gathering your hair and using his fist as a make shift ponytail. “Missed your mouth.”

“Mm?” You make a muffled noise, hoping to God he keeps telling you how much he missed any part of you. Like he dragged through the last few weeks as poorly as you did. You were already fizzling in your stomach, your thighs clenching together with every swirl of your tongue around the head of his cock.

“Thought about you every day. Every— fuck. Nothin’ gets me off like you. Ha-ah, shit.” You take him to the back of your throat, gagging a little but loving every choked sound sound that stutters out of Joel’s mouth. “Had to fuck my fist thinkin’ about your pretty little face. Fuckin’ hated myself for it.”

You speed up, wanting nothing more than for him to yank you upwards and bend you over the counter, but you’ll take what you can get. The salty taste of him mixes on your tongue, and it’s always so messy giving him head, but he goes feral for it. He’s watching you now, the words punched out of his chest as you move your hand to match your mouth, and you know the tears in your eyes and strands of hair across your face just send him wild.

He says your name how you remember, with all the sweet and drawn out inflections his accent gives it. You take him deeper, indulging a low and dormant urge to please him clawing it’s way to the front of your brain. He groans again, the hand at the back of your head pressing just slightly— a sign he’s losing that last bit of self control.

“Fuck— stop, baby. Stop.” He splutters out, and you draw yourself back slowly. He keeps his hand in your hair, looking down at you possessively. His chest is moving rapidly, trying to catch his breath from where you had him so close. Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to why he didn’t let you do the one thing you really wanted to right now. Make him feel good.

“What’s wrong?” You say softly, and he hauls you upward, barely giving you time to find your footing before he surges forward and kisses you.

It nearly knocks you off your feet, the hunger behind it making you stumble a few steps to where you know the bed is. He wastes no time, tasting himself on your tongue and taking you with him down onto the mattress. He pulls your shirt off first, kissing his way down to where your hips are still covered by sweat pants.

It’s here he takes his time, watching you writhe with impatience as he slowly draws the fabric down. He kisses your hipbones as they are revealed, the gentle touches making your head spin. He was meant to hate you— meant to be fucking you hard and fast just one more time to get it out of his system, so that you felt like what you two had could end on some kind of high. You owed him that much.

But this? The way his hands were so soft and gentle— practically caressing along your sides and over your thighs. The care behind his movements, the way he looked at you… it wasn’t how you used to fuck. This wasn’t hard and dirty, not scratching an itch or quenching a thirst— this had something more behind it. You knew it, and by the way he smiled over you, he did too.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispers against your skin, the rough hair on his cheeks tingling the softness of your inner thighs. He says it quietly, like you weren’t supposed to hear it, but you do, and your body floods with heat.

“Joel.” You whimper, your underwear dragging down your legs before he crawls back up your body. “Joel, I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby. Just focus on me, okay?” You feel him against you, the head of his cock dragging up and down causing your hips to twitch every time. “You always get so wet from doing that, don’t you?”

“Just from you. It’s just you, Joel.” You whimper, and his face crumbles in front of you. He bends to kiss you again, the air in your lungs sucked out leaving you breathless. He’s handling you with such care— like he still does. Care.

When he pushes into you, you both sigh, Joel dropping onto his forearms caging you under him. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck— teeth dragging along your collar bone with each slow thrust.

“You always feel so good. Can’t live without this, baby.” He’s almost whining, grinding into you with so much strength you hear the bed creak with each move. He’s reaching every nerve you have, crackling each one with a searing pleasure that’s only ever associated with him.

“N-neither. Please— please, Joel.” You beg for something, anything he’d give you, and his head moves to press his forehead to yours. His hips stutter, eyes half lidded but focused on you.

“Don’t leave. I’ll… god, so good. Don’t go.” He fucks you a little harder, like he’s trying to prove a point. Trying to convince you— but he doesn’t have to.

“Come with me.” You whisper, hands threading into his hair. You tug hard, making him groan.

“Baby.” He says lowly, voice grating and strained. Every thrust of his hips hurtles you closer to release, one of his hands snaking down your body to circle your clit. You can’t talk anymore, the only noises you can make are loud moans followed by choked out versions of his name. “Fuck— fuck, I can’t last. I can’t..”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pleasure rolling over you from your fingertips to your toes, the weight of Joel’s body keeping you firmly secured on the mattress. It’s like the heavy press of his warm skin multiplies the feeling, nails digging into the flesh of his back.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, and it only takes a few more strokes of Joel’s cock and he’s cumming with you, both of you clinging to each other as you try to draw out the others high. Even when you’re supposed to be fighting, each of you are doing anything and everything for each other.

Joel still feels warm above you, keeping himself inside as long as he can stand before he pulls out slowly. You whimper from the loss, but he shuts you up with a deep, desperate kiss. It’s lazy and meaningful— teeth and tongues clashing from how hard he’s pressing on top of you.

Both of you are sweaty and out of breath, but neither can find the strength to pull your mouths away from each other. You know once you do, it was meant to be over— but it couldn’t be. There wasn’t going to be a version of this story where you missed out on the only good, real thing you’ve had in a long time just because you didn’t have the guts to repeat yourself. You pull back from his mouth as hard as it is, and he groans a little in frustration of having to chase you.

“Joel…” Your hands find their way up to his face, holding him so close that your noses bump together. “I meant it. Come with me.”

“Darlin’, I gotta… Tommy needs me to find him. I…” He looks you up and down again, eyes catching on the little hickeys he’s left over your chest and neck, and you think he might be considering the possibility of leaving everything behind and just following you despite it.

But you’d never ask him to. You had this thought out— and if he’d just listened to you the first time, he would already know.

“I know. We can find him. The pills— I’m trading it for a full tank of gas for a car I repaired. It’s just outside the safe zone.” He shifts up, thighs still straddling over your waist. “We can find him, find my family.”

“You fixed a… of course you did. Fixed a fucking car right under their nose.” He shakes his head, laughing before leaning down and smothering you in a suffocating kiss. He’s still smiling when he pulls away, tucking your body into his chest. “Jesus. You’re unbelievable.”

“I would of told you.” You say, not having the nerve to look up at him. “That night— I tried to tell you. We have people that need us, but I need you, too.”

“Mm.” He says, burying his face into your hair. You can feel the smile in the way he hums, his hands grabbing at your sides and holding you closer. “Need you, too.”

“What was that?” You try to turn and look up at him, a teasing smirk on your face but he doesn’t let you. “The Joel Miller— needs me?”

“Need your car.” He grumbles and you laugh harder, your legs tangling together in a comforting knot of limbs. “When do we leave?”

“When you get the pills.” He hums again.

“Tomorrow. I’ll get ‘em tomorrow.”

“Oh, you fucking asshole. You were getting them the whole time, weren’t you?” He still refuses to let you move, strong arms keeping your bodies together. He doesn’t say anything, just laughs and nods before his breathing starts to slow.

You wanted to turn and see his face when he said that— that he needed you. But as you feel him go limp behind you, you figure you’ll get enough time to stare at his face when you drive across the state to get Tommy, and whatever comes after that. You might not know what comes next, but whatever it is, you feel a hell of a lot better knowing it’ll be with him.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #tlou joel #joel miller x y/n #tlou #tlou joel miller

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ludwigplayingthetrombone · 2 years ago

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OFMD fix-it Epilogue

Decided to make an epilogue as a thank you! wanted to try and write some fallout from the reunion. takes place over about a week. tw for blood and stede saying something self harmy. Thank you all again for the incredible response to both parts ;w;

Part one Part two

Stede: Edward! [ed gasps for breath]

Ed: What are you doing? Stede: [screams] cHRIST, Ed, Warn a man! Ed: You don’t get a warning when you’re being a dickhead. Why were you running around and lifting shit

Stede: Settled a crew dispute! I didn’t want to disturb your rest, so I took care of it. Everything’s- oh. Ed: Stede! Stede: I’m fine, really! Ed: Yes, I believe you, man bleeding and drenched in sweat! Stede: I don’t want to just sit on my ass while everyone else busts theirs. Bit of a bad start to co-captaining again, y’ know. Ed: Better than a fuckin’ dead one! You saved their asses, so let them handle it

Ed: Let me handle it Stede: It’s my mess. Why should you? Ed: Thought we agreed we both fucked up. This isn’t about the gash, is it?

Stede: Sitting idle is making me...anxious. I...I have this feeling something bad is going to happen. This all went way too well. I feel like the proverbial shoe is about to drop. Ed: You think you’re the only one feelin’ like that? I’m the reason you’re laid up; what with the stabbing and all. Also, this was ‘went too well‘? Scared to ask what the worst case scenrio was in your depraved little mind. Stede: Truth be told, the stab was for my peace of mind as well. Hopefully as cathartic for you as it was for me. Ed: [horrified silence] Things are... super weird right now, but-... Before shit went sideways, Lucius was telling me about the wonders of self care. Stede: Oh no, I feel fantastic! Absolute bliss, believe me! It’s just...

Stede: But of a novice with this, genuine courtship, let alone the pirate kind! No clue. Plus I didnt facror in the wound-. Perhaps I’m overthinking Ed: hmm Stede: Hard to believe, I know. Ed: If you’re uneasy, I can back off a bit Stede: Not from being with you. The opposite actually. I’m scared I won’t be able to treat you how you truly deserve. If I could shoulder your trauma for even a moment, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d do anything really.

Stede: Sometimes I recall the hurt in your eyes when I first returned, and it forms a pit in my stomach. That’s all. Ed: I’m terrified, Stede. Never thought I’d find something like this. Someone who sees the me I hid for so long. I’m in the same boat as you this time. I’ve never done... all this before either. Feeling ‘n shit

Ed: No plan. Have no idea how this’ll go. It’s exhilarating, amazing, mortifying, sometimes i wanna throw up- I feel FUCKIN’ ALIVE!

Ed: You feel it too, right? Stede: Of course, my GOD, man Ed: Then, you being on this ship is enough, Stede. Knowing you’ll be here to peel me off the ground and put me back together. That’s all I need. And I’ll keep your fancy ass alive everytime you rip open your guts. Stede: Well, that just won’t due for someone of your caliber. Bare minimum really. After all,

Stede: I’d be dead many times over by now without you Ed: Yeah, you would. Ridiculous man. Stede: I think you fancy a ridiculous man

Ed: Yeah, think maybe I do. No one’s ever gonna take him away from me again. Including the lunatic in front of me. FANG! Come fix up captain bonnet. And strap him to a chair so he stays put [stede sighs]

Stede: If you can believe, not my first stint being tied to a chair Lucius: Oh, I believe pretty easy

Stede: Focus, Lucius. I have to nail this rebrand Lucius: I’m sorry, I can’t see anything else you’d be. Maybe grow a mustache? Stede: Now there’s an idea!

Lucius: Yeah, you’d look very dilfy Stede: Dilfy? Ed: Why are you one the floor? Stede: Oh! Welcome back! Needed a change of texture! How’d it go! Ed: Boring. Gave up instantly.

Ed: Crew’s back, go irritate Izzy. Lucius: Perfect. I hate third wheeling you two specifically. Ed: Hey Stede: Well, this is a familiar angle Ed: It’s a good angle! Stede: I concur!

Ed: How’s the stitches? Stede: Ship shape! Ed: Good man. Bummed you missed the raid? Stede: A little bit Ed: You wanna cause some havoc?! Maim some people? Stede: More of perhaps managing the maiming, but yes! Share in the camaraderie!

Ed: Brought you stuff. Stede: Really? [muffled] oh lovely!

Ed: Thought you could build your public closet up again. Whatever you dont want, i’ll throw in the rec pile Stede: This wouuld look beautiful on you. keep this one. Ed: Me? These are for you, nut. Stede: Of course you! Always wanted someone to share this passion with! Even more fun when you acquire fine things together.

Stede: Only made finer by being worn by you. Ed: These are for you too

Stede: [choked noise] I thought looting books wasn’t piratey? Ed: Notice I put them in a bag and didn’t replace. Stede: Some of these are great finds! Impeccable taste as always. Ed: Meant to do that. Totally didnt just throw shit in a bag and run. Just that good

Ed: We gotta fill these shelves again with cool shit. Plus, you gotta read to the crew at night. They really miss it. Been filing complaints for days

Ed: The balls on you to kiss Blackbeard on the cheek. Unheard of! Stede: One could say, balls for days

Ed:See? Left yourself wide open! Could have easily nicked your liver Stede: Was that your real plan all along? Ed: Most coveted liver in the seven seas. Blackbeard has to have it. Stede: You could have just asked

#gentlebeard #blackbonnet #our flag means death #ofmd #my art

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

Text

Cool Kids

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Synopsis: you walk in on some domestic bliss between Peter and your little brother

Masterlist

“Oh, hey.” Peter noticed your brother in the doorway as he sat at your kitchen table. He was still waiting for you to come home, and he assumed he was home alone. Even though he’d been your boyfriend for over a year, he’d never actually seen your brother before.

“You’re Finn right?” Peter continued. “I’m Peter, your sisters, uh, friend. We were gonna study together but she’s running a little late.”

“Yoda.” Finn pointed to the Yoda pin on Peters backpack.

“Yeah.” Peter looked at the pin and nodded. “You like Star Wars?”

“Yes.” Finn nodded.

“I like it too.” Peter smiled. “I wish I had a Yoda of my own. Y/n is kinda like my Yoda though. She makes all my decisions for me, thankfully.”

“Y/n is my sister.” Finn recited. “She is 13 minutes late.”

“Yeah, but that’s okay.” Peter chuckled. “Does she ever watch Star Wars with you?”

“No.” Finn said simply.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Peter leaned on his chair, closer to Finn.

“Yes.” His eyes lit up and he clapped in excitement.

“She doesn’t like it because she’s not as cool as us.” Peter whispered behind his hand.

“Not as cool as us.” He clapped again. “Do you want to see my room? I have lightsabers that make real noises. I have two of them. One is red and one is blue.”

“Uh, of course I want to see your room.” Peter said like it was obvious. Finn turned around and swiftly walked towards his room, and Peter followed.

“You have to wipe your feet three times.” Finn instructed as he wiped his feet three times on the mat in front of his door.

“You got it.” Peter complied as he wiped his feet as well. Peter began to look around and smiled at how similar Finns room looked to his own.

“These are my Legos.” Finn said as he pointed to a shelf lined with Lego sets of all sizes.

“Woah.” Peter gasped as he walked over to the shelf. “You have the Lego Death Star?”

“Yes. It has 3803 pieces and it took me 4 days to make it.” Finn told him.

“You built this all by yourself?” Peter’s eyes widened with impression.

“Yes.” Finn smiled and clapped a few times. “Legos make me happy.”

“They make me happy too.” Peter commented as he gazed at the sets. Finn silently took two lightsabers out of his closet and held them out to Peter.

“Do you want to play lightsabers?” Peter asked him, and he nodded.

“Me too. But only if I can use the red one.” Peter smiled, taking note of all the blue clothes in the closet and assuming his favorite color was blue. Finn clapped again and gave Peter the red lightsaber before jumping into a battle stance. Peter lost track of time as they played with the various toys in Finns room. He was genuinely enjoying himself, and Finn seemed to be as well.

You stepped into Finns room and wiped your feet three times on his mat. When you looked up, you saw Peter swinging Finn around the room while making “pew pew” sounds.

“Hey Y/n.” Peter paused with Finn midair. “We were just…looking for my calculator.”

“Peter is telling a lie.” Finn said simply.

“I can see that.” You chuckled. “I just wanted to let you guys know that the pizza will be here in 20 minutes.”

“Pizza.” Finn clapped as Peter set him down. “The pizza will be here in 20 minutes.”

“Thank you.” Peter stammered, cheeks growing red in embarrassment. You smirked at him before leaving the room and returning to your own.

“I’ll be right back.” Peter said quickly as he rushed to your room.

“Um, hi.” Peter stammered as he leaned against your door. He knew you didn’t like to talk about your brother and he could only assume you were angry with him now.

“Hey.” You said without looking up.

“You’re home?” Peter asked as he sat next to you. “How long have you been here?”

“About an hour.” You shrugged, setting your textbook next to you.

“An hour?” Peter gasped. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You looked pretty busy so I’ve just been reviewing by myself.” You fought back a smile as you looked at your boyfriend.

“I wasn’t…I wasn’t busy.” Peter said sheepishly.

“Really? You seemed pretty busy playing with my brother.” You shrugged casually.

“I know.” Peter sighed. “I’m sorry if I overstepped a boundary but he asked me-“

“He asked you?” You were taken aback. “My brother asked you to play with him?”

“Yeah.” Peter apologized. “I told him I was there to help you study and he started talking to me about Star Wars and one thing just kinda led to another.”

“He doesn’t let me hug him and he was letting you fly him around the room like an airplane.” You looked at the ceiling as you let out a humorless laugh.

“Actually, I was flying him around the room like the Millennium Falcon.” Peter reluctantly corrected you.

“Peter.” You stood up and rubbed your face.

“I’m sorry.” Peter stood up as well. “He was just so excited to show me his legos and I got carried away. I’m sorry.”

“Peter, I’m not mad.” You told him as you turned around.

“You’re not?”

“No.” You smiled softly. “Not even a little bit.”

“But…” Peter looked confused. “But you never let me meet him before. I thought you didn’t want him to know about me.”

“Peter, my brother has autism.” You told him for the first time. Peter tilted his head in confusion and looked at you skeptically. He was pretty sure that was something you would have told him in the time you’d been dating.

“What?” He asked softly.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “He’s pretty much non verbal towards everyone but me and my parents. I never let you meet him because he doesn’t like strangers.”

“Oh.” Peter blinked slowly as he put it all together.

“That’s why I let you guys play.” You told him. “He doesn’t have any friends at school since he doesn’t like to talk to anyone. When I came home and saw you guys playing... Peter that was the happiest I have ever seen him. I didn’t want it to stop.’’

“Oh.” Peter said again, with a smile this time. “I had no idea.”

“Because he was so engaged with you.” You gushed with excitement. “I mean, he was talking, letting you touch him, making eye contact. Peter, he rarely looks me in the eyes. Do you know how comfortable he must have been with you to look you in the eyes? And the fact that he asked you to play with him? If he needs something, we usually have to figure it out because he doesn’t like asking for things. I can’t believe this.”

“He’s a really great kid. I could already tell that just from playing with him.” Peter smiled as he tucked your hair behind your ear. You smiled back, but it faded as a sadness settled in your eyes.

“He doesn’t hug you?” Peter asked suddenly as he drew back to something you had said before. You looked down and nodded before frowning at Peter.

“When he was little, we noticed he got really uncomfortable with certain fabrics and textures touching his skin, like the tag on his shirt or rough towels.” You began to explain. “Then it broadened to other forms of contact. He has sensory issues so he doesn’t like it when people touch him. I haven’t hugged him since he was two.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter frowned and kissed your forehead.

“It’s okay.” You sighed as you pulled him into a hug. Peter rubbed your back comfortingly as you squeezed him back.

“The pizza is here.” Finn opened your door suddenly. “The pizza costs $13.67.”

“Thanks Finn.” You smiled at your brother as you wiped a tear off your cheek. “We’ll be right there.”

“You’re crying.” Finn stated. “Are you sad? Crying means sad.”

“No, I’m not sad.” You wiped your face and smiled at him. “I’m okay. See? Happy.”

“Finn, why don’t you come in here.” Peter said suddenly as he opened his arms. You looked at Peter curiously as he scooped up Finn and held him on his hip. Your mouth opened a little in surprise, not used to seeing your brother touching people.

“You know how we said Star Wars were cool?” Peter asked Finn.

“Yes.” Your brother nodded.

“You know what’s even cooler?” Peter looked between you and Finn. “Group hugs.”

Your lips tugged into a smile as you watched your brother hang on to every word Peter said. Finn looked at you without making eye contact and slowly opened his free arm.

“Is the material of my sweater okay?” You asked him carefully.

“It’s okay.” He nodded, and that was all you needed. You stepped into the hug and wrapped your arms around your little brother. A tear slipped down your cheek as you rubbed his back, taking in the scent you hadn’t smelled in years. A small noise emitted from the back of his throat and you pulled away, knowing he was uncomfortable.

“Thanks Finn.” You smiled at him to show him you were happy. “Let’s go get the pizza.”

Finn ran out the the room, leaving you and Peter alone.

“I’m sorry if that was-“

You cut Peter off by pulling him into a kiss to thank him for what he had done. Peter happily kissed you back as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“That was perfect.” You assured him in a whisper. “Thank you.”

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talesofstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Reconcile

happy christmas eve, you lot! i’ve got a little present for you. enjoy this 10,5k of nearly divorced harry trying to win his wife and bitter nine year old daughter back. oh and i threw in a little baby goat in the mix too since it’s set in the peak district and i just couldn’t resist 🥳

“Penny for your thoughts.”

He turned to look at her, who was giggling as she leaned closer to him. She was most definitely not a giggler sober, but he found out that a copious amount of alcohol could turn her into one. He felt slightly guilty knowing that she was going to be hungover as hell in the morning, but she was having a great time.

And so was he.

“I was just thinking about how great you are, how lucky I am to be sitting next to you right now and that you need to drink more water because otherwise, you’d be miserable tomorrow,” he says with a smile as he twisted the cap and handed her the bottle of water.

That goofy smile of hers turned into a gooey smile of affection. “That’s so sweet,” she murmured, taking a gulp of water and handed the bottle back to him so he could take some too. She then tilted her head, giving him a doe-eyed look and asked, “what else do you like about me?”

“Let’s see,” he put a finger to his chin and tapped. “Well, I love how kind and inclusive you are, how you always care about people and that you always see the good in everyone.”

Her smile grew sappier.

“Oh,” he gave her a sly grin. “I also love that thing you do with your tongue on the underside of my cock.”

She burst out laughing. But then she leaned even closer to him and whispered huskily in his ear, “I’ll do that very thing when we get back to the hotel.”

His eyes widened and he wanted nothing more than just to drag her back to their hotel suite and take up on her offer. But he’d promised her that he’d show her around Vegas since she’d never been before, and he wanted to keep that promise.

“Wanna know what I like about you?” She turned to him, still with a gooey smile on her face.

“Do I ever,” he smirked.

“I like that you’re hands down the kindest human I’ve ever met,” she began. “You’re genuine, and grounded. Funny too. I truly hit the jackpot with you. I’m the luckiest girl on earth.”

“Oh,” she added as an afterthought. “And you’re really good with your tongue.”

He wanted to laugh, because she always made him laugh. But he was still stuck on the fact that she thought she was lucky to be with him. He felt exactly the same way about her, like this was always meant to be.

“I wasn’t looking for this,” he admitted honestly. “I know it’s only been six weeks, but I really can’t imagine never having met you.”

“Me too,” her eyes were bright, shining with excitement. “It’s weird, right? Because I swear I’ve never felt such a deep connection with someone this quick.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He murmured. “That there’s a perfect person for everyone out there?”

She tilted her head. “Do you think that’s us?”

There was no hesitation in his answer. “I do think that might be us.”

“I think so too,” she said with a tender smile.

This was real.

He was overwhelmed with the understanding that she was his, and he never wanted to let her go.

So he suggested what any sane, semi-drunk man would at that moment. “We’re in Vegas. We should get married.”

***

Harry

Pulling into the drive of what used to be our holiday cottage, but is now where my wife and children live full-time without me, feels strange to me. There’s that moment of what feels like a homecoming—that sense of belonging somewhere where I feel safe, and I know my happiness is inside.

But now, for the first time in ten years, there’s a sense of detachment that I know I’ve got to put in place. It is why I need to take a moment or two in the car before I walk inside to sort myself out and put on a shield. A shield which lets me walk inside, and be okay with the fact that I don’t live there anymore even just for the holidays.

This charming little cottage, which can’t exactly be called little since it is quite spacious and has three bedrooms, has always been more of a second home rather than a holiday home for us. We used to come here often, sometimes even only for the weekends. I’ve always loved this place. Now, looking back, I realised that many of the happiest times during our marriage were spent in this home.

It was where we spent the first few weeks soaking in newlywed bliss after that whirlwind of a trip to Las Vegas when we decided out of nowhere to tie the knot. Then there were the sleepless nights with a wailing newborn, because even though both of our babies were born in London, we always whisked them off here to Bakewell shortly after so we were close enough that both sets of their grandparents could dote on them during the first few weeks of their lives.

After I exit the car, I walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. I don’t feel comfortable walking in as I respect that this is YN’s sanctuary now. The wait isn’t long, because in just a few seconds, the door is opened and there’s my wife, looking like a breath of fresh air.

It had been eight long months since the last time I saw her. Last time was the night when she asked me to leave our marital home, and I fled to LA first thing the next morning. I talked daily with the kids on the phone, but I didn’t really recall ever getting the chance to talk to her aside from the quick polite greetings before she handed her phone to the kids.

“Hey,” she says, her expression a bit guarded. I’ve missed her so much that it takes everything in me to keep myself from pulling her into my arms and kiss the fuck out of her. “Come in.”

“You alright?” I ask her as I follow her into the house. This may sound like I’m just making a small talk, but I’m not. I’m genuinely curious and I want to know how she’s doing.

But she doesn’t even respond to my question. All I get is a head-tilt motioning towards the kitchen. “They’re in the kitchen.”

My gaze immediately lands on the accent table that holds a lot of photos and a key bowl. I silently let out a sigh of relief seeing YN hasn’t removed all of the family photos with me in it. It’s a good sign, but I don’t have much hope behind that. Maybe that’s just her trying to keep everything as normal as possible at home for the kids.

My wife and I never had a big fight when we separated. It had been somewhat rational, but still emotional, discussion. She wasn’t angry, she was just done. And I didn’t fight for her. Instead, yours truly here walked away the next morning and didn’t look back.

I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. But nothing ever compares to that. That was pretty fucking stupid on my part, and I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

I’ve accepted that maybe this is my punishment for being a shit husband to a wonderful woman who doesn’t deserve to be treated like a second best. She did the right thing by kicking me to the curb, and I’d never resent her for it. If I could turn back time and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. I’d try harder to be a better husband, a better father, put my family first. But I can’t. Now all I can do is just try not to be a dickhead and make things harder for her than it already is. It’s too late for me to try to be a better husband, but it isn’t for me to try to be the best father that my children deserve.

I follow my wife through the living room and into the kitchen, and I’d be dead not to check out her arse in those leggings. It’s something I quickly avert my eyes from, though, as I realise both of my children are sitting at the kitchen island, eating scones with their tea.

George, my six-year-old, is the first to turn his head and hop off from the island stool to jump into my arms. “Daddeeeeee!”

“My Booger Butt,” I greet my little lad with a smile as I squat down to be on his level before scooping him up into my arms. Booger Butt is one of the countless nicknames I have for him, and one that never fails to make him double over in laughter whenever he hears it. He’s also Mr Tadpole Climbing a Beanpole sometimes, and he used to be Sir Screams-a-Lot when he was a baby. He thinks they’re hilarious, and he’d always respond by calling me Baddy Daddy.

“I‘ve missed you so much, Baddy Daddy,” he says sweetly as he nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck and I swear if I don’t pull myself together right this second, I’m going to cry.

“I’ve missed you more, mate,” I say as I ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

My daughter doesn’t seem fazed by the father and son reunion behind her and continues munching on her scone without even giving me a glance. With my left arm full of my son, I walk up to her and ruffle her hair just like I did with her little brother. “Hey Silly Putty Pudding Pie,” I greet her with one of her nicknames, hoping to get her to laugh. But she ignores me, taking a sip of her brew instead.

I don’t want to give up, so I lean to the side and bend to put my face close to hers. I try again, “hello to you too, poppet.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles around a mouthful of scone.

“Minnie,” YN growls, her tone filled with warning.

This is why I respect YN so much. I hurt her badly, broke her heart, and it would’ve been so easy for her to use Minnie as a pawn and turn my child against me. But every time, even on the phone, whenever she is present, she never let Minnie be disrespectful to me in any way.

My gaze moves to my wife—yes I’m still going to refer to her as my wife since she still is, albeit only on paper—and she gives me an apologetic look. I give a slight shake of my head, telling her silently to let it go.

She takes the last bite of her scone and puts the dish in the sink, before walking to the staircase without giving me a second glance. I can see YN trying to hold her tongue from further rebuking our daughter, and I give her a small smile, my silent way of telling her ‘it’s okay.’

“Sorry about that,” she mutters, referring to Minnie’s attitude. She grabs a mug from the cupboard, then holds it up in silent invitation. I nod, and she turns to the pot. “I can’t keep up with her mood shifts anymore.”

“It’s alright,” I tell her, willing to take my share of the blame. “I’m sure the shift has everything to do with me.”

“Not true,” she replies as she pours the coffee into our mugs, adding a splash of milk to hers but keeping mine just like that because she knows I take my coffee black. “She’s been like that with me as well and I’m not sure why. She’s only nine but she acts as if she’s thirteen already.”

I can’t help but laugh and turn to my little lad. “Can you be six forever?”

“No,” he says immediately without even taking a second to think.

“Just no?”

“No,” he gives me a toothy grin. “I want a lego city set but mummy said it’s for eight-year-olds. So I cannot wait to be eight.”

I set him on the counter and give him a conspiratorial smirk before I whisper to him. It’s a little too loud to be considered a whisper, but I want my wife to hear it. “Tell you what, we’ll get one of those sets tomorrow on our day out.”

His eyes light up instantly and my wife rolls her eyes jokingly, “I hear that.” Jokingly, because I know for sure she doesn’t mind me spoiling our children. She does it too.

“Where are you taking them tomorrow?”

“To your mum’s pudding shop for breakfast, then probably fishing, and the toys shop now apparently,” I tell her our itinerary. I have the kids for the whole day tomorrow since it’s Saturday. It’s bittersweet because I’ve missed my children and I can’t wait to spend time with them, but I’m also sad because what I wouldn’t give to turn tomorrow into a family day out instead. I know she would most likely decline, but I can’t help offer her, “would you like to come with us?”

She gives me a subtle shake of her head. “No thanks. Enjoy it, it’s your time with them.”

***

I’m renting a room above The Old Nags Head during my stay here. I plan to stay for a week before I have to go back to London, and even though the thought of having to leave my children again is killing me, I’m trying to cheer myself up by reminding myself that it’ll be Christmas soon enough and I’ll get to visit again.

But then I’ll have to leave again.

And visit again, but knowing in just a week or two, I would have to say goodbye to them again.

Fuck, this is killing me. I’m a family man through and through, and not being with them physically hurts. I shouldn’t be in this room sulking alone. I should be there in that home with my wife and children, probably helping Minnie and George with their homework or making dinner for all of us.

I was prepared to sulk some more, but then I heard a knock on the door. I was not expecting company so I’ve got no idea who it is, and I’m quite surprised when I see Jamie, YN’s brother as I open the door.

We were quite close, but now that I broke his little sister’s heart, I can’t tell if this is a pleasant visit or if he’s just here to knock me square on my arse.

“Got time for tea downstairs?” He asks

Honestly, I haven’t got any appetite. But I could use a few pints so I nod and lock the door behind me, following him downstairs to the pub.

The Old Nags Head is the oldest and most famous pub in Bakewell. The pub itself is a former smithy dating back to the 16th century, and certainly looks the part; thick stone walls, low ceilings, welcoming log fires and dark timber beams. The pub remains at the centre of the community, as it has been for hundreds of years. It offers the best classic pub grubs, and even has its own ale called the Nags 1577.

It’s the perfect place to drown my sorrows.

Except, the current owner of that very pub happens to be none other than my wife’s granddad whom everyone here calls Pop. Out of all members of her family, she is the closest to Pop, so I know for sure that I’m the last person he wants to see.

We sit at the bar table facing the window, which is good because Pop is behind the main bar, and this way I don’t have to actually talk to him.

“Ya want owt?” Jamie asks as he does a quick perusal of the menu. I’m not even sure why he bothers, because even I know what he’s going to order. It’s Pop’s signature steak and ale pie. Ten years of being his brother in law, not once I ever saw him order something else.

“Just a pint,” I tell him.

It doesn’t take long after Jamie orders his food and our drinks before two pints are placed before us, and we each take a savouring sip.

And then Jamie point-blank asks me, “so what did you do?”

I really can’t tell anything from his expression, because he keeps his face blank. But I give him a bark of mirthless laughter. “It’s what I didn’t do, mate. She didn’t say anything?”

“Not a word,” he shakes his head, “what didn’t you do?”

“I stopped paying attention to my wife. Got caught up in my career. The travelling for tours she understood, but it was when I was home and hanging out more with my bandmates than with my family that she couldn’t forgive. And what little time I had left, I gave to Minnie and George. I think I just stupidly assumed she would always be there for me, no matter what.”

“Was there any infidelity?” He asks.

“God, no,” I shake my head hard. “You know I’d never do that to your sister. I love her, and she’s more than enough for me.”

Obviously, I’m not going to tell him this, but ironically, our sex life didn’t diminish. We were combustible in bed, and my mistake was in thinking that was enough for her.

I look at the pudding shop right across the street as I take another sip, and I nearly choke on my beer when I see a familiar face walking out of the shop.

“What in the ever-loving fuck?” I growl.

That’s my wife, walking out of her mum’s pudding shop. She is not alone. There’s a guy with his hand pressed to her lower back while her head is tipped back, laughing at something he’s saying. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach when the bastard’s palm drops from my wife’s back to take her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She smiles, all doe-eyed, as they walk to God knows where.

“What?” Jamie looks at me confused for a second, but then he follows my gaze and he finally sees what’s causing me distress. “Oh, that.”

“You knew about that?”

He nods. “She’s been seeing him for about three weeks now.”

“Fuck,” I mutter and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“She didn’t tell you?” Jamie asks and I shake my head.

“Three weeks you said?”

Jamie nods again. “He makes her happy.”

“I’m her husband,” I can’t help but say bitterly. “I should be the one making her happy.”

“Look, I’m sorry mate,” he offers, I know he’s trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Maybe you need to get back in the dating game too. It’ll distract you.”

“I don’t want to fucking date anyone else,” I growl.

“I know it’s hard to get back in the saddle,” he adds sympathetically.

“I don’t want to get out of my current saddle,” I grumble. “I want to keep my current saddle with my wife in it.”

Jamie blinks in surprise, hell I’m even surprised at what I’ve just said out loud because I’ve never admitted this since we split. When YN asked me to leave, I assumed right away that my marriage was over. I didn’t want it to, but I thought there was nothing I could do.

But now, seeing her laughing at another man’s joke and his hand holding hers, I just know that I can’t let her go without a fight.

“Have you told her this?” He asks curiously.

I shake my head again. “We haven’t got the chance to have a civil conversation these days.”

“Then I suggest you stop being such a bloody whinge bucket and have a civil conversation with your wife.”

My shoulders immediately sag in defeat. “I know. I need to sit down with her and tell her how I feel.”

“Which is?” He presses.

“That I want her back,” I mutter.

“You’ve got to have a better plan than that,” he points out. “I mean… I’m not a marriage therapist, but I’m pretty sure that you’ve got to be prepared to fix the shit first.”

I can’t help but tilt my head towards the pudding shop where my wife had just walked out the door. “She’s moved on. You said it yourself that he makes her happy. Tell me how to compete with that.”

“Make her happier,” he says simply. I can only let out a heavy sigh, but I know that's solid advice. “Listen, if you really want to save your marriage, you need to make it work. Romance her again. Lots of flowers, nice romantic dinners out. Compliments, chocolates. All that sort of thing.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “But I do know that you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t do anything about it.”

***

My emotions are a mixed bag this morning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to spend the whole day with my kids, but the fact that I have just learnt last night that my wife is currently seeing another man doesn’t sit right with me.

I know Jamie was right. If I want to save my marriage, I need to get my head out of my arse and do something to win my wife back. Sure, I don’t even know where to start since she doesn’t give me the time of day. But I do know that starting today, I’m a man on a mission. It’s Operation Conquer YN: day 1.

It’s currently 8:40am, which means I’m twenty minutes early. I hope the kids won’t be ready yet, so I’ll get a chance to talk for a little bit to my wife.

When I ring the doorbell, I can hear George pounding down the stairs, yelling, “I got it!”

The door flies open and he jumps into my arms right away. My little lad truly misses me, and it really does warm my heart. Now, I love my children equally, but before I got here yesterday, I thought Minnie would be the one to jump all over me since she’s a daddy’s girl through and through, while George has always been a mummy’s boy since the day he was born.

But again, I should’ve known. Since YN and I split, Minnie sort of puts herself in her mum’s corner. Every time I actually got the chance to talk to her on the phone when I was still in LA, it was always extremely short before she quickly handed her mum’s phone to her little brother. I try not to take her behaviour to heart, because I guess it’s what nine-year-olds do when they don’t quite understand why their parents aren’t together. They just need someone to blame, and my daughter is way more mature than her age. She’s bloody smart too, which she definitely takes after her mum, and I know that she knows it’s my fault that her mum and I separated.

Now that I think of it, it’s not just my wife that I desperately need to win back. But also my daughter.

“Daddy!” George chirps. He’s got a milk moustache and the sight never fails to get me to chuckle. “You’re early.”

“I know,” I reply with a tender smile. “I just can’t wait to spend the day with you lot.”

“I’m going to get ready!” He announces excitedly as he squirms in my arms wanting to be put down, and he runs up the stairs before I can even reply.

I look around, and my gaze lands on the sofa, a hazel leather sofa that YN picked out. It’s so comfy and I could nap there forever.

Then there’s the coffee table, where YN, Minnie, George and I sat around and played board games. Catan is our family’s favourite, followed closely by Monopoly.

The corner where we always put the Christmas tree, right next to the fireplace. And every year it didn’t matter how hard I tried, I could never get the bloody thing to stay straight.

I miss this little cottage. Sure, the house in South Kensington is our marital house, but this cosy little cottage in the middle of nowhere feels more like home to me. And now I truly get why YN was so adamant to move here permanently after we separated, didn't matter how hard I tried to persuade her to stay in London.

“You’re early,” my wife blinks in surprise, but quickly masks it. “Minnie darling, go and get ready.”

“Do I really have to go?” My nine-year-old whines and I feel a pang. She really doesn’t want to spend time with me.

“Minnie, that’s not nice,” YN reprimands her before I can stop her.

“I’ve missed you, poppet,” I say, wanting to look at her in the eyes but she refuses to meet my gaze. Which hurts, but it’s fine. I know it’ll take some time for her to warm up to me. “I want to spend the day with you and your brother. I promise I’ll try to make it fun for you both.”

“Fine,” she replies, before marching up the stairs to her room. There’s still a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but at least I didn’t get a heavy sigh. I know it’s a small win but honestly, it’s better than none.

“Coffee’s in the pot,” she tells me politely from where she’s sitting at the island. She has her laptop open before her, and I can see her writing an email. I bet she’s working today, even if it’s Saturday, because my wife is such a hard-worker. She works remotely for a consulting firm and I’m beyond proud of her.

I nod and pour the coffee, and I let the silence carry on for a bit before saying, “saw you getting cosy with your new boyfriend last night.”

She instantly looks up from her laptop, giving me a death glare. Her tone is defensive when she says, “that’s none of your business.”

“You could’ve at least told me that you were seeing someone,” I tell her, making elaborate gestures with my coffee mug.

“Why would I do that?” She retorts defensively. “Last time I checked, you didn’t give a shit about me when we were married. Why on earth would I assume you do now?”

Hearing that, it feels like Chuck Norris himself just kicked me in the nuts. I can only mutter, “we’re still married.”

“Not for long,” she replies faintly.

“Don’t say that,” I say, my breath a little jagged. “We can still fix this, darling. I know we can.”

“Are you mad?” She snaps, but then she takes a deep breath, and her tone is a lot calmer when she adds, “Harry, it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. It’s never too late to get our marriage back on track,” I plead desperately. “Would you at least give me a shot?”

“What do you mean?” She frowns.

“You can continue to see Mr Wife-stealer-”

“He’s not a wife-stealer,” she snaps, cutting me off. “He’s got a name.”

“Well, he’s stealing my wife,” I grumble like a stroppy child.

“You’re being such a child,” she retorts. “His name is Luke, he’s a decent guy, and he makes me happy.”

“I’m not afraid to go head to head with him,” I say defiantly.

“Fuck’s sake, Harry, we’re not on a bloody Love Island,” she says in exasperation. “Two children are involved here, this isn’t a game.”

“I know it isn’t,” I reply with a sigh. “Just please give me another shot, darling. Let me remind you how great we were together.”

“You mean the sex?” She demands, one side of her upper lip curls in a sneer.

I bend my head and murmur, “we were dynamite in the sack, weren’t we?”

I see the flash in her eyes as she remembers, and it makes me want to beat my chest in victory. But the euphoric feeling is short-lived when she says, “a relationship is so much more than just sex. If you don’t understand it then-”

“I do, fuck, I do know that,” I cut her off in a strangled, desperate voice. “At least let me try, darling. Fuck if I’m letting you go without a fight.”

We lapse into silence as she gives me a sceptical look, and I know in this moment that my biggest challenge is to regain her trust, as well as accepting the fact that she has someone else fighting for her attention.

I know this will be tough, because I let her down over and over again. And worse, I let my children down too, because I was never quite able to make my family my highest priority. It was all my fault, I knew it then, still do now. That’s why when she asked me to leave, I couldn’t even argue. I was a shit husband and father, and I deserved that.

Trying to win Minnie is probably going to be the easiest because beneath this ‘tweenage’ attitude going on, I know she is a sweet girl who loves her daddy. I need to devote more attention to her, maybe take her on some daddy-daughter dates. I know it’ll work because I’ve never given her enough on a consistent basis.

YN is going to be the most difficult, because I really broke her heart. I’ve been married to her for ten years, so I can say with confidence that I know for sure she would never fall for things like flowers or gifts. I have to show her that I genuinely want to fix our marriage, and that my interest in her is real. It’ll be like starting all over again.

And on top of that, she’s seeing someone else and she said it herself that he does make her happy. I know she’s not lying about it, as Jamie also told me the same thing last night and I saw with my own eyes how she laughed with him last night. Seeing that killed me, because I don’t have the ability to make her laugh like that anymore, but I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that was happy for her.

She may have sneered when I insinuated I’d be glad to remind her of the good times, but I saw it in her eyes. There was still a slight burn, and that might just have to be my angle.

But then I remember our last time together. It was only two days before she asked me to leave and I remember coming home mid-morning after a meeting with my manager and publicist to find her lying in our bed, clad in sexy lingerie. I had my mouth on every inch of her, a good deal of time between her legs, and after she reciprocated by taking me into her mouth.

The kids were in school, and apparently, she took a sick day because I had told her the night before that I only had one meeting in the morning that day. After, she cuddled in close, and we talked for a while. She seemed happy, but then there was a hint of hesitation in her voice when she suggested, “fancy just spending all day in bed until school pick-ups?”

I mean, what man in his right mind would say no to that? The kids were gone for at least another five hours, I had a gorgeous wife naked and wanting more of what we just did…

Yet, I’d said no. “Sorry, doll. I’m meeting the lads at the studio in about an hour.”

I didn’t see it then, but I do now and it’s clear as day. The look on her face had been blank, and there wasn’t even disappointment like she would usually show me. She hadn’t tried to get me to change my mind. There hadn’t been a guilt-laden frown to give me pause.

I realise now what it was.

It was the moment my wife finally gave up on me.

My chest constricts as it finally dawns on me the pain she must have been feeling. I’m not just talking about that day. That had been our life for several years.

No wonder she asked me to leave.

No wonder she’s moving on with Mr Wife-stealer.

No wonder that, at this moment, I realise I’ve got tons of work to do because sex isn’t going to be the answer in winning my wife back.

***

“Will the baby just eat when you give it the bottle?” Minnie asks her uncle Jamie as the four of us gaze at the baby goat in front of us. For the first time since yesterday, I actually see the slight curve up of lips that form a fond smile. Seeing that smile on my daughter’s face, I’m glad we didn’t go fishing and end up going to the barn instead. We were actually already on our way, but Jamie texted me that the mother goat had given birth this morning, and he wanted me to tell Minnie and George. The goats are a new addition to the farm, so they have been so excited to see baby goats. I knew from the look in their eyes that they would have a much better time seeing baby goats rather than fishing.

It turns out that there’s only one baby goat, because the other one sadly didn’t make it. And the dam isn’t producing milk, so the kid needs to be bottle-fed until the mother is producing again. I can’t help but smile fondly at the baby goat too because it’s adorable. It’s a soft little white goat with a pink nose and ears. The dam is a Pygmy but since it has blue eyes, Jamie thinks she must have Nigerian Dwarf genes somewhere in her.

“It’s a female… a doeling,” Jamie tells her. “And she will if she’s hungry. You want to try to feed her? Look, she’s hungry again.”

We watch for a moment as the baby goat walks on wobbly legs, bleating in hunger. Jamie mixes the powdered formula and makes a bottle for her, then he hands the bottle to Minnie.

But Minnie shakes her head. “Maybe next time. I want to see you do it first.”

“Alright then,” Jamie nods, then turns towards my little lad. “How about you, mate? Wanna feed her?”

“No thank you,” says George as he shakes his head, and then he giggles, “she smells funny.”

“Can I do it?” I ask and Jamie nods as he hands me the bottle.

I sit down against the wall with my children sitting on either side of me. And as if the goat can sense that I hold the key to filling her empty belly, the doeling starts to prance in excitement and falls over a few times due to what I assume is clumsiness. I love that she can walk normally but still choose chaos—honestly, she could’ve been my third child. There’s no stopping the surge of fondness that swells within me as I watch her little antics.

“Come here little crumpet,” I coo at the goat.

The little goat scrambles right onto my lap, bleating hungrily. I wrap my arm around her and tip the bottle. She latches on instantly, and Minnie and George are aww-ing and ooh-ing over the way the baby goat’s little tail swishes back and forth so fast in ecstatic happiness as she drinks her milk.

“You’re a hungry little thing, aren’t you?” Minnie murmurs and the little tail swishes faster as she pushes at the bottle to suck the milk down faster. “What’s her name, uncle Jamie?”

“I haven’t named her yet,” Jamie says. “What do you lot think we should call her?”

“Blue,” George suggests instantly, without looking away from the baby goat on my lap.

“Ooh, I like it,” Minnie adds. “Like her eyes.”

“Blue it is, then,” Jamie grins. “Now, even though the dam is still not producing milk, we still need to train her to at least try to nurse, so she’ll do it right away when the dam is finally producing milk. Let’s see if we can get her to try to eat from the dam.”

He plucks the baby from my arms, and a series of yearning bleats come from the kid as he carries her to her mother. He places her near the dam’s udders and gives the baby a gentle push.

Much to our surprise, Blue spins away from Jamie and her mother and runs back to me. Although in all fairness, I am holding the bottle she was just drinking from. Jamie attempts three more times to get the baby to try to nurse from her mother, but she’s having none of it.

Finally, he takes the bottle from me and walks across to the opposite wall. He sits down, holds the bottle out, and calls to the doeling. “Come here, baby. Come eat.”

Blue’s tail gives a few nervous twitches, but she doesn’t move towards Jamie. In fact, she takes a few hesitant steps backwards until she bumps into my legs. I’m amazed as I watch her stare hungrily at the bottle, bleating hungrily, but refusing to go to Jamie.

“Daddy, she thinks you’re her mummy,” says George and both my children burst in laughter.

“What?” I say in astonishment.

“I don’t think that doeling is going to feed from anyone but you,” Jamie adds with a chuckle as he stands up. He walks over and hands me the bottle. Blue jumps directly into my lap.

On autopilot, I offer the goat the nipple but look up to Jamie in panic. “What should we do?”

“Dunno, I’ll just try and do it when she’s hungry again in a few hours,” he shrugs. “But if she still doesn’t wanna eat, I’ll bring her to you.”

Any last vestiges of humour, happiness and downright giddiness over the cuteness of a baby goat fades as I realise I might or might not have just added another task to my list. Heavens help me.

***

“Let’s have a daddy and daughter date tomorrow.”

It’s a solid suggestion, and I really hope she’d say yes. Her little brother has his classmate’s birthday party to go to, so I know it’d be perfect for a little one-on-one time.

We’re on our way back home after spending a whole day together. It was great, and even though I didn’t have happy-go-lucky Minnie, George had a great time, and it was enough for me. And at least she didn’t ask to go home early, so I’d call that a win.

“No, thanks,” she replies. There’s still not a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but it doesn’t sound technically warm either.

I glance over through the rear-view mirror as she stares out the window with her arms folded. Her brother is sleeping next to her, and I figured this might be a good time to talk since she’s trapped in the car with me.

Everyone always says that Minnie is a mini-me, while George is a carbon-copy of his mum. Minnie has my nose, eyebrows, chin, even my smile; which is slightly lopsided and has a dimple on one side. I know I’m biased, but she truly is the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.

Where Minnie shines, though, is her personality, which is a combination of her mum and me. She has her mum’s sunny disposition—aside from the days where she’s got a bag on—and always sees the good in everyone. She’s our little ray of sunshine, tender and caring and always trying to make others feel good.

From me, she gets her stubbornness, which even though I know is a good trait to have when she’s older, it made things so much harder when she was a toddler. She also has my terrible sense of humour, but the thing I’m most proud of is her work ethic. I can’t take full credit for that though, because her mother is a hard worker as well.

Ever since she started distancing herself from me, I know which subjects are safe, and which are not. School always falls in the safe category, because she enjoys it and excels. So I figure now that’s where I should start. “How’s school going?”

“Alright,” she replies, still looking out the window.

Now, this really doesn’t sound at all like my daughter.

“Come on, Min,” I say desperately. “Tell daddy what’s been eating you. I can’t help if I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she says absently.

“Do you want to go and get some ice cream with me tomorrow?” That was our thing at least once every two weeks and she loved it.

“No, thank you.”

“Ice skating?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh I know,” I say excitedly. “I’ve got a show in London in a couple of weeks, Jingle Ball. Do you want to come with me?”

Minnie has always been my biggest fan, clapping the hardest and yelling the loudest for her daddy. So it really takes me by surprise when she mutters, “shows, shows, shows… that’s all you care about, dad.”

I twist to peer out my window so she doesn’t see the wince that comes unbidden to my face if she looks through the mirror. That was a direct slam against me.

That really does hurt, and I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone.

“That’s not true,” I reply faintly.

“Did you care about my last ballet recital?”

Early this year, Minnie had a ballet recital. She was so excited about it because I had just finished my tour in December last year, and I’d already told my management that I would like a couple of months off. There was no reason for me not to attend, so I promised her I’d be there.

Except at the last moment, I realised I had forgot to switch an important meeting I had with the team from the new Manchester Arena. Since I invested in it, we had a meeting every few months because I said right from the beginning that I would take more than just a capital interest. I wanted to be involved in the development, because that was a huge project and I was really proud of it.

YN was in charge of our schedule and when she reminded me about the recital, which conflicted directly with my meeting, we ended up getting in the worst row we’ve ever had throughout our marriage.

“You’re going to let our daughter down in a way she won’t forgive,” she stated.

I refused to believe that, brushing off her comment with “I’ll take her out for something special later.” But my wife turned and stalked away from me.

That day, the meeting went great and the construction was almost done a few weeks earlier than intended, so there was an option if we wanted to open sooner. YN sent me a text with a video of Minnie’s performance, and it was beautiful. I was such a proud dad that I showed the video to everyone in that room.

When I got home, my wife and children cuddled on the sofa, watching a film. George was snoozing with his head on his mum’s lap on the far end, so I plopped myself down beside Minnie. I tugged on her hair playfully, and asked if she wanted to go out to a special daddy-daughter dinner to celebrate her recital.

“No, thank you,” she replied quietly, not taking her eyes off the telly.

“Come on, poppet,” I coaxed, trying to tickle her in the ribs a little. She only squirmed closer to her mum, not laughing from the tickle but grimacing like she didn’t want to be touched.

YN stared over Minnie with sorrow in her eyes. She gave a tiny shake of her head, but I wasn’t ready to give up.

“The Ivy?” I tried to tempt her because my kid loves chips, and she’s obsessed with their truffle and parmesan chips.

“No, thank you,” she muttered again, her head resting on her mum’s shoulder and her arm crossed over her middle. YN cuddled her with an arm around her shoulder. It had been clear that they were a unit, and I hadn’t been included.

“Minnie decided she wants to stop ballet lessons, so that was her last recital.”

“Oh,” I’d replied dumbly.

I couldn’t think of another damn thing to say because to do so would be disingenuous. There’s no doubt I killed my daughter’s potential love of ballet by not coming to her recital. I knew that because of YN’s expression of disappointment and Minnie’s dull dismissal.

Later that night, I walked by Minnie’s room and glanced in as the door was slightly open. I had bought her a bouquet of flowers that I gave her before I left for my meeting, and I saw that they’d been stuffed into the bin beside her desk.

I blink out of that memory, feeling the heavy weight of guilt. “Of course I did, my love. If I knew-”

“But not enough to come,” she replies dully. “And what about my debate competition? George’s piano recital? You showed up to none of them.”

I sigh heavily. “Minnie, a lot of parents have demanding jobs where they’re required to work or travel more than others. Sometimes A&E doctors have to work on Christmas and cannot see their children open the presents. Sometimes, a firefighter has to leave their house at night and can’t tuck their kids in bed.”

“I understand that,” she whirls and looks at me through the rear-view mirror. “Except you’re not saving lives or fighting fires, are you? You just get up on a stage and sing.”

“I’m a terrible dad, aren’t I?” I concede. “I know I’ve done things wrong in the past, but I’m trying to make it up to you, poppet. But I can’t do it if you won’t let me.”

She doesn’t say anything and it’s killing me. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” she rushes to assure me and I feel a little lighter. My daughter may act like a tween and have some bitter feelings towards me, but she loves me.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” I continue. “Tell me how to make it up to you and I’ll do it. I want things to be good between us again.”

Her eyes flare with shock, and then they dart away as if she’s considering something. I wait expectantly. Maybe she’s going to finally open up and pour out her feelings for me. I’m ready for it.

I’m ready to listen, and validate, and reassure her that she, along with her mum and brother, are the loves of my life.

Her gaze comes back to me, her expression serious, and I brace.

“Can we get a puppy?”

What?

There’s no stopping the unlocking of my jaw and the dropping of my mouth because this was the last thing I expected her to say.

I’m so caught off guard that I can’t even think to immediately tell her ‘no’, which gives her time to launch into all the reasons why we should have a dog.

“Minnie, puppies are a lot of work. You’ve got to potty train them, teach them manners, and they get up for hours at night.”

“I promise I’ll do all that,” she exclaims.

“Like how you were supposed to take care of Fishy?” I can’t help but remind her. Fishy was her goldfish that we had to throw a funeral for a few years ago because she forgot to feed him. That poor sod died of hunger.

Minnie rolls her eyes. “I was six.”

She’s got a point.

Still, it’s obvious part of her request is manipulation because she threw it at me when I opened myself up to vulnerability. She knows I’m trying, and she’s throwing me a clear bone.

Get her a puppy, and all will be forgiven.

“Tell you what,” I look over my shoulder after I parked the car since we’ve reached home. “I promise to think about it, and I’ll talk to mummy.”

“Really?” She bounces in her seat in excitement.

“We’ll talk about it,” I reiterate in a calm, even voice. But there’s no stopping her excitement. The fact that I’m willing to consider is a huge victory for her because she knows that when I make my mind up about something, I never change it.

I open the door for her, and she is quick to unbuckle herself and throws herself at me.

I’m so surprised at the spontaneous act of affection that I almost don’t hug her back. It’s been so long since she’s shown this to me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

I squeeze her tight, and I can only hope that my darling girl will always love her daddy the way she does right now.

George doesn’t even stir as I pick him up, and I tuck him in his bed straight away since I don’t want to wake him up. He must be tired, and good thing I’ve fed them both dinner.

Minnie even gives me another hug before she gets ready for bed, and that results in me having a permanent smile on my face even as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to see my wife.

“She’s chirpy,” YN comments when she sees me walking into the kitchen. “What did you do?”

“Got her to talk to me,” I smirk.

She looks surprised, and well, I can’t blame her. “Did she?”

“She did,” I nod. “Pointed out all my flaws, and when I asked her how I could make it up to her, she asked for a puppy.”

“What?”

“Exactly my reaction,” I chuckle.

“Boy, if she’s this good at emotional blackmailing at nine, we’d probably be in deep shit in a couple of years,” she jokes and I can’t help but laugh.

I’ve missed this.

“Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“I can’t.”

“What? Got a hot date already?” I ask teasingly, but her silence tells me what I don’t want to know. “Oh, you’re going out with him.”

“Mr Wife- I mean Luke asked me out first and I already said yes.”

I shouldn’t be laughing because the fact that my wife going on a date with another man is not funny at all, but it’s hard to hide my smirk when she almost calls him by the nickname I’ve given him, Mr Wife-stealer.

“Well, fair enough. He asked you first,” I say nonchalantly. “What does he do?”

“He’s an A&E doctor at the Northern General,” she says, her tone lightens a little.

“Smart then isn’t he,” I mutter.

“Yes. He’s smart, attentive, caring and generous with his time.”

I keep my expression and tone bland, but she landed a direct blow there and it fucking hurts. “All the things I’m not,” I state, voicing the conclusion she was aiming at.

“Well,” she drawls with a tiny bit of sympathy. “I do think you’re smart.”

I give her a side eye-roll before I decide to be downright nosy and ask, “you can’t have been on many dates then?”

“True,” she chirps, a gleam in her eye as she sticks the knife in. “He is busy and his schedules are unpredictable. But when he’s gone, he makes sure I know I’m always on his mind. He sends me flowers for absolutely no reason other than because he wants to, calls me every day and we text all the time.”

Well, sodding fucking bollocking shit wank. I didn’t think YN would fall for that crap. And I realise… I never thought to do that stuff for her. I was the self-absorbed type of person who figured that my wife knew I thought about her all the time when I was away. I mean we were married, so I just assumed she knew.

I’m a shit head.

“What else does he do for you?” I ask and she blinks in surprise.

“Why?” She asks suspiciously.

“I told you I want our marriage to work.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, trying to read my tone and see whether I’m being genuine or it’s just bollocks. Finally, she replies primly, “I’m not giving away his secrets.”

What the fuck does that mean? Have they shagged? I would bet a million pounds they had not though, because I know YN and she wouldn’t enter into that deep of a relationship lightly.

Without even thinking twice, I make a sudden step into her. My arm goes around her waist and I pull her body into me. Not a single inch of space between us. Her mouth opens in a gasp of surprise, and I use the opportunity to kiss her.

I kiss the fuck out of my wife.

Her hands slap against my upper arms, and her fingers dig into my sleeves. Even as she’s pushing me away, her mouth opens, and her tongue touches mine briefly.

When I pull back, I ask, “did he kiss you like this?”

She shakes her head, breathlessly admitting, “we haven’t-”

My jaw drops. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not,” she murmurs.

“How long exactly have you been seeing him?”

“About four weeks.”

“Honey, he’s rooting for the other team,” I tell her and she slaps my arm.

“Sod off, he’s not,” she counters.

“Four weeks with the hottest, most gorgeous, shaggable woman and he hasn’t tried to kiss you? I mean not that I’m not grateful because, fuck, I am. But wow.”

“Of course he did try,” she rolls her eyes. “But I’m not ready for that, and he’s okay with us taking it slow.”

For a second I don’t say anything in response. Instead, I loosen my hold, bringing my hand to her lower back, and cupping her intimately from behind. Moaning, she leans into me. “I’m guessing he hasn’t touched you like this then.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she lets her eyelids flutter closed as her teeth bite into her lower lip.

Fuck. I could drag her to the floor right now, and we could go at it.

But then she comes to her senses, blinking rapidly, and I release her immediately when she gives me a tiny shove backwards.

“You’re not playing fair,” she accuses.

Damn right I’m not. I grab her upper arms, pull her back into me for one last kiss before I let her go just as quickly. “I’m playing to win.”

She takes a step back, brushes a wisp of hair from her temple, and puts on a cool expression. “That’s not going to make me take you back.”

I smirk.

She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re great with your hands and your mouth, but a lot of men know how to please a woman.”

She’s got a bonus point for trying to make me jealous, but I’m not falling for it. Instead, I give her a devilish smile and dip my head towards her.

“That’s true, but no one will ever please you the way I can.”

I’m enjoying our banter, and I expect her to come up with a snappy retort that might make me kiss her again.

Instead, her expression is sad when she says, “I wish I could be happy with that.”

My heart squeezes, and I lift a hand to palm the side of her neck. I wait until she meets my gaze. “We’re more than just sex, darling. I know you need and deserve more. I’m ready to prove that to you.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to her forehead.

She doesn’t respond as I pivot and head through the living room, letting myself out the door.

All in all, I think that went very well.

***

I’m back at my wife’s cottage, waiting for my kids as they get ready upstairs. Minnie has finally agreed to go on a daddy-daughter date and George is going to an overnight sleepover birthday party, and I’ll drop him off at his classmate’s house before I take his sister out to dinner. I’ll make sure to make it up to him by taking him on a special one on one date too next week.

There’s a light rap on the door, and my head swings that way. I have no doubt that it’s Mr Wife-stealer who’s going to take my wife out on a date.

I glance towards the master suite, but the door is closed. YN is probably putting on the finishing touches of her makeup. And the kids are still upstairs.

Nothing left to do but let him in.

Forcing a smile, I open the front door. He blinks in surprise to see me standing there, and I know I’ve got two options here; I could either easily dispel the awkwardness by being cool, welcoming and explaining our schedules happened to overlap.

Or… I could use whatever amount of alone time I have with him to instill some doubt inside his head.

That would be a dirty play, but as I have told my wife, I play to win.

Broadening my smile, I stick my hand out. “You must be Luke. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Harry.”

He seems momentarily frozen, but then basic manners take over. When he shakes my hand, it’s a bit limp, perhaps denoting a lack of confidence. After I release him, I bid him entrance with a sweep of my hand. “YN is in the bedroom. She’s still getting ready.”

Luke frowns over the fact that I know YN is in the bedroom. Probably over me even being here to talk to him. But I don’t dispel any innuendo he might glean from that.

I loop an arm around his shoulders, clamp down, and start guiding him to the kitchen. “Come on in and sit for a bit while she’s finishing up. Want a beer?”

Luke moves to one of the island stools, looking completely frazzled. “Uh… no, thank you.”

I shrug, moving to the fridge and opening it. Grabbing a bottle, I say with a sly grin as I close it. “So glad YN still stocks my favourite beer.”

I am so going to hell.

But that’s the truth. It’s my wife’s favourite beer, too, but I don't tell him that. Instead, I let the implication that I come over and have beers often. Luke’s frown deepens.

“YN tells me you work at the Northern General?” I take a sip of my beer, then lean my forearms on the island directly across from him so we’re eye level.

“Yeah… uh, that’s right.” Poor Luke. He seems incapable of carrying on a polite conversation with the husband of the woman he’s dating.

But I’m going to give him a pass. Setting my beer down, I straighten. “Let me go tell YN you’re here.”

“Um… you don’t have-” he starts to say, but I move past him without a backward glance. Through the living room, down the small hall, and a hard left takes me to the master suite. The door’s closed. I don’t bother knocking because I know YN is dressed.

I find her in the ensuite, her makeup drawer open and she’s huddled over it, touching something inside.

“Your date’s here,” I announce.

She lets out a yip of fright, shoving whatever it was in her hand to the back and slamming the drawer closed.

“Damn it, Harry,” she snaps, her palm pressed against her heart. “You scared the hell out of me. And what are you doing in my room?”

“Just running an errand for you. Wanted to let you know your date is here,” I say casually and I give her a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, I welcomed him in, offered him a drink, and made small talk.”

She rolls her eyes, rising from her vanity chair and moves past me without another word. I start to follow, but then I hesitate and turn back to the drawer of her vanity. Quietly, I pull it open as far as it will go, spotting a picture of YN and me stuffed in the back.

I recognise it. It’s from a trip we took to Anguilla a few years back, just the two of us, and fuck if we didn’t look happy and deeply in love.

Was that what she was looking at when I walked in?

That could be good or bad, but either way, no way to know the answer. I shut the drawer, then catch up to her as she’s moving through the living room. Luke sees her, sliding off the stool. When she holds out her hands, he takes them and leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

Lame.

I sit on the armrest of the sofa, watching. Luke glances over YN’s shoulder at me as he pulls back, smiling victoriously.

I just smirk back. Because he’d probably lose it if he knew the type of kiss I gave my wife just last night. But I’ll keep that information to myself, though.

YN grabs her handbag off the accent table near the staircase before addressing me. “Make sure Minnie locks up when you leave, and remind George I’ll pick him up at ten tomorrow morning.”

I give her a jaunty salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

In return, I get another eye roll.

Luke puts his hand on my wife’s back, shooting me a look that says, ‘she’s mine tonight’, and I want to punch his teeth down the back of his throat. I just smile blandly, because, in just a few minutes of talking to him and watching how they interact, I can tell he’s getting nothing more than a friendly kiss when he brings her home.

YN might want to keep pushing at that relationship, but I am willing to bet that it’s not going to go anywhere. I know this, because I’m sure that my wife is still in love with me.

Read part II here!

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #boyfriend!harry #husband!harry #dad!harry #dad harry styles #dad harry imagines #dad harry styles imagines

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hubbie22 · 3 years ago

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Here is an ask well half an ask from the lovely @meddowscrl please don’t hate me 🥺 I just can’t do happy endings. I tried, I just couldn’t. I can only do angst. I like to suffer ~nervous laughter intensified~ Also, please excuse the writing, I have a respiratory infection and am heavily medicated.

You were happy, weren’t you?

“I want a divorce.”

You stare at him, you had only asked if he wanted to change the drapes. And the answer, turned your world upside down. He had been your boyfriend since 1968, your husband since 1972 and yet with one sentence he was now nothing.

“The drapes, I just wanted to change the drapes.” You mutter out like a hapless child.

“We haven’t been good for months.” He looks at you, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

“We haven’t?” Since when haven’t you two been good? Since when haven’t you two shared one brain cell? That was news to you.

Roger stands firms, flicking his long hair back. “No, Y/N.” He sighs, “We haven’t been us for months.”

“Is there someone else?” You look at him, searching for something. “You promised me. You promised me.” The words come out like a chant or mantra, what you held onto when he was on the road. A promise from another lifetime ago.

He sighs, as if he wants to tell you the truth. But he looks at you, and he sees the brokenness he caused. And he can’t bare to make it worse. So, he lies.

“No.”

You walk past him, and he grabs your hand and you think for a moment he will tell you he change his mind. But he hasn’t, and you tear yourself away from him trudging up the staircase.

“Y/N, this has been a long time coming. I’m not happy…. I’m not happy with you anymore.”

“A long time coming for who?” You can’t even look at him while you are packing your things. Most of which, he bought you. So, you only bring what you can into this relationship with yourself. “For you? Because I was happy.” There are tears streaming down your face, like a waterfall, “And I thought we were happy, it’s news to me that we aren’t. And that’s we haven’t been for sometime. Or maybe that you haven’t been.”

You sit across from him in a London high-rise, a wood table between you two and armed with a divorce lawyer. It happened fast, or maybe you were out of it the last few months.

You looked over at Roger, his hair was shorter the last time you saw him.

He stopped by your new apartment to drop off things you left, you could remember his shocked face when you open the door. You heard rustling outside and curiously you opened the door to see Roger crouched down, putting a box by your door. Blue eyes meet yours, and it was like time hadn’t passed. And maybe that’s why you treated it that way, maybe that’s why you went with the old routine. And you wonder if it was the gleam in his eyes, that let you believe that there was something to hold onto; that hope remained.

“Just some bits and bobs of yours.” Roger said, fumbling his keys in his hand.

“Thanks, Rog.” You can’t move from the door frame, the gaze y’all shared unbroken. Years of memories dancing between tha gaze. The squeal of the kettle you put on earlier makes the both of you jump.

“Cuppa? I still have your favorite biscuits.” You couldn’t stop yourself from buying them. It was just normal. And sometimes normal in this new word you didn’t know, was what you needed to sleep at night.

“Really?!” His blue eyes light up, and you motion for him to come in. Staying for tea was a dangerous thing, an old and easy routine. It was weird being so comfortable with someone, who was leaving you behind. Funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Maybe it was because of the easiness of it all, that you left yourself fall back into the comfort of it all. As of you two were old friends, not two lovers frayed at the seams. Because of that easiness, you let yourself entertain a thought that maybe you could save your marriage. Put back the broken pieces into something recognizable, but it wasn’t enough. The yearning, the reminiscing of old times through the stuff he brought to you somehow turned into fumbled kisses and clothes thrown around haphazardly. It was something you thought would change the course of where your life was going. Instead of reconciling, it turned into Roger sneaking out when he thought you were asleep. It turned into your lawyer, letting you know Roger wanted you to have more than you asked for. It turned into more resentment and hurt from you, how he could use you and then leave you. How could he so easily but all those years together aside? It turned into something that shouldn’t have happened. And it turned into something that would stay with you forever. A funny word forever, because forever never is forever.

“Sign this, and your divorced will be finalized. All assets obtained during the marriage have been split, due to Mr. Taylor’s wishes.” Your lawyer says looking at you, sliding the papers across, while Roger’s lawyer speaks, “You will be comfortable, and well off Y/N. My client has been more than generous. In fact, I’ve never seen a settlement this amicable from the side of the main breadwinner .”

You sign the papers without any words, you don’t even look at Roger. You realize as you sign on the dotted line, this will be the last time you will use the surname you used for years. Funny how something you thought would never change, would be stagnant in your life just fades away. You then pass the papers across the table back to Roger’s lawyer, you watch as the lawyer slides the papers over to Roger for his signature.

And when Roger takes the paper, you stop breathing you wonder if his mind will change at the eleventh hour. But, he signs it without any hesitation. It’s a fluent and flawless movement, very unlike Roger- really. Part of you breaks at that, it was like he didn’t care he was closing the door on years of his life. Closing the door on you.

You stand up, smoothing out your wide legged pant suit. After the divorce, you had dipped your toes back into the world of working for a living. Putting that masters degree in business to use, and now it was time to separate yourself from the last of the rock n roll lifestyle you loved. And you turn to walk away, high heels on the marble floor when someone grabs your wrist turning you around.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.” Roger looks at you with concern in his blue eyes. And you wonder if it’s for the friend he was losing, and not the marriage he let go of so easily.

You look at him, “I will. Don’t forget to wear your glasses, we both know you are blind. Don’t forget to call your mum once in while, she misses you. And try not to get so angry at the boys, they mean well.”

“Even after everything I’ve done, you don’t hate me.” You spot something in his eyes, you can’t put a name too. An emotion that seems out of place, it was almost looked like guilt and forlorn.

“I told you a long time ago, I could never hate you. No matter how much, I may want too. I just can’t.”

“You are too good, Y/N. I’ve forgot to remind myself of that. Maybe that’s why…” he drifts off, “Even those daft band mates of mine agreed. Never let me forget it. But, Im sure they are out to drive me mad!” He says with a small smirk.

“With the drum sets you destroy, I doubt the plan to make you mad.” You make a small sound, something between a strangled “hmph” and snort in retort.

“Same old, Y/N.”

“By the way, I have something to-”

“Roggiee!” A voice like a bell cuts through the hushed words you tell him.

You both turn to see a girl, or really a woman bounding toward y’all. And you look toward Roger, and you see the look in his eyes. A look that used to be reserved for you. And it clicked, the guilty look etched in his eyes, not even moments ago. The guilty look he wore that night. The whole reason your world was being upended and ruined. It was for her.

The bitterness filled you up, the way he could so easily toss you aside. The look you threw at Roger was one of pure resentment and unbridled rage.

“You lied.” Your hushed words, that come out through clinched teeth drip with a malice.

He looks at you with wide eyes, as if he was trying to shelter you from the truth. And you see that damned look again. “Y/N, please. I just couldn’t tell you.”

But before you can answer, she comes up with a smile on her pink lips and a twinkle in her dark brown eyes. “You must be, Roggie’s lawyer! I’m Gwen.” She smiles at you. And her smile is sickly sweet, and almost innocent.

It makes you want to scream, to throw something, to do something other than what you are doing.

“I’m Y/N, actually.” You extend your hand to her. Her eyes go wide, and she looks at Roger, who goes to her side immediately.

“Y/N, please listen.” He hold onto her side, and the whiteness of his knuckles against the material of her dark dress don’t go unnoticed by you. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with her.”

Gwen chimes in, “We honestly tried to stay away from each other, we just couldn’t. We were drawn to each other.”

If you weren’t so bitter, hurt, and angry perhaps the romantic side of you would find that notion tragic. You had read about it in books, and always rooted for the star-crossed lovers. But, now you were the collateral damage, you were the woman scorned.

“When we decided that what we had was something, I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you that I was in love with someone else, when you were there from the start. I just didn’t want you to find out after I got back from tour-”

“He couldn’t see you broken like that.” Gwen finishes for him.

You can’t even begin to comprehend the information given, you were gobsmacked. You were completely barred raw, for everyone is this godforsaken lobby to see. And because of that, you selfishly did not want to see how genuinely happy he looked with someone else. Someone who wasn’t you. So, you used the words you knew would cut him to the bone. “So, you thought it was better to make me believe it was my fault you weren’t happy. That I was ignorantly living in one sided marital bliss, while you were falling in love with someone else? While you were planning to leave, I was planning for a life with you?” Your eyes are blazing, your face hot with rage, “You thought it was better to make me believe I was the problem? I can’t believe you! After everything I did for you? After putting my life on hold for you?! This is how you repay me? I deserved the truth, but you, the both of you took that from me.”

“I just-” He sighs, “I just wanted to be happy again, and when I’m with Gwen I’m happy. And I was going to tell you, I was going to tell you that day with the drapes. But, you then you uttered that damn promise. And what was I supposed to do? How could I break my best friend? I’ve always been the asshole to everyone, but you.”

“I love you.”

You look at Roger, his long blonde hair disheveled with bright blue eyes. “I love you too, you are my friend. My very best friend.” You bump your shoulder against his, and let out a giggle.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

You stare at him wide eyed, “Oh.”

“I have been for sometime.”

“Rog, I love you too. But, that doesn’t mean I want to date you. I know how you are, you will grow bored of me and find someone else. And love is sweet, but it’s not your nature. I don’t think I have it in me to me hate you, or to lose you. Please don’t make me lose my best friend.”

“You don’t get it, Y/N.” He looks at you like you hung the moon, and you like it. You crave that look. “I don’t want anyone else, it’s you. And I think it’s always been, and always will be you.”

“You promise? You promise it’s only me forever?” You bite your lip and stick out your pinky finger, like you had done so many times growing up.

“I cross my heart and hope to die.” He says as he raises your intertwined pinkies up to kiss it.

“And in that moment, I was back in Truro laughing with a curly haired little girl, and then I was in uni with that same girl, who was my best friend, I saw that girl. And, I couldn’t do that to her.”

You look at him, your face cold as stone. “I’m still that girl, I haven’t changed. You have. And that’s okay, it’s okay the change that’s life.”

That is how it ends, with a look of heartbreak on your face as the elevator doors close on the sight before you. And when the doors open, and you are greeted by the sight of the lobby. You realize, you didn’t even tell him what you wanted too.

Would it change anything?

#roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #queen imagines #roger taylor

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realcube · 3 years ago

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ONCE YOU’RE GONE

rq ♥ hello!! can i please request miya twins, sakusa, suna, akaashi x fem!reader an angst one. like they got into a heated argument each other. reader just had enough, maybe take a stroll and got into a deadly accident that cost her life/ memory loss or something. and the hq char regrets it

tw ♥ angst, hurt/comfort, breakups, disappearances, very vague implications of kidnapping, memory loss & injury

a/n ♥ sorry i couldn’t think of anything for suna </3

ATSUMU MIYA

♡ he’s never really been an overly religious guy

♡ yet everyday, he finds himself praying that you’ll come back

♡ and before now, he considered himself a rather patient person, but every second you were gone was filled with anguish

♡ mostly because he knew it was all his fault

♡ nobody blamed it on him though, which only made him feel more guilty

♡ it was late, so he decided to walk you home from his house. hardly with your safety in mind though, just because he wanted to spend more time with you

♡ that was his first mistake

♡ his second was getting so defensive over his volleyball team

♡ he was talking about their recent loss to karasuno high, and how they were all devastated since they had been training for ages

♡ yet instead of comforting him, you simply replied, “maybe you should do things besides volleyball, if you’re getting so worked up about it.”

♡ but all he heard was you being condescending (though that genuinely wasn’t your intention) and telling him to give up something he is passionate about because of one little defeat

♡ you tried to explain that you honestly meant no harm by your statement but atsumu argued that the damage had already been done, hence your apology meant nothing to him

♡ realising that atsumu was just being pissy and taking his frustration at the game out on you, you distanced yourself; walking a few paces in front of him and plugging in your earbuds to tune him out

♡ after marching behind you for a few more yards, atsumu eventually decided that he was finished

♡ in one swift motion, he turned on his heels and stomped back his house, leaving you to walk the rest of the distance yourself; that was his third mistake

♡ however, after walking for about half a mile, he got a newsfeed notification on his phone titled, ‘four people reported missing in hyōgo prefecture, in the last week.’

♡ it only took one headline for all atsumu’s previous emotions to be swept away and replaced with one that left him motionless; guilt

♡ he continued walking back to his home, reasoning that you clearing didn’t want him near you — anyone could tell by the way you walked in front of him and ignored him— so he must’ve made the right choice to leave you, since it’s what you wanted, after all

♡ and it’s not like y’all broke up or anything, he still loves you and hopes you are safe and to prove that, he apologised and texted you first

♡ ‘hey, i’m so sorry i was i bit of a jerk earlier.’

♡ followed by ‘text me once you’re home.’

♡ no response, simply read at 21:45

♡ that was a week ago, yet he still wholehearted believed that you were going to come back

♡ though, deep down he knew he was just feeding himself the same line over and over again, just so that he wouldn’t feel guilty, and so that the sight of a volleyball stopped making him feel so sick and distressed

OSAMU MIYA

♡ he’s never felt such a sea of emotions at once before

♡ on one hand, he was just happy to see you alive and well; isn’t that all a lover should want?

♡ however, he didn’t have the honour of calling himself your lover anymore

♡ you didn’t remember anything from before the crash, which initially brought him a small tinge of relief, since you wouldn’t blame him for what happened

♡ however, you didn’t remember him at all

♡ so when he knelt by your bed and started apologising profusely, all you did which raise a brow and turn to the nurse, quietly — yet not discreetly — asking who the guy by your bed was

♡ he felt his hear tear apart at such a simple inquiry

♡ however, instead of explaining himself, he got up and left, “nobody.”

♡ wanting to get it all off of his chest, he told atsumu about what happened, as if he didn’t know that his brother had the biggest crush on you during your whole relationship with osamu

♡ and of course, upon hearing the news, atsumu ‘snuck out’ later to go visit you in hospital and presumably try to win your heart

♡ though, there was nothing ‘sneaky’ about the way he loudly fumbled around with the car keys, or the way he tended to slam the door behind him — atsumu knew exactly what his brother was trying to do and although it pained him to even think of losing you, he let his brother pursue you anyway

♡ he tried to protect you once and it resulted in you losing your memory, so god knows what would happen if he tried again

♡ plus, you were no longer his to protect, or at least that is what he tried to convince himself

♡ after months of daily visits from atsumu —and none from osamu — you were somewhat starting to gain your memory back

♡ atsumu just seemed so.. familiar, and that was the single best feeling when you are so isolated

♡ though, there was something off about him that you couldn’t exactly put your finger on, but he reassured you that it was because ‘seeing you hurt changed him as a man’ so of course he’s different from the way you ‘remember’ him

♡ years passed, and you continued dating atsumu in blissful ignorance of the events that happened before the accident

♡ you feel deeper in love with the atsumu you thought you knew and were forced away from osamu (who chose to remain single, he claimed it was to focus on his studies but he truly couldn’t find a second soulmate)

♡ it was only at your own wedding day were you finally able to see osamu once more, though you didn’t really interact with him much..

♡ until he objected during your vows, then, it was pretty hard to ignore him, especially since he appeared sober yet was claiming that you are his one true love, and he regrets ever leaving you

♡ needless to say, the rest of the wedding definitely did not go as planned

KIYOOMI SAKUSA

♡ he loved you; and he wished he had showed it more, now that it’s too late

♡ “sakusa,” you cooed, resting your head on his shoulder and offering him a plate of apple slices you cut yourself, while browsing the shows on TV, “what shall we watch tonight?” you inquired, but mostly to yourself since dating sakusa nowadays was similar to dating a literal rock

♡ no response, as per usual

♡ well, on the bright-side, that just meant you’d get to watch whatever you wanted, unless sakusa spoke up, which he most likely would not

♡ scanning through all your options, you decided to select some teen romance, coming-of-age movie that you knew sakusa would most definitely not enjoy, hence forcing him to say thing

♡ however, instead of him reacting in accordance to your plan, he simply got up and left without another word

♡ something about the sight of him with his back turned to you, headed out of your house and back home with even a goodbye cleared your fogged mind and left one fact undoubtedly clear; you didn’t want to be with him anymore

♡ and although you didn’t want to make assumptions, you surmised that he felt the same way; it was almost a certainty considering how distant he acted

♡ so of course you cut it off that same night; yet when you proposed the idea of breaking up, sakusa became surprisingly defensive

♡ it was as if all of a sudden he realised how shitty he had been acting this whole time, and how his actions had effected you

♡ you both yelled over the phone for hours, though it was hardly an ‘argument’, more like sakusa apologising profusely and making — what you believed to be — false promises, while you explained that you had just had enough

♡ it ended with him almost screaming ‘i love you’, but you hung up on him too soon

♡ he would never admit it, but he cried himself to sleep that night

♡ there was a part of him saying that he was just being overdramatic and you were nothing more than another lover that will enter and exit his life with the wind, but four years later, he still found himself getting butterflies upon catching a glimpse of you in the stands at one of games

♡ despite the fact you were cheering for opposite team

KEIJI AKAASHI

♡ you two were the perfect couple

♡ study dates, sliding notes to each other during class, midnight strolls, endless support, dancing in the rain; it was like you were both living in your very own slice-of-life romance movie

♡ however, as they say, all good things must come to an end

♡ but for akaashi, that ending came too quickly

♡ “you can do it, i know you can!” that must’ve been the tenth time you’ve said that today, it was like your own inspirational mantra, yet akaashi didn’t seem to be endeared by it

♡ “no, (y/n).” he repeated with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he began to guide you to the door, “it’s a silly dream. i probably shouldn’t have even mentioned it.”

♡ “it’s not silly!” you argued, throwing on your jacket as he made it increasingly clear that he didn’t want to continue this conversation, “it’s your dream! you can’t just keep complaining about school if you aren’t even going to try to pursue your passion.”

♡ akaashi silently shook his head, “go.” it was harsh, but he could only deal with speaking about his work life for so long

♡ “you go.” you snapped, though knowing it wasn’t exactly the comeback of the century, but it summarised your feelings well enough, “i’ve honestly had enough of you. i hope--”

♡ you cut yourself off at that; storming off before saying something you might regret

♡ though furious, you really didn’t want things to end with him, you just hoped that maybe one day you’ll be able to have a civil conversation with him about what he wants to do in life

♡ because he hides it well, but the more you got to know him, the more you noticed that he truly wasn’t happy in his studies, and you just wished he would do something about it or at the very least, let you help

♡ and he knew this too; he knew it all too well yet still couldn’t bring himself to better his life, even once you were gone

♡ you were critically injured after the accident, and during your time in the hospital, you let akaashi see you once

♡ one visit was his chance to redeem himself, to apologise and help you both align your futures together

♡ but all he could do was sit with you in radio silence

♡ thirty minutes passed and his mind was running on overdrive, yet he couldn’t think of anything to utter after ‘hello.’

♡ so he left

♡ no apology, no redemption, to attempt, nothing.

♡ all he could say was that he left with a heavy heart, a heart filled with hope that one day he could return to you despite all the wrong he has done; though that seemed more unrealistic than his dream of playing profession volleyball

♡ he had truly lost his soulmate

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hurricanes-art · 4 years ago

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i am interested in your hades au, would you mind giving some details about it? 👁 it looks really interesting

[This AU is from these drawings!]

*cracks knuckles* Ok! I actually got enough sleep last night so I'm finally feeling up to explaining this au lmao

Also I hope that by “some details” you meant “way way too many” because I am nothing if not long winded. Also @hades-hellsite asked for context too, here you go

The central premise is that, after he dies, Achilles manages to make an arrangement with Hades that allows both him and Patroclus to stay in Elysium together. He's not employed to work at the house and he never becomes Zagreus's combat trainer.

Hades makes a few attempts to find Zagreus a different teacher among the shades of great warriors, but being skilled does not make someone able to teach. And being able to teach one way doesn't mean someone will be good for every student. When Zagreus doesn't learn well with the few mentors Hades tries, which he barely gives a chance to breathe anyway, he's quick to decide that he must have no martial ability and declares Zagreus a failure in that as he has about so many things.

This has two major effects on Zagreus before his escape attempts begin. One, without any chance to actually grow into aptitude in combat, he's left without anything substantial to put his energy into and, more importantly, he's left without anything he feels good at and that gives value to his efforts. Two is that, in Achilles' absence, very few people in the house give him any care and support untwisted by the politics of the house and the judgment of his father. There is Orpheus, kind to him before Hades locks him away for refusing to sing, Hypnos, willing to put the house to sleep so he can find the truth though jumbled up in his own problems, and Nyx.

Nyx is the only one to aid Zagreus when he decides to try to escape. She contacts Olympus and weaves careful lies to win their support and blesses his departure. She's also the only one who believes that Zagreus has the slightest chance of escaping. Already in canon, most everyone tells him there no way he'll make it out, but here, it's so much worse. He doesn't know how to fight, his initial attempts are pitiful and his progress negligible, and near everyone lashes out at him to get back in line and stop making things worse.

He doesn't even have the Infernal Arms. Achilles is the one who brings them to him in canon; here Zagreus takes a simple bronze sword from one of the house's many displays of weapons from wars long past. He thanks the Fates that the Styx restores it the same way it does his body when he dies because he nicks and dulls the edges every time.

Despite all the disadvantages, Zagreus throws himself into escaping with unshakable determination, bone deep stubbornness. He picks up his sword and will figure out how to use it himself. Experience will be his teacher. He dies over and over and he watches his enemies and learns how they move and how he must react, mimicking their attacks for his own use and adjusting and adjusting after each failure. And contrary to Hades' adamant belief, Zagreus is very intelligent and learns brilliantly when allowed to and he grows stronger and stronger.

There's no teacher more savage than experience in something like this, though. The pursuit is agonizing and the cost is enormous and adjusting to this ceaseless violence feels impossible.

Much of my interest in this idea is how the added strain on his circumstances and relationships affects Zagreus and his mental state. At his best, Zag looks a lot like he does in canon, with his laurels unfurled and vibrant, and his feet glowing hot, but he rarely feels his best here. His laurel leaves curl in dry and crisp, muted like the leaves of autumn. Flakes of ash and soot build up over his legs and encase more and more as he suffers. So deep is his feeling of failure and being trapped that it affects him physically.

Not always, though. His flames respond to his emotions, burn brighter in his passion. Enthusiasm, love, fervor, bliss, anger set him glowing.

After a brutally drawn out span of time, Zagreus meets Achilles and Patroclus in Elysium and tbh, the rest of my interest is really in how the altered circumstances change the evolution of their relationships with each other. The pair of warriors were never separated for an extended time and Achilles is less downtrodden and resigned and Patroclus is less bitter and abrasive when Zagreus stumbles upon them.

They don't fight him, which Zagreus counts among his greatest blessings, although Achilles still seems to have an interest. It makes him twitchy and he jumps when Achilles finally lifts his spear and swings it around in his third time in their little glade only to bump the flat of the blade against elbow and tell him to keep it in more towards his body. Zagreus blinks rapidly at him before adjusting his arm.

Achilles helps him here and there, tips and tricks and valuable advice, but he never gives anything near the thorough instruction he did in canon. On one hand, he doesn't need to. Zagreus is a self made fighter and it leaves him with weaknesses but it is also a powerful thing. He is unpredictable and incredibly adaptable and he only continues to improve.

On the other hand, there's no room for it. Achilles is gentle with his guidance, but Zagreus is rubbed raw by all the fighting he's done and all that still depends on it. He doesn't want to always focus on the weapon in his hands. Patroclus notices and curbs Achilles' input when it exceeds its bounds. He sits aside and observers carefully when they spar. Zagreus doesn't need another's direction which is fine by him, who's lost all desire for combat. He gives his aid through his assortment of trinkets that carry Zagreus further to the surface.

Zagreus barely knows what to do with himself in the face of their care. He's so unaccustomed to such generous and genuine support, interest devoid of expectation or blame. As familiarity between the three of them grows, their interactions grow warmer, more tender and comfortable. Their care lays on a foundation, not a hinge, and Zagreus grapples with understanding that he really can lean on it. It all leaves him so uncertain yet so desperate because he wants more than anything to have joy and conversation and company with others where he doesn't shoulder heavy guilt from unspoken accusations over his escaping the house and to have a place he feels he belongs without being an intrusion.

He does at first believe he's intruding, though. Intruding on their time together in the peace of Elysium. It takes them time to convince him that they value his presence immeasurably. The opportunity to stay together in the Underworld has been invaluable for Achilles and Patroclus, but the peace of Elysium is a deceptive thing. It wears away and prickles at them, pressing down in odd warping ways. Patroclus is beyond pleased to have the war behind him and that it can never force him to fight again, and despite Achilles retaining an interest in competition and combat, he does feel the same way. Having a cause though, something to believe in and worth devoting their efforts towards... They didn't realize how deeply they missed it until Zagreus. It is revitalizing. They thrive in his genuine, boundless kindness and long to support him.

The drawings of Orpheus arguing with Hades and Zagreus fighting with Nyx is from one of my plot point ideas. Later down the line, together, Hades, Persephone, and Nyx agree to forbid Zagreus from seeing Achilles and Patroclus at Nyx's behest. Similarly to how she talks about Dusa in canon, she sees mortal shades as beneath his station and that it's highly unbecoming for the prince to be consorting with them. Zagreus fights against the idea ferociously and is only smothered by the threat that, if he seeks them out anyway, Hades will void Achilles' agreement and have Patroclus moved to the proper plane of the Underworld.

It crushes Zagreus. He loves them and cares about them so much and being torn apart from them is a wound that cuts so deep. But even more than that, what breaks him open most, is the fact that it came from someone he cared for and trusted most. Nyx was the one person in the House he could depend on most and this betrayal at her hand is devastating. And for such a worthless reason as propriety and godly vanity. It's not her place to force those upon him. It hurts Zagreus to the core.

Orpheus is the only one willing to stick up for him in this, deeply empathetic to the grief of being separated from loved ones and well acquainted with the fact that such punishments will only damage, never correct. After all, his stint of punishment in Erebus didn't revive his desire to sing, it was Zagreus's dedication and vibrancy that did that. One of the many invaluable gifts Zagreus gave him, including reuniting him with Eurydice, making him happier than he'd been since her death. Orpheus can't keep biting his tongue when all these gods refuse to see any of this.

It all comes to a head dramatically and painfully and I've thought of a few variations on how it would play out. I'll leave it for now though, I might draw it or write it later >:3c Also this got really long lol. Hopefully the idea is at least somewhat interesting!

And here, have the lines from these two drawings because I like the way they look

#hades game #hades supergiant #zagreus #achilles #patroclus #nyx #orpheus #god of ash au #which is a tag i might not use again lol #my art #my writing #i guess #this is so long please forgive me #i had one thought of achilles not working at the house and it drove me to madness #apparently

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thedistantdusk · 4 years ago

Text

Thanks to @jenoramaca @gryffindorhealer and @secretkeeper13 for the quick beta work!

A gift for my beloved @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey.

CW: Language and domestic fluff

______

Trying

From the second he walks through the door, Harry can sense that something’s changed. It takes him thirty minutes to suss out why.

In retrospect, the smells coming from the kitchen probably tipped him off. Or maybe it was Ginny’s distracted hum, followed by the tinkling of plates and cutlery. Perhaps it was the fact that she prepared a full dinner, long before he even got home.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t worry about it too much as he greets her with a kiss, his hands cupping her chin. When he sits across from her at the table, there’s something furtive and curious lurking behind her eyes, but their meal is so peppered with normalcy that he doesn’t bring it up. They banter and laugh about Luna and Robards and wonder what they’ll bring to the Burrow on Sunday.

But when they’ve reached the stage of chasing stray noodles around their plates, Ginny finally clears her throat… and just like that, the nearly imperceptible shift he’d sensed earlier turns into something very perceptible, indeed. “Can I erm. Talk to you about something?”

He pauses, mid-bite, and takes her in. Her lip’s worried between her teeth, her hands fidgeting. Even her hair, normally strewn about her shoulders or parted to the side with a sort of effortless grace, is tied back and resting low at the base of her neck.

Ginny’s not normally this… serious. And he’d be lying to say it didn’t frighten him.

So he blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “Who died?”

There’s a half-second pause in which his chest clenches, his stomach churns. Could it be Molly? Or Arthur? George hasn’t been great either, not that—

But Ginny just reels back, confused… and it’s not until then that Harry realizes he’s really, really misread something.

“I… w-what?” she stammers, brow furrowing. She peers at him for a pained moment before her face relaxes into a look of understanding. “Oh. Oh! For fuck’s sake,” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. “I guess I’m thicker than usual, should’ve known you’d read it that way.”

Harry snorts. “Erm… darling, as many things as I legitimately don’t understand, I’m fairly sure this one isn’t on me.”

Ginny ignores this. “Did you seriously think that something dreadful happened and I’d just spring that on you in the middle of your bolognese?” Her lips twitch into a smirk. “Here’s some pasta. By the way, a fire burned a puppy orphanage to the ground. Could you pass the salt?”

He gives her a plain stare. Nice try. Years ago, he might’ve taken the bait and chased her down that rabbit hole. They might’ve had an hour-long, spirited debate on the existence of puppy-specific orphanages. But after three years of marriage, he knows better.

And she knows he knows.

Ginny finally draws a resigned breath. “No,” she says slowly. “No one died, ok? Or is even… I don’t know, sick or infirmed or threatened.” She waves her hand and continues babbling. “Last I checked, even Muriel’s still going strong, somehow. I’m jealous of that, you know— being old enough to just say whatever the fuck you’d like and have no one question it because—”

“—Ginny,” he cuts across on an exasperated sigh. “As chuffed as I am to chat about Muriel all night, I’d really like to know what’s bothering you. Please?”

There’s another pause as she bites her lip. Then, in one swift motion, she attempts to rise to her feet and push her chair in on her way over to him.

But somewhere along the way, something gets crossed— and Harry watches in bewildered horror as her foot catches on the leg of the chair. Then, right in front of his eyes, she lets out a startled gasp, her arms flailing, before she lands with a thump.

He’s out of his seat and on the floor beside her before he even realizes she’s cried out in pain and surprise. “Are you ok?” he demands, pushing her jeans up around her ankle… her tricky ankle, the one she hurt rather badly at the playoffs last month. Hm. It's a bit red.

Honestly, she hasn’t been this clumsy since she was 10 years old and near a butter dish. This does nothing to alleviate his fears that there’s something Very Wrong.”

“It’s not even my ankle that hurts,” Ginny grits, pushing up on her palms. “Wait— Harry, what are you—”

“Need to ask Gwenog,” he says urgently, running to the other side of the table for his wand. “She said that if anything happens to your ankle to tell her straight away, remember? Better safe than—”

She scoffs. “Seriously, Harry, I’m fine! I didn’t even land on my—”

He arches an eyebrow. “Have you suddenly forgotten the Puddlemere match? When your ankle broke clean through the skin?” Even now, the memory makes him shudder. “You heard Gwenog— without magic, you might not have walked again.”

“But there was magic,” she says, almost pleading. “And seriously, I’m fine!”

Harry finds he has limited patience for her heroics, though, while she’s sprawled out on the floor and nursing a bruise on her arse. “Gwenog’s instructions were quite clear,” he says firmly. “Having a pro athlete as a wife is a group task. It’s taxing on your body. I’ve got to make sure there’s enough of you left to enjoy our lives.”

Ginny clears her throat. “Erm… but what if you… haven’t actually got a pro athlete as a wife. Technically speaking.”

Harry swallows. He’s sure he’s heard her wrong. “What?”

With a wince, she adjusts herself against the wall. “I’m sorry… this isn’t how I’d planned to tell you. I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”

Normally, Harry might press a bit harder. Normally he’d demand answers— and now. But as he peers at her on the floor, there’s something soft and uncertain behind her eyes… something timid. So he decides to do something he knows he’s good at— something she doesn’t let many other people do: take care of her.

With a sigh, he scoops her from the floor and brings her to the sofa. Then he props her against the pillows, putting her legs across his lap.

And he waits.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, peering at her downcast face, before she finally says it in a rush.

“Iwanttohaveababy.”

It comes on a whisper. A breathed admission. He knows, just from her expression, that she’s never said it aloud.

But he must have misunderstood. There’s no way he’s not projecting, inserting the reality he wants instead. “Could you… could you repeat that?” he manages, his voice gruff and shaken.

Ginny just sits up straighter; her cheeks as red as her hair. “I want to have a baby,” she repeats, the confidence building with every word.

Oh. Looks like he was right after all.

Harry blinks at the carpet, his head spinning, mortified with the tears that have sprung, unbidden, to the corners of his eyes.

A baby. Their baby. A smile plays at his lips as he stares at her ankle in distracted bliss. He’s been ready for ages… longer than anyone he knows. It’s hard to remember a time when he didn’t want a family with her. When he didn’t want to watch her grow and change. To become more beautiful with every passing day until…

He swallows back another round of tears; he’d never forgive himself if he forced this… if he swayed her, in any way, despite what he wants so badly it squeezes his insides.

“But what about quidditch?” His voice cracks; he clears his throat to cover it. “Honestly Ginny, I’ll wait, as long as you’d like. We’re young. Think of what you’d deal with, loads of assumptions and press and comments.”

She turns to him with an arched brow. “And since when have I ever cared about comments? Since when have you cared about comments?”

He spreads his palms in resignation; it was a particularly weak argument. “I know. I just… don’t want to make your life more difficult.”

“Well...” She draws a deep breath and peers down at her nails. “I’ve erm. Actually quit the Harpies, all by myself.” Her cheeks begin to redden again. “I’ve already sent the owl and everything. Resigned. No intent to return next season.”

Oh.

That’s what she meant, then, about not being married to a professional athlete. Harry blinks a few more times as she plows through an explanation that could honestly be something from a dream.

“I’ve… I’ve just been thinking about it. A lot,” she adds, focus returning to her cuticles. “The Harpies are out for the rest of the season— that fucking Puddlemere match and that bullshit ref.” She glares at the pillow to her right. “Nothing like blind favoritism. Fucking prick should’ve been fired!”

All Harry can manage is a feeble chuckle, his hand moving to caress her knee. This time, he can’t bring himself to stop her spiral.

“Maybe it’s not just that match, though,” she admits, rubbing her ankle. “It’s also just… so much bloody work. I’ve been at it three whole seasons, you know? I’m a bit tired of missing birthdays. And family events. And only dreaming of bludgers and snitches. And attending the mandatory press interviews to avoid getting fined, and then giving polite answers to personal questions when I really just want to hex them, and—”

Harry laughs. “I think Sandra Richardson might disagree about the polite answers bit, darling.”

Ginny gives a dignified sniff and continues as if she hasn’t heard him. “Annnyway,” she says, toying with a piece of lint. “I… feel like I’m ready to move on. So.” Her face splits into a grin as she gestures to the corridor. “On with it.”

He clears his throat. “As much as I’d love to take you up on that, I’m confused about how this relates to quitting your job. You could’ve kept playing. Or—”

“—Why is it so hard to believe this is something I want?”

There’s a beat. He doesn’t have a good answer.

“What if I wanted to quit before I got pregnant?” she continues, her tone growing more demanding. “What if I was done with playing, regardless — and genuinely wanted to have children? Your children.”

She lets out an incredulous laugh, tossing her hands in the air. “I have to say, Harry, this feels an awful lot like you’re doubting what I actually want to fit a narrative of what you think I want.” Her eyes narrow again. “Is that really respecting my wishes?”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. He’d never thought about it like that before… how it might be insulting, really, to question what she’s ready for. He laces their fingers together, feeling properly chastened. “I’m sorry. I never meant to… suggest you don’t know what you want. Or something.”

He hears the timid smile in her voice as she squeezes his hand back. “Do you still want a baby, then?” she asks. “Or are you just in it for the practice?”

A smile creeps across his face, his eyes still focused on her hands. “I… think you know the answer to that one.”

“Well, I’m not sure I do,” Ginny says flatly. “Because I just told someone who wants two million babies that I’m ready to carry his first child. Forgive me if I expected a bit more excited fanfare than acting like I drowned your kitten.”

“What’s with you and baby animals today?” he murmurs, inching her pant leg a bit higher.

“Wonder why I’ve got babies on the brain,” she quips, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe because I want one.”

Harry releases a resigned sigh. She’s clearly done playing. “Honestly…” He bites his lip. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, I’m obviously on board. Obviously.” His eyes flit to hers. “I just… I don’t want to be responsible for something you end up regretting.”

It’s the truth of the matter, really; the thing that tugs at him the hardest. The fear he’d ever burden her… the worry he’d ever make her less than happy.

Ginny gives him a small smile, her hand coming to cup his jaw. “I’m going to take that as a weird, sad Harry thing instead of an attempt to remove my womanly agency.” She narrows her eyes. “But that’s your final warning.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s on his feet in a split-second, gathering her into his arms with the stupidest grin he’s ever worn. Trying. Is that what they call this? Are they actually properly trying now?

“Get used to this,” she says as he strides into the bedroom. “Because once you knock me up— on purpose, mind— I’m going to request a lot more transportation.”

“I think I can live with that,” Harry murmurs against her lips, draping her across the bed.

And to avoid a well-deserved slap, he doesn’t say the final bit: As long as you can live with me.

#harry/ginny #harry/ginny fanfic #hinny #harry potter #harry and ginny

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hyunjilicious · 4 years ago

Text

what is and what should never be [bucky barnes]

A/n: ok, so. Im really fucking insecure about this. I literally poured my heart into this fic. I'm genuinely unhappy with the beginning, but I promise you, it gets better!! I don't have it in me to rewrite it for the 4th time. I really hope you'll still like it though. If you ask me, this is the best fic idea I even had. Please, please, if you enjoyed it, let me know!!!

Summary: It was you and Bucky. An unlikely couple that shared equally disturbed pasts. When you get a day off, your paradise turns into hell as Bucky's nightmares return, leaving you alone to deal with The Winter Soldier. (FLUFF, SMUT, ANGST) 12k

Warnings: 2 smut scenes - they're graphic but not extreme, fluff, angst, violence, mentions of death and suicide, blood, a fight scene - also quite graphic but it was written to serve the angst. I don't want to spoil the ending, but if you really connect with the characters, you will not hate me!!

This day had been long awaited. After months of back to back missions and endless efforts to climb up the greasy pole of US social standards, words failed to describe how ecstatic you were to know, that for the next 24 hours, your whole schedule would fully be in your hands.

You had the freedom to do just about anything you wanted, and the simple fact that the rest of the avengers left to deal with some paperwork excited you to no end. You woke up when it was time for them to take off, and made a snarky remark about heading to the gym - something along the lines of having a productive day centered on self development.

Just about 20 minutes later, you and Bucky, now also alone in the Stark Tower, decided to start off your day on the right foot. He offered to make protein smoothies as you changed into something comfortable and fitting for a workout, but neither of you got their job done.

You had no idea how that happened, but before you knew it you were wearing your sports bra and still had your pajama pants on, moaning on the counter of Tony's kitchen as Bucky had lodged himself between your legs, hungrily exploring the heated skin of your neck, peppering you with bruise marks that represented his adoration for you. "You heal fast anyway" he shrugged, pulling you closer and digging his teeth into your flesh, sucking profusely and eliciting an erotic moan from your lips.

With every new hickey he left, another one would disappear, which in turn would make him even more frustrated, “The hell should I do? Tattoo hickeys on you!?” he groaned, moving up your neck. You caught his cheeks into your palms and kissed him back, smiling as he kept getting more and more aggravated.

It didn't come as a surprise when the blender went berserk, splattering fruit pulp, almond milk and protein powder all over the pristine walls of the room - both of you have long forgotten about it.

The way Bucky cleaned the mess was the epitome of not giving a shit, and you couldn't find it more endearing. He bitched and whined his way through the whole process, and tears formed at the corners of your eyes at the ridiculousness of the half assed job he just did.

You eventually reached the gym - of course, against all your pouting and begging to put off this session. "Doll, you're the only avenger who can't fight. A punk on the street could snap your purse and there would be nothing you can do"

Wrong, he was not. You couldn't fight - but at the same time that didn't mean you were defenceless. It was your immense power that for months on end made your teammates consider you a liability. The energy that surged through your veins had been too great for you to handle, and in fact, it still was, but now, thanks to the joined efforts of Tony and Bruce, there was a way for that power to be contained. Their solution came in the form of two massive shackles wrapped around the length of your forearms. They were made of dimeritium and kept all kinds of energy from leaving your body. But, even so, that energy was in full form, buzzing inside every fiber of your being. And so, while wearing them you couldn't attack anyone, but there wasn't a way for them to harm you either. That field of energy protected you from every kind of damage and wounds you had ever encountered, ranging from fist fights to automatic rifles to guided grenades.

"I'm the only one that doesn't need to know" you huffed and puffed, annoyed but still determined to get this first training session done with.

But that never happened. Halfway through your warm up rounds, your teasing side awoke and it took you about ten minutes to go from batting your eyelashes and flaunting your ass, to nonchalantly cupping his cock into your hand.

No one could blame Bucky for not even trying to stop you. Bless him, he did everything he could, but he was never able to resist you. And probably never will be.

By the time you were done at the gym, both your bodies were coated in lecherous layers of sweat, no of them being from actually working out. It was only a matter of time until you managed to break his self control and he had you sprawled on all fours in the middle of the boxing ring, moaning your soul out as he pounded your pussy.

The momentum made your whole frame rock back and forth, your hair falling around your face, "Holy fuck-"

The room vibrated with the vulgar slaps he afflicted on your bare ass. You arched your back and cried his name out loud, "Come on, Bucky- I- harder please-"

"How are you already so needy?" he chuckled, caging your waist between his strong arms and pulling you up until your back reached his chest. "I ate this pussy this morning before we got out of bed"

"You know I love your tongue-" you giggled out of breath as you tried to look at him over your shoulder. "But it doesn't compare to your cock"

"What does?" Bucky rhetorically questioned before picking up his pace. He kept slamming his hips into yours, fucking you at full force as with each thrust, his cock rammed against your walls hard enough to make you see stars.

"I'm really fucking close, Buck" you whined, feeling your knees start to refuse to maintain your weight any longer.

"Don't cum yet" he panted, "Wait for me"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" you cried out loud, liquid pleasure seeping out of you in the form of fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. "Please-" you whined, "I can't hold it anymore, I'm-"

"Not yet, baby" Bucky groaned, easily stopping you from wiggling around in his hold. His thrusts became sloppy and the orgasm got the best of him. He buried his face deep in your shoulder as his high forced guttural moans to rip from his throat.

As he filled you up with his cum, as much as you wanted to comment about him making you wait and then not even bothering to tell you you could cum, you couldn't. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and your chest heaved as the spiral of bliss seemed to go on and on, tons of ecstasy propagating in long painful waves across your body.

"Fuck-" Bucky panted as helped you up, "I could get used to days like this. We should retire"

"I'm not retiring-" you teasingly shook your head, "not until you find a way to give me a baby"

"I'd give you all the babies" he retorted, tugging your hand.

It caused you to lose your balance and stumble into his chest, "I love you"

"Love you" Bucky kissed the top of your head and spun you around. With his palms on your hips, he started guiding you towards the door, "Let's get you cleaned up"

And then, another wave of unproductivity followed. You showered, ordered pizza, whined about how there was still some smoothie left on the floor, and after you warned him about it, your face fell as Bucky stepped directly in the middle of the puddle of almond milk. He was fuming, the incident wiped any traces of happiness off his face. He mumbled something about that being the last pair of comfy socks he had left and something about Tony's devices being a constant pain in the ass.

He went on and on until you ambushed him with kisses up his neck and shoved your hands under his shirt. In an instant his bickering turned into soft giggles as he innocently relaxed under your touch. You eventually cleaned up the mess and tried to make yourself busy. Nothing worked, you weren't in the mood for anything and at the same time, even though you did absolutely nothing all day, you felt a wave of tiredness envelop you.

At about 4pm, and you Bucky had already been lazily laying in bed, a mess of tangled limbs under the fluffy duvet. Your conversation started from the tactical gear he swore would look better on you than on him and then wondered how you didn't know how to sow.

"I'll hit you" you threatened.

"I'm sorry" he laughed, holding onto your forearm as it was resting on his chest, "But you know how much I love it when you get angry at my misogynistic jokes"

"It's rude" you scoffed - you didn't mean his jokes, but the fact that when he grew up, women were not anywhere near where they are today.

"You know I don't mean it"

"I know you don't" you laughed, "Otherwise I'd have actually hit you"

"Don’t worry" Bucky said, "I'd hit myself if I was that stupid"

"Cute" you smiled, kissing his shoulder. Looking up at him, you promoted your chin against his chest, "Do you miss it? The 40s i mean"

He thought about it for a second. "Nah" there was a bit of nostalgia in his tone, but you believed him. "I've kinda made my peace with the fact that everyone from my old life is gone. I wouldn't want to go back now. I got you. I got all of you guys. I'm good now, really good"

"I'm glad" you beamed, feeling yourself warm up from the inside just thinking of the progress he made. After a few seconds, you spoke up again, "But what about the society? Like the day to day life? How do you like the 2010s?"

"I can't lie" Bucky laughed, "I liked Romania better. Much simpler."

"You lived in a dead beat apartment, hiding everyday" you scoffed, "How was that better?"

"I don't know… maybe it was the simple life. Apparently I'm all about that"

"You'd move back there?"

"If you came with me?" he questioned, looking down at you. There was genuine sincerity in his eyes and a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. "Wouldn’t even think twice"

"Maybe one day" you sighed with content. You snuggled back against his side, and closed your eyes. "We're not done avenging yet" you mumbled.

He didn't say anything to that. You didn't know whether he was getting lost in thoughts or if he was starting to drift off, but you would have been fine with either. When he spoke up again, you didn't expect the conversation to take this route.

"About Romania…" he sighed, "What made you come with Steve back in 2016?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean-" he muttered, rubbing his light stubble, "I know why Steve came-" Bucky chuckled, "And Sam's all up his ass, so there's that. But what about you?"

"I-"

"I'm aware of the rift I caused between you guys back then. So that's why I'm asking. What made you stand by Steve from the beginning?"

"I knew how much you meant to him. And I know how this is going to sound, but I felt sorry for you, Buck. I know what it's like to be alone, to have everyone turn against you. You deserved better"

"Love-?" he called softly, his voice nearly breaking. "What do you mean you know what it's like to have everyone turn against you?"

As you maintained the eye contact, you felt tears prickle, "I know it wasn't fair of me to keep my past a secret, but-"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to-" he said softly, his eyes warm. The pain was readable on his features, he hated how your whole demeanour changed.

"It's not that I don't want you to know, it's just that I hate talking about it. Gives me nightmares."

"Then we can just drop it" Bucky murmured, gathering you closer.

"I wish you could know without me telling you" you laughed, "You make everything better and easier. I should've told you, I know. It isn't fair to you. We've been together for almost two years but as far as you're concerned I didn't exist until I joined the avengers. I don't even know how much they know. We never talked about it"

"Love, listen to me. I'm here whenever you want to talk about it. You didn't do anything wrong. There are a lot of things about me that you don't know either. We're not those people anymore. No one can blame us for trying to escape out past"

"Yeah, you're right" you sighed.

Gathering your power, you pushed yourself up and settled beside him, with your legs crossed. You grabbed his hand pulling it into your lap, and intertwined your fingers with his as you spoke.

"Forget the official story, there's no truth to it anyway"

"I really didn't believe your mum was a criminal and that you were in a mental asylum" he joked.

"Good-" you smiled, his words lifting the atmosphere a bit. "Truth is, I don't know anything about my parents. But I have my assumptions. I grew up in that soviet facility so I never met them. I was told it was owned by a group of socialite scientists who wanted our help"

"Our? Who's we?"

"There were 7 of us"

"Did they have the same power as you?"

"Approximately. When we were younger, we used to comply and do everything we were told but as we grew up, things started to change. We weren't happy. Who could be? Considering we were being held in cells and studied like lab rats. We started to act differently and some might even say we tried to rebel, but that didn't work obviously, and that's when the restrictions began. For the last 3 years I spent there, there hadn't been a day where the temperature passed 0°C."

Your skin crawled as you recaled the endless nights you spent shivering your way to sleep. Everything around you was ice cold. But it wasn't for the sole purpose of torturing you. It was your only weakness. As the temperature dropped, so did the movement of the atoms that made up your body - eliminating your powers to the point where you were barely alive.

"One day, as spring came, we wanted to break out. We made a plan, and figured that as soon as we were out, we'd be fine. We were wrong. We were off about the weather and they got us before we even exited the perimeter. That's when the avengers heard about us."

By now, Bucky's eyes were wide with genuine curiosity, his mouth agape as he took in the information you provided. With every word you spoke his grip tightened around your fingers and his eyebrows gathered even further. There was discomfort and anger in his features, but he didn't interrupt you once.

"After that, the restrictions got tougher. We realised there was no way out. A lot of things came together in that small time frame. I realised what that place actually was days after we tried to escape. My friends - or that's what I thought they were, figured out another plan. Why fight when you can just eliminate the premise?"

Bucky moved his lips but no words came out. He cleaned his throat and sat up a bit, "What- what do you mean?"

"They tried to kill me" you said, plastering a sympathetic smile on your lips, hoping it would make it easier for him to hear.

"What the fuck. Why?"

"I think my dad used to be part of that team. And I think he made me the way I am. Now I don't know why he wasn't around anymore, but that team wasn't trying to get us to do anything. They were trying to make more of me. So if I was dead-"

"There would be no reason to keep the other kids…" Bucky finished the sentence for you.

You nodded.

"And what happened?"

You bowed your head trying to find a way to put your words together. Bucky didn't rush you, just reassuringly rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, waiting. When a tear from your cheek slipped and landed on the back of his hand, you looked up and took a deep breath. "I killed them. All of them."

He didn't say anything. Didn’t move a muscle, as he waited for you to continue.

"I didn't even want to do that, Buck" you sobbed, breaking down. "I killed over 20 people because I was afraid. I didn't even move. I was in the corner of my room the whole time, but everyone who approached me was fried to death. I don't even know how I did that. I was just scared"

"Oh, baby" Bucky cooed, pushing himself up to wrap his arms around you. You fell against his chest, crumbling in his embrace. "I hope you know that was not your fault, ok?" he asked, rubbing your back. "You were just a kid, alone and afraid. It breaks my fucking heart, those bastards. Please don't feel sorry for them"

"I feel sorry for the other kids"

"They tried to kill you, Y/n" Bucky countered, "If you hadn't killed them, I would've gone after them. All of them"

"They were desperate..."

"So were you!"

"I can't help but feel like a monster sometimes, you know? Like I'm reckless and out of control. There are times when I'm all happy and excited about what tomorrow would bring, and then i remember what I did, and I have a hard time fighting away the thoughts that try to tell me I don't deserve that"

"What you deserve is the fucking world ok?" Bucky said, tilting your chin so you could see just how serious he was. "This past couple of years, you saved hundreds of lives and I know for a fact you did it out of the pure kindness of your heart, not because you wanted to make up for anything in the past. You're a fucking angel. You're the embodiment of good, you hear me? I know you. You'll never understand how much respect I have for you, and how in awe I am with the kind of person you are. Please, don't ever think less of yourself. Ever, ok?"

Tears rolled down your cheeks as his words proved to be much more than you were able to hear at that moment. "Thanks, Buck. That's sweet of you to say-"

"It's not sweet of me to say, it's the fucking truth" he scoffed, but he somehow managed to make it sound loving. "You didn't even fucking try, but just being around you made me feel like a person again. You're amazing, Y/n. We're all lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you."

"You're gonna make me cry" you sniffled, curling yourself into a ball against his chest, "I know you were in a dark place when we met. I'm glad I managed to help you through it"

"You pulled me through it" he sighed, tightening his hold around you. "I went from wanting to die, to thinking that I didn't even deserve the easy way out. Look at me now."

"Buck, stop"

"I love you so fucking much" Bucky laughed.

His whole frame shook as he pulled you back down, safely holding you between his arms, "You're amazing" he added, kissing the top of your head, "Perfect"

"I said, stop" you chuckled, slapping his side, "I get it, you like me, can we-"

"I adore you" Bucky cut you off after grabbing the sides of your face between his palms. "And thanks for trusting me. I know it wasn't easy for you to talk about your past, so thank you. I'm always here for you. If there's anything ever, I got you, ok? Forever"

"I got you too" you added, kissing his cheek and then moving along his jawline, "No matter what happens, you'll always have me on your side. I'm all yours, Bucky"

"Yeah, you are, doll. All mine"

After that talk, how you managed to fall into a deep sleep will always remain a mystery. Nightmares didn't make their way into your mind, and you settled for a dreamless slumber, actually fully content for the first time in a long while.

But not everybody processed grief the same way. And if Bucky mentioned earlier that he was lucky to have you, as you were pulled out of your sleep, you realised that he wasn't as lucky as you were when it came to the mysteries that creep up on you when you least expect them.

"Wake up sunshine"

The sound reached your ears, but it wasn't Bucky's voice, so you just groaned in response and rolled over to the other side, completely pressing your face into the pillow.

"Buttercup, it's time to wake up"

The voice seemed uneasy, as if the person speaking was actually terrified. You opened your eyes wearily, and were met with the usual, complete darkness of your room.

"Come on, Y/n" they spoke again. You turned to see one of Tony's maintenance robots hovering above your body, one small screen lit up on its front. Blinking a few times to rid yourself of the sleep still lingering in your eyes, you managed to make out the faces of Tony and Steve, both staring at you.

"What's going on?" you mumbled.

"You've got incoming," Tony announced, and then shook his head at whatever someone next to him had said. The microphone wasn't performant enough for you to hear what the other person said, but it was not like you cared.

"Incoming what?" you questioned, still confused out of your mind.

He turned his attention back to you, "The asshole"

You frowned and Steve scoffed, "Y/n, it's Bucky. He's not well"

"Wh-" you mumbled, your head snapping to the side, only then realising his side of the bed was empty. You shuffled your arm around the sheets, still warm. "What- what happened?"

"He's gone rogue, Y/n" Steve announced, genuine worry and guilt audible in his voice, "You need to make sure he doesn't leave. You need to stop him"

Tony's workstation. You needed to get the shackles off your arms if you wanted to stand a chance, "Tony? How do I take these off?" you asked, pointing to your cuffs.

"Already taken care off" he nodded, "Get to my desk, it's unlocked. All you need to do is actually get there. If you can"

"If I can-?" you began asking, but a loud explosion sound cut you off, causing the bed to shake as a wind blew through your room. "What the fuck!?"

"He may have found the grenade launchers" Tony smiled bitterly.

"Y/n," Steve called for you, "Please, be careful. And call us. Me and Nat will take the jet but I don't know-"

"Don't worry" you shook your head, jumping off the bed and rushing to your closet. You chose the first clothes you saw laying before your eyes and put them on, ready to go look for Bucky. "I got this, I promise"

"Oh, and Y/n?" Tony said, making you turn to him at the last minute, "Try not to fry my tower"

You nodded and refrained from making any promises you didn't know you could keep.

As soon as you walked out the door, the sound of automatic rifles going off became deafening. Stepping over piles of broken glass, you made your way to the emergency staircase, heading to Tony's lab. You did so with maximal caution, knowing that if you were spotted, there would be no going back.

Descending the last remaining flight of stairs until his work station, a rush of adrenaline surged through you, knowing just how close you were. Silently rounding the corner, your eyes landed on Bucky's frame, easily holding one of the remaining SHIELD agents up by the neck.

He turned to look at you, eyes cold and empty. Not even rage. There was nothing there. No expression, no empathy, no feeling. It was as if he was dead. This wasn't him.

"Buck-" you panted, raising your hands up in the air, signaling surrender. You eyed Tony's desk, determined to stall him until you managed to free yourself of the cuffs.

You took a cautious step to the side, hands still up in the air. Bucky watched you as the man struggled against his hold, legs spasming uncontrollably as he kicked and squirmed, even though it was so clearly in vain.

"Don’t mind me-" you smiled, sweat flooding your pores as you slowly approached your destination. "I'll just-"

"You'll just what-?" Bucky groaned, flinging his victim with impeccable ease. The agent's body flew across the room, crushing into the only device that had the power to help you get through this. As the work station crumpled under his weight, so did your hopes of getting out of this.

"Bucky, hey-" you mumbled, afraid of pissing him off, "I-"

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he frowned, starting to march towards you. Your blood ran cold, knowing you didn't have what it took to keep up with him. You were never able to dodge anyone's blows, let alone his. When he reached you, his hand instantly reached around your neck, lifting you off the floor, "SHIELD?" he asked after taking a look at your attire. Although not carrying the emblem, it was probably the only explanation that made sense to him.

"Well, um-" you huffed, holding onto his wrist in hopes of not running out air, "No, not SHIELD"

"Then who are you?" he growled, tightening his hold on your windpipe.

"Fuck-" you gasped, kicking your legs, even through he didn't even flinch when you hit him. "You're not gonna believe this but, um-"

"Try me"

You looked into his eyes, hoping it would serve as some kind of a memento, that maybe he'd remember you. "You know me, Buck. It's Y/n, I'm- your girlfriend?"

Even saying it made you feel weird. This killing machine, apparently hell bent on wrecking havoc, was not the man you loved, and you cringed just imagining his reaction to hearing your words.

And it did turn out to be worse than expected, as he spun around, doing a complete 180° with your body before slamming you down on the floor. The wood cracked under your bones, knocking the wind out of you. The pain of the impact was excruciating, propagating along your body in waves of some physical agony you had never felt before. The sound of your bones cracking made you sick to your stomach. Your ears caught the sound of your arteries being torn as your organs collapsed.

And if you felt every inch of your body being shattered and destroyed, it was God's way of making you pay for your parent's mistakes, as when your wounds healed mere seconds later, the pain did not go away. Your nerve receptors still registered damage to the tissues, and no matter whether you were actually as good as new, your brain couldn't process that.

What consumed you the most was the fact that as you struggled to stand up, the pain of broken limbs lingered on. But you fought through it, gathered yourself and stood up, facing him again.

You winced with every muscle contraction, but eventually your eyes met his. He showed curiosity, along with something else. Something else which you wished wasn't determination to finish you.

"Can we-" you whimpered, extending a hand, "Can we talk?"

"Talk!?" Bucky raged, grabbing your wrist and twisting your arm to the point where he spun you around, your back pressing against his chest. "Not here to talk" he growled into your ear.

The hairs on your body stood as you heard his voice. Even though it was technically the same voice you loved more than anything in the world, it made you now shiver with a fear you've never experienced before.

You didn't get a chance to sink too deep in your thoughts before Bucky raised your arm, dislocating your shoulder and busting your humerus into pieces. The pain cut your legs at the knees and you screamed in agony, falling to the floor at his feet.

"Stand up" he commanded, slamming his foot into your side. The momentum made your body roll away, until you settled back on the ground, face deep in the rubble. Your muscles pulled you to your feet with ease, but the pain coursing through you was immense, nowhere near close to what you thought bearable. You felt the skin being ripped from your body and when you looked down, your clothes were torn, soaked in blood, but your skin was intact. It was what you needed to keep going - to get inside your head the fact that you were fine, because at this point, the pain was one bruise away from making you faint.

"Bucky, please-" you cried.

"Stop calling me Bucky!" he yelled, starting to approach you again.

With every step he took, you slowly backed away. "Please, listen to me, just a second, please!"

He shook his head no, a demented smile on his lips as he closed in on you.

"Bucky-"

As a reply to your question, his fist flew up, slamming into your jaw, hard enough to throw you to the ground, "Why do you keep calling me-"

"What else do you want me to call you, huh?" you yelled at him, vision blurred under too many layers of tears. "Tell me, and I'll do it if it'll get you to listen to me."

"I don't want you to call me anything-" he cocked his head to the side, unstrapping a handgun from his thigh. He loaded it as you barely managed to crawl away, "You can take the pain. I respect that. Let's see how well you do with these lead bullets"

You saw them in slow motion, barely managing to duck your head behind the remains of what once was a heavy wooden bookshelf. The bullets missed your chest and face, but you saw them, felt them penetrate your skin, ripping through your muscles.

The sound of your tissues being pulled to shreds made you feel sick to your stomach. As the bullets left your body, your wounds closed back up, leaving you a crying mess on the floor. Your throat constricted due to the wave of shock that hit your body, and your lungs started hyperventilating. Lightheaded and gasping for air, you struggled to crawl away from him, tears marching down your face and ending up on the floor, nothing but diluting the droplets of blood that had fallen from your body mere minutes before. Your heart was in overdrive and your vision blurred as every fiber of your being threatened to let you down. "Please-" you screamed, your voice breaking as you raised your hand for him, "Let's talk, please. That's all I want. Give me a minute"

But he didn't. He didn't even consider it. Instead, the force that controlled the body of the only man that ever managed to make you feel safe, tortured, destroyed and consumed your body for what felt like the better part of an eternity.

You had been thrown through walls, shattered windows, had glass shards lodged into your body from all angles. He unloaded cannon after cannon on you, used up all the ammo he had on him, only growing more and more annoyed when you refused to give up.

There was no way to know how much time had passed. Now you were standing by the window, inches away from the spot where two nights ago, you and Bucky clicked your glasses, smiling at how far you both had come. He laughed, saying he wouldn't have made it without you. And then he kissed you, confessing that the thought that maybe you couldn't have made it without him either, was what kept him going.

And then there you were. 48 hours later, again, just the two of you. But now there weren't any champagne glasses between you, just his metal arm, wrapped around your neck, this time, as he said, for the last time.

"I don't get it-" he scowled, teeth gritted and frustration in his voice, "Why don't you fight me?"

"I can't fight you" you whimpered as your tears poured down against his cold hand, "And even if I could, I wouldn't."

"WHY?" Bucky screamed, and for a second, you thought you saw a crack there, a glister of emotion hidden deep in his otherwise beautiful eyes.

"Because I love you" you cried.

But there was none. He rolled his eyes and pushed you back, your body slamming into the window. You should've thought faster, been more witty and considerate, but terror washed over you and in the heat of the moment, you grabbed onto him for dear life, pulling him down with you, plummeting to the ground from what looked like the 70th floor of the Stark Tower.

If until now you had been afraid of what you'd have to endure, it was now that you met true terror. You'd survive the fall, but he wouldn't.

Even in the air, approaching the ground at a dangerous speed, he kept fighting you. Even in this state, you admired his determination - he had a job and wanted to get it done - even if that job was killing you. A man of his word.

By now, the pain was unnoticeable. If you wanted to keep him alive you had to act fast. Clinging to his body despite his vicious protests and ruthless blows, you used your momentum to turn the two of you around. And you did so at the last second, as before you knew it, your bodies crashed into the boulevard below, sinking down into the asphalt as it crumpled under your weight.

The impact cut your breath away and there was a gnawing feeling all over your body, as if you had blades under your skin, pulling your body apart fiber by fiber. But you snapped out of it.

"Bucky!" you yelled, slapping his cheek.

He had fallen completely on top of you, his head pressed against your chest. He didn't move and the continuous buzz in your ears made it physically impossible for you to tell whether he was breathing for not.

"Bucky, please-" you cried, trying to move him so you could see his face.

Nothing.

"No, no, no!!" you screamed, "You can't die, baby, please! Not like this, love. Please come back to me, Buck, I'm begging you!!"

You remained there and wailed, with him glued to your chest. Your arms had wrapped around his motionless frame, keeping him as close as you could. Nothing could have gotten you to stop. Tens of people gathered around the crater your fall created around your bodies, police showed up, cameras were pointed at your faces, but you didn't care. If he died, so would you.

"You're all I have, baby-" you muttered, voice hoarse and dry from all the wailing and crying, "Please, you can't leave me. This can't be the end of us. Please, I don't know what to do, Bucky, please!"

You were soaked. In blood, and you didn't even know whether it was his or yours. God, how you hoped it all belonged to you, how the pool of blood you laid in was all yours. Tears soaked your face, pouring down your temples as your whole frame shook with your sobs, that was the true agony. You'd rather spend the rest of your days fighting for your life if it meant he got to see the sun again. You wished he'd hate you, rather than not feel anything at all ever again.

"Please-" you said again but this time your voice didn't even reach your own ears, you didn't hold that power anymore, "Please, you need to come back! You deserve so much better than this. You're the best man I have even known, you can't die like this, not today, Bucky. Not today!"

By now, the people around you had scattered. They knew your identities and for all the wrong reasons, feared you both. You were grateful for that now, you were alone with him again, as the sun began to set and a chilly New York night began to settle.

Still, you didn't move. You still had faith. Or you were just stubborn. There was no way you'd pull away until someone either pried him off of you against your will, or someone that you trusted showed up promising they'd help.

None of them came, and you remained there, cradling his frame to your chest begging whatever God was listening, to bring him back. You didn't know if one of them heard you, or if it was just blind luck or fate, but you only realised his metal arm was lodged under your body when he moved it.

"Buck!" you cried, cupping his cheeks in your bloodied palms as literal life cursed through your veins. "Oh god, you're ok, you're alive!! You came back to me!"

You managed to hug him close one more time, before he pushed himself off of you. In the process of standing up, his eyes met yours for the briefest second. Again, nothing.

He gathered himself to his feet, wordlessly bending down to grab your hair. He forced you up and you instantly obliged, following him back into the building.

Once inside, he knocked you through a glass door, your body once again absorbing his fury. The pain had dissipated into a dull ache, and this time, you stood up faster. "I can do this all day" you sighed, the lie slipping past your lips with such ease, as if the energy inside your core wasn't running dangerously low.

"What did you just say?" he questioned.

He seemed taken aback, "I said that I can do this all day"

"Who are you?" Bucky yelled, marching towards you, determined to get answers out of you through nothing else but brute force. He slammed you back onto the floor, only to straddle your thighs and pick you up by the collar of your shit. "Why won't you just fucking die!?"

Circling your fingers around his wrists, you searched for his eyes, "Wanna know what keeps me alive?"

"Are you stupid enough to tell me?"

"I might be" you shook your head, "but I'll still tell you"

"Why?"

"Because I know you won't kill me" you cried, "I know you know me. I know you're in there somewhere. The man I love. I know you don't have it in you to kill me"

"Try me" he laughed, drunk with the power you were so willing to give him.

"These-" you panted, raising your arms in the air to show him your cuffs, "These are what's been keeping me alive but I know you won't-"

But you never finished the sentence. He didn't even think twice before ripping them off your arms and throwing them onto the floor, along with all the other mess you two had made.

You never thought he'd actually spare you. So it wasn't a surprise when the first thing he did after freeing you, was reach for his knife with the sole purpose of driving it through your chest.

But you were faster. You framed his face into your palms, releasing the energy from your body and allowing it to flow through his. It felt weird, wrong and chaotic, and the power surge wiggled itself out of your control, until a blast between your bodies sent you both flying back across the room, falling down onto the floor.

And this time none of you stood up.

"I leave them alone for what, a day?" Tony sighed, walking out of his Iron Man suit.

"Holy shit!" Steve cried out, his knees betraying him as he tried to rush to you.

"No, wait!" Nat stopped him, "You can't wake them up until we get them somewhere safe. We need to make new cuffs for Y/n, and find a way to keep Bucky contained in case, you know… he's still not Bucky"

Steve was fuming with anger, nostrils flaring, "These are my friends you're talking about!" he exclaimed, pointing to your bodies on the floor, "Your friends too, Nat. You see them like this and the first thing you think about is restraining them!?"

"We need to make sure we're all safe" she sighed with sympathy, grabbing his hand for a comforting rub.

"You make sure you're safe-" Steve scoffed, "I'll make sure they're alive"

"Hey-" Nat stopped him, "If you touch her and startle her in any way, you die!"

Her words hurt him but he knew you never would. Steve felt his heart shutter just imaging what you must have gone through. He was ablaze with pure determination to prove Nat wrong, and to do right by you and Buck. "I carried her in my arms while she was passed out when we rescued her from that facility-" he fummed, pointing at you, "She never knew a man that didn't try to hurt her before. And when she woke up, she was afraid. Scared for her life. She cried in my arms and begged me to not let them take her again! She was never anywhere close to hurting me! She's good. So good. There's only good inside of her, I trust her to not hurt me more than I trust myself, ok? If I'm wrong, so be it. I die. I don't care. She deserves someone to look after her. If I had to chose, saving her would be the way I'd want to go"

His rant left Nat speechless. She just gave him a simple nod and stepped back.

Carefully, he picked you up and carried you upstairs, as Tony put his suit back on and carried Bucky.

Never in your life had you woken up this fast. Your eyes snapped open and you sprung to your feet. 3 pairs of anxious eyes watched you, all of them ready to jump into action in case the situation called for an intervention.

"What-" you gawked, scanning the room, "Where is Bucky? Is he- is-"

"He's fine, Y/n" Steve assured you. He stood up and slowly approached you, arms outstretched. Your first instinct was to go for it, but when you reached him, you placed both your hands in his, and looked up at him with teary eyes.

"Are you sure?" you whimpered, "Can I see him?"

Sympathy took over his features, but Tony jumped in, "Absolutely not"

"What-" you turned to him, "Why? Did I-?"

"You didn't do anything wrong" Steve hummed, engulfing you in a hug even though you remained stiff in your spot. He rubbed your back, eager to soothe your worried mind, but you were too out of it.

“Can I just go?” you whispered, pulling back just enough so that he could see how serious you were, “I need to see him, please”

“Are you mad at him?” Nat asked with caution and your face fell.

“No!” you gasped, stepping away from Steve’s embrace, “No, not even one bit. I know that was not him, I know it’s not his fault. But when Bucky wakes up-”

“If he wakes up-” Tony sneered, roaming around the room. He nursed a glass of whiskey, as a mixture of disgust and exhaustion was readable on his features.

“When he wakes up!” you spoke through gritted teeth. Determination coated your words and the hairs on your body stood as you refused to even think of the alternative. “He will wake up. And I have to be there”

“What if the Winter Soldier wakes up?” Nat asked.

“That didn’t stop me last time”

“Oh, no!” Tony butted in, stepping in between you and Nat, arms outstretched, “You know I’m not one to cry after money, but you and your pal left me with $37 million worth of damage. You two are one broken cup away from getting thrown into the streets”

The sum he mentioned made the skin on your back crawl. You didn’t even have $37 dollars to your name, but it made sense. Your body alone crashed through three TV’s, one gamma ray projector and if you thought about it, you remembered Bucky pulling apart one of the Iron Legion robots, and only the thought made you flinch.

“So-” Tony said, “You two? Never in the same room again!”

“Take these off then” you suggested, pointing at the cuff on your wrists.

“Ha” Tony exclaimed, “A big chunk of that money comes from you frying all my electronics up until the 12th floor. Absolutely not”

“Tony, I’m serious” you whined, “He will hate himself. I need to be there! I need to make sure he doesn’t take all the blame on his shoulders”

He frowned, and sighed. He wasn’t an unreasonable man, and you hoped that core deep inside his chest really made up for a heart. And… it did. None of them were happy about it, but they finally accepted. Nat and Tony would have never probably given up if it wasn’t for Steve - right now, like so many times before, he really did seem like your guardian angel.

They ended up monitoring the room, and Tony waited for your signal, one hand on his cigarette, the other on the Iron Man suit. He was all talk - if anything was to go down and you would actually be in danger again, he wouldn’t even think twice before tearing his towers into pieces if it meant he could get you out alive.

And so you left, thanked them in the form of a simple nod, and headed down the dark hallways.

Oh, how you hated this.

What consumed you now had nothing to do with the pain you had endured in the past 24 hours. Its source was not physical, yet your whole body ached. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders - and in some way, it was - Bucky was your whole world, and the fear of losing him breathed down your neck.

It had been about 20 minutes since you stopped in front of the door that led to the room he'd been confined in. When FRIDAY announced that Bucky woke up, you rushed over, only for a hazardous sense of anguish to stop you dead in your tracks. Judging by the way he sat in the corner of the room, his fingers aimlessly tracing every indentation in the handcuffs Tony had restrained him with, you had no problem telling which one of him woke up. He broke your heart. His room was equipped with 5 different cameras and 2 microphones. Completely unaware of them, he sat inches away from one, and your heart shattered, sinking 3 stories below when you heard him whimper.

It was soft and quiet. His whole frame shook as he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. He was hunched down, brown hair covering his perfect face, but still, his sadness brought you to tears.

You heard him again. He sniffled as he laid back against the wall. His eyes were bloodshot, lips almost white and dry as his chest raced up and down. His muscles clenched and his feet bounced against the metal floor, it was a sight you never wished you see ever again.

Softly, you raised a hand, and thought twice before finally knocking.

"Go away," Bucky called, voice all hoarse and dry as it broke halfway through.

You were able to see him on the small screen next to the door, but he had no idea who came to visit.

Out of instinct, you knocked again before typing in the password and ever so slowly walking inside.

Instantly, he looked up. He was surrounded by an air of darkness and despair, ever so obviously tormented to the peak of his capability.

He stared at you for a few seconds as his eyes watered, and then he gathered his lips into a straight line, shaking his head. "Please, go"

"Bucky, I-"

"Please" he cried, head falling forward as he toyed with the metal edges of his prosthetic arm. He shook his head, "Please, don't do this. Just, go"

You took a deep breath, only then entering the room far enough to actually be able to close the door behind you. Slowly turning back to him, your palms sweated as you had no idea what to say to him.

"Can you talk to me, Buck? Please?"

He chuckled, "About what?"

"About whatever it is you think you did wrong, I-"

As he heard your words, his hands instantly flew up to cover his face. He was, however, stopped, as the cuffs on his left wrist kept him from moving too much. While a new row of tears flooded his cheeks, his eyes met yours, "Look at me.. I need to be restrained while you're alone with me"

"Those cuffs would literally do nothing to stop you from escaping, and you know it"

"Maybe it's just a sense of reassurance"

"To who?" you scoffed.

"To them" Bucky responded, nodding his head towards one of the cameras. "I'm a monster" he added, wiggling his cuff restrained hand, "I'm a danger to everyone"

"Oh for fucks sake" you rolled your eyes, marching up to him. With absolutely no remorse, you grabbed his hand and harshly pulled apart the metal that had him restrained to the bed. Before he got a chance to say anything, you bent down, unclipped the microphone from the foot of the bed, threw it on the floor, and stepped on it, until it was nothing but a small pile of shattered plastic.

And you kept going, destroying the second microphone along with the 5 cameras on the walls as Bucky watched you with surprise. You finished by going for the door and locking it from the inside. "You think I'm afraid of you?" you asked softly, "For 6 hours you did your best to kill me and failed miserably. Look at me, I'm unscathed"

"Did you hear yourself?" he cringed, shaking his head, "I tried to kill you"

"Ok, I know I said that you did your best-" you said, mentally scolding yourself for the error in communication. "We both know that wasn't you. That wasn't you, Buck. It was Hydra. It was the winter soldier, not you. My Bucky would never-"

"Y/n-" he stopped you, "I know you don't see things the way I do-"

"But I see them the right way"

"Listen-" Bucky sighed, driving his hands through his hair. For the first time that night you actually saw his full face, his cheek and signature scowl, his blue eyes and the tilt of the corner of his mouth - your soul melted when you associated the picture with the words that came out of his mouth. "I can't blame you for being here. I can't. If the roles were reversed, I'd be doing the exact same thing. But, holy fuck-" he sighed, pausing to gather his thoughts. Bucky looked you up and down. His lips quivered and his head fell to the side as a sad smile appeared on his lips. "Remember this morning? How we talked about our hypothetical child?" he laughed and shook his head, "Even if I know we could never have a kid because we're both sterile, it was still the most beautiful thought that ever crossed my mind, Y/n''

"Mine too, Buck-"

"And what did I do?" he dismissed your empathy, "Two hours later I was unloading an AK-47 into your stomach, like the brainwashed maniac that I am!"

"Don’t say that!" you exclaimed, "Don't you dare think about things like this!"

"Why wouldn't I?" he threw his hands up in the air, "What does it matter whose fault it is? I get to live with the consequences."

"But-" you breathed out, "We can work through this. You did it before. You can't let something that hydra did dictate your life, Bucky. You deserve so much better. You deserve to be happy!"

"I tried to kill you!" he screamed, for the first time losing his calm and standing up to be at the same level as you.

"That was not you!"

"So what?" he huffed, "I was there, Y/n! I will never, NEVER get the feeling of crushing your bones out of my head! I felt your neck snap! I choked you with my arms! That is not something I can live with! I can't live a life by your side if every time I look at you I'm reminded of those horrible things I did to you!"

"Buck-" you cried, looking at him from behind too many layers of unshed tears, "Please, don't say that"

"I'm sorry" he responded in the same fashion, his pain coating every word he said. "When I close my eyes I see you laying in a puddle of blood. I can't stop hearing your screams of agony. Agony that no matter how you put it, was caused by my hands. That's not something we can live with, Y/n. You were not made for this. You really do fucking deserve someone that won't wake up one day and try to murder you in cold blood"

"And what do you deserve, Buck?" you quietly asked, searching for his eyes, "To live your life alone? Forever? If you had been with anyone else, this would have turned out so much worse. That cute barista three blocks down that always scribbles a heart on your coffee cup? She's cute, yeah. You deserve to be loved by someone, but if that someone was her, you wouldn't be drowning in guilt right now, Bucky, you'd be mourning her. Yes, you got troubles. Yes, you've got a past more fucked up than anyone else I have ever heard about. That's the kind of shit you can't change. But whatever you do from now on, is in your fucking hands and yours alone. Don't try to tell me you're not worthy of having someone, because that's the fattest load of crap I've ever heard. You're a good man! With a fucked up past! And a dark side that you need to fight! And you have me! I don't care you dropped Tony's piano on my legs, apparently I can take it! I'm here for you no matter what! You don't want to be with me anymore? Fine. But don't you dare push me away, thinking that a ruined future makes up for a ruined past"

"Who's to say I won't try it again?" he asked, "I don't know what triggered the transition. But what if once a week I end up trying to kill you-"

"Apparently you can't!" you laughed bitterly.

"Ok, so I can't" he nodded in approval, "Is that what you want? I should be your rock, your best friend, I should always be there for you. Do you want to have your whole world turned upside down whenever my brain decides to go berserk?"

"See, Buck" you sighed, "Of course I don't want that. I can't fucking stand here and tell you that I do. What kind of credibility would I have then? But you know what I want? You. You and whatever nazi shit that comes along. I want you. To help you. To have you with me. To see you everyday. If every Saturday at 10am you decide you want to kill me, you best believe I'm sacrificing my morning coffee just so we can kung fu around the living room"

He looked at you for a long second, the corners of his lips fighting a hard battle against the hint of a smile that started to show on his features. Eventually he caved and chuckled, shaking his head, "That was a bit funny"

"And fucking true," you cried, going for his hands and bringing them up to your chest. He winced, but you spoke up again, determined to not let his mind torture him.

"I love you, Bucky"

"How do you not hate me?" he choked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Can you seriously look at me and not get even the slightest instinct to run away?"

"Bucky..." you breathed out, cupping his cheek. "How could I run away when I've never seen you in more pain than right now?"

"You're an angel, you know that?"

"I've been called a lot of things" you giggled, "Angel isn't one of them, but if that's what you want, I'll take it"

"Come here" he whispered, wrapping his arms around your frame. He had you nuzzle against his chest, his hold keeping you tight and secure. His heart beat against your cheek and your eyes watered again. There wasn't one thing in the world you wouldn't do for that heart - to make sure it keeps beating, and that it keeps the man you love alive. And content, above all. All you wanted right now was for him to accept the things that happened. You wanted to take whatever weight he was carrying on his shoulders, and put it upon yourself. "I love you so much, Bucky" you cried against his chest as your hold tightened around him, "I hate to see you torn like this. I don't want anything to ever happen to you. It terrifies me. I love you with all that I am. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You deserve the world, baby"

"So do you" he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You felt his chest shake, a deep rumble echoed from the depths of his lungs. You looked up to see him fight back a sob, his eyes wide open, glossy and red, trained down on you, "I love you too much to do this, Y/n. I'm sorry, I don't think I can"

"No!" you gasped, pressing your face back against his shoulder, "Don't do that. You can't do that. No"

"We won't work, Y/n" Bucky said as he brought you even closer, "I can't look at you anymore. I can't look at you without dying inside. You don't want to live with me like that"

"Yes, I do!" you sobbed. "I'll work with anything you give me, I swear there is nothing more I want. Just you. Just you and me. Bucky, please don't do this"

He held you close for what felt like half a second, but rationally speaking, your legs were getting numb. You just stood there, clinging to his body, taking in his scent and listening to his breathing even out until he pushed you away. Oh, how you didn't want to let go. Ever. But you did, and choked back a sob as soon as you felt the cold air of the room brush against the part of your body that had been pressed to his.

"We should get some sleep, Y/n"

"Are you coming with me?" you whimpered, afraid of the answer he might give you.

Bucky shook his head, "I think I'll just sleep here tonight"

That broke you. The shock and terror cut your breath away. It felt impossible - the feeling of losing him. The amount of pain that surged through you. At that particular moment, you felt like cracking your chest open to grip your heart into your hand and pick apart the broken parts. But not even that felt good enough, you were fairly sure you'd be left with nothing. It felt like a slap across your cheek, like a cloth had been placed over your mouth and your legs cut at the knees. It felt like the end.

Optimistic by nature, not even you could deny the reason he wanted to sleep alone. It was clear as day.

"If-" you mumbled, tears coating your face at their own free will, voice shaking as you barely managed to articulate the words over the violent sobs that ripped their way out of your throat. "If I promise to not do anything to try and convince you to stay… can you promise me that in case you decide to leave, you'll come and tell me first?"

"Oh, doll" Bucky broke down all over again, throwing himself at you again. He collapsed on top of you, molding his body around yours. "I promise, angel"

You just nodded. That was all you could do. It took another few moments for you to gather yourself and stop wailing, but you did, and then, with nothing else other than a sad smile, you left.

Your feet carried you to your room, and you were ready to collapse on top of your bed. Eager to cuddle into his pillows. They smelled like that shower gel you got him and you hated it. You wanted his scent. Not even caring how ridiculous it sounded, you padded over to the chair in the corner of your bedroom, the one Bucky uses to discard all his worn clothes.

You wanted to find a shirt he wore, one that smelled exactly like you knew him, but before you reached the clothes pile, your attention was drawn to the window.

Steve was standing there, facing the busy streets outside, hands in his pocket and his head turned in your direction.

"I didn't see you, sorry" you gasped, as your eyes accommodated to the darkness.

"It's fine" he shook his head, "I just figured you'd turn on the lights, you know, like the normal people. Didn't think I'd scare you"

"Yeah, sorry" you sighed, plopping down on the edge of the bed. "I did even think about turning the lights on"

He didn't say anything, but you saw him nod. He knew your pain. He lost enough in his life, and seeing his best friend sink back into his darkness was surely not easy for him either.

"Is he ok?" Steve eventually asked.

You shook your head, "He's too good of a man to be ok"

"That is Bucky" he laughed, and you couldn't help but do the same. The irony.

Steve's curiosity was palpable in the room. Words could not describe the appreciation you had for him for respecting your boundaries and not pushing you in a moment like this. But he deserved to know.

You opened your mouth to explain to him what happened, but as your mind processed everything all over again, you broke down. "I think he's gonna leave-" you cried.

Steve was quick to gather you in his arms, engulfing you in a bear hug, helping you stand on your own two feet. "What do you mean?" he asked, concern tracing his tone.

"I understand him, I do. And I promised I won't try to get him to stay if he doesn't want to. But- but I should've done more, Steve. I should've shown him somehow how much I love him. But I'm afraid he'll leave, and I don't want to live-"

"Hey, hey, hey" Steve hurried to stop you, petting your head softly before urging you to look up at him. "Bucky loves you more than I ever thought possible, ok? There's no question about it. I'm sorry I'm doing this, but I think he'll postpone it anyway"

"What?"

"The man wants to marry you, ok?" Steve smiled, "He asked Tony if he had any work for him so he could raise money. Can you imagine how that went down? He was red like a tomato, but he didn't think twice. James Barnes used the computer to look for rings for you. The Bucky I know? Never would've done this. You brought to life a part of him that no one else has seen before. He loves you. With all that he is. And trust me when I tell you, he won't stand to be away from you. You're his whole world, Y/n. He's my best friend, trust me when I tell you this is something you'll work through. I'll help, we'll all help. You're not gonna lose him, Y/n. He's so beat up about all of this because he loves you this much. He's all yours. If he decides to leave, I need you to be strong because he will be back. I got him back 70 years later. You just need to trust him. Trust his heart, ok?"

"Oh my god" you cried, "I don't know what to say"

"Don’t say anything" he chuckled, "We've been through so much together. All of us. Even if we try, nothing pulls us apart, ok? How many times has Loki died, hm?"

"God, Steve!" you scoffed somewhat amused and pulled back just to hit him, "Did you seriously compare Bucky to Loki!?"

"It got you to smile, didn't it?" he laughed. "But I'm serious. You've both been through so much worse than this. You'll get through this one too. And in case you ever feel like you won't, I'm here, ok?"

"Ok…"

Funny as it all was, it worked. He calmed you down - to some extent. Gave you hope you didn't know existed. If it wasn't for Steve, you probably would have not been able to fall asleep. And even though dreams didn't visit you, and you never relaxed enough to actually get some rest, you just dozed off. All clothed and curled diagonally on the bed, you cuddled Bucky's pillow to your chest as your eyes slowly fell closed.

When you opened them again, it was still dark out. You had no idea what pulled you awake as you struggled to sit up on the bed, but then you heard Bucky's voice again, from the doorway.

"Y/n?"

“Buck?” you gasped, turning around. Only his silhouette was visible, head hung low and hands deep in his pockets. He was leaning against the doorway, silently awaiting your response.

Right then and there, you felt your world collapse. Steve’s monologue made you actually fucking believe things would be fine, but here he was, keeping his promise. In the buttcrack of night, he kept his word, bidding you a much feared farewell.

“Is-” you sobbed, jumping out of bed and rushing towards him. You almost knocked him off of his feet when you flung yourself at him, but he was quick to reciprocate, caging you between his arms. “Is this it? You’re leaving?”

He didn’t say anything which frankly made everything worse. You broke down even further, clinging to his shirt as if it was the only source of oxygen keeping you alive - it sure felt like it.

“Look at me” Bucky urged you, tilting your chin up, “Please?”

You slowly lifted your head, your eyes meeting his.

“I’m sorry, I will make it up to you” he whispered, a frown settling above his tired eyes, “You’ll see”

“What does that even mean?" you questioned, tired and sick of this ongoing conflict that should not even have been an issue to begin with. "You don't have to make up for anything"

"I know you see things like that" he cooed, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. He spoke softly, his breath fanning against your skin, somehow, even in this situation, managing to calm you down. "But you can understand me too, right?"

"I don't want to" you shrugged, "I don't care. Why does it matter if I understand you or not if you're gonna leave anyway?"

"I'm not leaving, doll"

"What!?" you beamed, pulling away from his hold and grabbing his face in your palms, "You're not- but you're-"

His whole frame softened, "I'm not here to say goodbye, Y/n. I'm not going anywhere"

"Oh god" you gasped.

"Come on, come here" Bucky chuckled softly, bringing you back into his hold, "I'm staying here. I'm sorry for everything I put you through. You're the most badass woman I know and I managed to break you"

"I love you, Buck"

"I love you more, Y/n" he sighed, "I'll make everything right, I promise"

"Oh, fuck" you breathed out relieved, "Just do whatever you want, I don't care. You're here. That's all that matters."

"And we also need to teach you to fight-" he added, "For real. And find a way for you to take those goddamn shackles off in case this happens again"

"Tony won't be too happy about it" you laughed.

"Fuck if I care-" Bucky said strenly, pointing at you, "Next time, you need to be able to stop me. And fast"

"Maybe it won't happen again"

"Maybe not" Bucky nodded, "But if it does, we need to be ready"

"Thank you" you said, "I know I didn't play this right. I know I literally dismissed everything that you must have gone through today. I'm sorry"

"You don't get to be sorry" Bucky stopped you, "Not after-"

"Then you don't get to, either!"

"Meh" he shrugged, "We'll see"

"Bucky!"

"I love you" he laughed, bending down to pick you up. He planted his hands on the back of your thighs, picking you up with ease and walking you over to the bed. You plopped back against the fluffy mattress with a huff, and giggled as he crawled his way on top of you. Instantly, his lips met yours. It was exhilarating, the kind that made your chest ache. You moaned against his lips as love transpired through his touch. It was overwhelming and the first happy tears of the day streamed down your temples as you arched yourself against him.

"I'm so weak for you, fuck" Bucky groaned, his right arm reaching around your back and pressing you against his chest. "You're everything" he added as he kissed his way along your neck, "I'm all yours forever, Y/n. I love you too much"

"I'm here, baby" you moaned, hiding your face into his shoulder, "You're mine, Bucky. All mine."

His lips didn't leave your body as he pushed himself up just enough to be able to reach the buckle of his jeans. The sound made your core ache, and your mouth watered.

There was no patience in his movements. He barely pulled his jeans down to his knees before ridding you of your pajama pants. He lodged himself between your thighs, his mouth instantly back on yours again.

"Come on" you panted, steading your arms against his strong back. Your legs found their way around his frame, ready to pull him closer.

When Bucky guided his hands between your bodies to align the tip of his cock with your opening, you whimpered in anticipation. Agonisingly slow, he trailed his tip along your folds before reaching your clit. With a blissful moan, he reached further up, tapping his cock against your bare cunt a couple of times before returning his attention back to you.

"I got you, baby" he hummed, pecking your lips. "You ready? Is this ok?"

With eagerness, you nodded and wiggled under his weight, your pussy aching for him. "Yes, yes"

When you felt his cock push past your folds, you moaned out loud, your voice cracking with the pure pleasure that took over your being.

He eased himself in, going all the way until he all but knocked the breath out of you, and he stopped. Bucky reached down to kiss you again, his cock motionless, balls deep inside of you.

He bit down on your lip and you giggled.

"Felt your pussy clench around me, doll" he laughed, "You're good to me"

"You may be all mine, Buck, but I'm all yours too"

"Holy shit" he panted, shaking his head in disbelief. It was as if you weren't real. He'd have pinched himself, but if this was a dream, he really did not want to wake up. So he kept going.

Nibbling at the skin of your neck, he started to pull himself out of you. The slow pace was driving you insane. Your need grew so strong you felt everything. His breath, the way his hair tickled your chin, his strong around around your shoulders, his massive thighs rubbing against yours, every small vein along his cock that drove you closer and closer to the sweetest bliss you had ever known.

He got you all worked up at an agonisingly slow pace, before his thrusts became more and more aggravated. You moaned with each thrust despite your struggles to keep quiet.

"You know how much I love hearing you, doll" Bucky shook his head as he drove himself back inside of you all the way, "Moan for me"

"Fuck, ok" you gasped, and closed your eyes as you started to fall apart. You gripped the bed sheets into your hands and pulled as he kept fucking you, deep and hard.

"You're so good, baby" he groaned, "So, so good for me"

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, fervently sucking deep, maroon marks all ice your skin. Gutural grounds betrayed his air of self control as a plethora of curse words escaped his lips. "Taking me so fucking well. I can't keep going like this, you're too fucking tight-"

"Cum, baby" you encouraged, voice low and tender as you spoke against his ear, "Cum for me"

"Don’t have to tell me twice" he chuckled.

His thrusts started to become sloppy and irregular, as his eyes flew closed. You missed the blue of his eyes, but his mouth was slightly agape as he panted his way to an orgasm.

His chest heaved against yours, "How do you feel so fucking good?" Bucky cursed, eyes still closed as he barely managed to mumble his words between the numerous grunts of pleasure that forced their way out of his throat.

You gave him no answer, instead just clung to him tighter, "Fuck, Bucky, I'm close-"

"Come on" he encouraged, hurrying to rub your clit. His fingers found your bud in an instant, working experienced, familiar circles that almost drove you over the edge. "Cum with me, ok?"

You nodded, gathering your lips between your teeth. He kept fucking you, harder and faster until he had turn limp under his weight. You came as his name rolled off your lips, and he followed seconds after, pumping his juices deep inside your pussy.

You felt his absolute pleasure as he breathed heavily against your shoulder. He kept going until you were both spent, and then fell down beside you.

"Bucky-" you whined, turning over and curling into his side, the lack of contact making you more needy than ever.

"Yes, darling?" he panted, tapping your chin.

"Nothing. I just love you"

"Love you too, doll" he huffed, spinning you around so you laid on your back.

He effortlessly helped you out of your shirt and plopped down on top of you, his head resting on your bare chest. His warm, right hand cupped your breast as he closed his eyes. He wrapped himself around you, "Hold me" he muttered, "please"

"Always, Bucky" you said, engulfing him in the tightest hold you could muster. Only then did you feel him calm down completely, and there was nothing in the world you could ever ask for.

If you liked it, please reblog and tell me what you thought? :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan smut

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chloebeale · 4 years ago

Text

NOW OR NEVER — (THE BECHLOE KISS)

PAIRING: Bechloe. RATING: T. A/N: It’s 3:30 am and my eyes are blurring, but how could I resist?

BECHLOE KISS / headcanon post

***

Beca doesn’t want her.

It has been years now. Years of longing looks and lingering stares, of dainty fingers brushing against gently trembling hands in the cool evening air. Years of Chloe wanting Beca, of desperate pining and of so painfully, so achingly just wanting her. There is something of a sad finality in accepting, as she watches Beca with glossy, tear-stung eyes, crowded by people and ready to start her new life—the life Chloe knows she truly, truly does deserve—the idea of Beca leaving, of taking these next steps away from the Bellas, away from Chloe.

No matter how soul-destroying that realization may be, though, Chloe is filled with a bittersweet feeling all in all. Chloe is so happy for Beca, she is so ridiculously happy, so overwhelmingly proud of her. But letting go of those years, of those real and raw feelings, it is just...it’s really freaking hard.

And Chloe knows that it is unfair of her to retreat to Chicago right now. As she moves through the crowds of people with a specific purpose, in search of the one person she knows will be able to take her mind off of everything even if only for a brief moment, she knows that it is so, so unfair, because he wants her, and she doesn’t want him. She just wants… Well, she just wants the distraction.

She realizes, as she rounds the corner to the familiar sight of a smiling Chicago, that he will be all too happy to provide that for her. And that is unfair, too.

Despite her sadness, despite that sense of loss plummeting into her stomach, despite everything, Chloe’s own smile is a genuine one as she picks up the pace of her footsteps, hand outstretching to rest on the back of Chicago’s neck in an effort to pull him closer.

He doesn’t question her, he leans in just as easily as she does, and for half a second, Chloe gets to just… she just gets to forget.

***

Adrenaline. It is adrenaline that is keeping Beca going right now.

It was adrenaline up on that stage, as she belted out that song to a packed out stadium of people, and it is adrenaline coursing through her body now, as she excuses herself from the Bellas’ squeals of excited celebration, knowing exactly where she wants to go.

Beca had seen it, she had seen that look of quiet sadness glistening in the most familiar eyes as their gazes had met through the crowd. And Beca knows what all of this entails, she knows that signing with DJ Khaled is going to mean a lot of huge, terrifying changes, but there is one thing she refuses to leave behind, one person she simply will not do this without.

She just needs to tell her. She needs to find her, and she needs to tell her.

Of course, as Beca rounds the corner to a quieter section, she doesn’t necessarily bank on exactly what she finds there.

To say that her heart doesn’t drop would be a lie. Beca has seen Chloe kissing people before, she has seen her with other people, and she has seen the very distinct way Chicago has stared every time Chloe has entered a room throughout this entire trip.

This time, however, that natural pang in her chest seems to subside quickly, it seems to be overtaken by a new rush of adrenaline, and as she stares blankly at the scene before her, notes the sight of Theo approaching in her peripheral vision, Beca decides to do something about it.

Theo doesn’t get the chance to speak. He opens his mouth to do so (that dude is always talking), but Beca doesn’t let him proceed. Instead, she rides that same wave of adrenaline, and presses her hand to his abdomen to effectively push him away.

“I’ve gotta go show this guy how it’s done,” she murmurs, and whether it is to Theo or simply to herself, a brief pep talk of some kind, Beca doesn’t know.

All she knows is that her feet carry her forward with a confidence she barely even recognizes, until she can reach out and grasp Chloe by the arm.

And suddenly, she realizes, it truly is now or never.

***

It catches Chloe off guard at first, the feeling of a hand tugging at her wrist. Fortunately, despite the level of passion she is attempting to display, she is absolutely not feeling this current kiss, she doesn’t care for the man whose lips are pressed firmly to her own. It proves easy for her to pull away, startled eyes widening slightly at the sight of Beca Mitchell, confident and beautiful, pulling her in.

It is like something from a dream—a dream Chloe has had many, many times before—the way Beca lifts her hands to Chloe’s cheeks. Chloe doesn’t even get to question her, doesn’t get to ask her what she is doing, before she feels soft lips pushing against her own, feels her lids fluttering shut and her body giving in to the sensation of Beca Mitchell kissing her, of something she has wanted for so, so long now.

Instinctively, Chloe’s hands rise to the back of Beca’s head, long fingers grasping at her neatly styled hair. And she cannot believe this is actually happening, cannot believe she is actually, finally kissing Beca Mitchell. No—Beca is kissing her.

Although she registers the sound of another voice (Theo’s, perhaps?), Chloe doesn’t take it in. She can’t really think of anything, nothing other than this very moment, this long overdue act of desperate passion, of years of pent up, desperate longing. As much as she doesn’t want to ruin it, doesn’t want to stop it, she needs a second to really take it in.

“What are you…” Chloe begins in a soft, disbelieving voice as she pulls just slightly back. Her hands refuse to move, they refuse to loosen their grip on the back of Beca’s hair, almost like she is afraid of her coming to her senses and making a hasty retreat. She expects the sight of Beca’s gaze, less scared than she would’ve ever imagined, to be something of a reality check, but it isn’t. There is no terrified moment of realization, no fear nor apprehension. It is simply them, the two of them staring at one another in the most natural, most comfortable way. Chloe’s voice softens, corners of her lips arching upward just slightly, and she whispers in a quiet, genuine tone meant only for Beca, “Bec, Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to do that?”

Although Beca licks her lips, almost like she is about to say something, it seems that she opts to hold back, to use her actions as her voice right now instead. A soft hand reaches around to tuck a loose auburn curl behind Chloe’s ear, and the gentle grin on Beca’s lips, the one Chloe’s gaze darts directly to, speaks volumes. She has every answer she needs as Beca leans back in, and Chloe does nothing to stop her.

A hand drops to her side, before her palm is settling beneath Beca’s thigh. Chloe lifts it to move her impossibly closer, and soon she is melting into this perfect, blissful moment with Beca Mitchell, a moment to far surpass any of her fantasies.

Maybe, she finally realizes, just maybe, Beca does want her, after all.

#beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe #bechloe fic #bechloe kiss #mine #mine:writing #now or never

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years ago

Text

LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES // 7

SEVEN - SERENDIPITY

Trigger warning: Alcohol, food

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

“Okay, that’s ridiculous!” Bucky mumbles around a spoonful of fruit loops.

“What is?”

“This,” he responds and points his now empty spoon accusingly at John Cusack. “This whole fate thing. The book, sure, might happen. But the dollar bill? Never!”

(Y/N) puts her empty bowl on the couch table, turning her body towards Bucky and sitting in a criss-cross style. “You telling me you don’t believe in fate and soulmates and that some people are destined to be together.”

“No,” Bucky retorts in a tone that implies it was a silly question to even ask him. “I am 106 years old. If those things were true you'd think I would've found my destined partner by now."

"Maybe you have" (Y/N) shrugs. "Maybe it's Leah. Have you called her anyway?"

Bucky looks down sheepishly into the colorful milk swirling through his bowl. "No."

“ What? Why not? “

“Because it hasn’t — oh I don't know. It just hasn’t felt right.”

He’d been debating on giving her a call many times, never actually going through with it. At first, it was for a fear of failure, rejection. Now though, Leah doesn’t cross his mind as much as before. His thoughts, he noticed recently, are occupied by another person. And it wouldn't be fair to Leah or himself to try and build something on shaky ground at best.

“ Dude, I’m educating you on romance and you are too afraid to call this girl? “

“ Educating me? You are forcing me to watch rom coms. “

“ Forcing you? “ (Y/N) gasps and dramatically slaps her hand to her chest right above where her heart is. “ Are you saying you’re not having fun? “

There’s a smirk on her face, tiny and barely there but he notices it anyway. He’s started noticing the small things. Like how her nose scrunches up when she smiles and how she twiddles with her fingers when she’s nervous.

“ If I didn’t have fun I wouldn’t be here. “ Bucky replies and bumps his leg against her knee. Truth be told, he’d be here anyway. Even if she’d make him watch the most boring movie in the entire world he’d stay right there with her. Sometimes the world doesn't seem so rough and ruthless when she’s there beside him. Sometimes he feels like he could genuinely be happy.

“ Good, “ (Y/N) responds and places a quick kiss on his cheek that very nearly gives him a heart attack. Soft touches are something she grants him every so often and while he is getting used to it, it’s still foreign. It’s something he enjoys quite a lot though.

“Anyway, soulmates finding their way back to each other despite all odds is such a rom-com stable. Like the kiss in the rain or the airport chase or the top-of-the-stairs-moment.”

“ The what ? “

(Y/N) scoffs at him as if she’s never been asked a more ridiculous question in her life.

“ The moment when the girl gets a makeover or she dresses up in some ballgown and her love interest waits at the bottom of the stairs for her and when he sees her he’s so enamored and enchanted by her and ideally there’s some cheesy 90s love song playing in the background. And she meets him at the bottom, walking in slow motion obviously, and they don’t kiss or anything but the looks they share are enough to let the audience know what they feel for one another.”

Her words are heavy with passion and longing and magic and for a second Bucky wishes, he could be the one to give her that moment.

“ But okay, grumpy. You go on not believing in soulmates. I’ll change your mind one day, trust me.”

He doesn’t doubt it for a second.

They sink back into their blissful calm as John Cusak and Kate Beckinsale reconnect on the ice rink in front of Rockefeller Center as an ocean of Christmas lights twinkles in the background.

“ I’ve never been ice skating there. Been living here for so many years now and that’s still something I’ve never done. “ (Y/N) pipes up, a longing swinging alone with her words. “ Have you? “

“ Mmmh. Used to take a lot of girls on dates there. “

“ Oh sorry, I forgot you were a big charmer back in the day. “

“ Saw the first-ever Christmas tree getting set up in 1933. '' he continues to say. Sometimes talking about the past makes him sad. It’s a time he will never be able to go back to. A man he will never be again.

But sometimes, like today, he’s able to recall little snippets of memories and remember how he felt in that exact moment. And those are worth all the pain that thinking about the future might bring.

“ That — is weird flex but actually really cool. “

Bucky doesn’t think of himself as cool. He’s a grumpy 106-year-old who is completely disillusioned with the world around him. If (Y/N) thinks so though, he’s not gonna try to change her mind.

She snuggles back into him, body leaning against the smooth vibranium arm. A part of him he never felt really belonged to himself. Something he had been given to kill, to defend, to fight. If something so dangerous can be a place of comfort to her, Maybe, he thinks, it’s not so bad after all. Maybe sometimes you just have to let go of the part and change your perspective of things.

For a while, they get lost in the movie, in the fictional love of two strangers. He remembers the romance novels his mothers used to read. The way she would get lost in them. Maybe to escape her own life for just a second and follow along with the stories and the people that seemed so much grander than her own existence as a housewife stuck in a life that seems too small to contain her in all her wonderful glory. His mother, Bucky always knew even at a young age, deserved more than she had been given. She was smart and funny and she loved her kids as much as a heart could love another. But her days were dull and her marriage was one of convenience more than anything. She had ideas, beautiful stories swirled around her head, and she’d tell them to him and his sister before she’d tuck them into bed. And yet that is where they stayed, in her mind and in her children's memories. She was never resentful though. She took things as they came and she made them beautiful.

He wonders sometimes, what would’ve come from her ideas if she had been given the chance to tell them to a bigger audience. She could’ve put those rom-coms to shame.

A knock on the front door startles (Y/N), making her get up from the couch and follow LAdy towards the entrance. There’s a definite lack of warmth where she used to be and Bucky feels himself missing her already.

“ It’s probably Robin, she left her favorite jacket here the other — mom? “

The air fills with a chaotic mix of several voices one speaking over the other while the charm on Lady’s collar underlines it all with a jingling sound like that of a small bell.

Before he can even think about how to react, (Y/N) steps back into the living room followed by two more people. A woman who looks like an older version of her and a man. They seem lost in conversation still, talking about their travel to NYC and the fact that the man, who Bucky assumes is (Y/N)’s father, refused to ask for directions.

That’s until their eyes fall on Bucky. The woman regards him with a gentle smile on her face, polite and warm as mothers usually are. The man though. There’s something in his eyes, in his demeanor, that changed once he set sight on Bucky and it doesn’t feel good. Bucky knows what it’s like to be recognized. People see him and then they see all the bodies left in his wake, all the blood on his hands, all the pain and the suffering and the —

“ Sergeant Barnes. “

They used to call him that in Wakanda, as a sign of respect, he believes. To make him realize that they do not see him as the thread he used to be but the man he once was. Other than that it’s been a long time since people referred to him as Sergeant Barnes. It’s a title he takes pride in, something he worked hard for. It also belongs to a man he isn’t anymore. Bucky isn’t sure he still earns it. Still owns it.

“ Uh — hello. “

“Dad, “ (Y/N) says and pushes past her parents to stand next to Bucky. Her hand rests on his arm as a sign of comfort and reassurance. He appreciates it very much. “ Mom. This is Bucky. “

“ I can’t believe it. “ her father exclaims, still not taking his eyes off of Bucky.

“ Dad. “

“ I can not believe it. I can’t believe you! “

There it is. Although Bucky has always been very aware that he wasn’t nearly worth (Y/N)’s time, having it thrown in his face hurts more than he likes to admit.

“ Dad … “

“ You know James Barnes, and you tell me nothing about it? (Y/N) I’ve — I’ve spent so much time researching this man revising all the information people before me have gathered and making sure his legacy and his place in Steve Rogers' life get acknowledged and now I’d have the chance to ask him personally and you — you keep it a secret from me? “

Wait … what ?

“ Bucky, “ (Y/N) says and looks up at him with her gorgeous eyes that never seem to fail at calming him down. “These are my parents and as you can tell, my dad’s a big fan of yours. “

The next few minutes are a chaos of handshakes and nice-to-meet-yous and hugs. Her mother hugs Bucky real tightly, the way mothers do when they know someone needs a hug. And she doesn’t flinch when she feels the metal arm. She just hugs him a little tighter.

“ Why are you guys here? “ (Y/N) asks as her father throws an arm around her shoulder

“ Well, you asked us to look after Lady while you’re gone. “ her mother replies as if it’s the obvious answer.

“ Yeah, but we don’t leave until Friday afternoon. It’s Thursday. “

“ That is truuuue. But dad and I thought we’d surprise you and take you out for a nice dinner since we won’t be spending Christmas together, we thought we could at least try to make up for it. “

(Y/N) shakes her head at her mother’s words. “ I told you guys, it’s not a big deal. You go enjoy your cruise. “

“ And we will but you’re our girl and we want to take you out for dinner. Give your old parents that much, will you” her father jokes and ruffles her hair as if she was just a little girl and maybe she is in that moment, wrapped in his arms.

“ I uh — Bucky and I had plans. “

“ What plans? “ her mother asks, eyebrows raised.

“ Watching movies. “

“ Oh, those aren’t plans. Go get dressed! “

“ And James will obviously come with us, “ her dad adds “ I am not done asking him questions. “

It’s not December yet but the restaurant is already decked out in Christmas lights and tastefully placed sparkly ornaments. The soft lull of Christmas carols being played on a piano flows through the room and Bucky is thankful to discover that while so much has changed, many of those songs have stayed the same. Maybe things aren’t all different right now. Maybe the fundamental things have stayed the same. Like the feeling of being with your family sitting by the tree, singing songs that have been passed down from your parents to you.

(Y/N) sits next to him, lips painted the exact same shade of red as her slouchy knit sweater. She looks so cozy and comfortable and soft and if he’s being really honest with himself, all he wants to do is hold her tight and get lost in her warmth. But this is good, as good as it can ever get, really. Sitting next to her, across from her parents who have been nothing but kind to him. They’re eating good food, drinking delicious drinks and her parents are sharing funny and slightly embarrassing stories about (Y/N). This is the first time he’s meeting anyone’s parents as the man he is now. And even back in the 40s things weren’t this calm and easy. If you went to meet a woman’s parents you better came prepared. This feels nice. Like he gets to be part of a family for just a teeny tiny moment.

“ So, how long have you guys been together? “ her mother asks around a fork of tiramisu. While Bucky only looks at her with wide eyes, (Y/N) almost chokes on her wine.

“ Mom, we’re — not. We’re friends. “

“ Oh,” her mother replies, looking unconvinced as her eyes move back and forth between (Y/N) and Bucky “ I guess I must’ve read that wrong. Shame, you would make adorable babies. “

“ Mom!”

Bucky’s sure his cheeks are the same color as her sweater and her lips and her fingernails. A beautiful bright red. Like a Santa’s hat.

“ I know, babe. You’re an independent woman who makes her own decisions and if you decide not to have babies that’s alright with us. As long as you are happy, so are we. Lady makes for a wonderful substitute grandchild. Just sayin’ if you were to have babies with Bucky they would turn out really cute. “

“ Okay, how about we stop talking about my imaginary potential future children, huh? You go tell me more about work, dad. How about that? “

As her dad starts talking about some history classes he teaches and the students, Bucky notices the change in (Y/N)’s demeanor. Her laid-back ease is gone. She keeps fidgeting with her hair and the rings on her hand. Without really thinking about it, like his body is working on autopilot, Bucky reaches out and grabs her hand under the table. It’s still weird, touching soft skin with his metal hand without the intention of inflicting pain. It’s nice though. It’s wonderful.

She doesn’t let go for a long time.

Restrooms in restaurants are places where time is slightly altered. You’re sheltered from the noises of the main room but they’re still faintly audible through the door. The clinking of glasses and cutlery, the laughter, and the voices as they flow together like waves in an ocean.

It feels like you get a break from the real world for just a moment. To catch yourself. To take a breath. To look at yourself in the mirror and decide your next steps as the music sounds from the overhead speakers in a duller version as if someone wrapped the lyrics in thick cotton padding.

(Y/N) washes her hands while looking at her reflection. Today’s a good day. It’s not going the way she has expected it but it’s a good day nonetheless. Bucky and her parents get along like a house on fire. It’s a nice feeling but it also makes her so acutely aware of all the what-ifs floating around her head and her heart. Would it feel like this if she and Bucky were more than friends? Would it feel this — right?

Before her mind can come up with an answer to her own question, the door to the restrooms swings open letting in a sliver of the noise outside. Her mother steps in and looks at her with that signature mom smile. Like she knows you better than you know yourself. And maybe that isn’t entirely wrong.

“ Your dad and I are going to take a cab to the hotel. We’ll come over to yours tomorrow before you leave. Is that okay? Bucky said he’d walk you home.”

Of course, he’d say that. He’s a gentleman. He’s Bucky.

“ Sure that’s fine. I’m glad you guys came a day early. I missed you. “

“ We missed you too, baby,” she responds and pulls (Y/N) into a hug.

“ Now tell me something,” she says and takes (Y/N)’s face in between her hands. “ You and Bucky. There’s something there. “

(Y/N) shakes free from her mother's touch and faces the mirror, leaning both hands against the marble sink. “ Mom, can you leave it. “

“ I see the way you guys look at each other. I — you haven’t been this happy in so long. He makes you happy. “

As she lifts her head and looks into her own eyes in the mirror, (Y/N) feels a flood of emotions wash over her. Emotions she’s tried so hard to suppress and others she wasn’t even aware were there in the first place. And it’s all comes crashing down pulling her under and spitting her back out.

“ So what if he makes me happy. We’re not gonna happen. I can not lose a friend and he can’t either. It would kill us both. “

“ Oh honey, “ she goes to pull (Y/N) into another hug but she just shakes her head in response.

“ No. No, mom. It’s okay. I’m okay with it being the way it is. “

“ Are you sure? “

Is she? (Y/N) looks back at herself. You think you know yourself and what you want and how you feel and then someone asks you, truthfully asks you if you’re sure. And you can only stare and wonder. Well, are you?

And sometimes it’s way easier to lie, to both the other person and yourself, than to really face your fears and your feelings and everything you do or don’t understand about yourself.

“ Yeah. I am sure. “

It’s true. New York City never seems to fully go to sleep. There’s always a light on somewhere, guiding you through the dark, guiding you home.

It doesn’t fully go to sleep but it slows down. The air gets heavier, the noise gets quieter.

(Y/N) and Bucky slowly make their way through the familiar streets of their neighborhood as the city lights and the stars fight over who gets to shine more brightly upon them.

It’s a chilly evening, winter is truly just around the corner, and the air feels pregnant with the promise of snow and yet (Y/N) feels a warmth course through her that is unlike any other. A warmth that can only be brought on by being with your loved ones.

“ It’s a lovely night,” she says as her heels create a clip-clap sound against the pavement.

Bucky has his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket and his ever-present scowl decorates his face and yet, even Bucky can’t deny that it is a lovely night. One with so much potential. For — for lovers.

“ It really is.”

“ If life was a movie, “ (Y/N) says “ this would be when we realized that we're in love"

Bucky only raises his eyebrow at her, pushing her to elaborate. And maybe it’s a bit selfish. Maybe he just wants to hear her entertain the thought of them two as something more for just a little bit longer. Even if it’s just pretend.

“ We’d get a montage of some quirky dates that we didn’t realize were dates. Then the camera would pan down on us tonight, walking underneath the stars, the city lights glowing around us. There’d be some piano music in the background to set the mood. We’d have a deep talk about our fears or messed up childhoods or the meaning of life. And then you’d make me laugh and I’d accidentally hold your hand. You’d drop me off at my door, think about kissing my lips but then end up kissing my forehead. Once you leave I’d lean against my door, sink down to my floor, and grin like a fool because that’s the moment I realize I am in love with you and the audience would sigh in relief because they knew all along. “

“ That sounds nice,” Bucky replies, eyes staring into the distance as he tries to picture it all, safe it as a mental snapshot to go back to in quiet moments.

“ Yeah, well what a shame life is not a movie and we’re not in love. What a waste of a lovely night. “

“ Guess it’s perfect for a couple, huh? “ Bucky has to agree with her.

“ Mmmh. Or at least someone not in heels, “ (Y/N) jokes looking down at her shoes.

“ You want me to find a couple? Gift our night to them ? “ Bucky asks as they continue their journey down the Brooklyn streets.

“ Absolutely not, sir! “ (Y/N) responds and links her arm with his as she pulls him along. “ I like our night. I want to keep it for ourselves. “

And so they continue their walk home. Words that want to be said, that need to be said, hang heavy in the air, and yet they both decide to stay quiet and just enjoy the silence and comfort of their lovely little night.

The door feels like mocking her as it comes into view, cutting their moment short, putting an end to this blissful night.

She doesn’t want it to end. Doesn’t want to go inside and quite literally close the door to all the possibilities this night seems to hold out to her. If she was just brave enough to reach out and grab them.

(Y/N) unlock the door and turns back around to face Bucky. Something seems to hang in the air right between them and that feeling only gets stronger as their eyes lock. For a moment all there is, is silence and an abundance of unspoken words. And a fear that comes with speaking them. Of messing something up. Of being vulnerable.

Bucky smiles at her then. She loves his smile. It’s so rare but it’s so beautiful to look at. It gives you the feeling of having done something right.

“ Thanks for today, “ he says as if there’s anything to thank her for.

“ For what? “

“ Letting me be a part of your family. Thought maybe you didn’t want your parents to know about me. Thanks for — not being ashamed of me or anything. “

“ Oh Bucky, “ she says and grabs his hand, “ You are my friend and I love you. I’d never be ashamed of you. If anything I’m a little embarrassed by the way my dad kept pestering you with questions. Uh — why are you looking at me like that. “

“ You love me? “ his voice comes out but a mere whisper and his eyes are wide in shock.

“ Yes. You’re my friend, I love you. Bucky when — when was the last time someone told you they love you? “ (Y/N) asks as her hand softly strokes the side of his face.

“ 1942 “

“ Well, guess I’ll have to keep reminding you then, make up for lost time. I love you, Bucky Barnes. “

She can’t even blink before she’s wrapped up in his arms. Despite what one would think, Bucky is always warm. Even the vibranium arm. Everything radiates warmth and comfort. She could stay here forever.

Slowly he pulls away, looks deep into her eyes, lowers his head, and places his lips against her forehead. “ I love you too. “

He smiles at her once more then leaves. And while she won't admit it to anyone, ever, (Y/N) goes inside, leans against her door, sinks to the floor, and doesn't even try to suppress the foolish smile spreading on her lips.

Robin’s laughter fills the halls of the beautiful Inn where just tomorrow she’ll say I do.

“ This was your doing! You scheming little shit.” (Y/N) grumbles from the corner of her mouth as she slides up to Robin.

“ It wasn’t, “ the red-haired girl laughs “ but I wish it was. It’s hilarious.“

Redstone Lodge is a beautiful Inn located in upstate New York. It looks out onto a lake and is surrounded by lots and lots of Christmas trees all year round. It’s made of bricks and big wooden panels. Very rustic and yet cozy and elegant. In the yard, there’s a huge tent with a wooden floor and a see-through roof. That’s where the reception will be held tomorrow.

Redstone Lodge has 35 rooms all of which have been distributed to the various guests. They’re beautiful rooms with nice decor and comfortable beds. Well — a bed. One. Singular.

“ This is like some fanfiction trope, Robin. There is only one bed? “

“ Look," Robin says and pulls (Y/N) closer “ if you want to switch, find someone to switch with. I’m sure someone is willing to. But I’m just saying that if you two are friends, shouldn’t you be able to sleep in a bed together and not make it weird? “

She has a point and she knows it and she also knows that (Y/N) knows it.

Huffing a breath of annoyance (Y/N) grumbles an “okay fine” before letting Robin be taken hostage by yet another overly excited aunt and returns to Bucky’s side as he stands on the front steps looking out into the vast area. It really is a beautiful place to get married.

“ Hey so uh — bad news is that this is the only room they have so we’ll have to share a bed. Good news is they got some movies to take up to the room and I found some really dope rom-coms. “

“It's okay, don't worry. I promise I won't hog the blanket,” Bucky says and nods his head into the direction of the lake “ wanna take a walk? “

“ Sure. Yeah, why not. “

In all honesty (Y/N) isn’t the biggest fan of walking around the woods with no particular destination in mind and yet she can’t help but feel a sense of happiness fill her as she links her arm with Bucky’s once again.

She realized a while ago that she tends to gravitate towards his left side. It isn’t a conscious decision but maybe it’s a good one nonetheless.

Maybe it’ll show him that every part of him is worth loving, even the ones he doesn’t love himself.

“ When was the last time you did something crazy? “

He doesn’t like the way those words sound tumbling from her lips. He does, however, like very much how her eyes sparkle in the light of the setting sun. Their walk had turned into a bit of a hike and by the time they’ve finally made it back to the lake, the sun is about to set. Everyone seems to have retreated back into the lodge, maybe to sit by the big cozy fireplace or up to their room with their several beds. More than one. plural.

Bucky doesn’t want to let go of their time together though. Not yet. Just a little bit longer. And if that means agreeing to one of her weird ideas, so be it.

"Uh well, I fought aliens a few months ago."

"Huh … well see that's not an answer I was prepared for I mean more like, when did you last do something stupid but fun?"

“Like dancing in the middle of a street or having a cake fight in a parking lot?”

“Yeah …. like that.”

She looks at him again with that mischief and that softness. Like a mix of all things that make you feel alive shine back at him from her eyes.

“Wanna go swimming?” (Y/N) asks and smirks at him.

“Now? It’s freezing.”

“ I know,” she replies and shrugs her shoulders “ and I know it’s silly and dumb and we’ll probably get sick but I kinda wanna do it anyway. Wait … can you get sick?”

“Huh?”

“Because of the serum.”

“You know, they didn’t exactly give me a manual when they injected it so — guess we’ll have to find out.”

“So you’re in?”

Bucky only nods his head in agreement. She doesn’t need to know that he’d agree to anything she suggests. Any little thing.

The woods around them are dark and thick and where they probably should be scary they are comforting now. They’re a shelter from the eyes of onlookers. A safe roof and walls to keep their little bubble safe and hold their moment tight and safe.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing!” (Y/N) hisses through clenched teeth as the water reaches up to her shoulders, the straps of her yellow bra the only colors shining through the dark night.

Don’t think about it. He has to tell himself. Don’t think about the fact that she’s only in her underwear. Don’t think about her soft skin and her smile and what her body feels like against yours. Don’t!

He doesn’t have to scold himself for too long before a cold splash of water hits him right in the face.

“Oh, you made a mistake” Bucky calls out to a laughing (Y/N) who tries her best to tread water and get as far away from him as possible but fails to do so, being wrapped up in his arms only seconds later.

For the next few minutes, they splash around like children at the neighborhood pool.

The cold of the night and the lake rattle their bones but neither of them seems to care as a familiar warmth wraps itself around their hearts.

It’s really fascinating how the little moments can become so meaningful. How one person can mean so much so quickly. How drastically your life can change just because of one single person and their kindness and their love.

“Oh-oh!” (Y/N) exclaims excitedly and lays little enthusiastic slaps on Bucky’s shoulder “let’s do the dirty dancing lift. You can lift me, right?”

“I have a vibranium arm…”

“Right. Yeah. Right.”

Bucky places his hands on her waist and pulls her a little closer, trying to ignore the incessant thumping of his heart that feels like it wants to break out of his chest. “Okay on 3.”

“One”

Her eyes look deep into his as if trying to search for something in them. Secrets. Hidden feelings. The truth.

“Two”

And when she smiles, almost shy, it seems for a second that she’s found whatever she’s been looking for. He hopes she likes the secret she uncovers. He hopes it doesn’t scare her off from loving him.

“Three”

In a swift motion, he lifts her up above his head, holding her strong and steady as drops of water, cold as ice, rain down on him while (Y/N) laughs and stretches out her arms.

“We did it! I’m flying, Jack!”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” She retorts and lets out another laugh. Yeah, maybe he’s freezing his ass off but to hear her laugh like that, makes it all worth it.

He doesn’t let her fall over like they do in the movie, instead, he grips her waist tighter, slowly and gently lowers her back into the water. And when she’s back right in front of him, chest against his, he should be letting go of her, but he doesn’t.

While his head keeps screaming at him to just let go, his heart tells him otherwise, makes him stay right there.

(Y/N)’s arms move across his chest and gently wrap themselves around his neck before her fingers start to delicately play with his hair.

He wonders if any person has ever felt the way he does in that moment. He wonders if maybe a poet or a writer or a musician has and if maybe they wrote a poem or a book or a song about it. Maybe that would help him understand. Maybe he could read it or listen to it and keep this moment captured in that piece of art forever. Because he fears that no memory can ever do justice to the way he feels when she moves closer.

When her hand cups his face when her nose nuzzles against his so gently as if she’s afraid he’ll pull away any second.

It’s just them and their wildly beating hearts and the woods providing them shelter and the water setting the scene and the stars shining down upon them.

It’s just them — until it isn’t.

“(Y/N), Bucky? You guys out there?” Robin's voice calls out into the night as her silhouette appears against the light coming from the porch of the Inn.

“Yes, it’s us. We’ll be right in.” (Y/N) calls back, having moved away slightly. The spell is broken and Bucky lifts his hand off of her, immediately missing the contact.

“It’s freezing, we should probably go inside.” She says and grants him a smile, though it doesn’t entirely reach her eyes and he can faintly see her shivering.

“Yeah let’s go. Get you warmed up.”

They don’t talk about their moment as they head inside and get swallowed by the group of people all hyped up with excitement for the coming day.

Bucky is sure though that as long as there are stars in the sky, he will not forget this moment however fleeting and insignificant it might seem.

TAGLIST FORM (fill this out to be added)

Taglist // if you want to be added or taken off just message me :) //:

@zaynyierulez - @je-like-you - @dracoxxyoflam - @jackiehollanderr - @majo240820 - @kay-gilles - @booksb4looksstuff - @jckie94 - @charmed-asylum - @shawnie--jo - @yllwtaxi - @tailsoflightning - @giuliarogers - @mangoogirl - @gerim-1995 - @elen-alambil - @threeminutesoflife - @writeroutoftime - @buckybarn3s - @rosaline-black - @kenziekugler22 - @vghz82 - @frnkensteingrl - @lovefreylove - @cherryofdeath - @bluemoon-icecream - @mariusprincess-blog -

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x freader #james barnes x f!reader #james barnes x reader #James Barnes x female reader #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

Text

Do Well. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

warnings: dabi is just a huge asshole, emotional manipulation, implied panic attack word count: 2.6k.

“Would you be a dear and wait here for a few? I need to take a call.”

Dabi tilts his head alongside his words, glints of amusement present in his sapphire eyes. You’re certain the bastard picks up on every subconscious movement your body makes at the question, feeling like an open book before him. Despite your valiant efforts, human biology doesn’t operate in your personal interest. The challenging premonition causes your lips to curl down, fingers twitching on the wide straw of your milk tea. Pausing mid sip, you pull back, eyelashes fluttering. It’s the subservient behavior he wants to see, and considering the alternatives, you’re tripping over yourself to give it to him.

“... Of course. I should just stay here, right?” It’s more of a question posed for your sake than his, information vital to keep your head above water. Any movements on your behalf that even hint at disobedience could lead to dire consequences, ranging in severity. The worst of which is being confined back to his dingy apartment, with nothing but your thoughts to entertain yourself. All the faux smiles, carefully timed giggles, and strategic brushes of skin against skin would be for naught. You worked too hard for these trips outside for it to fall through your fingers like sand.

Your captor makes a point of giving you a once over, lackadaisical visage a front for a predator in waiting. Condensation builds up against the plastic container in hand, making it tricky to tell if it’s your hands growing clammy or the drink. Time passes by at a snail’s pace, neither of you making the slightest of movements. People go about their lives in happy-go-lucky bliss, none the wiser to the potential harm that Dabi poses. Feeling finally returns to your body as he stands, seemingly content with the exchange.

He shoots you a coy look over his shoulder, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Dabi snickers at how your nose scrunches up, waving and slinking off with his phone in hand. You watch his retreating figure, still in disbelief over the unfolding events. This would be the first time since being kidnapped that you’ve been on your own in public. These special little outings were a privilege, one that you had worked diligently for. Consistently being on your best behavior, day after day, in the presence of someone you abhor from the depths of your soul is no easy task. A rush of adrenaline shoots through your body when he’s out of sight, eyes darting around in excitement.

This is a prime location to make an escape, the outdoors of a crowded mall in the afternoon. Everyone ranging from families, to couples, and employees on their lunch break are walking around. Lively chatter fills your ears, and you observe every possibility as if it’s your last. While it’s likely a futile dream, the rush your quickening pulse brings demands attention. Lithe fingers shake by your side, every ounce of your strength devoted to keeping yourself from unraveling at the mere concept of being free. He has to be watching. You know him well enough that he wouldn’t have offered the opportunity to escape on a silver platter, there’s got to be measures in place.

There’s no way he isn’t keeping an eye on you now, making sure that you hold true to your word of behaving.

Your shoulders slump at this cruel reality. The act of looking around excitedly would be too much of a give away, an observation he’d surely bring up later. An eruption of goosebumps dot your skin, even in the sweltering summer heat. Taking another sip of your drink, you abandon hope of escape, certain it’d be a mistake should you try it. Though he’s purposefully kept you in the dark on most of his relationships with the League of Villains, you can safely assume he’s interconnected with enough unsavory figures to locate you should it be necessary. In contrast to the sugary goodness that coats your tongue, a sour taste in your mouth develops at this blatant flaunting of power. What an asshole.

To be so self-assured that even in the event of your escape, hunting you down and bringing you back into his loving arms is still within the realm of possibility. Your eye twitches at this realization, mentally flinging numerous curses towards him. He didn’t have to make it so obvious, rubbing salt on the theoretical wound of your pride. Too preoccupied with festering thoughts of resentment, you fail to notice a figure taking a seat next to you on the bench.

“Is the drink not good or something?” A light, masculine voice asks from your left. Darting around immediately at the interruption of your venomous thoughts, you spot a man around your age. Sporting messy brunette hair and a casual get up of a tee with a pair of jeans, it tugs painfully on your heart to see someone living an uninhibited life as you used to. This envy mutates into horror, as you realize being caught speaking to a stranger is going to land you in boiling water. Dabi’s consciousness is a minefield in waiting, daring to blow at the slightest wrong movement.

What do you do? It might leave a wrong impression should you not say anything. The current times are plagued by high tension. Numerous League of Villain attacks have rendered the surrounding regions on constant alert, news anchors telling folks to be wary of anyone or anything suspicious. Weighing your options, you decide to dismiss the stranger in kind as fast as humanly possible.

Just act natural, act natural… “W-why do you say that?”

Shit. Your first conversation with someone other than Dabi in over half a year has left you thoroughly horrified, pupils no doubt dilated and voice meeker than a mouse squeak. The stutter has you wincing, your naive companion undoubtedly picking up on it. You want nothing more than to shoo him off, but in fear of drawing unwanted attention, attempt to suppress your frayed nerves. You’ve been through worse than a strained conversation and made it out relatively unscatched, but this feels like a different type of battle.

“You just seemed to be making quite the upset face,” he chuckles, reminiscing on the thought. He must’ve been referring to the glowering thinking about Dabi brought out from you. “I swear I’m not a creep or anything. I was just waiting to pick up my little sister, and happened to catch you scowling.”

“The name’s Ryota. And you?”

Suppressing panic that threatens to drown you, you swallow thickly. “I’m uh, Hina. The drink is fine… I just have a lot on my mind.”

The lie is seasoned with enough truths that you hope it isn’t too transparent. Giving away your actual name could hint back to missing person’s cases, the thought of which would greatly displease Dabi. Besides, if it had been as simple as going to the police, you would’ve done it by now. You’ve grown uncomfortably familiar with Dabi’s workings, killing off a few people or bribing them would be one of the least heinous things in his portfolio. You figure the best case scenario here is that this well meaning Ryota character leaves you be, or else dire consequences will come to fruition.

“Good to know, Hina-san. My lil sis talks about boba often, but I’ve never gotten that into it. I figure since the store’s right here, I should surprise her with a drink. What would you recommend?”

You can’t help but greedily soak in the normalcy an interaction like this brings with it. The irritation from being drawn into a conversation is replaced with pity, a stronger resolve to keep this bystander out of harm’s way blooming. There’s no time to be wasted on the warmth erupting in your chest, or on the first genuine smiles in months that’s settled on your lips. To see the best humanity has to offer, after being subjected to the worst, is a much needed breath of fresh air. While it may be greedy to fixate on these aspects, you find yourself wanting to savor the moment of being a regular person.

Surely, Dabi would understand your logic.

“It depends on her tastes. If she likes sweeter drinks, I’d recommend Thai milk tea. If you’re not sure, classic milk tea is always a safe bet.” You’re proud of how you’ve been able to pull yourself together, speaking like you used to. With this, he should be set to leave, or at least you want to believe this. Unfortunately for you, life is never so easy. He doesn’t seem interested in going anywhere anytime soon, crossing his legs and leaning slightly closer to you. Realizing your mistake of radiating friendliness, your muscles go taut.

You need to do something about this before it’s too late.

Ryota scratches his head, mulling over your advice. “I’ll keep all that in mind. I appreciate your insight.”

“It feels nice to be able to chill and talk like this every now and then. If I’m being honest, I was somewhat against my sister coming out to hang with friends,” Ryota’s tone takes a turn for the somber, face looking crestfallen. “With all the chaos that’s been around, y’know. It feels like everyday I wake up to more of those League of Villain stories. It feels like it’ll just be a matter of time until something happens near here.”

“I’m sorry that--”

“Things sure are rough,” A voice that brings out every negative emotion possible speaks up from behind you, Dabi’s familiar figure slithering into sight. He takes a seat on the bench, close to your person, wrapping a tight arm around your shoulder. “I hate to interrupt, but I need to borrow her for a bit. You mind?”

Neither of you were expecting the sudden interruption, Ryota trying to piece everything together. “Oh, uh, not at all.’

Everything hits you like a ton of bricks. From Dabi’s rich cologne that mixes in with the smell of ash, his hair brushing against the side of your face, to the possessiveness of his grip. He squeezes your shoulder, looking from Ryota to you. It takes a moment to register what he’s communicating, but you’re able to decipher the gesture. In a last ditch attempt to salvage this situation, you confirm Dabi’s statement before things get ugly. Nodding your head, you watch with bated breath as Ryota looks from Dabi to you. He gets up from his spot on the bench, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets.

“It was nice talking to you.”

Ryota heads off towards the mall doors, leaving you in the clutches of the devil incarnate. You feel how terribly warm Dabi is next to you, words wanting to spill out to justify the actions that led up to this moment. Before you get the opportunity to ramble out your thoughts, Dabi places a finger on your lips, looking at you with the same grin as always.

“Making some new friends, hm?” He inquires, drawing out the syllables. His finger goes south, lifting up your chin, and holding you close to his face. “Awe, babe. You look like you’re aboutta cry. Don’t give me that look.”

You’re not sure if you should feel horrified at his sudden spike in talkativeness, or relieved over not having to speak your piece yet. The words wouldn’t be able to leave your mouth even if you wanted them to, a lump forming in your throat to coincide the dryness of your tongue. Dabi makes a point of emphasizing his engulfing height, having to tilt your head up to maintain eye contact. Not wanting to make a scene, you do everything within your power to still the tears that are threatening to spill out. There’s no visible signs of wrath, not that you can pick up on. He watches with great interest as you calm yourself, releasing the grip on your face and leaning back into the bench.

When you appear sufficiently soothed, he speaks up once more, voice grating your ears. “So tell me, doll. What was all that about? I knew you’d be hurting for company in my absence, but I didn’t think you’d be so bold as to speak to someone else.”

“I… I was approached, and… I swear, nothing happened. He just-- just wanted to know about a drink for his sister, and--”

Dabi gently flicks your forehead, unable to stifle his cackling any longer. “I’m just messin’ with ya. I saw everything.”

It doesn’t settle in immediately, the hypothetical cogs and gears of your head turning in slow motion. Your heart is pounding so violently that you hear it in your ears, your face erupting into a bright red. Humiliation, indignation, and finally, loathing take turns dominating your mind. He’s always had the best of times playing with you at your own expense, poking and prodding to see what reactions he can get. There’s a knee jerk reaction to want to slap him, anything to let out these overflowing feelings. Knowing that getting bothered is what he finds the most pleasure in, you’re further motivated to gain control over yourself.

A deep breath. Inhale, exhale. You continue repeating these steps, biting your tongue to the point it stings. Dabi rests his head on his fist, watching you calm yourself down through lidded eyes. You really do get yourself worked up so easily, it’s endearing. He wants to pinch your cheeks and tease you more, but is feeling generous enough to give you this time to gather yourself. There’ll be plenty of time to play with you later, occupying himself with this cute sight placates him for the time being. When you finally reopen your eyes, you’re met with the deplorable sight of Dabi’s crooked grin.

“Can we just… go home? Please?” You hate how weak your voice sounds. You hate everything about this situation, about the life that you’ve been forced into living. How you have to adapt to unspoken rules, subjected to twists and turns that never let you lower your guard. Most of all, you hate the person who has done this to you. His touch, his scent, his voice, all of it. You want nothing more than to scream at him at the top of your lengths, ripping that satisfied looking off his flesh and ridding yourself of this turmoil once and for all.

“Hm? Already? I thought you were hoping to get some dinner out tonight.” Dabi keeps up an air of nonchalance, likely wanting to hear you repeat yourself. Not willing to give in outright, you instead bunch up the fabric of his jacket with your hand.

“Dabi…”

It’s a low plea. You know you’ve gotten your point across ages ago, but he’s deriving too much pleasure from seeing how you squirm. The painful utterance serves you well, earning the slightest bit of reprieve as he gets up. On shaky legs, you follow after him, head downcast. Fixating on the tops of your shoes, you wonder if distracting yourself might do anything to ease your tormented soul. The events of the day have left you thoroughly exhausting, and nothing sounds better to you than sleeping for as long as he’ll allow you.

“Alright, alright. Let’s head on back,” he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. No longer having strength to muster up in retaliation, you let him do as he pleases, still fighting down sniffles. “Don’t bother your pretty little head about this.”

You don’t bother honoring him with a reaction.

Dabi takes a final glance over his shoulder, spotting the pesky man from before, who is still waiting against a wall. He takes a mental picture of the notable features, lips settling into a deep frown. How troublesome. Before you notice anything, he picks up his pace, continuing the walk back to his apartment. Ideas and resentment swirl within his mind like a tornado, pent up frustration begging to be released.

All in due time, he thinks.

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