#puffy tumbler wrap

[jumbosvg]

128 Christmas Tumbler 3D Inflated Png Bundle

[gemviews]

[   RAFE CAMERON  ]         ―         OH , LITTLE MISS KOOK PRINCESS !   ━━━ PART ONE !

pairing: kook princess!black fem!reader x postseason3!rafe cameron.

summary: another party at the country club—one of your favorite spots to frequent. rafe, as usual, is there too, but this time, he’s fed up. your attitude, the one you always throw his way whenever you cross paths, has finally worn thin. but something’s different tonight. the usual playful banter between you two stops abruptly, and it pisses you off more than you care to admit. little by little, you start realizing it’s not just silence—it’s a game, and without even knowing it, you’re slowly playing right into rafe’s hands.

warnings: just pure sexual tension from rafe, craved attention from the reader. bratty x ignoring asshole.

"he’s with his coke whores again," y/n muttered, grimacing as she swirled the crystal tumbler filled with tequila and a hint of orange juice.

her two-toned, glossed lips parted slightly as she brought the thin black straw to her mouth. rafe hadn't even glanced her way after stepping into the island club, his focus elsewhere as he strode past her at the bar without so much as a nod. she had glared at him, and he had seen it—but chose to ignore her.

he did it on purpose.

now, rafe was lounging in the open seating area, his laughter echoing across the room as the usual crowd of kooks girls fawned over him, each one desperate for his attention.

they gathered around him, preening and giggling, all except y/n—the one girl who hadn’t fallen at his feet the moment she arrived in the outer banks.

that defiance had earned her the nickname "kook princess," a title once reserved for his sister, sarah cameron, before her relationship with john b. routledge became public knowledge in figure eight.

y/n, however, never seemed to care about the label, though she certainly lived up to it. her grace, her effortless elegance, and most of all, her humility—it was almost as if she hadn’t come from money at all.

and that’s exactly what infuriated rafe. how could the so-called "princess" be so kind to everyone else, yet reserve all her icy indifference for him? he wasn’t used to women turning away when he spoke to them, let alone ignoring him entirely. it gnawed at him in ways he didn’t want to admit.

rafe could feel the icy glare from y/n long before he turned his head in her direction. when he finally looked at her across the room, her bare back was to him, her posture tense, almost defiant.

what began as a passing glance quickly turned into a locked stare.

after downing her tequila sunrise, y/n moved away from the bar and drifted toward the catering area. she picked up a small slice of tiramisu, her fingers delicately wielding a plastic fork as she cut into the cake and brought a bite to her lips. she slid the fork into her mouth slowly, savoring the taste.

in rafe’s eyes, everything unfolded in slow motion. his gaze followed the curve of her toned brown legs, up to where her skinny heels wrapped around her ankles. the light pink dress she wore flared just above her thighs, its puffy hem contrasting with the way the fabric hugged her slim waist. the dress dipped low in the back, held up by thin straps—straps rafe wanted to slip off her shoulders so badly.

as y/n licked the frosting from the corner of her mouth with the tip of her tongue, rafe’s breath hitched. every bratty remark that left her mouth only made him angrier, but god, how he wanted that mouth on him.

“rafe?” one of the girls’ voices broke through the haze, snapping him out of his daze. she held up a small ziplock bag filled with a white, powdery substance, grinning. “wanna turn this club up?” she asked, her smirk full of suggestion.

surprisingly, rafe had been sober for two weeks. he sucked his teeth, battling the familiar itch crawling up his spine before waving off the offer. “not tonight,” he muttered, excusing himself from the group with a forced smile.

meanwhile, y/n, having noticed him staring earlier, mentally rolled her eyes. with unnecessary force, she stabbed her fork into the middle of the tiramisu, leaving the plate behind on the catering table before spinning around with attitude, as if anticipating rafe’s approach. she knew he was creeping closer, just like always.

there he was. rafe wore that same cocky smirk she’d always wanted to slap off his face. “nice dress,” he teased, letting his fingers graze the puffy hem of her dress. “didn’t know you were attending an elementary school graduation.”

before he could pull away, y/n swatted his hand, her glare sharp enough to cut. “oh, mr. cameron,” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “shouldn’t you be on your third line of coke by now? or are we saving the overdose for later?”

rafe’s jaw clenched at her words, his jawline sharpening as he swallowed down the sting of her remark. she always knew exactly where to hit, and he hated how much it got to him. “okay, princess,” he bit out, the usual arrogance in his tone replaced with something heavier, something resigned.

y/n’s perfectly arched brows furrowed in confusion. usually, rafe would fire back with something about her mother marrying into money or call her a skank in front of everyone. but this? this felt different. and for a moment, it threw her off her game.

her eyes darted around him, tracking his every movement as the tall frame of his body loomed over her, casting a shadow that seemed to shrink the space between them.

without breaking eye contact, rafe reached behind y/n, effortlessly grabbing the tiramisu she had abandoned on the table. the subtle scent of his expensive, woodsy cologne filled the air as he leaned in closer, brushing the edge of her personal space.

despite the intimidating stance he held, y/n refused to back down. “okay, princess?” she repeated, her voice laced with a dry laugh.

“don’t tell me you’re getting tired of me already,” she teased, her eyes glinting with challenge.

rafe responded with a low, sarcastic laugh, running a hand over his freshly buzzed hair. before y/n could brace herself, he did something unexpected—he picked up the tiramisu she had been eating, calmly cutting off another piece with the fork and taking a bite from the very same utensil she had used. his eyes never left hers as he chewed, the audacity of it all catching her completely off guard.

she couldn’t believe it. rafe was deliberately toying with her. he had gone from ignoring her to refusing to engage in their usual back-and-forth, and now this? he was pushing her buttons, and it was clear what he wanted.

he wasn’t just teasing her—he wanted her to crave the attention he was withholding. he was determined to make her fall at his feet, and he wasn’t going to stop until she did.

“tired of the kook princess? hm, never.” rafe smirked as he set down the plate after indulging in her tiramisu. “that’s good tiramisu. you should finish it.”

he turned as if to leave, but stopped just beside her, his presence lingering like a shadow. her tightly curled bundles cascaded down her back, and without hesitation, rafe reached out to push a strand away, his fingers lightly grazing her skin. he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to her ear.

“this little thing? it’s done. so watch your mouth from now on,” he whispered, his voice low and edged with warning, before casually strolling away, hands slipping into the pockets of his tailored slacks.

y/n stood frozen, the warmth of his body still lingering in the space he left behind. her gaze flickered from the half-eaten tiramisu to rafe’s retreating figure, watching as he effortlessly melted into the crowd of the country club.

she scoffed under her breath, momentarily dumbfounded. had that been a genuine threat? she couldn’t be sure, but something about his tone lingered in the back of her mind, like an itch she couldn’t ignore.

one thing was clear—y/n didn’t know what game rafe was playing, but if he thought he could intimidate her, he was wrong. whatever this was, she was determined to come out on top.

y/n felt a rush of embarrassment wash over her, even though only a few familiar eyes were watching. she needed to escape, to find a moment alone to process what had just happened. her heels clicked sharply against the polished floor of the country club as she made her way back toward the entrance.

motioning to one of the staff, she requested her coat. the luxurious white mink slipped over her shoulders effortlessly, providing a brief shield against the chilly evening air that greeted her as she stepped outside.

her reliable mercedes benz was in the shop yet again, leaving her with no choice but to summon ubers one after another. not exactly fitting for the kook princess, was it?

standing on the concrete sidewalk, she forced polite smiles at the members passing by, whether they were arriving or departing. “where the hell is this ride?” y/n muttered to herself, tapping her phone screen impatiently as she checked the app for updates.

as the minutes dragged on, the unmistakable roar of a high-powered motorcycle engine filled the air. without even looking, she knew who it was.

there he was—the same buzz-cut brown atop a sleek black motorcycle, his arms flexing beneath the fitted v-neck polo he wore. a small gold chain glinted against his exposed collarbone.

he pulled off his tinted helmet, revealing the all-too-familiar smirk. what other kook would ride dangerously on a motorcycle if not rafe freaking cameron?

“c’mon,” rafe said, his tone short and demanding.

y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned her gaze back to the parking lot, hoping her uber would appear at that very moment. the last thing she wanted was to be roped into another one of his games.

“i wasn’t asking. get on.” rafe’s blue eyes bore into y/n, an unwavering intensity that made her heart race. still feeling bratty, she tossed her clutch at him, expecting him to catch it. slipping her phone into the pocket of her mink coat, she grabbed the helmet, fitting it onto her head with a huff.

with a cautious movement, y/n swung her leg over the seat behind rafe, settling down but keeping her hands stubbornly behind her. she refused to wrap them around him, even as the tension hung in the air.

rafe noticed her defiance, shaking his head with a low chuckle. he tossed the clutch aside, watching it sail into the parking lot, where it probably hit a nearby car. y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief. “you asshole! what the hell is your problem?”

she contemplated jumping off the bike, but before she could voice her anger, rafe revved the engine. he gripped the handlebars firmly, pulling back on the throttle as the motorcycle roared to life. y/n let out a startled yelp as they shot forward, the rush of speed immediately silencing her.

as they sped out of the country club parking lot, her arms instinctively wrapped around him, clinging tightly. rafe couldn’t help but chuckle at how quickly she capitulated.

“you have plenty at home. now be quiet, princess,” he teased, the thrill of the ride clearly delighting him.

“you’re a fucking psychopath! i want to get off!” y/n shouted over the roar of the engine as rafe swerved recklessly around cars, earning angry honks from irritated drivers. he ignored her, as usual, pushing her closer to the edge of her patience—and sanity.

y/n whimpered, her plump lips trembling as her arms tightened around him out of sheer fear. she hated motorcycles, and the way rafe was handling his made the experience unbearable.

rafe noticed the shift. her sharp remarks had faded into silence, replaced by the desperate grip around his torso. he felt the weight of the helmet pressing against his back, a clear sign that she had softened—fear had taken over. surprisingly, he didn’t want her like that, so he eased off, slowing down to drive more like a regular civilian under the night sky.

the rest of the ride around figure eight, leading to the y/l/n estate, was quiet. no more banter, no biting remarks from y/n. for once, the tension between them was replaced with an uneasy calm.

but deep down, he knew better. y/n wasn’t scared enough to lose her fire. the craving for attention still lingered beneath the surface—he could feel it. she just needed a moment to catch her breath.

rafe steered through the iron gates as y/n punched in the code, guiding the motorcycle up the long, empty driveway. her parents weren’t home—when were they ever? y/n exhaled in relief, grateful to have survived the wild ride back.

“ugh,” she muttered under her breath in mock disgust, realizing her head was still resting against rafe’s back as the bike came to a full stop right at the granite doorstep.

with a soft sigh, she straightened herself, pulling off the helmet and running her perfectly manicured fingers through her bundles to smooth out any potential frizz. “thanks,” she said, her voice quiet, almost as if the word was dragged out of her unwillingly.

rafe glanced over his shoulder, his fingers idly playing with the gold rings that adorned his slender hands. his eyes followed her carefully as she swung her leg over the motorcycle to stand, nearly catching a glimpse of the delicate white lace panties peeking beneath her dress. he quickly turned his head away, pretending not to notice the fabric, but a sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"you like white, rafe?" y/n teased, catching his gaze the second he turned away, having been caught in the act of sneaking a glance.

the sly smile faded from his lips, replaced by a casual shrug. "depends on who's wearing it," he retorted smoothly.

y/n smirked, shoving the helmet into his arms as she stepped closer. "so, me," she answered for him, her confidence palpable.

this time, it was rafe who had to look up. y/n leaned against the bike's handle, the scent of her signature ysl perfume swirling around him, intoxicating. his eyes trailed down to her chest, noticing how her breasts were perfectly pushed up beneath the fabric of her dress. finally, his gaze lifted to meet hers-soft, inviting, and utterly captivating.

for a brief moment, the thought crossed his mind-he could take her right there, out in the open, letting the entire gated community witness that rafe cameron had finally tasted the kook princess. while others begged for her, here she was, close enough for him to claim.

pushing aside his exotic thoughts, rafe smirked. “in your dreams, princess,” he shot back, effortlessly dismissing the confidence y/n was radiating. her lips twisted into a soft pout.

that face—that fucking pouty look—it was driving rafe into a mental spiral. the image of her beneath him with that exact expression was quickly taking over his mind, clouding his resolve.

y/n began to think that maybe he was serious about withholding his attention, but she had no idea—this was exactly what rafe wanted. he wanted her to crave it, to realize that he wouldn’t make it easy for her. she’d have to earn it, and he was going to make sure she knew just how hard that would be.

y/n refused to let her ego show any cracks. turning on her heel, her heels echoed loudly against the grand staircase leading up to the entrance.

“you owe me a new clutch, cameron!” she called out over her shoulder, before swinging the door open and slamming it shut behind her. in a final act of defiance, she flicked off the exterior lights, leaving rafe standing in the darkness of the driveway.

rafe ran a hand down his face, stifling a groan as he glanced down, noticing his helmet conveniently hiding the growing bulge in his slacks.

he needed to hurry—taking down little miss kook princess was becoming more urgent than ever.

part two coming soon — comment to be in included in the taglist!

[hoefordasmut]

Jasper hale smut

Fem reader x jasper hale

This is my first smutty post on tumbler

notes / warning : tummy bulge , sub reader , Dom jasper , make sure you wrap it before you tap it , jasper does not like to pull out , and that's kind of it!

Deep groans tickled your ear as Jasper thrusted deeply into your core, a thin sheet of sweat coated your forehead has you panted , eyes screwed shut in bliss.

"open your eyes darlin " Jasper's deep husky voice spoke from above you, your eyes opened as you placed your hand in his hair pulling him impossibly close. You wrapped your legs around his toned waist , pushing him deeper.

you mewled as he started to rub soft on your now puffy clit , begging for attention. "jazz" you groaned your hands pulling away from his hair electing a deep moan from him , your hands now roaming over his arms and chest, trailing over his scars.

"that's it, such a good girl for me." jasper smirked seeing you in this predicament, eyes blown with lust and teary eyed as you stared up at him , your breasts bouncing up and down with each of his harsh thrusts. Your tight cunt sucking him like a vice , all warm and wet for him, so inviting.

" please jazz I'm gonna cum!' You squealed your back arching , you're lips puckering pleading for a kiss. How could jasper deny you? his lips met your with desperation , jasper bit your lip drawing a speck of blood forming at your bottom lip, jasper eyed with with desire , slowly and trailed his tongue over to small speck of blood , groaning at the Taste of you.

"sugar, can you feel me right here " jasper placed a taunting hand on the bottom of your tummy pushing down slightly , as jasper thrusted into you a bulge formed , no wonder he felt so deep.

"Yes right there jazz " You whined the coil tightening in your tummy , jasper placed your legs over his shoulders , his thrusts now twice as deep and faster , chasing his own orgasm as well.

"fuck honey I'm gonna cum " jasper whined , suckling at your breasts, "cum in me please jasper " you cried with desperation your vision going white as you came, your release felt sweet and a wave of calm hit you, your cunt felt sensitive as jasper still thrusted into you making you moan out.

"Fuck Honey " Jasper stuttered as he came , thick hot ropes of cum into your now sensitive cunt , you twitched as he leaned forward to place a soft kiss to your puffy lips , whining as he accidentally pushed deeper in you.

"you okay darlin?" he mumbled into your neck as he placed soft kisses , "I'm okay jazzy" you mumbled sleepily , your body finally relaxing into the soft bed.

"I gotta clean you up now baby , don't fall asleep yet" jasper pulled away , pulling his cock out and tucking back away into his sweatpants , you whined as you felt his cum dribble out of your fucked out Hole. Jasper's eyes darkened as he took in the sight. Your legs shaky and legs still spread wide showing your cunt in all its glory.

Pink and puffy and very sensitive , clenching around nothing as his cum dribbled out , he watched has your cunt twitched as a glob of his cum trickled down your cunt and onto the bed.

lord how he wanted to fuck you again.

[gisellecnz]

Cherished moments.

(≧∇≦)/ Sypnosis. This is after your wedding with satoru. Your honeymoon together.

•Contents. Pure fluff, just fluff, reader is fem, gojo crying cuz your too pretty, cuddles

•note. I'm kinda new to writing + I'm new to tumbler, and english isn't my first language. So I'm sorry if my writing is kinda off, p.s if someone made a similar fic, please don't misunderstand. That might be just a coincidence, the moment I saw that picture of gojo (the one I used above this post) that inspired me to write a fic about it. Also, credits to the owner of the drawing! I just saw it on Pinterest and I don't know who the artist is.

It is now 11:48pm, it has been a long day and is probably one of your best days of your life. You are now married with the man of your dreams, the one and only Satoru Gojo.

6 hours ago was your wedding, the moment you started walking down the aisle, Satoru was in tears. You were also in tears, but Satoru was more emotional. You found it cute how his eyes were red and puffy after, you wiped his tears as you brushed your thumb over his wet lashes. You've done this before but now it felt so much more different- you've felt alot of butterflies in your stomach as satoru opens those eyes of his which you've adored a lot since you were in highschool. They were so pretty, they were as blue as the ocean.

You also couldn't believe you now have Satoru's surname. You are now called as Mrs. Gojo.

In Satoru's pov, he couldn't hold back his tears from seeing you. You were so beautiful, he thinks you were the most prettiest woman that has ever stepped into earth. His heart raced with anticipation, the way your pretty smile was illuminating the room, and how your veil was delicately flowing over your face like a cascade of dreams. The way your gown trailed behind you, your eyes sparkled with so much love and joy as you looked at him. He swore that if he was stuck in a time loop in this situation, he wouldnt get tired from it.

After you and Satoru exchanged your vows and said your "I dos", your friends: Shoko, geto, yuuji, Megumi, Tsumiki, nobara gathered for a group photo. Along side with that there's a seperate photo of you and Satoru kissing from the wedding. They are now framed, sitting on the lamp table beside you.

Right now, you are lying down on a hotel bed. Satoru made sure to book in a very luxurious hotel for your honeymoon. (It's also canon that he's rich rich)

You were very tired. Today was so much fun, you exchanged your clothes to a more comfortable one, which is why you are wearing satoru's shirt right now. It also has his scent in it which is why you always preffered to sleep in his clothes.

And there, your love of your life came out from the bathroom. He just took a shower, his fluffy white snowy hair is now wet. AND DAMN his towel was wrapped around his waist, his abs were showing. You've seen it a lot of times already but you just couldn't get used to it. Your face was now pink.

Satoru laughed at your actions, you were so cute. He dried his hair and changed into his clothes, he got into the bed and snuggled beside you.

"Tired, hm?"

Satoru layed down his head to your chest, he loves lying down there, he loves hearing your heart beats and the way your breasts were squishing his cheeks.

"Mmn, yeah."

You chuckled as you gave a kiss to his forehead, your fingers combing through his fluffy hair.

He looks at you with pleading eyes, looking like he wants something from you.

"More kisses- please?"

You gave a kiss to his cheek and his lips. "Gosh, so clingy as ever."

You said as you chuckled and smiled at Satoru. But suddenly you gasped as he rolls you over, making you the one on top of him now, laying down on his chest.

He gives you that cheeky smile, "I love you so much y/n, I literally couldn't hold in my tears back from seeing you in that wedding dress. "

You were about to say something but he cuts you off by kissing you in the lips. And starts saying one of the most sweetest things to you.

"The most-" a kiss on your forehead. "Gorgeous-" a kiss on your nose. "Prettiest-" a kiss on your lips again. "Sweetest-" a kiss on your left cheek. "Girl I've ever met. " a kiss in your right cheek.

His actions made you tear up, hes so sweet. But he wasn't expecting you to react like that.

"Hey, why're y' cryin? Don't cry." He frowns as he pulls you closer to him and gives you one last kiss to your forehead. You chuckle and tell him that's it's okay.

You both finally fell asleep, embracing each other. You will cherish this day forever.

note: I'm sorry if this is short and it's rushed plus again I'm sleepy and it's like 3:14 am, I'm gonna sleep now cuz I'm finally finished 🥰

[honeylullaby]

“Miss Baddingham, you are bad news.” PT.2

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / You, Lord Baddingham’s daughter, begin to fall in love with Declan O’Hara whilst working at Corinium, much to your Dad’s dismay…

18+ FANFIC / Super angst! Reader character aged at 21. Hope you enjoy!🩷

Tony Baddingham was apoplectic with rage, the most unsightly plum colour seeping over his hawk-like features, pacing up and down the room as you cowered in fear. “I thought as you got older, you’d be less of a bitch, but you’ve really pushed the boat out this year.” Your Dad spat, his bitter, harsh words feeling like a knife twisting in your heart. “Dad, I…” You began, but there was no point. He wouldn’t care to listen to anything you had to say right now. “In MY fucking office, on your first day. With HIM of all people? Do you want to make a fucking mockery of our family name? Of ME?” Tony continued to roar, his accusatory finger waving dangerously close to your face. Lighting his cigarette, Tony poured himself a tumbler of whiskey, taking a ravenous gulp and exhaling exasperatedly.

“Dad, please. I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to embarrass you. But I’m a grown woman, I’m sure it doesn’t matter who I see.” You mumble, discreetly wiping tears away from your stinging eyes. In a moment, you were sure steam would begin to pour from Tony’s ears, like a violent kettle over-boiling. Without saying a word, he leant into you and delivered a swift, firm smack across your cheek, lip curling with fury. There was a look in his eye that you hadn’t seen since you were a little girl — not just anger, but a soulless, unfeeling gaze. It didn’t matter that you were his daughter, he wanted to control you and if you didn’t adhere to his Draconian regime, you meant nothing.

-

Sprinting out of the Corinium building, clutching your stinging cheek and sobbing relentlessly, you ran as far as your legs could muster, aching limbs trembling to keep up with your pace. All you wanted was to run to Declan, to sob in his arms and for him to tell you that everything would be okay, but you simply couldn’t. The next best thing was your uncle Bas — who despised his brother anyway, so would be frenzied with rage as soon as he saw your tears. You flung open the door of Bar Sinister, hyperventilating through morose tears. Not only were you greeted by your uncle, but also a rather suave looking man with a particularly chiselled jawline and a round-bellied man with an affectionate grin.

“My God, angel. What’s happened?” Your uncle Bas gasped, bolting from behind the bar and wrapping his arms around you. Although you didn’t quite notice, Declan’s expression immediately hardened. Your right cheek has a rather ghastly red handprint across it, and your eyes were puffy with tears. “D-Dad.” You managed to mumble out. Bas’ soft hand was caressing the top of your head — his warm hugs gave you more fatherly comfort than Tony’s ever did. “He was absolutely frenzied and he h-hit me.” You sobbed again, resting your head against Bas’ black silk shirt. Emerging from the bathroom, Declan reentered the bar, expression immediately hardening at the sight of your tears.

“What tha’ fuck has happened?” He asked, taking a seat beside Rupert and Freddie, leg bouncing up and down in anticipation. “Tony’s fucking hit her.” Bas tutted under his breath. “He fucking WHAT?” Declan roared, slamming an enraged fist against the table, knocking his glass of whiskey on its side. Bas pulled away from you, sliding behind the bar and beginning to concoct the most horrific cocktail for you — fluffing gin, champagne and red wine into the biggest glass he could find. “What did you do that made him so angry?” Bas asked, slightly muffled as he bent down, searching frantically for his strongest bottle of vodka. “Well, I, err…” You panicked, swiftly glancing up at Declan with regretful, pleading eyes. He knows, you thought to yourself, begging Declan to read your expression.

He knows, thought Declan. You had been caught by half of the office, of course someone would’ve let slip to Tony. “Fuck. FUCK.” Declan howled, raking a hand through his chocolate curls aggressively. “What’s got into you?” The man you now know as Rupert asked him, his eyebrows furrowed inquisitively. “Declan, please.” You pleaded, rushing over to him and resting a gentle hand on his chest. “He fuckin’ hates me already, findin’ out I’m sleeping with his daughter isn’t gonna make it much better.” Declan tutted, covering your hand with his protectively. Bas, Rupert and Freddie exchanged astonished glances, Rupert unable to stop himself from giggling like a naughty child. “You’re not going to do anything, are you?” You whisper, feeling immediately comforted by his touch. “Of course I fuckin’ am. If he thinks he’s gonna get away with hittin’ ya’, he’s got another thing coming.” Declan yelled, pulling away from you and clenching his fists, imagining the sweet release of giving Tony Baddingham his just desserts.

“Well, you’re always full of surprises, aren’t you, Declan? I didn’t think you’d ever go as far as my niece but…” Bas tittered, trailing off slightly as he completed your hideous cocktail. As expected, Declan ignored Bas as if he wasn’t there, grabbed his brown leather jacket and bolted towards the door. Chasing after him, and still nursing your swollen cheek, you stood at the doorway. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?” You yelled towards the Irishman.

“He’s not gonna get away with it.” Declan reiterated, his face growing puce with rage.

[sweetenerobert]

the reality of loss

1.2k / pairing: tommy miller x sweetenerobert

summary: tommy notices his brother’s neighbor, robert, with a box in his hand; his curiosity gets the better of him

warnings: angst, grief, mention loss of a pet, crying, tommy being a comfort person, slight fluff

a/n: soooo, as you can see by the misleading tags, this isn’t a Tommy Miller x male reader, but it’s more of a self-indulgent fic. By the time you guys read this, it’ll be Sunday, but on November 25th, I woke up to find out that my hamster of three years, my literal child, had passed away. So, I wrote this to help process my grief in the only way I can think

Tommy knew the boy, Robert was his name, he was in college and nineteen years old. He seemed to be the life of the party wherever he went, singing and dancing at barbecues, making the people around him — day better. But Tommy noticed Robert was alone and no one was there for him.

It broke Tommy’s heart to see someone so full of life and light look gloomy and depressed. He watched Robert as he saw him go towards the side of his house — into his backyard. Tommy quickly got out of his truck and jogged quickly towards Robert.

“Hey, Robert. Everything okay?”

Tommy hated waiting for Joel. As much as he would never admit it, Tommy was an early bird and hated when Joel would make him wait. Tommy always yearned for an easy day that didn't consist of “patiently” waiting for his older brother. He took his tumbler and drank the hot coffee, looking around his brother’s neighborhood.

His eyes landed on the dark-skinned boy across the street, walking down his porch holding a cardboard box in his hand, looking distressed.

Tommy knew the boy, Robert was his name, he was in college and nineteen years old. He seemed to be the life of the party wherever he went, singing and dancing at barbecues, making the people around him — day better. But Tommy noticed Robert was alone and no one was there for him.

It broke Tommy’s heart to see someone so full of life and light look gloomy and depressed. He watched Robert as he saw him go towards the side of his house — into his backyard. Tommy quickly got out of his truck and jogged quickly towards Robert.

“Hey, Robert. Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Robert Shrugs. Tommy noticed that Robert didn't even move his head saying that lie. Usually, Robert would face the people he was talking to, but not this time; his mind was on something else.

“What’s in the box?” Tommy asked.

Robert stopped walking. Tommy kept walking for a bit but got back in front of Robert. He noticed that Robert seemed more than distressed; there were dried tears around his eyes, and his eyes seemed puffy and red.

“My pet hamster, Jupiter.” Tommy looked like he saw an animal get run over, shocked and confused. “She wasn't moving since yesterday, and I was just hoping that she was hibernating or something, but she —” Sniffles kept escaping Robert’s nose as he tried to explain to Tommy.

Tommy grabbed the box from Robert’s clammy palms, placed it on the ground, and wrapped his arms around Robert. Wet tears hit the tank top Tommy was wearing under his flannel as Robert connected his face with Tommy’s chest. Robert’s hands grip Tommy’s flannel as Tommy puts his chin on the boy's head.

“It’s okay,” Tommy consoled. “She’s finally at peace, ain't she?”

“Yeah,” Robert sniffles. “It just sucks, y’know. I wanted her to be here forever, which is so unrealistic, I know, but it's just some stupid kid fantasy.”

Tommy knew the pain of losing a pet more than Robert thought. Tommy still remembers when he was eighteen, and Joel was twenty-three, and someone had to put down their childhood dog. Tommy’s depression was terrible. He didn't think anything could “fix him.” But he was never “fixed”; time just kept passing, and eventually, he got over it.

“I understand clearly, bud.”

Robert starts backing away from Tommy, wiping his tears off his face. “Have you been all alone through this?” Tommy asks.

Robert nods his head. “Mom and Dad at work, brother went to school. I screamed, and I couldn't do anything. I was just — shocked, and then, making the burial, I started crying, sounded like a baby.”

“My backlock is busted, so I had to keep walking back and forth like a weirdo.”

“D’ya, want me to come with you? The worst feeling in the world right now is being alone.” Tommy States, crossing his arms.

“That would be nice, thanks Tommy.”

“No problem,” Tommy dismissed.

Robert attempts to pick up the box, but Tommy stops him, grabbing the back and strolling with Robert as they approach the backyard. Tommy noticed the small hole in the backyard with a makeshift cross; Tommy’s heart cracked seeing the scene.

As Tommy and Robert stopped in front of the small hole in the dirt, Tommy glanced over at Robert. Robert was avoiding eye contact with Tommy — just staring at the ground. Tommy placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder — farthest from him, inviting him for a side embrace. “Do you want to say anything before you bury her?”

“Isn’t that embarrassing?” Robert asks, glancing at Tommy.

Tommy shapes his lips in a thin line and shakes his head. “No, it’s normal.”

Robert shifts his view back onto the ground below him and takes a deep breath before opening his mouth. “Jupiter, thank you for being there for me whenever I felt alone. You were the best gift a guy could ask for, and I hope you’re finally at peace, running around fields and eating whatever your heart desires. I love you.”

“That was beautiful,” Tommy admitted.

“Thank you,” Robert sniffled.

“W-would it be okay if I said something?” Tommy asked.

Robert looked at Tommy but reluctantly nodded.

“Jupiter, You made this boy’s life seem happier than I’m guessing he was letting on. You were his best friend, therapist, and emotional support when he needed it. He loved and cared for you as if you were his child. Because of you, he made other people laugh, made other people’s days better, and made people smile when they went to sleep at night. You were everything to him, so thank you for being that for him, everything,” Tommy breathed.

Robert was blown away by what Tommy had said. Tears were streaming down his face as he was listening to Tommy. Bending down, Tommy placed the makeshift coffin in the hole in the earth.

Robert wrapped his arms around Tommy’s torso as he was standing up. “That was beautiful, thank you.”

“No problem,” Tommy smiled.

“Now,” Tommy starts, breaking the embrace and holding Robert’s face. “I’m gonna need ya to sit down so I can bury Jupiter for you.”

“No, Tommy. I can't let you do that. It should be me that—”

“No one should have to bury their kid at all. Please let me do this.”

Robert wanted to fight it and tell Tommy it was “okay, I can do it,” But Robert was too distraught to argue with Tommy. So he just nodded and sat down on the back steps, with his knees tugged toward him — head resting on his knees.

As Robert was reflecting on the times he had with Jupiter, Tommy sat down next to Robert, wiping his hands on his pants. “Finished already?” Robert asks.

Tommy nods. “Yep, I mean, the hole was like two feet, but, yeah, I finished.”

Robert chuckles for a moment. “Thanks again, you didn't have to do this.”

Tommy was looking at the distraught boy sitting centimeters next to him. Tommy’s lips connect with the boy’s forehead. “I wanted to do it. I didn't want you to go through this alone.”

“It’s just, what do I do now?” Robert asks.

“Now, you are going to mourn the loss of your pet. Go through the five stages of grief. It’ll be fuckin’ painful, but you can do it. I know you can.”

“But what if I can't? What if I’m so alone, I can't function by myself,” Robert asked.

“Then you call your friends, hell, call me, even. I’ll drop everything to make sure you’re okay.”

“You really think I can do it?”

Tommy nods. “You can do anything. You're more special than you believe.”

“I’ll try. I won't promise it’ll be pretty, but I need to do what I can,” Robert breathes.

“That’s all you can do, if anything. Call your friends or me. We’ll be here for you.”

Robert glanced down at his hands, hugging his knees as he noticed Tommy standing up. “This is the part I hate, where I have to leave you alone.”

“Tommy. I promise. If anything, I’ll talk to anyone.”

“You promise,” Tommy questions.

Robert nods. Tommy smiles, grabs the boy’s hands, and kisses them to calm the boy down. “Robert, you got this. I promise.”

I just wanted to show my baby really quick.😢😭

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the price of power - 05

pairing: mob boss!sebastian stan x wife!reader

part of handmaid | masterlist

warnings: swearing, mentions of organised crime and violence, arguments

Her heart was beating fast and strong, so fast and strong she could almost feel phantom pains around her ribs. She’d always imagine what it would be like, ever since she was a little girl. She used to wrap towels around herself and grab the flowers from the arrangements in the hall, pretending she was walking down to one of the boys in the posters of her bedroom. She never imagined it would be like this but she was happy it was, even if her dress wasn’t big and puffy and even if there wasn’t anyone walking her down the aisle. However, as the church doors open, all those childish fantasies paled in comparison to reality. Sure the dress wasn’t white, it was pale pink and short but they’d bought it on the way to France and his suit wasn’t pressed, he wasn’t even wearing a suit. Linen beige trousers and a white button up shirt with messy, unkept hair. She couldn’t want anything but that as she stepped up the stone stairs to hold his hand, the bouquet of daisies abandoned to the side. 

      - You sure this is what you want? - he mumbled to his fianceé, eyes looking at the priest who was waiting for him and then back at her. - We can do a big wedding, big dress and all that. 

      - This is what I want. You’re what I want. - she smiled. - You know, if you don’t take this veil from me I’ll do it myself. 

      - Let’s get married, angel. 

(...)

Meetings were good or bad, there were no in betweens and this one was a particularly bad one. It felt like an hours long meeting which had started last night at the dinner and had lasted until now almost midday. He’d usually not look at time during meetings but this morning, he was particularly interested on how his wife and kid were doing alone in the home. He’d spent the most of last night away from Y/N, actually, he didn’t even think he got the time to say two words to her during the dinner and ever since landing in New York, he hadn’t been spending as much time as he wanted with his son. He didn’t want to become his dad, didn’t want to be a ghost in his son’s life. 

       - We are handling this as if he’s not married. - the conversation suddenly shifted to him, catching his attention. - How are we supposed to accept that the assistant staff is actually the real kid? 

       - You better not be referring to my wife, Frank. - he put the tumbler down on the table. - Because if you are we’d have to finish this meeting in a much messier way than we usually do. Meeting’s over. 

       - Mr. Stan ...

       - You wanna talk about my wife? - he put his hands on the table, raising up and towering over everyone sat at the table. - You got a problem with my wife?

       - No, sir. 

       - Good. Get the fuck out of my sight. 

Everyone hung their heads out in shame, not daring to even say a single mumbled word until they were far from him. Last thing he needed was to have these idiots comment on his wife and her new occupation. She was doing well, she hadn’t disturbed anyone and if anything, she was behaving much more similarly to her father than to him. Not that he wanted his precious wife to behave like him, no, Y/N was too good to behave like him. Speaking of whom, he’d rather be with her now, apologising for leaving her this morning and leaving her to fend herself from the wolves. 

       - You know, Mr. Stan, they’re right. - Rosso pipped up. Great, that’s just what he needed. To have Forrester’s little mole around. He’d always been of great annoyance to him but now that Y/N was the one the little mole mostly responded to, it was even harder. - We cannot go about business as if your marriage is not part of the equation anymore.

       - Tell Forrester if he wants to know what I’m doing, he can just ask me. 

       - Forrester doesn’t want a merger, if he doesn’t strike up an attack against us ...

       - The meeting is over, Rosso. - he interrupted before anything could be continued. - We have an alliance and that’s it. Good afternoon. 

He wanted not to think about the issues that surrounded their marriage and her father’s unwillingness to have him anywhere near the business. He tried to just shake it off his back and behave as if things were the same as before he met her - yet this part of him, the man who’d kept the empire and built more over it would come out at night. He tried to shake it off again as he entered the car, thinking about his wife, his beautiful, too good to be true wife who he’d left this morning. He stopped by the flower shop on the way in, hoping lilies and white roses would somehow made it better that he’d left her all morning and most of the afternoon. 

      - Darling? - he called out as he entered the home. - Angel, I’m home. 

He listened up, hoping to hear footsteps that would easily result in her appearing, smiling at him like he usually did. Instead he was met by overwhelming silence. Great, she wasn’t home. As expected Nate wasn’t home either and he found himself sat in the couch, pouring himself a drink while staring at the penthouse he swore was their home but now felt foreign. It wasn’t the same, it wasn’t Paris, it wasn’t their life. It was his life coming back to haunt him, taunting him for wanting some sense of normalcy in his life. He waited and waited for her to return, staring at the clock until the sound of the door opening finally broke the wait. 

      - You’re home. - she smiled as she noticed him sitting in the couch. - I thought you’d be back tonight. 

      - How long did you think that meeting was gonna be? - he quipped, raising an eyebrow at her. - Where’s Nate?

     - With Gwen and Christian. 

     - Gwen’s here? What is she doing here and why is she with our son?

     - She’s his godmother, Sebastian. And yes, she was at the dinner last night and came over to see me this morning. 

     - Ah, great. - he rolled his eyes. She playfully hit his arm. - No, no, we love Gwen. 

     - She’s my sister, Sebastian and she knows how to handle this stuff. Besides, she has Nate until tonight ... we could go on a date. 

     - A date? - he smirked. - And what are you suggesting, angel?

     - Stop it, I said date not fuck me in every surface available in here. - she crossed her arms. - I was thinking dinner. We didn’t do a lot of New York dating and I’ve always thought it would be nice. It’s silly... uhm, if you want we can just stay in and ...

     - Angel, stop. - he cupped her face, bringing her closer to him. - You shouldn’t be afraid to ask me for a simple date. You know I’ll do everything for you. 

    - I know but ...

    - No buts. - he interrupted her. - Even though I do enjoy the sight of you naked in our bed, it’s not all I want to do to you. You’re my wife, I enjoy any and every time spent with you. 

Anyone would’ve melt in the arms of their partner if they’d said that to them yet Y/N stood in her own insecurity, masking it with a simple smile. She had known for very long and had guessed her husband would’ve been one to play the field. She’d heard it from Gwen before she’d even met him and she’d guessed merely for the way he carried himself. It’d never really bothered her, she tended not to allow herself to think about those before her, yet now she found herself stuck in the same pit of insecurities she’d always ignored. It was no longer a woman with no name and face, it was a woman she’d met - a woman who seemed 100 times better for him, more qualified, more his type. 

     - Luckily for you. - he took her hand in his. - I know just the place to take you.

     - Oh Seb, don’t make it fancy. You’re always making it fancy.

     - You are a very important woman, angel. I will always make it very fancy for you.

     - I just want a nice intimate dinner, not someone giving a plate with the portion for a toddler.

     - Luckily for you, I also know a place.

     - Where?

     - Mrs. Stan, you need to allow me to surprise you.

Sebastian had always been good at surprises, it was his favourite thing to do for me. He’d always been like this, ever since they met and it was the only thing he could say with certainty he was doing right. It didn’t matter if it was flowers every morning, late trips to the shops which would turn into makeshift dinners in the car or worldwide travelling - he knew they’d always made her smile. It made him feel safe and it made him satisfied knowing he could still make her smile. 

On the other hand, she was still somehow lost in her thoughts. She didn’t want to dwell on it, didn’t want to think of her husband with someone else. This was ridiculous, she’d never been insecure or jealous of the women before her because she trusted him and she knew he loved her. He also knew he made rash decisions when it came to how much he loved her, perhaps he hadn’t stopped to wonder if she was the right one. Sure, her father had the right title and she had the right parentage but ... but no matter how much she tried, she was not the type of person, the right type of person. 

      - Hey ... - he took her hand in his as they walked down the New York’ streets, his glove warming her cold hands. - Are you ok, angel? 

      - Just thinking.

      - About your dad? - he stopped walking, moving to stand in front of her. - He’ll be fine. From what I’ve heard he only needs bed rest.

She attempted to pretend it was her dad, after all she was worried about her dad. 

     - It’s not dear old dad. - he put his hands in his pockets. - Y/N, what’s wrong? You’ve been off since I’ve seen you. Did Gwen said something?

     - No. - she did. - I’m just tired, Seb. 

     - What did you do today?

     - You want a play by play of my day?

     - Yes, I’m interested. I spent the whole day in a boring mob meeting so please let me leave vicariously through your day. - he returned to walking, looking at her with a boyish smile that didn’t seem to age. 

     - Well, Gwen came into the morning and we went shopping for a while with Nate. Then she went to meet Christian for lunch and I had lunch with Alice Rosso. 

     - Alice Rosso? Rosso’s kid? 

     - Yeah. Do you know her? - she realised she should give her husband the benefit of the doubt. 

     - Talked a few times, wouldn’t say we’re friends. - he shrugged. - I don’t particularly like the Rosso family. They were always on your dad’s side anyway. 

     - What’s wrong with my dad’s side? - Sebastian opened the restaurant door for her to enter. - And what is great about your side?

     - My side isn’t great. - he told her after mumbling his reservation to the maître d'. - Your dad’s side isn’t great either but you do know I never liked your dad, even before we met.

    - He didn’t like you either. 

    - Don’t care. - he twirled her closer to him, her hands resting against his chest as if they were the only two people in the world. - You’re the only Forrest I want to like me. 

And there it was. He could always do that, swiftly take her into a state where it felt as if they were the only two people in the world. From his smile whenever he looked at the wines on the list to how he looked at her whenever she went on rambles about anything that went through her mind. She was so unbelievably happy with him and she loved him so much so how come those insecurities were now entering her mind? It was loud, screaming over all her thoughts and even as she looked at the features in Sebastian’s face which always made her feel safe, she couldn’t silence those voices. They were there, and it looked as if they were there to stay. Had he lied to her? Gwen had said it was well known Alice and Sebastian used to hang around each other and Alice spoke of him as if she knew him. If he had lied, why would he lie? Was he trying to spare her feelings? Spare how unbelievably unfit for him she looked when compared to Alice?

     - Do you think we’re a good match? - she found herself interrupting him with that question which spilled from her mouth like wine during a quiet night. He stopped, staring at her as if she had confessed a murder to him. 

     - What ... Why are you asking me that?

A million possibilities ran through his mind. Why was she bringing this up? Had her father been poisoning the relationship, had she heard things about his past, about his behaviour that was giving her second doubts? 

     - Just curious. - she attempted to lighten the mood, smiling as if it was a question as simple as someone’s favourite colour. - I ... 

     - What did Gwen tell you? - he crossed his arms. He knew Y/N was still close to Gwen, he knew she considered her a sister but he also knew she wasn’t the most ... sensible when it came to words. - I mean, did she say something? 

     - Alice Rosso appears to know you and Gwen said you two were ... close. 

     - I don’t know her. - he exasperated, tilting his head back before looking back at her. - We’re not close anymore. 

     - Well, were you ever close?

     - What are you asking, angel? Are you asking me if we’re best friends or are you asking me if I fucked her? - if she was up she would’ve taken a step back, attempt to diffuse the situation. - I used to sleep with her, that’s it. 

     - Ok. - she mumbled, looking at the napkin in her lap. 

     - I’m sorry. - he extended his hand towards her. - It’s just ... angel, it was just sex, it wasn’t anything else. We are not close, we didn’t spend time together except for for sex. 

     - She speaks of you very fondly. - she shrugged. - Kinda like a lover. 

     - I didn’t have a lover or a girlfriend. I had a contract to fulfil before we got together, remember? 

     - I was just curious. You never talk to me about your romantic life before we met. - she sighed. - I just ... I don’t want to be the one in a room who doesn’t know. Everybody looks at you like you’re so, so charismatic. Like you could move the moon and the sun if you wanted and last night ...

     - Last night was awful. - his grip tightened on her hand. - I should’ve been by your side. I’m sorry. 

     - I’m sorry too. 

     - You’re my girl. - his smile softened. - You’re the only important person in my life. You and Nate. My family.

And she really wanted to believe him, she really did. However, the voices were still there and she didn’t think they were gonna be silenced. Not any time soon.

////////////////////////

taglist: @buckysteveloki-me​​​ @sadbucksblog​

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you and jungkook eat breakfast (in?)front of the fridge.

> jungkook x reader

> fluff, slightly suggestive / wc: 2k

note: i just randomly thought of this when i was. guess what . drinking water infront of the fridge :]

—

jungkook kicks off the thick blanket in irritation, sheen sweat coating his honey skin as the scorching sun takes a peek at the couple laying on the bed. he sits up and glares at the airconditioner, coming to the conclusion that it has broken down for good this time. the digital clock on the nightstand read 09:21.

with a sigh, he turns over to remove the part of the blanket still enveloping you. he’s afraid you might’ve been having a hard time breathing from the heat. summer is almost over at this point in time, but the heat continues to be annoying and bothersome. one of the first things you both agreed about when you started dating was that summer is your least favorite season. ironic how it had to be your airconditioner to completely stop working during it.

a whine escapes you, the back of your hand unconsciously wiping across your sweaty forehead. your eyes are still closed, feeling too tired and too sticky to move. “can’t. breathe.”

“hold on, baby.” he quickly jumps out of bed and carries out the electric stand fan hidden in your shared walk-in closet. he makes sure it’s facing you properly before he plugs it in and turns it on to the highest level.

“it’s fucking broken, isn’t it?” you croak out, eyes slightly cracking open to bathe in the sight of your boyfriend in the mornings. his hair is sticking out in different directions. his pretty face is bare. his slightly puffy eyes stare back at yours, and he smiles softly at how you look adorable in your incoherent state.

“yeah,” he takes a quick glance at the airconditioner. “good thing it didn’t explode or something. i’m gonna call maintenance right away to take it out to be safe.” he rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he spoke, reaching out for his phone on the nightstand.

“okay, okay.” you mumble, closing your eyes to drift off again. it’s still hot and humid, but the fan tries hard at its job.

jungkook calls maintenance to explain what happened before hopping into the shower to refresh himself. he does it a bit quicker instead of taking his time like he usually does because he knows you will be waking up in a bit, and you will want to shower right away to get rid of the icky feeling like he did. it’s definitely not a good feeling.

when he comes out with only a towel wrapped around his waist, you’re already sitting on the edge of your side of the bed with your lips forming a pout and your forehead creasing to express utter discomfort. despite that, your eyes still can’t help to wander down his well toned body.

“i also find you attractive sweaty, but i also agree with you that you look hot when fresh from the shower.” your voice barely comes out even after drinking water from the tumbler you leave every night on the nightstand, but it’s still there. and you put it to good use. this is why jungkook finds you so fascinating.

“actually, i used the word ‘best’.” he raises an eyebrow at you with a smirk playing on his lips. your first statement wasn’t much of a confession. he already knew that for a while.

you’re not very well-versed in hiding your feelings.

“that’s arguable. i can think of many other jungkooks from different scenarios.” you shrug before standing up to walk past him, straight to the bathroom. “me, on the other hand, is feeling and looking at my worst. i need a fucking shower before i die.”

you hear his laughter past the wall that divides the two of you, making you smile as well before you strip off your clothes.

he dresses up into a white sleeveless shirt and shorts before heading to the kitchen to start preparing your breakfast. however, standing infront of the stove while cooking eggs, he starts to feel the temperature rising again. sweat starts to accumulate on his forehead. he heaves a sigh. fuck summer.

after transferring the eggs into a plate, he gulps down cold water down his throat infront of the open fridge. the cool air it emits washes over his body, and ultimately sparks a pretty ridiculous plan in his mind. but he executes it nonetheless.

—

you get out of your shared bedroom still drying your hair from the shower. the smell of the food engulfs the entire apartment, making your stomach grumble. not once in your relationship have you ever complained about food. thank you god for giving me the best boyfriend in the world.

and then all of a sudden, you’re greeted with the visual of said boyfriend setting up your plates over the laptop table you use on the bed for when you’re feeling lazy but forced to be productive. your laptop table. on the floor. infront of the open refrigerator, the door swung as far as it can possibly go.

“i made chicken sandwich for breakfast. and we have berries. and i also cooked an extra egg if you want some too.” he rambles on with a grin on his face, holding back laughter from the lost and confused expression painted on your face.

you can’t help but to copy paste the same stupid grin, too amused and too in love with the man who just sat infront of the small table and bent forward so the cold air could reach his face.

“isn’t this a waste of electricity or something?”

“google confirmed so. but we pay our bills now and our parents are not here to scold us about it.” he scrunches his nose, giggling at his own jokes because he’s been waiting to tell them to you.

“oh my god. you are so-” you cover your face while laughing, body vibrating. “making our trivial childhood dreams come true. one at a time.”

“what is this? that sounds like a good slogan for a commercial!”

“should we trademark it, then?”

you finally move from your previous spot on the floor, sitting infront of jungkook with your legs crossed as well. you’re surprised to feel how cool it actually is, more so since you just finished taking a long cold shower.

“this feels so nice.” you say absentmindedly, directed more at yourself.

“samsung!” he promotes enthusiastically, throwing up a thumbs up with the biggest smile on his face.

“okay, best brand ambassador. let’s eat quickly so we can get out of here.”

he nods his head several times, already taking the first bite of his sandwich. “let’s go shopping at the appliance store for a new air conditioner after. it’s always cold there. since they sell air conditioner and all that.”

you copy his movements, agreeing with him while munching on the food he prepared. except unlike your calm and peaceful demeanor, jungkook’s eyebrows are knitted and his legs are bouncing repeatedly in satisfaction.

“this is so good. i finally got the right amount of spices for the chicken.”

“hmmm, it is. so proud of you, baby. but i thought the last time was already perfect though.” you praise him immediately, wiping away the sauce on the corner of his mouth with your thumb.

“i’m learning from the internet well.” he answers modestly, puffy cheeks rising even more.

“you always put your own twist on the recipes, though.”

“you just gotta follow your gut in cooking sometimes. i’m lucky my gut doesn’t betray me.” he pats his stomach with a look on his face that says ‘gut, you did well’, pursing his lips into a line and nodding appreciatively.

by the time the maintenance people arrive, jungkook is already feeding on strawberries and you’re almost done with your sandwich. they pass by the kitchen and look at the two of you funny, making jokes about how the hot weather brings out the most creative sides of people just to escape the unbearable heat (side comment in your head: how is filling a bathtub with ice creative when the ice bucket challenge was a thing like more than five years ago?). how grumpy and upset the two of you must’ve been when you woke up with the air conditioner not working.

you hide your face inside the fridge in pure embarrassment, the spaces between the dividers more than enough for you to fit in. your boyfriend could’ve atleast warned you that they’d just barge in without asking for permission since the matter is urgent to some degree.

jungkook rides along with their jokes, laughing and clapping his hands in amusement. when they move on to the bedroom to do their work, he sighs and fans himself with his hand. “laughing is the best way to lose calories.”

he chortles at your current position, looking uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time.

he pops his head in the fridge to meet your eyes. “hi.” he greets you, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiles to make fun of you. “why are you hiding in here?”

you bite the inside of your cheek. “i think we should move to another apartment complex.”

“it doesn’t really work that way, my love.” he juts out his bottom lip in mock sadness, a big strawberry held by his hand suddenly taps your lips gently. “strawberry?”

you frown, staring at it for a few seconds before giving up and biting off half of it. he gladly eats the rest of it himself.

“come out and finish your food so you can make your temporary great escape to the appliance store.” he switches over to your side to sit next to you. but you refuse to move, feeling in the mood to tease.

“babe, hurry. they’re almost done taking out the old aircon too.” you bite back a smile when he sighs, already knowing what he has to do. you let him manhandle your weight over his lap, holding you firmly by the waist. the butterflies in your stomach do flips.

“finish your breakfast, or else you’ll faint outside.”

“yes, sir.” you oblige, finishing the remaining food on your plate in a few bites.

“good.” he presses a kiss on your temple, lips staying there a little longer than usual as if he wants to take in the feeling completely. his lip ring feels cold against your skin, something you’ve gotten used to over the past months. not that you mind. in all honesty, it’s a feeling you welcome with open arms. he then returns to leaning his cheek on the expanse of your back, arms embracing your waist.

“the strawberries from seokjin are so yummy.” you can’t help but express your thoughts as soon as you finish your third one, the juices staining your tongue with a distinct taste.

“shall we go strawberry picking in his uncle’s farm too?” he sweetly suggests, knowing that you’ve been wanting to visit there for quite some time now.

“are you kidding? yes, please.” you gleefully agree right away, picking out a fourth one from the bowl.

“okay, i’ll talk to him about it tomorrow.”

the two maintenance persons come out of your bedroom carrying the air conditioner, quickly bidding the both of you goodbye without looking because of the heavy weight they’re struggling to transport by themselves. jungkook screams out a ‘thank you! you worked hard!’ before the door slams shut before you can blink.

“i’ll just tip them later when they install the new one. it must be so heavy.”

“yeah, they’re nicer than the ones that came here the last time.” he makes a noise of agreement, grumbling again about how they stared at you a bit too long for his liking.

you grab a bottle of cold water and drink almost half of it, now feeling alive and energized. “are we leaving now?”

your boyfriend leans backwards, supporting his weight using his hand planted on the floor behind him. “go get ready, baby.” he lightly slaps your ass, urging you to get up.

“oh, wait. can i also get an air fryer while we’re there?”

silence fills the air for a few seconds. he looks around the crowded kitchen counter and mentally lists down all the things stored in the cupboards. “i’ll think about it on the drive there.”

you look back at him with your wide and twinkling eyes, full of strong hopes. “that means yes, right?”

he lets out a dreamy sigh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “yes, baby. you can also get an air fryer.”

[frostironfudge]

If Only I Could Get To You First (Bucky Barnes One Shot)

Summary: Bucky Barnes and you have been best-friends, but unknowing to the other you both are also in love with the other. Though everyone else seems to know.

Pairing: Modern!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Modern AU, swearing, past domestic abuse (non descriptive), mutual pining, fake dating, confessions, best friends, angst, fluff, i just want to squish bucky into a hug, brock rumlow is a dick head, hurt/comfort, love confessions, crying, loving from afar

playlist: taylor swift: treacherous (taylors version) / mohit chauhan: dooriyan (from ‘love aaj kal’ 2015) / aditi singh sharma & arijit singh: raabta (night in a motel) highly recommend this song seriously.

a.n. originally this was supposed to be full of angst, but it turned into this beautiful world of feels.

Word Count: 10k

Main Masterlist || My AO3

In the list of bad ideas your best friend compelled you into, only two ever worked out in your favour. 

One was sneaking into your first high school party, you’d had your first kiss. 

The second was when she pushed you onto the dance floor at the frat house’s halloween party and you bumped into the warlock.

“Woah, easy there.” He’d caught you with a charming grin and his blue eyes. Your lungs would not breathe till he would tell you too.

“Are you alright?” Those blue eyes to a once over, checking for any sign of injury.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, I lost my footing.” You look to the side to glare at your best friend but she is luckily not in your line of vision.

“Woah, doll, who is on the receiving end of that glare?” He wonders loudly over the music which somehow doesn’t bother you.

“My best friend pushed me.” You explain, sighing.

“We could work on a hex.” He offers, you let out a laugh, he’d interpreted your last minute outfit well enough, deep red turtle neck and skirt with a borrowed blonde wig.

“You’re the first person to know who am I.” You smile, he bows.

“The others are beneath our intellect. Do you want to move to the side?” 

You nod, his hand finds yours and the night floats away.

“James Barnes, warlock for tonight. What is your name Sabrina Spellman?” He offers his name and then you give him yours.

Conversation flows on, in the little nook of the house.

Movies, TV Shows, a heavy argument about Professor Snape and Dumbledore and then academic choices. 

Time went on numbers exchanged, as were memes.

Coffee tumblers refilled over hours every Wednesday.

Movie marathons, study dates, celebrating A pluses and even the occasional C minus.

Pranking his very unhygienic third roommate by placing cups of detergent all over his room and a few cups of water.

--------------------------------------------------

You had known his close friends called him Bucky, it was never defined across the months of your blooming friendship if you could call him that name.

Bucky wondered why you hadn’t yet, maybe you did not consider him as close as he presumed. He had no inclination to ask out of fear to ruin the friendship he found within you.

it changed one night, at three a.m. your phone vibrated near your head, you were still dressed in the day’s clothes. Work had been terrible, so you deserved a night off of regular activities.

Reaching for the angrily vibrating device your bleary vision widens, you pick up the call.

“James? Is everything okay?”

“Could I come over?” Is all he asked, sounding broken.

You answered with an instant yes, quickly changing into a jumper and a hoodie. waiting for him in the living room.

His knocks sounded hesitant, almost as if he were reconsidering his choices.

You’re greeted by a heartbreaking sight.

James Barnes, with his hair a tousled mess, eyes puffy and red. Your heart seizes with worry.

“Natalie and I broke it off. I well, Sam saw her out with Zemo. She did not even deny it. How could she do this to me, Firefly?” He even sounds broken, as your nickname falls from his lips.

He lets you pull him into your warm embrace, his arms wrapping around you, pulling your body close into his. He sighs deeply as he finds comfort. 

The tears do brim anew, his shoulders shake.

“Bucky,” You hesitate, a hand stroking the back of his head. You guide him to the couch, retrieving your stash of ice cream and running back to him.

He gives a half hearted smile seeing the flavour, a shared favourite. 

You give your own beaming grin of encouragement.

“Here is your mission choose you accept it.” You hand him a spoon. He chuckles slightly.

“To finish this entire pint of ice cream with me.” 

The ice cream doesn’t stand a chance.

--------------------------------------------------

Bucky has good days and bad ones for three months after the break up, the timing awful between midterms and assignments but they served distraction. 

To celebrate the end of the torturous examinations you both make your way around New York City. In search of 1 am pizza. 

“How are you?” You know it is a question she could dodge but the way he seemed to carry himself slowly coming into his own had given you hope. 

Bucky only stiffens for a moment at the question, progress you deem. 

“Honestly I feel it was a good thing.” He takes a bite; the cheese pulls and he grins in approval. You take a picture of him as he makes a silly face, both laughing now.

“I might not date for a while but I know I will eventually.” He informs of the decision.

“That is good.” You pat his back, taking your own bite as he in turn takes a picture of you pulling a silly face.

Slowly your phone memory is filled with several outings with your now extended group of friends, and several more with Bucky. He returns back to himself after a few months more, after a few okay-ish dates and he finds himself seeking your company.

He grabs a bouquet of your favourite flowers, his legs need no guidance to the familiar path of your home. Bucky stands near the entrance as the doorman, Percy smiles at him with kind eyes.

“She’s gone out.” Percy tells him, therefore Bucky waits, leaning against the wall phone in his hand scrolling through the fresh batch of micro sized comedy he could send to you.

Familiar sounding laughter pulls him in, your bright face greets his view, then your fingers curl around an arm. He follows the touching limbs to see the face of Rumlow. 

You seemed so radiant around the man. Bucky clutches the bouquet tighter as though in an attempt to ground himself or stop his heart from breaking before it could even be given to you. 

Rumlow turns you before you can leave his embrace to go to your apartment. Your laughter carries through to Bucky. He watches, lips pressed into a thin line.

Rumlow pulls you close, whispering something your ear, you bite your lip nodding. 

Bucky could hear his heart cracking over the noise around him, as your lips are upon that man’s own. He turns, walking away still clutching the bouquet. 

Bucky Barnes and you — best friends through college. Maybe that shouldn’t change. 

Bucky nods to himself, his feelings probably arose because of the time spent together and your friendship growing deeper. So he tucks this little crush upon you away, and decides that best friends is what you both are meant to be. 

--------------------------------------------------

Seven months after graduation, Natasha nurses your busted lip. Vodka on the table is also for drinking she tells you. It soothes the ache from your broken heart and lip. 

Your phone still unresponsive from the one person you need. How many texts does it take for a best friend to respond?

“I could call him.” Natasha offers as you shake your head. 

“I, my texts should be enough, I left him calls as well.” You explain, “Could, could you ask Steve where is he?” 

Natasha studies your face, she knows you’re hurt over Bucky not responding. Brock Rumlow was the furthest thing from your mind and heart.

“I will,” She promises and your phone rings, your best friend’s face flashing across the screen. 

You take the call knowing the odd time difference between the two of you had her more on edge. 

“Hey,” You greet. 

“Don’t hey me, did you report him?” She all but yells. 

“I don’t want to associate any further—,”

“Bullshit, you absolutely should report that piece of shit unless Barnes has murdered him already, so you cannot call the cops cause then he will be in jail.” She cuts you off. 

“I don’t think he knows yet.” You admit, Natasha looks at you, quietly speaking to Steve and updating him about what occurred. 

“What do you mean? Is he okay? Because Barnes would not let that asshat breathe. Hell I’m taking the next plane out of Melbourne.” Her nails on the keyboard resound.

“No, no, don’t! Just, okay, look Nat patched me up and she also said vodka’s good for the pain as well so I’m fine and he’s, he’s probably busy…” You defend Bucky, once again. 

“Babe, he has been busy awful lot since he started dating that bimbo bitch.” She clicks her tongue, annoyed at the man. 

“Look can we just, drop the whole thing, I, I think I need to sleep, and you need to get to work.” You remind her. 

“Just leave me messages through the day alright and no memes or links coherent language only.” She warns you. 

“Yes alright coherent language only.” You promise. 

Nat comes by with a plate of food, placing it in front with a fork. You stare at the pasta for a minute. 

“I called Steve, he got through, Bucky is out with her…” She trails off.

“Oh, did Steve say anything?” You hesitate to ask, Nat shakes her head. 

“He knows you wouldn’t like her to know so he just made sure Bucky would check his messages.” She gnaws at her bottom lip struggling to say something.

“What?” You look at her. 

“You should really report him, this wasn’t the first time was it?” She states you look down at your hands. 

“No.” You close your eyes at the admission.

“How long have you kept things from us? From Bucky?” She places a gentle hand over your forearm. 

“He, he was very particular, no where where anyone would know. Started two months ago. I tried breaking up after the first time but—,” Your vision blurs, the tears are harder to hold back. 

“Do you want me to take pictures? I know we can file a case, or at least a restraining order…” Natasha tries to coax you to listen to her but you just shake you head.

“I can’t I don’t want more trouble, Nat. It’s over he’s gone. The fight was more about him shifting to L.A. and me not wanting to follow.”

“Are you in love with him still?”

“I never was, I just, I thought I could learn to love him and then he just tried to beat it into me…” You shudder in remembrance. 

Natasha leaves the topic, knowing that it was difficult to walk away even let alone relive the ordeal. 

It is four days later at the scheduled game night that you see Bucky, you don’t greet him.

He furrows his brow when you move away from the living room to the bathroom before he can take a good look at you. 

“Where’s Rumlow?” He questions and the room turns silent. 

“Did you not see her messages?” Steve crosses his arms. 

“What messages?” Bucky retrieves his phone.  

“Barnes, when did you last speak to her?” Nat questions then scoffs as Sharon wraps her arm around his wrist pushing the phone down. 

“A few days ago, why?” He answers, running a hand along Sharon’s arm. 

“Bucky.” She pouts. 

“What is it baby?” He questions, being distracted from the conversation at hand by his girlfriend. 

“Bucky you should go speak to Y/N.” Steve adds with a bit more seriousness. 

“What happened, is she, is Firefly alright?” He looks up in worry.

“Ugh, she always wants your attention.” Sharon whispers loudly, “Does she not have her own boyfriend?” 

“Don’t you have better things to do than cling to Bucky’s arm? Or is your default personality trait whiny girlfriend only?” Natasha uses the same tone as Sharon. 

Sam covers up his laugh with a cough. 

“Bucky.” Sharon whines again then moves away to go to the balcony sniffling and tears welling up. 

“Crocodile tears.” Nat rolls her eyes. 

“Nat.” Bucky gives an exasperated look, chasing behind Sharon to mend things. 

“Steve, please let me punch him.” Nat pleads. 

“You know she doesn’t want us to tell him, how has he not responded after the texts? We all got them.” Steve sighs taking another sip of his beer. 

You return, wiping you eyes, for any stray tears or mascara. 

“Whats got her in pain now?” You ask, a look of disdain taking over. You try not to stretch your lip as the sting from the cut still presents itself. 

“Nat called her whiny.” Sam chuckles. 

“Nat…” You sigh. 

“What, it’s about time we call her out.” She shrugs. 

“How are you holding up?” Sam questions, eyes on your busted lip. 

“Eh, been better will be better soon I guess?” You shrug and wince as the pain in your shoulder blade presents itself. 

“And now she’s making a face at me!” Sharon accuses you and then goes back to the balcony. 

Bucky’s heavy sigh echoes through the room. 

“Firefly, can you not? I know you all don’t like her much but I do okay? Christ some best friend you are,” Bucky turns back to once again console his girlfriend running a hand through his hair in frustration. 

“Some best friend?” Your cold tone makes Bucky turn to face you, a quip ready on his exhausted tongue, he doesn’t get to speak because he finally takes in your appearance. 

The bags under your eyes, the redness housed within them, the busted lip you have and the slight wince as you take a deep breath. 

“I’m going to kill him.” Bucky connects the dots in his mind. 

“No need, these were days ago, I needed you and you were not there James.” You accuse, tears brimming once more. 

“I, Steve said to see my texts but I had none from you… Steve why did you not say anything?”

“You could have called me. You, I left you voicemails, crying sobbing, asking for you. For your help. You weren’t there. They didn’t say anything because I wanted to tell you but then again, your time and devotion is pre-booked. Let me know when a slot opens up, I can summarise the whole thing in two minutes, the least I can do as some best friend.” You sneer, walking towards the door in no mood to stay any longer. 

Bucky mechanically follows you, 

“Firefly, I—, I swear I don’t have any messages, I’m not lying!” 

“You could have called!” You accuse.

“I was out—,” Bucky tries to grasp your hand.

“Like I said, I know you’re too busy, for me.” You press the call button several times more waiting for the elevator to come up faster. 

“That is no excuse, I’m so sorry, I just, please stay, we can talk.” His hand reaches to grab your shoulder. A painful sound escapes you and you flinch away from him. 

“Where else did he hurt you?” Bucky’s tone holds no emotion, you look up at his face, the stoic expression masks his feelings but the anger in his blue eyes is reaching its summit. 

Your eyes shift to the elevator when it dings to signal the opening of the doors. 

“You aren’t leaving.” Bucky informs you. 

“I do not want to talk about this.” You tell him, feeling like your heart might break again.

“I do. I need to know what did he do, because he won’t be breathing after I’m done with him.” 

“It doesn’t work that way.” Your eyes shift to Sharon who rolls her eyes at you, then puts on a pout when Bucky turns to look at her. 

“Bucky,” “Not now Sharon.”

Bucky turns back, but you’re inside the elevator. He steps ahead to join you, the doors begin closing his fingertips just graze the border where the sensors would have the automatic doors reopen. 

He’s pulled back by his arm by Sharon, you look down. Heart breaking again, that you can’t even be prioritised by your best friend. He won’t even fight for you.

Bucky catches the quiet sob that escapes past your lips at wrapping itself around his heart squeezing upon it.  

“Do you have any semblance that someone else could have bigger problems that you?” Bucky looks at Sharon, taking his arm out of hers. 

“Baby,” She begins her fake tears again. 

“God, not with this again. Sharon, seriously please.” Bucky groans in frustration. 

“You want to spend all your time with that stupid bitch.” She complains as Bucky turns to press the elevators if he is fast enough he can catch up to you. 

“She’s my best friend. She needs me.” Bucky glares at Sharon. 

“No, she does not she managed to find help elsewhere four days ago, she just wants your attention.”

“What the fuck did you say?” Natasha verbalises the question brewing within Bucky. 

“I-, no I said nothing! Nothing!” The blonde stutters in defence. 

“Oh I’m going to smack this fucking bitch—,” Nat is pulled back by Steve. 

“Did you delete Firefly’s messages and voicemails?” Bucky’s voice is low and cold, almost similar to what yours was towards him. 

“I—, no,” Sharon gulps audibly, sweat breaking across her forehead.

“You have one more chance, did you fucking delete messages my best friend left for me, at a time she needed me?” Bucky’s hands form fists. Sharon had kept asking to take pictures on his phone, then sending herself the ones she liked thats when she must have deleted all of your communication to him. 

“Bucky, it’s always, Firefly this and Firefly that, what about me?” Sharon defends, trying to move close to Bucky. 

The elevator dings, opening on the floor. Bucky crosses the threshold. 

“I’m going to send the elevator back up, I want you out of my life. My house key can be dropped off here at Natasha’s, don’t you dare try to contact me or anyone. It is over.”

Sharon’s final plea falls on deaf ears as the doors are closed and Bucky lets out a heavy sigh. He brings out his phone trying to call you as he jogs through the crowd towards the nearest station, checking the watch he knows the next train leaves in ten minutes. 

Bucky calls out your name through the station, his breathing erratic. You have your hood up, not wanting to be spotted by him. 

You can hear his calls, the way your phone vibrates in your pocket a frantic echo of his own booming voice. 

“Firefly.” Bucky finally breathes, standing behind you. 

You say nothing as you turn to face him. 

“I’m sorry, I really am so sorry, it is no excuse she deleted the messages, fuck, I should have called. I should have been the one there. I’m your best friend. I should have caught on earlier.” He tenderly cups your face between his hands, guilt seeping into his bones. 

His thumbs wipe your tears, you don’t want to have a public meltdown. 

“Come on let’s get you home, I think we still have time to grab ice cream from Mrs. Lorena’s store.” His warm hands leave your face, but the warmth returns on your hands as he intertwines them with his, you want to cry all over again. 

Bucky takes charge of leading you through the night train, you both stand in favour of the elderly couple who need the seats. They look at the two of you warmly. 

You feel small, your hand never leaving his, he stays close with almost a protective stance over you. 

Bucky notes the change in your demeanour. How you’re hiding away, flinching at loud sounds. 

It eats at him how these small things had inculcated themselves into you the past months you were with Rumlow. He didn’t care about the consequences, he will beat the shit out of that fucker. 

Your mind races, back to the night you first went out with Rumlow. Somehow your mind kept comparing what he did to Bucky. As though your tall brunette best friend should be the standard of all men. 

--------------------------------------------------

You weren’t going to call Rumlow back, realising that maybe the reason you were comparing him to Bucky was because you were in love with your best friend, your Bucky. 

The conversation was going to be simple, carry a bouquet of his favourite flowers, a letter in your hand filled with your confession. Your nerves singed with each step towards his door. 

You rang the bell, once, twice; then you heard the laughter and kisses. Your heart sunk, you scrambled to hide at the other end of the hallway. 

Bucky came into view with Sharon, the business major. They make their way to his door, lips meeting ever so often, you feel each one deliver a crack to your heart.  

Maybe, maybe you were meant to be best friends only. The door closes and you can hear their sounds, you move past the corridor and exit the building. 

Nodding to yourself, Bucky Barnes and you best friends through college. 

--------------------------------------------------

“Firefly?” Bucky waves a hand in front of you, you blink, looking around. 

“Huh?” You speak before realising. 

“I asked where is your key ring?” Bucky looks at you in worry. 

“Oh um,” You fish around for the familiar keyring handing it to him.

Bucky opens the door at sets down the bag of groceries. How long did you space out for?

“So, here is your mission, should you choose to accept it,” He brings out your favourite ice cream tub from the bag.

Your face breaks out into a grin, a laugh finally reverberating in your chest rather than sobs. 

“Is it to eat this ice cream and talk to your idiot best friend.” Bucky holds up two spoons as an offer. 

You grab one, then grab the tub and make a run for the living room couch. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Bucky chases after you, you twist around the last minute your foot and his tangling with the fluffy carpet under the coffee table, you both land on the couch. 

Bucky is above you as your foreheads collide and the tub of ice cream rolls onto the floor. 

“Are you okay?” He questions, as you rub your forehead and his, the ache dies down slightly of the impact. 

“Sort of,” You wince, then look at him. 

The two of you lock gazes, heat blooms between you both. Red tinged cheeks. 

Bucky had wondered how it would be, to hold you this close. 

You had wondered how it would be, to have him in your arms.  

Both of you break out of your thoughts and scramble to sit up. Ankles still caught in the carpet, you both slide down the couch, ending with your straddling his hips. 

His hands move to your hips and yours wrap around his neck. 

Bucky feels your warm breath fan across his face, how is it you fit so well against him, as though you belong next to him. 

You feel his fingers gently squeeze your hips, how is it that your arms encircle him as though he belongs between them, next to you. 

You feel something poke your thigh. Bucky’s eyes widen. 

“Um, is is that…” 

“No um, no,” 

Bucky panics at your suggestion quickly moving you from his lap to beside him on the floor. 

The spoons clatter to the floor between his legs. 

The sigh that leaves from Bucky’s lips has you laugh, he joins in. Shoulders shaking and heads thrown back in mirth. 

Your head on his shoulder and his resting on of top yours. 

Laughter and giggles filling the apartment after months. 

--------------------------------------------------

It is another month later when you all are at your weekly game night at Bucky and Steve’s place. 

“Barnes, who are you taking to the wedding then?” Sam questions between shuffling the deck of Uno Cards. 

“What wedding?” You curiously look up Bucky sighs, shoulders deflating. 

“Maya is getting married, and insisted I bring someone along, and well they wanted to meet my girlfriend but I’ve broken up.” He explains, placing a chip in his mouth. 

“So just tell them?” You quirk an eyebrow. 

“You remember Maya right?” He looks at you with an incredulous gaze. 

“And Mr. Barnes here hasn’t told her, he’s broken up. Wanted to show off the whiney girl.” Sam announces. 

“Winnie Barnes would not approve.” Steve adds quietly and Bucky groans. 

Nat gives you a look before looking down into her phone. You blink a few times not understanding what that look meant. 

Your phone chimes, your eyebrows furrow at the message. 

Best Friend: go as his fake date to the wedding, his family adores you. 

Me: who even told you? 

Best Friend: not important. 

You look up with a glare at Natasha. 

Best Friend: don’t glare at her. She’s an innocent baby.

Me: I’m not doing the fake date thing. Not with Bucky, it will be hard. 

Best Friend: come on, he looks at you the same way. 

Me: he doesn’t. and also bye. i’m not having this conversation again. 

You place your phone back, looking up at the four of them staring at you. 

“What?” You question, picking up your seven cards. 

“Do you have any solution for Bucky?” Steve wonders, you look at Nat, she shrugs innocently. 

You narrow your eyes at her. 

“Let me think.” You bide your time. Bucky inhales deeply, seeing his own set of cards. 

Your phone chimes again, you control the groan that whats to leave you.

Best Friend: listen, just trust me okay? When have I said something that turned to shit? 

Me: its only twice your plans have not turned to shit.

Best Friend: ouch. this won’t turn to shit come on, help him out. I’ll ask Nat to let you win. 

Me: as if I need to be let to win.

Best Friend: she has 4 draw fours. 

Me: what the fuck?

You look up and Nat discreetly shows you proof. 

“Say the word and you get them.” Nat whispers. 

More encouragement comes through from your best friend. 

“What if, Bucky, you take a fake date…” You clear your throat. 

“Maya will catch on its a fake date and then it will be a mess, I just will fake a work thing.”

“What if I go? As your um fake date?” You offer, placing your cards face down near the space between you and Nat. 

“Are you sure? I mean they may believe it…” Bucky trails off in thought. 

“I mean, only if you’re comfortable… Just Maya will be upset if you don’t go at all and not having a date should not stop you—,”

“No, I think it should work, we know each other well enough to pretend to be in love.” Bucky grins. 

You try not to wince, “Yup, yeah, won’t be hard to pretend.” You agree. 

“Thank you, Firefly.” Bucky beams for the remainder of the game even as you beat his ass with your exchanged cards. 

--------------------------------------------------

BestFriend: so who wants to bet on they return as an official couple? I place a 100 bucks. 

Natasha: add my 100 to that

Sam: nah man they’re too scared to admit it. 

Steve: they won’t damage the friendship. 

Best Friend: Oh lil Samuel and lil Steve ya’ll better be ready to pay up. 

--------------------------------------------------

You grasp the handle of your suitcase a little tighter as Bucky’s car pulls around the corner. You walk closer to the edge where he could park for a few moments as you would load up your things. 

Bucky set the car into park stepping out and greeting you with a wide smile. You return the gesture, he envelopes you into one of his warm hugs. Easing your nerves. 

“Here give it to me and you can hang the dress near the suit.” Bucky takes your small suitcase and you open the backseat door his navy suit hanging from the hook, you place your own dress near it. Checking for any folds and then getting into the front seat with him. 

“So um,” He says after a few moments of silence. 

“Yeah?” You look at him, he seems nervous. 

“We need to get our stories straight…” He hints you nod.

“When did we start dating, first date, who asked who?” You list, he nods. 

“Guess watching those rom-coms proved to be useful.” He chuckles, you swat his arm lightly. 

“Okay so we sort of confessed a few months ago, but we were scared to ruin the friendship.” He offers, which in a sense was true for him, though he never confessed. Even though he had fallen for you. 

“Yes and we decided to date other people, but those didn’t work out so we decided to give it a shot cause the feelings never went away.” Which was true you think, at the back of your mind you were in love with him. 

“Okay, yes so we’re dating since a month and a half…” He offers, you hum in agreement. 

“Yep and first date…” you pause to think.

“Ice cream parlour.” He offers, you smile that was actually your first outing as friends. 

“Yeah, and you had the cherry stuck to your nose with whipped cream.” You begin to laugh. 

“Oh right miss, whipped cream moustache.” He gives you a look, chuckling as well. 

“Oh right, you looked like a clown.” You roll your eyes. 

“And you were my sidekick.” Bucky teases. 

“Alright, alright, and we both confessed, got each other flowers and stuff.” You admit, you had put the flower in resin. 

Bucky grips the wheel, he had gotten one flower’s petals from the bouquet preserved. 

“Yeah, that, that sounds romantic enough.” He clears his throat. The earlier tension seeping back into him, was this a mistake? What if he said something stupid. 

“Hey, um, Buck?” Your hand rests on his shoulder. 

He looks at you at the stop sign. 

“If, if at any point you feel the whole faking thing gets too much lets you know keep a safe word and we’ll you know revert to being best friends and try to exit that situation okay?” You offer. 

“You’re perfect you know? I was nervous what if it gets too much for either of us and this yeah the safe word is sensible.” He agrees. 

“So whats our safe word?” You question. 

“Draw-four.” His mouth twists as though he can taste the loss against your multiple draw fours that you saved just for him at the one on one game. 

You can’t help but laugh, “Okay, draw-four it is.” 

Bucky shakes his head, shifting the gear as the green light comes into view. 

“Also, Firefly, I want you to be comfortable I know what the fucker did might linger or come back at random moments, I know you’re doing well with therapy but if it gets too much or if anything triggers you, please tell me. I will get you out of that situation or help you as you need okay?” He says, you feel your chest constrict at the intensity of him caring about you.

“I will, Bucky, I promise.” You give his hand a squeeze oer the gearshift. 

--------------------------------------------------

The two hour journey to the venue has you both slightly tired, mostly hungry. The rehearsal dinner was the event you both had to dress up first for, as you both enter the venue. 

A squeal has you both turn. 

“Maya.” Bucky grins opening his arms for his cousin to come crashing into him. 

“I thought you were going to ditch my wedding.” She complains but then bounces excited, “Now introduce me to your date!” her eyes turn to you, widening. 

You offer a smile your congratulations to her caught in your throat as she screams excitedly once again. 

“Oh my god, I knew it! I knew this would be best friends to lovers! James you did good! Wait till I tell Aunt Winnie and Becca!” Maya cheers pulling you into a hug. You hug back and Bucky scratches the back of his neck giving you a nervous look. 

Maybe it would not be hard to convince them that you both were in love he thinks…. The only problem was how does he convince himself not to blabber to you. 

You feel Maya’s excitement seep into you as well when she pulls away, jumping slightly. 

“Congratulations!” You cheer. 

“Girl, you have to tell me how did you both realise.” She raises a finger up in warning. 

“I will, I will.” You give a promise to the bride. 

“What is all this commotion?” Winnie Barnes steps out of the room that Maya was in, her smile widening as she spots her son. 

You admire them as they hug after months of staying apart. 

Winnie pulls away from the hug, running a hand over Bucky’s hair and then cupping his jaw. 

“Ma, don’t cry you saw me yesterday on video-call.” Bucky wipes her tears. 

“Not the same,” She pats his head, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“I love you.” He engulfs her in a hug again. 

“I love you too, sunshine.” She smiles warmly. 

“Now where is this mystery date of yours, hiding things from your Ma,” She gives him a small glare, Bucky widens his eyes. He scrambles to turn and his hand is outstretched towards you, you intertwine your fingers with his, stepping next to him. 

“Bucky, you better not be lying.” She looks between the two of you, his grip tightens on your hand.

“We’re not, Mrs. Barnes—,”

“Sweetheart, Winnie for you always.” His mom corrects you, a warm smile. 

She cups your cheek as well. 

“So he finally came to his senses.” She teases. 

“We both did…” You add with a smile, looking up at Bucky, admiring him. 

Bucky looks down at you, your gazes transfixed upon each-other his blue eyes inviting. 

Bucky wants to be lost in your eyes, drowning in their deepness. Submerging himself in the affection that they currently hold for him. 

A flash has you both turn and shake your heads. 

“I need one for the album.” Maya reasons and Bucky sighs. 

“Send me a copy?” You offer trying to dissipate the tension. 

“Why don’t you both settle into your room? And no funny business.” Winnie warns, you both pale. 

“Ma, I would, no—,” Bucky stutters, a blush coating his cheeks. 

Winnie looks at you, before laughing. 

“He better be treating you right, sweetheart, if not just tell me. I’ll sort him out.” She gives him a warning look. 

Then Winnie cups your cheek, “I am so happy you’re with him.” She says earnest. 

Guilt gnaws at you, Winnie probably would be heartbroken if she knew you both were lying through your teeth. 

“Sir, Ma’am, your room is ready, we’ll have the luggage delivered to your room in the next ten minutes.” The receptionist hands you the keycards. 

“Well go freshen up I’ll see you both at seven-thirty for the rehearsal dinner.” 

With a final hug to Winnie and Maya both of you sauntered into your room. Bucky looks at the bed. The only bed. 

“Um, I’ll take the sofa.” He offers. 

“Bucky that sofa is not even going to fit your legs…” You inform him. 

“We’ll just make a wall of pillows?” You offer.

“Are you sure?” His mind wanders to the night you were in his arms, straddling his lap. 

He coughs to remind himself; not to let his mind wander astray. 

You nod, at what you don’t know, it’s not like you both haven’t cuddled or been in each other’s physical space before. Road trips you both pretty much sat next to each other fell asleep listening to songs so why was this different? 

“Is it cool if I shower first?” Bucky turns to the bathroom, “Oh fuck me.” He mutters. 

“What?” You follow his line of vision. 

What kind of hotel was this? 

The wall between the bathroom and bedroom wasn’t opaque it was a glass, a very transparent glass. The door was made on frosted glass, but again you would be able to understand what was going on. 

You gulp audibly. 

Bucky opens the door to check if there is a curtain or towel to cover the pane. 

The bathroom proves to be larger, inside, the toilet seat away from the view only the glass shower and bathtub can be perceived from the glass. 

You peek from the glass as Bucky rests his hands on his hips as he looks around for a solution. 

“Shower with swimsuits?” He offers an idea. 

“Bucky I didn’t carry one…” You scratch the back of your neck, suddenly everything feels incredibly warm.

“Underwear then…” 

“How about we just shower while the other one faces away? Or lays in bed…” you counter. 

It seems plausible, Bucky purses his lips, then nods. 

“So um, you lay down, stretch your feet out and I’ll um, shower first then I’ll lay down…” He runs a hand through his hair and then over his stubble. 

You nod, grabbing your phone and turning to the bed. 

Bucky grabs his toiletries and powers through going to the very open bathroom. Maybe the hot water will fog up the glass? 

You immediately text your best friend and Natasha about the one bed and very daunting bathroom situation but they just send stupid laughing emojis in response. 

You groan. 

Some friends they are, the shower runs and from your angle on the bed you can’t see a thing apart from the ceiling of the bathroom, you sigh. 

It would just be easier to admit to Bucky you have feelings for him. You can’t risk your friendship though. 

Bucky sighs in content as the droplets hit his skin. The warm water taking away the stress of the day and tenseness in his shoulders. He watches the rivulets trail from his body to the anti skid flooring. One hand on the wall. 

His mind briefly wonders what would it be like to have his ex here and then he dismisses the thought. Sharon and he were supposed to be a one off a distraction from his growing feelings for you. 

Then she got clingy, demanding every waking minute of his to be hers to fill with herself and her own needs and wants. 

Bucky sighs again, the suds of soap now turning clear. He grabs the towel, checking the glass sure enough it is fogged up by the heat. 

He puts on his boxers and jeans as he exits and your voice catches in your throat as a lone rivulet makes its was down his neck then chest then abdomen, ending just over the taut band of muscles and you feel as though the world is in slow motion. 

“Take a picture it will last longer.” Bucky teases bringing you out of your staring. 

“I h-hope you didn’t use up all t-the hot water.” You stutter get up grabbing your set of things from your bag. 

The outfit for tonight was a simple purple jumpsuit that brought out your curves, and chest. Long sleeves but very comfortable. 

Bucky lays down, texting Sam and Steve finally about what was happening. They both offered him advice on avoiding the shared bed but then the picture of the couch he sent had them agree with your pillow wall idea. 

As the shower runs he feels himself grow less confident in his plan to have you both pretending, he was so sure he’d slip up. 

When you exit Bucky’s lips part the deep purple of the jumpsuit bringing out the colour of your skin and eyes. The neckline of the outfit was probably his favourite, it was low, and accentuated your chest as the sleeves were the ones that had slits on them. 

It showed skin but in a way that was risqué but classy. 

The fabric hugged the curve of your hips and Bucky wanted to pull you close to him just so he could feel your warmth. 

“Take a picture it will last longer.” You tease him and he shakes his head, observing you do your make up. He’d seen it before the way your tongue would poke out in concentration as you picked which eyeshadow to use or if the colours were going well with what you were wearing. 

You turn to him once you’re done, 

“Can you see if these are even?” You sit next to him on the bed closing your eyes. 

Bucky’s eyes are on your lips and not eyelids. He traces their outline with his gaze, appearing so soft and so inviting. 

“Bucky? Is the eyeliner equal?” You open your eyes as he looks up at your confused expression. 

“Yes, um w-was just ma-making sure they were equal…” He stammers out quickly getting up and to further aid drying his hair. He was growing it out again. 

The two of you make it downstairs, Bucky’s arm slips around your waist before you enter. Pulling you close to his warmth. You smile up at him. 

“You look beautiful.” He admits looking down at you with a smile that sends flutters through your stomach. 

“You look quite handsome yourself.” You offer him an equally butterfly inducing smile. 

Bucky knows his heart will break this weekend but if he gets to pretend to be yours then its worth it. 

You look up at Bucky stealing a final glance before walking through the door. You suddenly realise that maybe, maybe basking in this pretend would at-least give you a taste of happiness, even if the magic would end come Monday morning. 

As the two of you find your seating next to Rebecca, who also is elated at you being the secret girlfriend. The dinner begins to go by without a hitch. 

Emotional words are said in the practice speeches and the love between Maya and her to be husband, Marcus; is felt through all the attendees, tying them all together. 

Bucky has his arm around the back of your chair, as you all wait for dessert. He doesn’t realise it when he begins to trace soft patters along your mid back. You lean into his comforting touch, allowing him to continue. 

When you look up at him, your breath hitches at how intently he looks at you. Those azure eyes taking in every bit of your own eyes. 

“Oh come on, just kiss already.” Rebecca’s voice stops the patterns being drawn upon you. 

“W-what?” You look at her in confusion. 

“You both look like you want to tear into each other.” She rolls her eyes, “Just kiss we’re all adults. Well except the kids table in the corner but,” Rebecca shrugs. 

Bucky leans in deciding to kiss your cheek just to shut his sister’s mouth. You then turn to face him just when his lips were to brush you cheek. 

His soft, slightly chapped lips brush over yours, his eyes widen for a moment. Then he closes them, his hand cups your jaw. You feel that damned fluttering feeling again, as you kiss him back. Your palm resting on his chest. His heart thundering wildly against his chest.  

The kiss lasts for a few moments, that feel as though time was slowed down, all too soon you pull away from him. Biting your own bottom lip and a deep blush creeping across your chest and neck. 

“What did you just start dating?” Rebecca comments, “That looked like a middle schooler’s kiss.” 

Bucky tries to make sense, you try to make sense as well. Because what the fuck, you both just kissed each other. 

“We aren’t into PDA.” You defend with a sip of your drink to soothe the nerves. 

Your hand rests on Bucky’s knee, a grounding action that the two of you needed. 

Back, in the room; he begins to undo his shirt, he’s halfway done when he pauses. 

“Firefly?” 

You turn to face him, the make up from your face gone. 

“Bucky?” 

“Was, was the kiss okay?” He fidgets with the cufflink as he undoes it. 

“I um, guess yeah? Why?” You bring your eyes back up to his, 

“No, no, um Rebecca’s comment just well, what if we don’t appear that comfortable?”

“Do we practice kissing?” You wonder, god just dig a six feet deep hole and bury yourself in it. 

“I, thats not, I’m not—,” He lets out a frustrated sigh, closing the space between you two. 

Your ears begin a ringing at the way his cologne floods your senses. 

Bucky’s warm hands cup your cheeks,

“I’m not, not trying to take advantage of this but um, maybe we could table kissing? Because I guess handholding and all of the other things we’ve done as, as best friends, so…”

“Yeah no um, yeah I get what you’re saying,” you agree. 

“No kissing then.”

“Nope, no kissing.” 

With the rule established you both wind down for the night the pillow wall is built and the covers are pulled over your frames. 

Exhaustion tugs at your body but sleep seems to be at its wits end not wanting to arrive to you. 

Bucky shifts around in bed, staring at the pillow wall. That should not have been the first kiss between the two of you. 

His mind is running a mile a minute, he wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. 

“Bucky, you awake?” Your soft whisper has him tug one pillow away. 

“Hey,” His soft smile greets you with his hair tousled and eyes craving sleep. 

“Hey,” you smile back, your eyes on the verge of sleep, a few strands of your hair curling around your forehead. 

“Can’t sleep?” He wonders and you nod. 

“You too?” You ask and he nods. 

“Do you want to talk till we fall asleep?” You offer as a plan. 

“Sounds like a plan.” Bucky’s heart feels warm. 

It is quiet for a moment before Bucky decides to tell you about his promotion at work. It’s hardly been time at the firm but they recognise his potential. 

You reach across the wall and hug him, Bucky grins and wraps his arms around you, relishing the moment. 

“Thats great! I’m so proud of you!” You cheer him on, he grins. You both slowly pull away from the hug. Returning to your respective sides. 

The conversation flows from there, about what his new responsibilities would be and how he would have to divide his time. Both sets of eyelids get heavy and Bucky dozes off mid conversation, you chuckle lightly. Brushing his hair back and then slumber find you as well. With your hand resting on his cheek.

--------------------------------------------------

It’s very warm for the cooler spring day that was predicted. 

Bucky is usually feeling like a furnace but today he is exceptionally warm as well. Not that he is complaining but something about the warmth is inviting. 

A soft whimper presents itself to Bucky and his eyes peel open. You’re pressed against flush him, his head was buried in the crook of your neck, an arm around your waist. Your arm resting above his own. 

“Firefly…” He tries to coax you out of slumber. 

“Five more minutes…” You mutter sleepily, shifting around till you face him and your head rests on his chest. How do you have a death grip on him to not let him escape he doesn’t understand. 

“Firefly… we gotta get to breakfast…” Bucky manages to free his hand and brushes his thumb over your cheek bone. 

Honestly he wouldn’t leave the bed if he woke up to you everyday. 

“Shhh, the dough is resting.” You grumble, shifting closer.

“The dough?” Bucky grins amused. 

“I’m the dough, must rest in the oven.” You complain again. 

“I thought you’re my Firefly.” Oh he’s going to ask you about this. 

“I can be two things.” You pull away looking at him. 

Bucky looks at you, waiting for the sleepiness to leave you. 

“Bucky?” You ask, then look down at your intertwined bodies, well you clinging onto him. 

“Firefly, good morning.” He chuckles and then you move away from him all too soon. 

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?!” You sit up on your side, face hidden in your hands. 

“Because the dough needed to rest.” He says matter of factly

“What dough?” You question, then it hits you the drunken analogy you had come up with your best friend and Nat, 

“Oh that no, um, i’m, i’m going to the bathroom.” 

You grab your phone and things as quickly as possible, Bucky remains laying in bed you know he’s still laughing, the endearment is clear in his demeanour but you have half a mind you’re going to be called dough from now on till you spill the reason.

Me: i sleepily blabbed to him about resting the dough.

Best Friend: you know this is why I too up night classes here, to stay awake for the fresh batch of well rested dough stories. 

Nat: 🤣🤣 So how was the resting of the dough on the very hot oven?

Me: i hate you both. It was a drunken analogy about Bucky being warm.

Best Friend: that made you want to be dough resting in the oven. 

Nat: so when will you get to baking? Now that you have rested. 

Best Friend: oh I think very soon, Bucky’s probably stiffly up to the right temperature. 

Me: i will smack you both. stop it. 

You groan silently. Keeping your phone on the counter. Useless, your friends are useless comedians at your expense. 

Breakfast passes by in the hotel as an uneventful affair, Bucky and you decided that meal times without family intervention would be on best friend mode so the conversation was mutual topics and trying to see if you could squeeze in a marathon of harry potter movies to commemorate the time you did the same in college a year ago. 

The ceremony is at five which gives you a few hours to kill before absolutely needing to get ready. 

“Do you think we should ask your mum or Maya if she needs any help? It just feels weird being just a guest…” 

Bucky’s hair is falling upon his forehead when he looks up at you. Unthinkingly you reach over to help move it, and for a moment he wants to just have your fingertips run through his hair as he lays next to you. 

“I, yes, we should.” He wonders if you can hear his heart beating almost as if it will leap out of his chest. 

And you both find yourselves barely making it in time to get changed for the ceremony. Bucky takes over ironing duty since he knows your absolutely need to wash your hair before an event otherwise you don’t feel yourself. 

In the nick of time you make it, Bucky eternally grateful you had his cufflinks set up and he helps you zip up the dress. 

You both are panting by the time you reach the attached ballroom. With just two minutes till the bridal march. The wedding planner shoos you both off with a glare as if Bucky and you never helped set the decor because five people of her team fell ill. 

“Shouldn’t have fixed that centrepiece.” You grumble as Bucky snickers before you settle into the seats. 

“Firefly, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have left it unfixed.” He whispers leaning in, 

“I would.” You whisper back. 

“You’re too nice.” 

“I’ll break it. Let the reception begin.” You warn him. 

He wraps his arm around your shoulder bringing you close. 

“I think the dough needs some rest.” He teases. 

“James.” You warn, the redness of your cheeks only urging him onward. 

“Sorry dough, won’t bother you.” Bucky says, giving you puppy eyes. 

“James—,” Your voice caught in your throat at his proximity. He licks his lips, eyes on your soft ones. You’re wearing that red lipstick from the brand you frequently stayed up at night to order from, and he could lie and say the shade does nothing for you because your lips seem so inviting the shade of red adding to your allure. 

If you ask him for his heart he’d give it to you right there, he’d get on his knees and beg you to have it. 

The bridal march breaks his reverie and both of you stand up with the crowd as Maya walks down the aisle with her father, looking every bit of an angel in her wedding gown. 

When you look at her fiancé, your heart lurches, he’s crying tears of joy watching her close the final bit of distance between them and their forever. 

As her father gives her hand in her to be husband, the intimate look of hidden smiles they share almost has you look away. 

Bucky watches the ceremony play out, Maya and Marcus have to say their vows now and he knows they were best friends before Maya admitted her feelings and they have been together four years before they got engaged. 

“I believe the couple have prepared their own vows.” The minister gestures and Marcus’  best man hands him his folded papers. 

“Maya, I met you in high school and you were instantly my best friend.” Marcus begins. 

“We made a list of promises of what we would do and a set of friendship rules, you may not remember but I still have those pieces of decorated cardboard.”

Maya laughs, recalling the memory. 

You look up at Bucky, recalling the moment from where you both turned into each other’s best friends. 

“The first time as best friends when we had an argument was over where would we go to for college, because in all honesty you and I can only function if we’re close enough to share our one braincell.”

Their entire bridal party laughs at the joke. 

You recall the time you were paired with him to play Charades and the two of you sucked so horribly that the entire group banned the game.

“That day I was so angry but when I went back home I saw those cardboards. I knew college could be done anywhere but my best friend? I couldn’t leave her. That is the best damn decision, I made, well that and proposing to you and today standing in front of you, vowing to be by your side, even when you hate me leaving my clothes scattered on the floor, loving you even when I may be annoyed at you for not being able to pick a place for dinner,” 

Maya lightly swats him, then wipes a tear. 

You stare at Bucky catching the smile on his face, you wonder what he thinks about, then you feel him about to look at you so you look ahead. 

“To cherish you even when things around us may push and shove us to not remember what we’re together for, to nourish and nurture our love, our life, 

to work on myself to be the best I can be for you. To support you in everything you need me to support you, to catch you if you stumble, to be held by you if I tumble. I vow to be your best friend, love and husband as long as time is ours.” Marcus gazes lovingly at his bride. 

Bucky tears his eyes away when he hears your sniffle. You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. His hand shifts to wipe your tears and to hold you closer. Press his lips to your temple in promise. 

“Marcus, how am I supposed to speak now?” Maya complains with a chuckle that masks a small sob. 

Her groom shrugs innocently making all the teary eyed faces laugh. 

“My Marcus, the day you entered my life, was the most ordinary day I thought but little did I know your doodle of a covalent bond in my notebook would be setting up the reaction for an extraordinary life ahead where I get to stand at the altar with you.” Maya looks up at him, Marcus smiles at her, eyes getting watery. 

“When I admitted my feelings to you, I was scared to lose you. So scared that I was going to hold my silence. Then you brought those damn sliders from the place we went to as best friends and I knew I had to tell you how much more love my heart held for you.”

Buck looks down at you, every memory with you playing in his mind, taking in Maya’s words and replacing them with moments he has with his Firefly. 

“I vow to not nag you for your clothes strewn across the floor.” 

Bucky adores you as you laugh. Then looks back at the bride and groom. 

“I vow to be brave when you need me to for myself and for you. I vow to let my fears show so you can be brave for me and yourself. I vow to cherish you for who you are and who you become. To nourish and nurture our love, our life. To work on myself for being the one you need through any stage of life we are at; to be your best friend, love and wife as long as time is ours.” 

You gaze up at Bucky when his hand moves in your periphery, you catch the redness of his cheeks, he cried as well. Your hands ache to offer comfort.

Bucky gazes at you, both of your visions blurry from the tears. 

“Beautiful words, now I ask you, Marcus Finnegan, do you take Maya Barnes as your lawfully wedded wife?” The minister questions Marcus.

He places the wedding band on her finger.

Bucky grasps your hand in his, fingers curling around the space between yours. You look from the half intertwined hands to Bucky questioningly.

He isn’t going to let you go, no. 

If he had gotten to you first that night, maybe if he was brave enough he could have prevented the heartbreak.

“Now I ask you, Maya Barnes, do you take Marcus Finnegan as your lawfully wedded husband?” The minister questions Maya.

She places the wedding band on his finger.

You curl your fingers around his hand, letting tears flow down your cheeks. You hope with all your heart you’re interpreting his gesture correctly. If only you had gotten to him first that night.

“I present to you family and friends, by the power vested in me, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes-Finnegan. You may now kiss the bride.” 

The cheers and clapping around the ballroom die down into a dull buzz, Bucky cups your cheek with his left hand, pulling your lips onto his own. The kiss filled with a longing and hunger that you both carried for months. Salt mixes with the taste of his lips. Fears slowly let gone off as you grasp his left hand that rests upon your cheek.

When the two of you pull away for air, hidden by everyone standing to keep clapping for the newly weds allowing you both to be tucked away in your little corner.

“Why didn’t we say anything?” Bucky laughs through the tears.

“I was scared to lose you.” You rest your forehead against his, Bucky wipes your tears as you wipe away his own.

“Firefly, I’m never letting you go. Should have walked upto you and that fucker.” He finally admits, confessing his entire plan to you.

“I kept thinking of doing the same when you were with her, showed up with your favourite flowers too. Have it preserved back home…” 

“I’ve kept it preserved too.” Bucky admits, joy ceases his heart at your elation.

Your lips meet again, this time with lesser longing than before but the need to have each other ever present. Bucky’s lips peppered kisses all over your face, drawing out laughter from you. 

Each mirthful moment tucked away for him to keep. 

Your head resting on his chest as his arms around your waist, the slow notes of the song cascade around the two of you, Bucky had you on the dance floor from the first song, dinner left for later. 

You tilt your head back looking up at him with so much adoration.

“Waited so long to have you look at me this way.” He admits.

“Always looked at you this way when you weren’t looking.” You confess.

“Never looking away from your gorgeous eyes, Firefly.” He promises, his lips ghost over yours, as you rise on your tip toes even with heels to kiss your Bucky.

He finally got to you. You finally got to him.

—x—

[angelasscribbles]

Heir Apparent Chapter 3: Reclaiming Her

Heir Apparent is a series which finds Riley married to Drake but possibly pregnant with Liam’s child.

Catch up here: Heir Apparent.

Everything else: Master List.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Characters: Drake Walker, Liam Rys, Riley Campbell

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋

Warnings: sexual depiction

Disclaimer: Characters represented here as well as the original story are owned by pixelberry. This content has been written by Angela Harrison based on those characters/stories.

The Palace

It had taken five guards to pull them apart. The King’s Cabinet had been told the king had urgent business come up and was dismissed for the day. Liam sat back in his chair with a tumbler of scotch in his hand, unconcerned about the time of day. His tongue flitted out to lick the blood from his lip, the taste salty and metallic.

The memory of the wounded animal sound Drake had made as he sailed across the desk still reverberating in his mind. He winced at the memory. He hadn’t meant to smile, hadn’t meant to telegraph his joy at the thought of Riley pregnant with his child.

He closed his eyes and envisioned her holding a newborn wrapped in a blanket made from the finest cashmere, embroidered with the royal crest, him by her side, smiling proudly as the cameras flashed, introducing Cordonia to its newest prince or princess.

It would solve all of his problems. Having broken his engagement to Madeleine, he was under enormous pressure to marry, for the purpose of producing an heir. The problem was, he didn’t want to marry. Or more to the point, the only woman he wanted to marry had married someone else. He couldn’t help it that he still loved her.

If the child Riley was carrying was his, then he will have fulfilled his duty to provide an heir and he will have done so with the woman he loves. No one will care that she’s married to someone else. The monarchy’s history was rife with heirs born out of wedlock for whatever reason. All he would have to do is establish paternity and claim the child. Legitimizing him or her would make them the proper heir, a position that could not be usurped by any subsequent siblings. Not that he planned on having any more children. Not unless they were Riley’s and at this point, he didn’t see how that was possible. She had been clear that she wouldn’t cheat on her husband.

Assuming she still had a husband by the time everything was said and done.

Yes, he knew it was awful of him to hope for that, and he felt tremendous amounts of guilt for thinking it. But he couldn’t help but wonder what if.

If this was his child, he planned to be very hands on. And if it brought he and Riley closer together as a result, well, so be it.

Valtoria

Riley was pacing the floor when Drake finally came back. She had tried calling his phone, but it rang from its spot on their nightstand. She ran to him, relief flooding through her. She had been so afraid he wouldn’t come back, that she had ruined everything.

“Oh, thank God!” She ran into his arms, and he pulled her against him out of habit but released her quickly, moving her gently out of his way, “I’m going upstairs, I need a shower.”

Stepping back, she looked up and sucked in a sharp breath of surprise as she took in his appearance. His left eye was blackened in the corner, puffy and starting to swell, one corner of his lip was cut, and a trickle of blood had left a smear down his chin. Abrasions covered his cheek, and his nose was bleeding.

“Drake! What happened?” She reached out and grabbed his hand, his knuckles were scraped and bleeding as well.

He pulled away from her without answering and started up the stairs. She followed behind him.

“Drake! Are you going to tell me what happened?” She had a sinking feeling she already knew.

She had to run to keep up with him, his strides were longer than hers and he was taking the steps two at a time. By the time she made it to their bedroom, he had already emptied his pockets and was headed for the bathroom.

“Drake! What happened?!” She demanded.

“What the hell do you think happened Campbell?” He snarled as he brushed past her and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door in her face and locking it.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him when he finally emerged from the shower. He walked out, one hand holding the towel around his waist closed, the other combing through his hair. Water droplets still clung to his rock-hard abs and the towel was draped low on his hips, a hint of public hair barely visible. In the moment before he looked up and saw her, his expression was one of distraction, her eyes traced the curve of his cheek, the hard angle of his jaw, the fullness of his lips and her breath caught in her throat.

Then he looked up and caught her eye. She could feel his walls go up as a guarded expression snapped into place and she felt an ache in her heart because she knew it was her fault.

She stood and moved toward him.

He froze in place and gave her a warning look, “Riley, don’t.”

She ignored him and made her way to his side. He went to move around her but paused as he winced and brought a hand up to his ribcage. Her eyes slid down to take in the bruises blossoming there. Her heart sank. He was hurt and it was her fault, again.

“Drake please.” She pleaded softly as she removed his hand and ran her own hands softly over the contusions. He looked at her in stony silence but allowed her to run her hands along his torso, searching for injuries and softly prodding at his wounds, assessing the damage.

She glanced up at him with a small, sad smile.

“What?” His brows knit together.

“Doesn’t this feel a little familiar?”

The corners of his mouth tugged up a little at that and he scoffed softly, “Yeah, I guess it does.”

She reached up to touch his face and he jerked away.

“Drake,” she pleaded quietly, “You can stay mad at me, just let me make sure you’re ok.”

His eyes flicked to hers and he held her gaze, hers soft and beseeching, his stormy and conflicted. With an annoyed grunt he moved to the closest chair and sank into it obediently. Why the fuck can’t I tell her no, even now?

She moved closer and carefully positioned herself so that she was standing over him, straddling his lap with just inches between their bodies. She touched his chin and gently turned his head to one side to inspect his face. One hand brushed his hair back to look for marks under the hairline, the other started at the top of the shell of his ear and traced its way down to the lobe then ghosted down his jaw line. She ran her fingers lovingly and carefully around the boundaries of the abrasions on his cheek and the swelling at his eye.

Drake’s head fell back as an involuntary groan escaped him. He felt himself harden and shifted in his seat, tugging at the towel, trying to cover his erection as she tilted his head to the other side and brought her lips down to softly lick the cut she found there.

“Riley!” He breathed, letting go of the towel and sliding his hands up her thighs, under her pleated miniskirt to sink his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips before he could think better of it. He turned his head so that his lips found hers and pressed upward into a heated kiss.

Riley entwined her hands in his hair and sank down so that she was sitting on his lap, nothing between them but the thin fabric of her panties. At least one part of him wasn’t holding a grudge she thought as she ground herself against him, wanting him to feel how wet she was.

He let out a low moan as he bucked his hips up into her. She ground herself into him harder as she tugged at his hair, pulling him into a deeper kiss. His hands moved from her hips, one arm wrapped around her body, palm pressed against her back as his other hand brushed across a hardened nipple, stroking it through the fabric of her clothes. They devoured each other’s mouths greedily. All of his pain and anger temporarily transformed into something else.

She stood and stepped away from him and he reached out to pull her back, his hands finding only air as she stepped away, swinging her leg over him so she was no longer straddling him. She slid one leg between his and used it to push his legs apart as she moved forward so that she was standing between his legs. She locked her eyes on his as she sank to her knees. He watched her as she moved slowly downward, his heart hammering in his chest. He watched her like he was a lion, she was a gazelle, and he hadn’t eaten in weeks. She dropped her head and placed the flat of her tongue on his base and licked all the way up to the tip.

Drake’s body pitched forward as a guttural sound tore from his throat, “Riley! Fuck!” His hands came up and tangled in her hair as he strained toward her, his body begging for more. She twirled her tongue in soft, tantalizing circles around the tip until it was drenched in precum. She dropped her head lower and placed her tongue on the sensitive area just under his balls, licking her way up to suck them into her mouth.

“Shit!” Drake nearly twisted out of the chair, his desire threatening to overwhelm him, “Please baby!”

She finally, mercifully took his full length into her mouth and drew him in and out as she sucked and licked at him, slowly increasing her pace. His hips moved up and down in time with her. In between thrusts he gasped out, “This….doesn’t….change….anything..”

She let go long enough to look up into his eyes and whisper, “Shut up, Walker. Busy now.” Then dropped her head back into his lap.

He made a strangled sound and dropped his head back as she resumed her ministrations. He arched into her as his hands tugged at her hair. “Fuck….God…..yes!” Electricity sparked through his entire body.

She swirled her tongue as she moved up and down along his shaft until he was trembling under her touch. His desire ramping up her own. The more he whimpered with need, the more the heat coiled in her own core.

“Stop, stop!” He tried to wriggle out her grasp, “I’m too close, stop, I want to come inside you!” He panted.

She stopped and stood up, stepping back out of his reach again as she slowly and teasingly unbuttoned her blouse. She let it fall off her shoulders then reached behind her to unclasp her bra and let it join the shirt on the floor. She slid her skirt down, followed by her panties, and stepped out of them. She never broke eye contact as she brought both hands up to massage her own breasts.

Drake’s eyes were lust blown as he stared at her, mesmerized, one hand stroking himself. He growled, his voice low and husky, “If you don’t come back over here right now-“

He was interrupted by Riley moving to straddle him again, drawing his head toward her. He leaned forward and found a breast, his warm mouth gliding across the coolness of her skin. He sucked and nipped at her as her hands sank into his hair, urging him on. She took him in her hand and guided him to her entrance, then she lowered herself onto him.

His arms came up and circled her body as he thrust up into her, his desire wiping every thought from his mind other than possessing her, reclaiming her, marking her as his.

She teased him, pulling all the way up then sliding herself down onto him slowly. In and out, up and down, agonizingly slow. His hips bucked up, but she just pulled further away. He gripped her hips and tried to push and pull her faster, but she resisted, gliding up and down with deliberate and measured movements. It was making him crazy. The desire crashed through his body, every nerve ending thrumming with it. He needed more.

He sank his fingers deeper into her flesh and drove himself upward into her, feeling her quiver when he was buried inside her. She shuddered and increased her pace, rocking against him without pulling back up. He felt her tighten around him.

Riley sank her nails into Drake’s shoulders as she rocked against him, already balancing on the edge, their eyes locked on each other, ragged breathing filled the room, and she could feel the heat from his body wash through her like the life giving force that it was. It didn’t take much. She rocked forward and back, grinding her swollen nub against his pelvis, once, twice, three times then she was screaming his name as the wave of pleasure crested through her.

The sensation of her clenching around him while she cried out his name ended his self-control. She was done calling the shots. He stood up, hands sliding under her ass so that he was still inside her as she wrapped both legs around him. He took several steps across the room and slammed her into the wall. “My turn!” He growled as he pushed himself deeper into her.

His head came down and his teeth scraped along her exposed neck as he plunged himself in and out of her, her body bouncing against the wall. He was vaguely aware of the sound of shattering glass as picture frames fell off the wall. He sucked and bit at her delicate flesh as his motions became more frantic and erratic.

Riley let her head fall to the side, luxuriating in the feel of his mouth on her, the feel of him inside her, his hands gripping her, the frenzied movements he was making, the primal sounds issuing from the back of his throat. In that moment, like in every other moment, she couldn’t have been more completely his and she couldn’t understand how he never saw it. The world faded away and he was all that existed, all that mattered, all she would ever need. The way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way he felt. It was enough to push her to the edge of insanity.

He pounded into her almost savagely and stars swam in front of her eyes as she hurtled over the edge again, this time taking him with her, her nails biting blood crescents into his back.

He felt the shudders rip through her body, heard her screaming his name again as he buried himself so deep inside her he thought he might just disappear, that his all-consuming desire just might burn him alive, until he incinerated in a cloud of embers and soaked right into her very soul.

He erupted into her as a guttural cry was ripped from him, his body collapsing against hers, pinning her to the wall with his weight. They stayed like that for a long moment, both of them lost in their post orgasmic bliss, reality pushed to the periphery for the moment. Foreheads pressed together, breathing heavy and jagged, sweat glistening on their bodies.

He pushed away from the wall, gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bed. The frantic, pain fueled frenzy over as the emotional intensity of the day ebbed out of him, leaving him exhausted and depleted.

He tugged her body closer to him, pulling her into his side and wrapped his arms tightly around her as he drifted off to sleep.

[jumbosvg]

99 Christmas Inflated Tumbler Bundle Planter Design Png Bundle

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Leather and Smoke : intro

A/N: H-hey everyone... uh... I’m *sigh* I guess I write for Javi now. I guess I have absolutely zero will power. I guess I just see a Pedro character and my brain says “bitch you know you want to do it.” 🤷🏻‍♀️ Anyway, once again this is at least 65% @something-tofightfor​ ‘s fault and as such this was originally written as a surprise gift for her but... *takes long drag of imaginary cigarette* now it’s a whole thing. So have some Javi, I guess.

Summary: You and Javi finally get to have a night in after a rough -and that’s putting it mildly- few weeks at work for both of you. oops, this story is going to be told in reverse.

Warnings: language, sexual content

Word Count: 1.5k

You had no earthly idea what time it was but you couldn’t think of anything in the world that you cared less about. Not while you were lying in Javier Peña’s  bed, the man kissing you so thoroughly you would have forgotten your own name had he not growled it into your ear earlier while he did other things that scrambled every thought your brain attempted. Not while his arms flexed around your legs, his palms pressed to the tops of your thighs as he dragged your hips closer to his mouth, your hands disappearing into his hair at the feel of his satisfied hum vibrating against you. 

Jesus fucking Christ, Javi. 

You chewed at your bottom lip, the flesh there still puffy from where his teeth had just done the same. Letting out a breathless, delirious laugh, you combed a hand through your damp hair, raking it back and away from your face. As your fingers fell down to the side of your neck they brushed a small spot that he’d sucked sore, and the bruising reminder of the way he’d devoured your throat as he buried himself inside you caused a flutter low in your abdomen. 

I don’t care what time it is, just get back here fast, Peña.  

He was in the kitchen filling two glasses with water, and you watched his shadow moving on the wall, thinking about the surprisingly delicate way he’d dropped a light kiss to the spot where you let your fingertips linger, the spot where you could still feel his teeth with each beat of your pulse. 

“Wait here.” He told you as he dragged his bottom lip a few inches up towards your ear before pressing them both behind it. “I’ll be right back.” 

After the shit the two of you had been through over the last month and a half with work, there was nowhere you would rather be. 

Eyelids drooping under the weight of blissful exhaustion, you looked around the room as you waited for him to return. A tired old fan whirred in the corner, oscillating shakily and doing absolutely nothing to cool the thick, humid air that filled the room. The summer heat had only been enhanced by both of your heavy breathing and the way you were transferring warmth between your bodies. Golden light from the neon signs mounted to the building across the street came through the drawn blinds, cutting the dark with a dim glow. In the moments you had been able to keep your eyes open, you’d tried to commit to memory the way his sweat slicked skin looked illuminated in muted orange. 

Just in- You winced. Fuck, don’t… Swallowing, you curled your fingers around the back of your neck and squeezed, closing your eyes. 

Just in case. That was the thought you’d stopped yourself from finishing, because tonight wasn’t about how close you’d come to losing him. Tonight wasn’t about the fear you saw in his eyes when he wasn’t sure if he’d get to you in time. Tonight wasn’t about remembering things that would likely haunt your dreams for years. It was about being there together, about filling up on moments that you’d both want to relive. When you opened your eyes again they landed on his leather jacket where it hung on the closet door knob, and you had an idea that chased any residual thoughts of the things you shouldn’t be thinking about tonight from your mind.

I’ll give you something to think about later too, Javi.

Straining your ear to listen for the sound of water rushing into one of the cut glass tumblers you’d only ever seen him drink whiskey from, you grinned to yourself as you confirmed that he was still in the kitchen. Moving as quickly as you could on quivering legs, you grabbed the jacket and slipped your bare arms into the sleeves, enveloping your naked body in his scent, the porous material soaked in layers of smoke and cologne and him. You let out a sigh as you relished the way that the well worn lining actually felt cool against your skin, the way that the shoulders were so broad that the garment hung heavily on your frame. 

You turned back to perch on the edge of the bed, crossing your legs at the knee and leaning back so the orange glow would highlight the shape of your curves under the open jacket. His footsteps came from the hall and you licked your lips, letting them fall open just as he stepped into the room. Water sloshed over the rim of the glasses he carried as he froze abruptly at the sight of you, and you heard him hiss out a slew of swears both in English and Spanish. 

“Hi Javi,” you pinched the zipper between the thumb and index finger of your right hand and slid it slowly up and down the length of the jacket. 

He stared at you, his chest heaving once before he resumed motion, moving to the dresser in one long stride to set down the glasses before rounding on you. His hands grabbed at the lapels of his jacket, and you let out a gasp as he yanked on them, pulling you quickly to your feet. “I told you to wait there,” he spoke in a low rumble as he cocked his head towards the bed where you’d been when he left you. You nodded and he let himself look at you, drinking you in entirely before he spoke again. “I...” He shifted his hands from the lapels, sliding one underneath the jacket to run his palm over your shoulder, the sleeve slouching down your arm. “I like this.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, leaning into him to press your lips to his bare chest as he let his touch wander over your shoulder to your back beneath the leather. “I like it too. Feels nice, smells like you.” 

He brought his other hand to your waist then, that arm wrapping behind your back to pull you impossibly closer. “Does it?” He asked, teeth grazing the inner helix of your ear to send tingles down your arms and legs. He didn’t give you time to answer though, breathing your name before gently biting down. Fuck. 

“Well now it smells like both of us.”

.

.

.

Thank you for reading!! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list for this or any or my stories, please feel free to let me know! :) 

Tags: @something-tofightfor​​ @gollyderek​​

[mulderist]

Running Up That Hill

Rated: M || Hurt/Comfort, RST || Words: 2k+ || tagging @today-in-fic

In "Sein Und Zeit," Scully stays to comfort Mulder after he learns the truth about his mother's death. This fills in the blanks before Skinner knocks on the door the next morning. (Written for the XF Fanfic Exchange)

The gentle babble of water from the fish tank.

The rustic creak of the desk chair.

The shaky exhale of a broken man.

Her mind kept repeating the horrible words she delivered just as Mulder was trying to rationalize what happened to his mother. It was more blunt than Scully would have liked. In an instant she watched the tidal wave sweep away any sense of calm or clarity. The torrent of anger and grief beat against the fragile wall he desperately tried to maintain. He fell apart; shielded himself from her. She kneeled down and reached for him, felt her own tears prick at the corners of her eyes. His arms draped over her shoulders and she pulled him close, a hand resting on his neck to ground him. Soft lips tenderly kissed his cheek as he sobbed.

Scully traced her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, working small circles in an attempt to soothe the tension. She pressed her cheek against Mulder’s temple feeling the heat radiate off his skin. His convulsions slowed to smaller tremors. His hold on her started to loosen; strong arms that enveloped her twitched as they softened. He pushed back with eyes closed and took a much needed breath of air, a weak hand settled on her upper arm. Her palm gently moved to his damp cheek, brushing away a tear with her thumb. Mulder slowly opened his eyes and reached up to take her hand, bringing it to his lips. He endeavored to stand and Scully rose to her feet with him.

“Mulder?”

“I’m going to need a minute,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. She nodded and watched him walk to the bedroom. After he closed the door slightly a ragged exhale escaped her lips. Her shoulders shrugged off her jacket and she searched in the pocket for her phone. The device felt heavy in her hand and she quickly dialed the number with her thumb. She paced towards the entryway, hearing a single ring in her ear and the outgoing message queued up.

“This is Walter Skinner. I am unable to take your call, please leave me a message.”

*beep*

“Sir, it’s Scully,” she swallowed hard, “I’m sorry to call, I’m not really sure what time it is. But um — I’m here with Agent Mulder. He is very distraught and I really think it’s best that he step down from this case. He needs some time,” she closed her eyes and firmly pressed her lips together, “I’ll stay tonight to keep an eye on him. I’m not sure when we’ll — I’ll be at the office tomorrow.” She disconnected the call and rested the edge of the phone against her chin.

A quick survey of the living room noted an empty pizza box on the coffee table along with food wrappers and laundry on the couch that hadn’t been put away. Mulder basically came back from his mother’s house and entrenched himself in the room. Trying hard to find an explanation, waiting for her autopsy results to have proof that someone else was responsible. Scully moved to his desk and straightened up some of the items that had fallen over. Pens and pencils were placed back in a cup, sunflower seeds were brushed into a pile. As she rested a picture frame back on its easel she frowned at the sight of a brown haired girl with an innocent smile sitting on a jungle gym. Samantha. The picture used to live on Mulder’s desk and fortunately found its way home before their office fire a few years ago. Scully was suddenly overcome with sadness, her lip trembled and she fought back a sob. Her empathy for Mulder was overwhelming and she silently cried into her hands.

----

He sluggishly paced the floor in the bedroom with arms folded. He was exhausted and embarrassed. Mulder stepped into the bathroom and turned on the faucet feeling the water turn tepid before cupping his hands and splashing his face. He looked up at the mirror and saw the familiar puffiness under his eyes. He tugged at the lower lid and could see the network of bloodshot capillaries setting in. Mulder gripped the porcelain sink and hung his head, drops of water fell from his nose and chin into the basin. He snatched a hand towel from the ring on the wall and dried his face. A childhood memory started to play, images flickered into place like a zoetrope gaining speed. This was a memory he revisited more often than he liked. It was the summer of 1973, Rhode Island. The summer before Samantha was taken.

The house always had a familiar salty scent; it was practically baked into the wood panelling that covered the walls. Each summer seemed stronger than the last. Fox shooed his sister out of the bedroom they shared on the second floor. He wanted to finish the chapter he was reading before dinner. She stomped down the hall and down the stairs, scolding him. He heard a slam and figured she was being a brat as she went outside but then he heard his parents arguing. Fox leaned back against the pillow and tried to focus on his book. The voices got louder. He closed the novel, set it on the nightstand then went to investigate.

His hand slid along the wall as he slowly went down the steps. He stopped before reaching the landing when he heard his father shout about a choice being made. Fox crept closer, he had a partial view of the backyard through the large living room window. His mother argued back and gestured to the yard where Samantha was attempting a cartwheel. Bill stood still as Teena repeatedly beat a fist against his chest. Fox was alarmed at what he witnessed. His father simply turned and walked out of the room, his mother paused then followed to slam the door behind him and flip the lock. The house felt strangely quiet. Fox reached the last step as his mother brushed past and went out to the backyard. She stood on the deck, watching Samantha. He slowly went outside to join her. His mother stood with arms tightly folded and a distant stare. When he called out she jumped at his presence, sharply asking what he was doing there. Fox expressed concern but she brushed him off, throwing a comparison to his father then walking further into the yard. He was left to wonder why she was angry with him, looking on as she smiled and hugged Samantha tightly. Fox felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Mulder held the towel firmly against his face breathing in the clean linen scent, dissolving the memory. He then balled up the towel with a white-knuckle grip and growled as he delivered a blind punch to the bathroom door.

——

Scully sat in the leather chair near Mulder’s desk, her index finger and thumb pinched the bridge of her nose. Pinpoint pressure tried to counteract the headache forming behind her eyes. She suddenly heard a thud come from the bedroom and went to find the source. As she crossed the threshold another loud thump reverberated from behind the bathroom door.

“Mulder?” she asked, leaning an ear down to listen. There was a quick rush from the faucet before he emerged with a towel wrapped around his hand.

“Are you alright?”

“A little physical therapy,” he replied, flexing his fingers then squeezing them into his palm with a wince. “Never would have made it as a boxer.”

“Let me take a look,” she said, moving closer to take his hand. He released his grip as she slid the damp towel away. “Oh Mulder,” her brow furrowed at the angry skin across his knuckles. In the dim light she knew the abrasion would look worse tomorrow. She grazed her thumb over the tops of his fingers and she felt the slightest squeeze. Mulder then pulled away and went to sit on the bed. Scully turned to the bathroom and searched his medicine cabinet for an antiseptic. Luckily he wised up to her insistence of keeping a rudimentary first aid kit. She told him once that she couldn’t be a night nurse all the time, which resulted in a playful pout.

The sharp smell of alcohol pierced his nostrils as he watched Scully dab a cotton ball against his knuckles.

“It was stupid. I know.”

“I wasn’t going to say a damn thing,” she said, adjusting her position next to him. He sighed deeply and shook his head.

“I can’t stop looking, Scully.”

“You can’t, or won’t?” It was a soft-spoken honest question but Mulder didn’t want to answer it. He bristled and took back his hand then rose from the bed. “Don’t do this,” she cautioned, looking up at him.

“Why not,” he replied, then walked out of the bedroom. She quickly stood and followed him. He moved through the living room and went to the kitchen, searching for a bottle of vodka he had stashed on a shelf. Scully joined him right as he was pouring a glass.

“I was thinking,” he began after a beat, “my mother never got closure. She just had to live with the decision that she and my father made all those years ago.” He took a long drink and continued. “I wonder if she just assumed Samantha was dead. Made herself believe it so she could move on. I can’t do that, Scully, I can’t just move on. I need that closure. I need to know I’ve done all I can to find out what happened to her.” Mulder finished off the glass and poured another. Scully saw the turmoil on his face, he stared at the tumbler and gripped it tightly. His tongue slowly dragged against his lower lip, pulling it into his teeth. He tipped back the short glass feeling the burn from the vodka coat his throat.

“I can’t stop thinking about that kid, what her parents are going through. Amber Lynn deserves better. Her parents deserve better.” He reached for the bottle and doubled the amount from the previous pour. “Mom thought I could help, she wanted me to help these people. She had given up.” Mulder rambled in a soft voice then took a sip. The sense of defeat was choking the air in the already congested kitchen. “I never called her back. She called when I was out in California and I said I would talk to her later; but I never did.”

Scully brushed at her cheeks, an ache stung her chest as she remembered the last voicemail she left for Melissa. She came to Mulder’s side and placed her hand over his, easing it down to the counter and taking the glass. He watched her kiss the rim and finish off the vodka without even a tic. She moved closer, arms finding a familiar hold around his waist. Scully searched for something to say but knew it would fall on deaf ears. There was warmth from his hand on her back, fingers splayed as he encouraged her to move even closer. She felt a little selfish seeking his comfort when he was on an emotional razor’s edge.

“I’m so sorry, Mulder,” she finally said into his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in her ear. She felt his hand move up to the back of her neck, gently lacing his fingers in her hair. His head dipped down to rest next to hers. Scully pushed back and met his tired gaze, mist clouded her vision until a flutter of eyelashes released a tear down her cheek. There was a shine to his hazel eyes as he searched her face; seeking that touchstone, that totem, that knowledge that he would be okay. He bent closer and kissed her, the taste of alcohol lingered on her lips. She kissed back without hesitation, not wanting to break the gossamer thread that drew them together. Grief and loss were motivators, driving two souls faster into each other’s arms.

Hands traced familiar paths but triggered new sensations. Primal arousal swirled like a maelstrom and the worn leather couch was a safe harbor. Mulder needed to feel skin on skin and his hand slid underneath her shirt, grazing across her taut abdomen. Scully arched her back as she tugged his soft t-shirt, releasing it from the waist of his jeans. Their lips met again leading the way for tongues to mingle and dance. She wanted to help him forget. Her hands began to undo her pants, inching them down over the curve of her hips. Mulder pressed back and fumbled with his jeans. He balanced on one knee sinking lower into the couch cushion and watched her slide back, a fiery aura glowed in the dim light of the room. Before he could think, she was on top of him; hot breath against the side of his neck, arms framed the side of his face as her body pressed against his. He met the rhythm of her hips.

“Use me to forget,” she whispered. He moaned at the request, pressing fingertips harder into her soft curves. Skin to skin. Romance would come another time, tonight played host to half-dressed biological urges desperately seeking a release. Her knees clamped tightly to his sides as a shudder rolled down her body; pain and pleasure written on her face. Leather stretched underneath them, friction caused a deeper patina to the vintage cushions.

“Fuck me, Mulder,” her voice broke as the threshold reached its maximum. His nails dug into her lower back, her teeth gnashed at his earlobe as his momentum increased. Short, ragged breath was shared between them. Syllables bounced around but couldn’t form words. Scully gasped and bit her lower lip as the dam broke. She was overcome, tears streamed down her face while he reached the peak. He cried out as he came, one final deep thrust. Her hand covered her eyes trying to control herself.

“I’m sorry. God I’m sorry, Scully,” he weakly pleaded as he kissed her damp cheeks and stroked her hair. His own emotions bubbled to the surface.

“It’s alright. It’s okay, it’s okay,” she managed to say through tears. Shame washed over him pulling him into an undertow and he sat up to hold her close, shifting her into his lap. She sobbed against his shoulder, empathy taking over once again. His strong embrace could have shattered her like a porcelain doll. She held him just as tightly.

----

The bedroom was their quiet sanctuary. After cleaning up, Scully adjusted the bedclothes and guided him to the side of the bed. He laid down first, leaving room for her to curl up beside him. His arm draped over her waist catching the rise and fall of her form. She held his hand, placing a gentle kiss on his fingers.

Darkness allowed nightmares to invade his mind. Drenched in sweat he trembled next to her. Moans and cries caused her to stir. She reached for his shoulder, took him out of the midnight visions. Her voice comforted him and told him he was safe with her in his bed. This continued well into the night. She felt him get out of bed and heard the click of the bathroom door. The faucet ran as he coughed deeply, followed by the flush of the toilet. She lay on her back, waiting for him to return. When he crawled back into bed smelling of mint mouthwash, she gently rested her head on his chest.

Dawn arrived all too soon and just as she felt sleep was finally at hand, sunrise brought an unwelcome knock on the door. She ignored it at first, nuzzling back into the pillow that held his scent. He breathed peacefully beside her. The knock repeated. Scully shifted under Mulder’s arm and slipped out of bed, padding out to see who the culprit was. A flip of the lock and a turn of the knob open the door to Skinner standing on the doorstep. Scully then recalled the voicemail she left several hours ago. There were a thousand words he could have strung together when he saw her but he settled on the easiest one.

“Hi,” he said sheepishly when he noticed her disheveled hair and work shirt. She blinked and stood firm with her hand bracing the door.

“Hi,” she echoed.

“How is he?”

“It’s been a rough night for him,” her voice was raspy with the tones of early morning. Skinner had his own theories but immediately boxed them up when he saw the exhausted look on her face. Scully was fiercely protective of her partner and she knew he was there to talk about the LaPierre case. Her expression matched the concern in her voicemail that she really didn’t want Mulder involved. Right on cue Mulder entered the room, hovering close to Scully’s side. Skinner said that the LaPierre’s were asking to meet with him and that he booked plane tickets for later that morning. Mulder wordlessly nodded and retreated to the bedroom leaving Scully to request an additional ticket out to the west coast.

[something-tofightfor]

Leather and Smoke

@the-blind-assassin-12​ posted earlier that she was doing *something* and it was a secret, and she just submitted a post to me and it …. osfjakfjshfjshfk wk 

I can’t breathe. The contents of the post - and what she spent all afternoon doing - are beneath the cut because it is ZESTY. ZESTY AF. But here’s a hint - and some proof that I am clairvoyant. 

Alyssa, I do not deserve a friend like you. Not even just because of things like this, but in general. When I say that I am ENDLESSLY thankful for you, I mean it. 

Leather and Smoke

*SURPRISE BITCH! CONGRATS ON YOUR MILESTONE- please accept this gift in celebration as it was once again your fault that it happened what with all the gifs and tik toks you’ve been assaulting me with.* 

–  –  –  –

You had no earthly idea what time it was but you couldn’t think of anything in the world that you cared less about. Not while you were lying in Javier Peña’s  bed, the man kissing you so thoroughly you would have forgotten your own name had he not growled it into your ear earlier while he did other things that scrambled every thought your brain attempted. Not while his arms flexed around your legs, his palms pressed to the tops of your thighs as he dragged your hips closer to his mouth, your hands disappearing into his hair at the feel of his satisfied hum vibrating against you. 

Jesus fucking Christ, Javi. 

You chewed at your bottom lip, the flesh there still puffy from where his teeth had just done the same. Letting out a breathless, delirious laugh, you combed a hand through your damp hair, raking it back and away from your face. As your fingers fell down to the side of your throat they brushed a small spot that he’d sucked sore, and the bruising reminder of the way he’d devoured your throat as he buried himself inside you caused a flutter low in your abdomen. 

I don’t care what time it is, just get back here fast, Peña.  

He was in the kitchen filling two glasses with water, and you watched his shadow moving on the wall, thinking about the surprisingly delicate way he’d dropped a light kiss to the spot where you let your fingertips linger, the spot where you could still feel his teeth with each beat of your pulse. 

“Wait here.” He told you as he dragged his bottom lip a few inches up towards your ear before pressing them both behind it. “I’ll be right back.” 

After the shit the two of you had been through over the last month and a half with work, there was nowhere you would rather be. 

Eyelids drooping under the weight of blissful exhaustion, you looked around the room as you waited for him to return. A tired old fan whirred in the corner, oscillating shakily and doing absolutely nothing to cool the thick, humid air that filled the room. The summer heat had only been enhanced by both of your heavy breathing and the way you were transferring warmth between your bodies. Golden light from the neon signs mounted to the building across the street came through the drawn blinds, cutting the dark with a dim glow. In the moments you had been able to keep your eyes open, you’d tried to commit to memory the way his sweat slicked skin looked illuminated in muted orange. 

Just in- You winced. Fuck, don’t… Swallowing, you curled your fingers around the back of your neck and squeezed, closing your eyes. 

Just in case. That was the thought you’d stopped yourself from finishing, because tonight wasn’t about how close you’d come to losing him. Tonight wasn’t about the fear you saw in his eyes when he wasn’t sure if he’d get to you in time. Tonight wasn’t about remembering things that would likely haunt your dreams for years. It was about being there together, about filling up on moments that you’d both want to relive. When you opened your eyes again they landed on his leather jacket where it hung on the closet door knob, and you had an idea that chased any residual thoughts of the things you shouldn’t be thinking about tonight from your mind.

I’ll give you something to think about later too, Javi.

Straining your ear to listen for the sound of water rushing into one of the cut glass tumblers you’d only ever seen him drink whiskey from, you grinned to yourself as you confirmed that he was still in the kitchen. Moving as quickly as you could on quivering legs, you grabbed the jacket and slipped your bare arms into the sleeves, enveloping your naked body in his scent, the porous material soaked in layers of smoke and cologne and him. You let out a sigh as you relished the way that the well worn lining actually felt cool against your skin, the way that the shoulders were so broad that the garment hung heavily on your frame. 

You turned back to perch on the edge of the bed, crossing your legs at the knee and leaning back so the orange glow would highlight the shape of your curves under the open jacket. His footsteps came from the hall and you licked your lips, letting them fall open just as he stepped into the room. Water sloshed over the rim of the glasses he carried as he froze abruptly at the sight of you, and you heard him hiss out a slew of swears both in English and Spanish. 

“Hi Javi,” you pinched the zipper between the thumb and index finger of your right hand and slid it slowly up and down the length of the jacket. 

He stared at you, his chest heaving once before he resumed motion, moving to the dresser in one long stride to set down the glasses before rounding on you. His hands grabbed at the lapels of his jacket, and you let out a gasp as he yanked on them, pulling you quickly to your feet. “I told you to wait there,” he spoke in a low rumble as he cocked his head towards the bed where you’d been when he left you. You nodded and he let himself look at you, drinking you in entirely before he spoke again. “I…” He shifted his hands from the lapels, sliding one underneath the jacket to run his palm over your shoulder, the sleeve slouching down your arm. “I like this.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, leaning into him to press your lips to his bare chest as he let his touch wander over your shoulder to your back beneath the leather. “I like it too. Feels nice, smells like you.” 

He brought his other hand to your waist then, that arm wrapping behind your back to pull you impossibly closer. “Does it?” He asked, teeth grazing the inner helix of your ear to send tingles down your arms and legs. He didn’t give you time to answer though, breathing your name before gently biting down. Fuck. 

“Well now it smells like both of us.”

–  –  –  –  

Please direct all comments and compliments and keyboard smashing to @the-blind-assassin-12​. I might have planted the seeds for this, but it came from her head. I hope you post this on your page, too. 

[castiel-left-his-mark-on-me]

~ Branded ~

The last day had had it’s last minute, and now the clock was flashing on the last of a lifetime, and Jensen didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to feel. He was sad, but also—relieved. Relieved that this could end on their terms, his, Jared’s and Misha’s. He was happy that now he could finally see his kids grow up like any normal dad could. He was heartbroken that his childhood was over, because he had been a child when this all started. This show kept his heart young, and now—it’s twelve O’one in the morning, and he is staring at the dark stages one last time, feeling far too many feelings and feeling too alone; so he does what he always does when life is too complicated and scary … he goes to Misha.

Misha is sitting quietly in the dark when Jensen gets there. He has a tumbler of something in his hand—it might be scotch, it might be iced tea, he never knows with Misha Collins; and when the door squeaks open and Jensen fully steps inside, letting the light from the exterior hallway flood the living room, he catches the shine of tears in Misha’s eyes.

“Hey, Mish” Jensen says, already feeling his own eyes begin to burn again.

Misha doesn’t say anything, he just smiles weakly and then nods to the space on the couch beside him.

Jensen quickly shuts the door and shuffles over, sitting down and immediately pressing into Misha’s side. Misha puts an arm around him and then offers him his glass, and Jensen takes it, knowing now that it has to be scotch. Misha wouldn’t offer him tea in a time like this.

After a few slow sips, he hands it back to the man and then leans his head onto Misha’s shoulder, sighing as another tear slips down his cheek. “Well, that’s it then.”

“Yup” Misha gravels, voice raw from crying—crying as Castiel and crying as himself.

“I can’t believe it.”

“Yup” Misha says again, even rougher now as more tears well in his eyes.

Jensen peeks up at him, and then reaches over to wipe some of the tears away. “It’ll be okay though. It’s good—we ended it our way. That’s good.”

Misha nods and quirks up his mouth. “Yes, I know; but it was still home; and now it’s gone.”

Jensen nods too. “Yeah. Watching them take it all down was worse than them calling the final wraps.”

“Way worse.”

Jensen holds out his hand for the scotch again and greedily swigs back half the glass once Misha gives it to him.

“Woah … alright, I’ll get another one” Misha chuckles dryly, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt as he scoots away to stand.

Jensen quickly sets the tumbler down on the sidetable so he can grab Misha’s hand before he gets too far away, and in one quick tug, Misha is stumbling back into Jensen’s lap. “I don’t need scotch, I just need you.”

Misha shifts a moment before relaxing into Jensen’s arms, pressing their foreheads together, and then their lips, a kiss followed by a kiss, followed by a caress, followed by the press of bodies and time and too much heart being both of their problems now. “At least this isn’t ending” Misha whispers before kissing down Jensen’s cheek to his ear and then his neck, nuzzling into his lover’s warmth, creating more warmth with each touch.

“Never” Jensen whispers back, squeezing Misha so hard, he hears his spine crack.

“Ouch—jeeze! Well it might if you crush me to death!”

Jensen smiles and loosens his hold, allowing the man to lean back a little and look at him; and there he is, older, wiser, but still the blue-eyed wonder that Jensen fell in love with all those years ago. He is and always will be that person that puts the world into perspective for him. Misha is the bravest man he has ever met. He has overcome so much, he has seen so much, he has done and been and lived so much, and Jensen feel so much love right here in this moment with this so-much man in his arms, it’s almost too much for him to stand, so he reaches up, and with a hand on the back of Misha’s neck, Jensen pulls him down for another kiss—one with too much and not enough and all of himself wrapped around his tongue and baring down on his teeth.

“Ouch!” Misha yelps again, yanking his body back before touching a finger to his lip. “You bit me!”

Jensen cowers a little and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I got … uh, I got carried away.”

Misha huffs. “I’ll say! Am I bleeding? Jesus, Jensen … I bet I’ll have a scar now.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “You are such a drama queen.”

“It’s not being dramatic when you complain about someone maiming you!”

Jensen laughs and rolls his eyes again. “I wasn’t maiming you. I was branding you.”

Misha drops his hand from his now—slightly puffy lip. “Branding me?”

Jensen nods.

“So, what? Am I your property now?”

Jensen softens, lifting a gentle hand to smooth the hair around Misha’s ear, finally cupping his cheek in his palm. “No ...” he whispers, and Misha presses into his touch in spite of himself. Jensen smiles. “You’re just mine.”

Misha sighs, letting the moment still in the darkness of the apartment. The quiet freezes time, the world fades away, as do all the realities of the last few days. For now, it’s just him and Jensen—Jensen and him, together, tangled up together, hurting and loving and living life together, just as it was, just as it’s always been, just as it always will be.

Misha nods. “I am yours.”

[bluedragonfairy2000]

Another really good au is big brother club

I am not sure who made this au but I think it was mirinda03 but it’s no longer on the blog if it was them (at least not that I can see but if anyone knows where I can find the original source please let me know.)

Some of it is still on trickszie tumbler so go check out trickszie and mirinda03 tumblers.

The summary of this au is that instead of having wars on the dream smp for freedom and control all of the “wars” are fought between the members of the big brother club.

The big brother club began because in this au Wilbur is a clingy older brother and loves that he is the one tommy looks up to. But he starts getting jealous when other members of the smp adopt Tommy as their little brother

Then Wilbur goes and makes a big brother club which consists of him being the president. And has members such as Technoblade, Quackity, Dream, and later on Jschlatt.

Wilbur goes after anyone who is trying to be a better big brother to Tommy than him. This leads to a kind of mini war between him and Quackity because of the fact that Quackity say that Wilbur should not be president of the big brother club and that he should be president instead (basically saying that he is a better big brother to Tommy than Wilbur)

Eventually Technoblade starts competing for the the title of president of the big brother club and it turn into an all out war for Tommy’s platonic affection.

Most of the guys on the smp get wrapped up into this war including ranboo because any male older than Tommy (that’s all guys since tommy is the youngest) is a threat it Wilburs mind.

Their was also a min plot of a “Cold War” going on between Phil (who is a good dad in this au) and Niki of who was the better parental figure in Tommy life. This is the only bit I would change instead of Phil and Niki, I would have it be between Phil, Puffy, and Awesamdude.

The only people not involved in the war is:

Tubbo who doesn’t care about big brother status but will steal your knee caps if you try and take best friend status away.

George: who doesn’t care at all and eats popcorn on the side during the wars

And Tommy who in some versions doesn’t know their even is a war for him and in others he is quietly fueling the fire of the war and then sit with George and eating popcorn.

I like the latter cause that something I think he would do

Also no three lives thing they have infinite lives so go nuts.