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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

Reminiscing

Warnings - tooth rotting fluff... And smut. Obvs. Bit of a Daddy Kink thrown in cuz why the hell not?

Taglist (message me to be added!)

@queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @janelongxox @being-worthy

You sat in the large armchair, in the big bay window of your Dublin home, blanket over your legs, as you immersed yourself in the latest John Grisham novel. Your husband was out, dropping his sons off back at their mum's after spending the weekend with you. You couldn't help but pinch yourself on a regular basis. Gorgeous husband, amazing young stepsons, even Cillians ex-wife, Lisa, was someone you considered a close friend - the split had been amicable, and she'd encouraged her sons with Cillian to welcome you with open arms. You even met her for lunch a few times a month, much to Cillian's surprise. He was more concerned the two of you were comparing notes than anything else!

Hearing the front door open and close, he smiled as he re-entered the room. Leaning over to kiss your lips, he sank down onto the sofa and picked his own book up from the coffee table.

"How was Lisa?" You asked, taking a sip of your coffee.

"Good - she said she'd call you later, something about a girls night out next week."

"Sounds fun - I'm up for that." You nestled down snug in the chair and continued your chapter. You could feel his eyes looking your way, and smiled internally. You loved the way he just watched you when he thought you couldn't see.

The way your legs hung over the chair, blanket covering your lower half. He smiled, remembering the day you met at the aftershow party for his latest play in Dublin. He was hesitate to go, but the director had convinced him. You were the director, Enda Walsh's niece, and you'd gone along to support your uncle's latest stage production. You knew who Cillian was of course, not that it bothered you. Working as a stagehand part time at the theatre in your teens, you'd met plenty of famous people over the years and frankly most of them were arrogant idiots with egos the size of Jupiter. Cillian was different though. Down to earth, sweet, kind, normal. Neither of you particularly looking for love, but sometimes it happens in the most unlikely of places.

Flashback

"Cillian, this my niece y/n. Y/n, this is Cillian, the star of the show!" Enda introduced the two of you and Cillian smiled, leaning forward to embrace you softly and kiss your cheek.

"I've heard so much about you y/n, nice to put a face to the name." You couldn't help but feel butterflies looking into those blue eyes, and without you realising at the time, Cillian felt exactly the same about yours. You'd spent most of the evening from that point talking about the theatre and what you each loved about it - from the lighting and production side to the audience reactions during the live show itself. You'd seen Cillian in the show three times, you'd been mesmerised by his performance, but this was the first time you'd met him.

The music changed as the night was drawing to a close. A slower number, and the other cast members and production team all took their respective partners to the dance floor. You were both now sat pretty much alone - clearly the only single people in the room!

"Would you like to dance?" Cillian asked, sheepishly. It suddenly felt a little awkward. You looked at him surprised, but found yourself nodding as he offered you his hand and led you to the dance floor. You could feel your uncle's stare as Cillian placed one hand on your waist and took your hand with his other, both of you gently swaying to the music. He was a smooth dancer, never missing a step. No toes clashing together, and the awkwardness melted away as you looked into each others eyes. The rest of the room suddenly becoming an afterthought.

"I've really enjoyed talking to you tonight y/n."

"Me too, you're not like the other actors. You're... Normal!" You giggled lightly.

"I'm boring, you mean?" He laughed in response, you could feel his fingers caressing your waist softly as you continued to sway.

"How'd you feel about dinner one night? We can talk more about how boring we both are?" That smile again.

"You're on. He pulled you a little closer, your cheeks inches apart. He desperately wanted to kiss you there and then but with your uncle a mere few feet away he didn't dare. He knew you were 28 to his 40, and he wasn't sure how his friend would react to it.

"You two seemed to be getting on well?" Enda approached you after the party, and he couldn't help but notice the glow around you after your dance with Cillian. He'd gone to the bathroom.

"He's a nice guy Uncle E, we have a lot in common."

"You know he's 40, and has two kids, right?"

"Uncle -"

"Cillian! So you're taking my niece out for dinner are you?" He returned from the men's room and froze.

"Um.. I..."

"I'm kidding... God you're too easy to wind up!! Have fun!!" Both of you audibly sighed in relief.

"He's an ass..." You smiled as Cillian offered you his arm to link into.

"I have a car outside, I'll drop you home?" You nodded, taking his arm.

You both sat in the back, the driver being given your home address as Cillian pushed the visor up between the driver and you. Privacy. He took your hand, leaning back and kissed the back of it gently. You smiled - your first kiss, but not where you wanted it.

"He can't see us, right?" You asked. He nodded and pulled you closer to him. "So..." Leaning toward you slowly, he gently ran a thumb over your cheek and pressed his lips to yours. You returned the kiss. His mouth opening slightly to gain access to yours, your tongues soon met. It quickly became heated before Cillian pulled away.

"You wanna go home?"

"You want me to go home?"

"Nope."

"Then I'm not going home." Cillian pulled the visor down and told him you were both going back to his house instead before pulling you back against his lips.

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

The memories of that first night were as clear as if it had happened only yesterday, not two years ago. It was so good that you both often got yourselves off to the thought of it when Cillian was away working. Two years on and your lives were simply idyllic.

He made his way over to you in the chair and kneeled down next to you, running a hand under your summer dress and squeezing your thigh.

"You know, I've been thinking..." He leaned closer to your ear, making you squirm. He knew the effect his voice had on you and he played on it daily.

"Dangerous..." You smirked, and he responded by tracing kisses up your back, his hand still teasing under your dress, over your now damp underwear.

"All this house.. and just the two of us.. seems a waste, don't you think?" His fingers gently moving your panties aside and slipping between your folds. Instinctively you opened your legs, granting him access.

"Hmmm....." Your hips rising slightly to meet his fingers. "Are you saying you want a dog, Cillian.."

"Funny, y/n... No.." his fingers were torturing you, caressing everywhere except where you needed him to be.

"Wanna fill me with your baby do you daddy?"

"Hmm.. call me that again..." He smiled, his erection now painfully pushing against his jeans as he dipped a finger inside you.

"Do we have a Daddy Kink, Cillian? Does making me full of your baby turn you on?" You tried to retain composure as a second finger entered you, his hand now pushing them in and out slowly.

"Fuck... Stand up." He ordered and he immediately pulled the dress over your head and your underwear down. Swiftly followed by his own clothing, before he lay you down on the sofa.

"Guess we won't be needing a condom for this then... Fuck me daddy - give me a baby..."

"Coming right up..." He kneeled back down next to you and parted your perfect legs, before sinking two fingers back inside, rubbing your clit with his thumb. It wasn't long before you were writhing under his touch, calling his name as you came hard against his hand. He moved over you, quickly turning you over so your pert behind was up in the air and you were gripping the arm of the sofa in hot anticipation. He pushed inside, feeling you for the first time without a barrier - no other contraception had suited you, so you'd stuck with condoms - and he groaned as he filled you completely.

"Jesus... God yes.. right there Daddy...." He picked up the pace at your words, thrusting into you like a man possessed.

"Fuck this is tight baby... I'm not gonna last long like this..."

"Fill me up Daddy.. make me pregnant.. give me your baby..." He couldn't hold back after that, and came hard, filling you and sending you into your second orgasm. Breathing heavy, he stayed in until he was completely spent - not daring to waste a drop.

"Lay on your back y/n... Legs in the air.." you did as he asked, confused. "Helps the whole process apparently."

"So you meant it then?" You smiled as he knelt beside you again, swirling a hand over your belly.

"What, that I want to see the love of my life's body swell with my baby inside? Damn right I meant it y/n.. nothing would make me happier than a baby with you." You were grinning now, as he leaned in to kiss you.

"Love you Cill."

"Love you more mama." The sound of him calling you that made your heart swell. You couldn't wait to hear your baby call it you too.

#cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x daddy kink

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Note

hiii could you do a drabble with Din?? I was thinking he doesn’t know you have anxiety yet and you’re having a panic attack and he doesn’t rlly know how to handle them?? I thought #16 would be perfect bc protector Din is like “I will fuck up whatever is making you feel like this” (surprise bucket head, it’s their own brain)

Melting Dew [Din Djarin x GN!Reader]

Prompt no.16 “Who hurt you?” — thank you for the request!

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attack, body dysmorphia, food mention, domestic!Din, Din and reader have pre-established relationship.

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 2000>

Masterlist

Din wasn't meant to be back for at least two more hours. The farmers market was about a three mile walk away from where he'd parked the Razor Crest, and he'd taken Grogu with him this time, who was sure to preoccupy Din whilst you were unable to accompany him. You'd spent the past week beaming at the thought of returning to Naboo, and craving the delicious, juicy taste of their native sourberries. Last night, before you fell asleep in Din's arms, you excitedly told him how you were going to purchase enough sourberries to last the entirety of the upcoming bounty hunting season. Din jokingly rolled his eyes at your comment and pressed a chaste kiss into your forehead, always finding your love for the simpler things in life extremely endearing.

Din Djarin spent the majority of his life a lone warrior. But upon meeting you and rescuing Grogu, it seemed like that all changed— and quickly, too. Now he was providing for the little green bean he called 'son', and you, the most beautiful, interesting and equally important person he'd ever laid his eyes on. Your appearance was soft, delicate, and your features were doe-like. In a galaxy filled with hatred and war, you were the epitome of hope and innocence. How could he not love you? He admired your attitude and excitement for life, and he adored the way you cared for Grogu unconditionally, like he was your own child. You were unlike any other person he'd ever met before. You were as pure as melting dew.

So of course he was protective over you. You, Din and Grogu had scowered the most dangerous depths of the galaxy and you all had your fair share of abuse from Imps, crime syndicates and immoral scoundrels. But there were people out there who tried to hurt you. However, they could never even get close to drawing a knife to your neck. Din was always one step ahead. Messing with you was no game. He hadn't let a single one of them live.

You'd awoken early this morning, quietly slipping out of bed and padding over to your closet in search for an appropriate outfit for the day ahead. You picked out a white tunic and embroided belt, along with some brown boots; but strangely enough, none of it seemed to fit. This was your favourite outfit and you wore it on practically all your days off. You loved the flow of it, and the way it hugged all the curves and accents of your body. But today... something wasn't right. The stitched tunic was tight around your arms and boxy on your shoulders, and as you looked in the full length mirror, your heart sank in your chest. The boots made everything worse. The belt didn't hang on your body correctly. And hell, it wasn't even just the clothes. There was something wrong with your hair today too— and your skin had broken out— and the dark circles that graced your under eyes had become significantly more prominent. You felt completely and utterly disgusting. There was no other word to describe it.

You heard Grogu stir from the quarters and you knew it wouldn't be long until he and Din woke up. You felt so embarrassed. So ashamed. The Mandalorian was an esteemed bounty hunter, best in the Guild, and also your husband— but Kriff, if he seen you like this... he'd shove you off his ship and make the jump to hyperspace within seconds! Panic filled you and the palms of your hands became clammy. He couldn't see you like this. He couldn't.

Just as you anticipated, you heard Grogu's garbles, signifying that the child was now awake and ready for breakfast. Din groaned something incoherent and you glanced over to him as he shuffled amongst the blankets. Your mind was still racing. If he saw you like this, he would for sure leave you. You had to hide. But where?

You bolted to the other side of Din's quarters and into the Refresher, turning on the shower and discarding the clothes that had made you feel so monstrous on the floor. Din heard the screeching noise of the Refresher and thought it was strange you were showering so early. The water was always particularly cold on a morning, and you knew this. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off and headed over to grab some pots and pans. He was preparing bone broth for breakfast.

When you didn't join the duo, Din left a bowl of broth for you in the cockpit of his ship. After he finished washing the dishes, he knocked on the Refresher door. "Cyare, are you alright?" he called, his voice rife with concern.

"Y-yes, I'm okay." you lied through gritted teeth. You were sat on the cold tiled floor, a towel hugging your body as you shivered uncontrollably.

"I was going to leave now... for the farmer's market. The walk is quite far so I wanted to set off early. Are you still coming?" Din asked curiously, his gloved hand nervously tracing the details of the steel door.

"I think I'll skip today, but have fun with Grogu, and stay safe." You tried to sound as optimistic and normal as usual, but behind the closed door, a silent tear slipped down your cheek. There was a brief silence and you had considered maybe Din had already left. But then you heard his modulated voice again.

"Are you sure everything is okay?" He knew how much you'd looked forward to going to the farmers market. It was all you had been talking about for the past week. Sourberries.

"I'm fine!" you forced a smile, even though he couldn't see.

Din wasn't convinced, but he knew better than to push you. If you said you were fine, so be it. He believed you. He had no reason not to trust you when you'd been nothing but honest to him since the very day you met him, all those moons ago.

Once you were sure he was gone, you pulled your pajamas back over your head, and climbed into bed. You felt safe, and free from any judgement. You were all alone. And that meant you could cry. So, you did. You sobbed for what felt like hours. You laid on your side and clutched the thin blanket tight to your chest, almost like you were hugging it for comfort. Your whimpers echoed against the interior of the Crest and this was the only time you had been thankful for Din and Grogu not being around.

Until you heard the entrance to the Crest shoot open, with that all too familiar whizzing noise. Dank Farrik— they were back early. They were back and you weren't even dressed. Your eyes were red and puffy, your hair was sticking up in places. You were, to put simply, a mess. But you felt like you were no less of a mess than what you were when you had worn the white tunic and embroided belt this morning whilst they were still asleep. You sunk under the covers of the bed and tried to hide from them. You prayed to the Maker that perhaps Grogu would help you out and use one of his magical force abilities to make you invisible. Then you'd never have to face the oncoming conversation with Din. The conversation that was inevitable.

"Cyar'ika?" Din asked, putting Grogu down on the floor and approaching you hesitantly. Thankfully, Grogu was more preoccupied with the little silver beskar ball he'd always play with. It came from one of the many levers on the Razor Crest. Din gently pulled away the blankets, revealing your tired glazed eyes and your tear stained cheeks. "Oh, my love. What... what happened?"

You didn't answer, feeling a swell of guilt erupt in your stomach. Din removed his helmet and placed it on the nightstand, and your heart jumped at the mere sight of your husband. His dark eyebrows were furrowed together in bewilderment and his honey colour eyes raked your body. "Who hurt you?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave. It was low and gravely; and you knew he was very serious. "Cyare... did something happen? Did someone-"

"No." you cut him off quickly.

No? Din's mind couldn't compute that answer. There was clearly something very wrong, and Din had to find out what exactly it was. Someone must've done something. You were fine yesterday. Had someone been on the ship while he and Grogu were out?

"Whoever or whatever it is— I can fix it. I will hunt them down cyare, you hear me? They won't know what hit them. I can-"

"Din stop," you pleaded with weak gasp, bringing your hands up to hide your face. You felt nothing but shame. "It's not... it's not like that. It's me."

Din's expression changed almost immediately. His face softened, his perfect plush lips parted slightly at your confession. He sat on the edge of the bed and took your hand. "What do you mean?" he quizzed quietly, although he had an inkling he already knew what you meant.

"I got up early this morning, excited to venture out to the farmers market with you and Grogu. Excited to go sourberry picking. But when I got dressed, it was like... something just hit me. I can't put it into words but I just felt so... so... ugly."

Once again, Din's brain simply could not compute your revelation. Ugly? You? How could you possibly feel that way. You shared the likeness of an angel. How could it be?

You swallowed and continued. "And then I got afraid. I got so scared that you'd see me the way I see me, and you wouldn't want to be with me anymore. That you'd run away from me and leave me behind." you shrugged helplessly. Now the tears were beginning to free fall.

"I could never, ever, think that of you, riduur. I love you so much. How could I possibly leave you? Without you, my life would end. It would be meaningless." Din revealed, his chocolate eyes glossy as he cupped your face with his large hand. His thumb traced the height of your cheekbone and you found yourself subconsciously leaning into his touch.

"Don't say things like that," you whispered, shaking your head. "You don't need me around... you already had everything under control before me."

"But nobody to make me smile. Nobody to make me laugh. Nobody to bring me joy... or show me the pleasure of how to love, and be loved in return." Din huffed, pressing his forehead against yours. "Next time you feel this way, please don't hide it from me. Whatever you're going through, we go through it together. Okay?"

You sniffed before finally nodding your head in affirmation. "Okay Din."

Din leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, the curve of his nose bumping into your cheek as he manouvered his body carefully over you. "So beautiful, and all mine." He purred lovingly before licking a stripe over your lower lip. You moaned wantonly and interwined your fingers in his curly brown locks of hair.

It was moments like this that you cherished forever. The sweet touches and soft murmers that made you void of all worry and insecurity; because in that moment, all that mattered was you and your riduur.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #grogu #star wars #baby yoda

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years

Text

SUNBEAMS & RHYTHMS || STEVE ROGERS; BUCKY BARNES

pairing: Steve Rogers x blind!black!reader x Bucky Barnes || word count: 5,414 || warnings: mentions of depression, mentions of anxiety, mentions of insomnia, mentions of suicidal/dark thoughts, mentions of surgery/side effects of surgery (seizures/medications), smut, sex, threesome (m/m/f), polyandry/polyamory || challenge: @jbbarnesnnoble mental health awareness month writing challenge - “the warmth of the sun fell over you like a blanket in the middle of winter.”

author’s note: this was such a great challenge, but please heed the warnings! we’re dealing with some sensitive issues in this one. I hope you guys like, and I also hope that I’ve handled this correctly! this is my first time writing a disabled reader. let me know what you think please :) and thank you all so much for all of the love since I've been back from my little hiatus! major inspiration from this post. I’m also getting used to a new laptop, so if there’s any weirdness in this post that’s why, lmaooo. okay, I'm done talking, enjoy!

The room is shrouded in darkness - but not that you’d notice anyway. Your body is covered by the thick duvet thrown over the bed, your face buried in your hands. A splitting headache forces your eyes closed, but you’re used to them. The headaches. They started a few years ago, out of nowhere - you just thought it was stress, or, maybe not getting enough sleep at night. You didn’t pay them any attention at first.

They got worse. They got to the point where you couldn’t get out of bed. Your vision would get blurry. Steve suggested a doctor - you said no, it’s just a migraine. You’d be fine. He insisted after a few more months went by, and your headaches got worse, your vision worse.

You still remember it like it was yesterday. You sat there, stunned into silence. Your whole body numb. Steve grabbed your left hand, Bucky your right, as the room started to spin - the doctor's voice fading away as she spoke. Brain tumor. It was so large now that it was pressing on your optic nerves, making you slowly go blind. Within months, purples and greens and blues and pinks were all replaced by nothing. Not even black - it was just nothing.

The last clear thing you remember seeing were the tears in Steve’s eyes and Bucky’s metal arm thrown over your hip as he held you tight. You had to squint to make everything out, but Steve’s eyes were shiny - cloudy - as the emotion trickled down his cheeks. You wiped them away slowly with your thumb as you tried to etch his face in your mind so you’d never forget it. You wanted each line, each crinkle, each little freckle to be ingrained in you. You’d already spent hours staring at Bucky, doing the same.

You made them smile - soft ones, toothy ones, lopsided ones, just so you could remember them. Both men obliged, although Steve clearly couldn’t stuff his grief and anger down as well as Bucky could. Bucky was angry with him at first - telling him to stay strong for you. Surgery wasn’t going to be easy, mentally, emotionally, physically - they needed to stay strong for you. You told him not to be so hard on Steve. You were all dealing with the death - of the person you were, your relationship as it was - he was allowed to grieve.

You woke up from the surgery a few days later, tumor free, but almost completely blind.

Everything was just different from that point on. The medication after the surgery did a number on you. The steroids made you irrationally angry and agitated. Insomnia kicked in, you couldn’t sleep for days on end, so they prescribed you a sleeping aid. You couldn’t tell if it were day or night, so on top of the insomnia, your circadian rhythm was fucked - more medication. Your balance was off, you were confused more times than you weren’t, you had a seizure or two - bad ones.

That’s when the depression seeped in. You missed who you used to be. You were fun. You were wild - that’s how you ended up in a relationship with two men in the first place. You had a great laugh. You couldn’t hold your liquor for shit, and you had a great sense of style. You loved everything and everyone and now, you’re just a shell of that person. You end up laying in bed most of the day, days on end, as dark thoughts swarm around you, consuming the last spots of light you have left.

You’re a burden to them, Steve and Bucky. They’ve both had to leave the team, not wanting to be far from you in case something happened. Steve turned his shield over to Sam immediately upon hearing the news. Bucky stayed on for a while longer but wouldn’t leave the country, until even that was too much for him. He’s been home full time for a few weeks now.

The headaches now are from the new crippling anxiety and stress that you live with constantly. You don’t bother to put on anything but old t-shirts and sweats because, what’s the point? You can’t even remember what your favorite clothes look like. One afternoon, in a fit of rage, you pulled every article of clothing from the hanger and made Bucky tell you what color it was before you threw it away. You could only imagine him standing there, his hands on his hips, his head down, his voice low as he rattled them off - red, pink, yellow with white polka dots, navy blue and white stripes.

Between the irrational anger, the headaches, the insomnia, the feeling that your floundering - sinking just below the endless, dark water - you just want to give up. You just want to close your eyes and float away. Make it all end.

You hear the door slide across the carpet as it opens, and then heavy steps before a massive weight presses into the mattress. The duvet starts to shift but you grab it, stopping it from sliding off of your head and groan loudly.

“Bucky,” you whine, “Please don’t.”

He chuckles, “How d’you know it was me?”

His body wash. You used to laugh at the differences between the two of them - like day and night almost; but their juxtaposition is what made them, them. Bucky always went for earthy tones; rich - scents and colors alike. Naturally, his preferred body wash was heavier than Steve’s, distinctly masculine. Steve always liked a hint of sweet.

“Baby,” Bucky’s voice is soft and airy, “You gotta get up.” You don’t respond. You draw your knees into your chest as you feel him shift behind you, “Come on baby. We have a surprise for you.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

You can sense the smile on his face. He shifts again and suddenly you feel those metal digits slide up your spine. Slowly, slowly, slowly, they creep along your back and up to the back of your neck where he scratches at your hairline. You hate how short it is, your hair. You were natural before, took the utmost care of it. Steve helped you shave it off before surgery. Now, between the medication making it brittle and quite frankly, the lack of care you have, Steve helps you keep it short.

You let out a breath as Bucky’s large hand sweeps over your head, cupping it underneath the duvet before his digits find your ear to pull gently, playfully on the lobe, “Please? For me?”

You sigh. You let him pull the duvet away from your face. You start to blink quickly; jump slightly when you suddenly feel his lips on your cheek. You’re still not used to it yet, your senses aren’t - they’re getting stronger, you just have to trust them. You can hear your therapist's words like she’s sitting in the room with you. You relax though, when his cheek rubs against yours as he wraps your body up in a tight hug. You even smile a little as he kisses down your neck and along your shoulder as he rubs your hip.

You reach for him, finding his chin with your fingers. The short hair that grows along the bottom half of his face is prickly - sharp. You walk your fingers along his jawline and cup his cheek as he moans into the crook of your neck.

“Where’s Steve?” You ask softly.

“Packing up the car.”

You roll slightly onto your back, blinking at the nothingness as your fingers still move along Bucky’s face. You raise your second hand, sliding it along his left cheek, feeling him. You push your fingers over his lips, tracing them as you try and figure out what he’s feeling. Your hands move upward, over his nose, up to his eyes where you feel the crinkles on either side of them. He’s smiling; it’s a big one.

“Steve is really excited.” He says.

You picture an excited Steve. The light that fills his brilliant, blue eyes, the whiteness of his toothy grin. God, you miss his face, “Where are we going?” You ask after a moment.

There’s another kiss pressed to your cheek before he sits up, gently pulling your arms with him, “That’s the surprise.”

You let him pull you up to your feet. There’s footsteps again, coming down the hall, “Buck,” Steve says.

“She’s up.”

You turn your head in the direction of the door, dropping your chin to your shoulder, listening as the steps draw nearer. You close your eyes again and let another small smile spread on your lips when you feel soft fingers, Steve’s fingers, start to massage your shoulders. He kisses the back of your head and then your temple.

“Feelin’ better?” He whispers.

“Not really,” you answer honestly. You’ve never lied to them, there’s no use in starting now.

Silence drops over the room. You’re sure that they’re exchanging a quiet conversation, their eyes bouncing back and forth between each other, “Guys?”

“Still here,” Bucky answers, “Hands up, let’s get you dressed.”

You oblige, lifting your arms over your head as he pulls his old t-shirt away from your body, “I can dress myself.”

“Just let us help you.” Steve says gently, his hands slipping into the sides of your sweats to push them down your legs, “You know we’ve always liked pampering you.”

That they have. It’s been a long time since you’ve let them. Their hands feel familiar but yet different - you weren’t really paying attention to the feel of them before. Now that it’s all you have, the feel, you notice the difference between the two of them. Steve’s hands are a little softer than Bucky’s, but he hasn’t worked in over a year, that’s what you suppose anyway. Punching people and gripping various guns and knives are killer on the hands.

Once you’re stripped naked, Bucky places your arms back by your sides. You feel Bucky’s hands (his are calloused still) on yours within seconds, then, a slick material against your fingers.

You squint, “Is that a bathing suit?”

“It is. Your favorite one. Remember what it looks like?”

“The blue one?”

“With the polka dots.” He presses it into your palm, letting you feel it, “The strapless one, that sinches in the middle of your chest.”

You smile a little as you run your fingers over it. The stomach is cut out, the waist high. You liked it because it made your ass and your boobs look incredible, “I love this one.”

He kneels in front of you, grabbing your hand and placing it on his shoulder as Steve places his hands on your hips - steadying you, in more ways than one. Bucky lifts your left leg by your ankle and helps you step into your bathing suit, then moves to the right foot, sliding the soft material up your legs. Once his hands reach your waist, Steve takes over, grabbing the suit and pulling it up the rest of the way, up over your chest. He kisses your neck as you adjust the top over your breasts.

“Thank you.” You offer gently.

Steve pushes your hands above your head again and slips something soft down your arms and over your head. Bucky grabs it and pulls it down your body, adjusting it slightly as you place your hands on your chest - feeling it. It’s a cover up, the white one you think; the one you got on your vacation in Maui. It has a stain on it. Steve knocked over the bottle of red wine the three of you were enjoying as the two of you danced on the patio of your ocean front room, Bucky watching you with a small, happy smile on his face.

“I like this one,” you say more to yourself than to them, “It makes my legs look long.”

“Your legs are long.” Steve chuckles, “Come on, shoes now.”

Once you're fully dressed, Steve takes your hand, starting to guide you towards the door. You slip out of his grasp, taking a breath, “I can do it.”

It’s thirty seven steps from here to the kitchen. That’s when you make a right and take fifteen more steps to make it to the garage door. From there, it’s five steps to the car, unless it’s backed out into the driveway - then it's between twenty two and twenty seven steps, depending on just where it’s parked. You’re getting the hang of things, no matter how much you hate it.

You feel them hovering behind you as you walk but they both respect your boundaries, letting you navigate the house without intervention. You slide your hands along the side of the car to the door handle and pull, the old door creaking just a little. Bucky isn’t much of a car guy, but Steve? This 1967 Chevy Impala was the only thing he and Tony could talk about without fighting. Steve gushed over it every time the three of you had dinner with Tony and Pepper. Then, one day, it was parked in front of the house with a simple note from Tony shoved underneath the windshield wipers - Capsicle, much like your face, I can’t stand to look at this any longer. Enjoy.

You slide into the seat and within seconds feel their thick bodies enveloping you, squeezing you between the two of them. The seat rumbles against your back as the car comes to life, the engine and mufflers loud as… you lift your hand to the shoulder on your left and run it the length of his arm, down to his wrist, gripping slightly as you go. It’s Steve, his arms are just a tad longer than Bucky’s you’re coming to find; more vascular.

You squint as the car backs down the driveway and the sun hits your face. You lift your hand, blocking the rays as you start to fumble around in front of you. You’re surprised at how sensitive your eyes have become to the UV rays. There’s a hand on yours, then your glasses pressed into your palm, the fingers not pulling away until you unfold them and slip them onto your face.

“Good?” Bucky asks.

You nod, “Good.”

The windows are down, the warm breeze whipping around you, caressing your skin. The radio is turned up - Dreams by Fleetwood Mac - as you drive. Bucky hums softly, his metal fingers linking with yours, his lips pressing against your temple every now and again. Steve taps along to the beat with his fingers against your bare, exposed knee before he squeezes it gently. You smile as you start to relax, Steve’s words coming back to you. Just let us help you. You know we’ve always liked pampering you.

You drive for a while, over an hour maybe. Then, the car slows as you turn and stays slow, creeping almost, like Steve’s looking for something. The car turns again and comes to a stop a second or two later. The engine dies, the two buff bodies shift away from you as the doors pop open. There’s a tap on your right shoulder. You reach out and feel on the forearm until you find a hand, Bucky, before he grabs tightly and helps you out.

“I’m gonna help you, okay?” His voice is soft as he rubs his chin against your shoulder.

“Okay.” You answer. You turn your head to your left and blink quickly, anxiety starting to rush through your veins from the unfamiliarity of your surroundings, “Steve?”

“Right here, baby.” His voice is soft too. You feel his fingertips brush along the inside of your left wrist, just to assure you he’s close, “You’re okay. I had to get the bags.”

Bucky slips his arm around your waist and keeps your hand in his as he guides you. You count each step. Bucky narrates every move - that you are in a garage, just about to enter a house. You’re in a small hallway, seven steps before a left turn, then you’re in the kitchen. There’s an island to your left, a kitchen table with four chairs on your right and if you keep walking straight, you’re in the living room. He lets you feel your way, reaching out to touch the walls, the backs of the chairs, the island, as he talks.

You stop when Bucky stops, and then hear something slide open before the sounds of water crashing fills your ears. You’re back outside, the warmth of the sun falling over you like a blanket in the middle of winter. A hand slips down your calf and wraps around your ankle before your foot is lifted and your shoe removed. A broad smile covers your face. You haven’t been to the beach since the diagnosis.

You take a step forward once you’re barefoot, one of them grabbing your wrist quickly, “There’s steps, babe.” Bucky says.

“How many?”

“Six.” Steve answers, “Here let me-”

“I got it.” You say dancing your fingers over the railing and taking small, cautious steps until you feel the first step, “I got it.”

They’re hovering again. You can’t see it, but Steve has both hands extending out on either side of you, ready to catch you if you stumble. Bucky jumps the railing entirely, landing softly in the sand and rushes to the bottom step, his eyes on you as you move down them slowly. When you step into the hot sand, your smile grows - if that’s even possible. You wiggle your toes as the grains slip between them and the waves continue to crash not far from where you stand.

Steve and Bucky keep their small distance from you as you walk towards the ocean’s edge, knowing you're close when the sand changes from loose and dry to stiff and wet. The water washes up over your feet, the smell of salt fills your nostrils, the random calls of seagulls both near and far ring in your ears. You grab the hem of your cover up and pull it over your head, discarding it onto the ground without a care as you move deeper into the water - a new purpose, new life flowing through your veins.

You don’t feel them hovering anymore. You guess they’ve both stopped at the water’s edge, soft smiles on their faces as they watch a wave crash into you, making you stumble. You laugh, loud and carefree, as you fall on your butt, the strength of the water pushing you around slightly. You don’t know it, but Bucky’s smile widens and Steve’s chin trembles as they watch you find a meaning again.

Tilting your head to the sky, you run your wet hands over your head before you wrap them around your legs, bringing them into your chest. You let the sun beat down on you. You let the water wash over you. You let the tears come. You let them slide down your cheeks and fall into the water. You let the ocean carry all of your tears, sadness, anxiety, and depression away from you and out into the abyss. You don’t want it back.

You lay out underneath the sun for hours, making peace with yourself, becoming one with the sand, water, and sun. Steve and Bucky keep a watchful eye until you call for them. Then, and only then do they approach, hands and fingers and lips all over your damp skin. They lay with you, staring up into the sky and calling out the shapes of the clouds. They play with you, splashing water in your face and pinching and tickling your sides as the three of you laugh loudly. Wildly.

You feel like yourself again.

When the sun sets, and the breeze rolling off of the water turns chilly, making chills run through you and bumps pop up on your skin, the three of you head back inside. Door dash brings you a quick dinner, which you all inhale before heading back into the bedroom to bathe. Bathtubs are rarely big enough for the three of you, but you always make it work - sitting in Bucky’s lap, your back to his chest, Steve at the other end.

Steve shaves your legs slowly, dropping kisses on the inside of your ankle as Bucky massages the shampoo into your short hair. Bucky taps underneath your chin before he pushes his index finger into it softly, tilting your head back. He pours warm water over your hair, sweeping his hand through it to push the suds away. Just let us help you. You know we’ve always liked pampering you.

You stay in the tub with your boys until the water runs cold. You’re wrapped up in a warm, fluffy towel, Bucky rubbing his hands up and down your arms trying to warm you up as you shiver and laugh at yourself. A song starts to play from somewhere in the house, slightly muffled as the sound passes through the walls and down the halls. Dream A Little Dream Of Me. The duet between Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were long replaced by Captain America and The Winter Soldier by the time this version came out, but they love it all the same. It reminds them of home, they tell you.

You’re suddenly crushed against one of them - Steve. You know this because you run your hands along his chest to his shoulder, not feeling the jagged, deep scar where Bucky’s flesh meets metal. He grabs your small hand and places it to his chest as he sways with you, back and forth, turning in slow circles as Louis croons.

Stars fading, but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear

Just saying this

Steve spins you away from him and Bucky finds you, wrapping you up in his arms - an arm slung around your waist, fingers spread against your naked back as he holds your hand. You melt into him, humming softly as your toes brush against his, the soft sounds of your feet pushing along the hardwood floor beneath you adding a natural soundtrack.

Steve’s hands find your shoulders from behind. He presses his thumbs into your flesh as he squeezes and rubs slowly, his lips peppering your jaw and down your neck, “You’re so tense, baby.” He whispers.

“Depression will do that to you,” you chuckle, your new humor darker than what either one of them are used to. You feel them both stiffen at your words, hear a sad sigh from behind you, “Sorry. It was just a joke.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky says, “We want to know what you're feeling, good, bad or indifferent. You don’t have to joke with us.”

You take a breath. You rest your head on his chest and start to chew on your bottom lip, “I know.” Your voice is small.

Defense mechanism.

You fight the urge to cry. Your eyes start to water, your skin starts to flush with heat, your jaw gets tight. Steve grabs the back of your neck gently as he kisses your shoulder blade gently, just wanting you to feel him. Bucky keeps dancing with you as the tears start to fall, cupping the back of your head in his large hand as he pushes his lips to your forehead.

What is it your therapist says? You aren’t in this alone, or something like that. You never believed her, or those words - until right now. Right in this moment. It’s been a year of self imposed loneliness. Dark thoughts accompanied by even darker impulsions of wanting to slip underneath the water and never resurface. Fear and anxiety telling you that you need to push away - they’ll both leave you one day for a resemblance of normalcy again.

They haven’t.

They won’t.

The days have turned into weeks, have turned into months - and here they are. Slow dancing with you in the moonlight as Ella Fitzgerald plays through the walls. Bucky wipes at your cheek with his thumb, pushing the emotion away. He nuzzles his cheek against yours as you reach up and scratch at the nape of his neck to calm yourself, “We aren’t going anywhere, doll.” He whispers.

“We promise.” Steve adds on.

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Bucky tilts your head towards his and without a warning, his lips cover yours. Soft. Commanding. His velvet tongue massaging yours as Steve bites down on your shoulder.

The sheets of the bed are soon mangled and twisted, pillows cast to the floor as you writhe beneath Bucky’s heavy body. Your leg is thrown over his hip, your fingernails dig into his thick flesh, the tips of his long, soft, dark hair brushing over your face. You have your other arm draped over his neck as his hips push into yours, driving himself deeper and deeper into you. Your mouth hangs, as does his - lips brushing against each other, hot breath washing over each other's skin as you push your foreheads together.

Steve waits patiently, although his fingers dance over your breasts, his palms brushing over your nipples before he palms your skin. He squeezes and gropes before he sends his hand down your stomach and to your clit to rub gentle circles against it as Bucky pummels you. He’s on his side, his nose and forehead pressed against the side of your face, his bottom lip between his teeth before he nips at your jaw and chin.

He tears your hand away from Bucky’s body to grab his hard length, dragging your palm with his, down his shaft. He’s so warm. His tip wet from his arousal.

It’s been a long while since the three of you have made love. It’s been a long while since you’ve felt beautiful enough too. You hadn’t realized how much of your self esteem was wrapped up in your hair until you had to shave it off. You also weren’t sure if you’d like it the way you used to - handle it with the same confidence you once had. Not being able to see them - see their hard muscles and their strained faces while in the throws of passion. That’s what turned you on.

Not anymore.

It’s the way you can tell them apart without having to see them. It’s the feel of their bodies now, not the sight of them. How rough and dominant Bucky’s hips are in your darkness, how sweet and loving Steve’s touch is. Their sounds; both deep and desperate for you. How the sounds vibrate against your ear drums and skin, moving through you - the illicit response your body has to them - the sounds.

You slam your head back into the pillow as Bucky pulls out of you. You pant and moan as you arch your back from the mattress as they shift around. Steve’s lips, you know their Steve’s because they’re rushed; always rushing, rushing, rushing like he’s still a man running out of time, push against your stomach, light kisses moving down to your sex. He bends your legs back, your feet dangling by his ears as he nibbles on the inside of your thigh.

Bucky grabs your hand just as Steve pushes his nose through your folds and sucks you into his mouth. Bucky moves your hand down his hard stomach to his pulsing hips. You wrap your hand around his warmth and feel him pump up into it, a little grunt falling from his lips at the same time.

Steve hums as his tongue swirls around you, flicking and lapping at you as his index and middle fingers push into your cunt. You buck your hips into his face, using all of him, his chin, his lips, his nose to cop a feel as he sucks on you. He releases your flesh with a loud smack - then drags his wet mouth the length of your thigh, up to your knee, and along your calf as he sits up on his knees. He extends your leg, resting it against his chest and shoulder as he sucks your manicured toes into his mouth, his large hand caressing your calf.

Bucky growls as he sucks your taut nipple into his mouth and wraps his metal fingers around your throat. He then kisses your mouth, hard and desperate, moaning into you as he continues to push his hips into your warm hand and against your side. He squeezes, gently, slowly, causing you to gasp just as Steve pushes into your wet, slick, swollen cunt.

You groan into Bucky’s hot mouth as Steve starts to move. His thrusts are softer, gentler than Bucky’s - always have been. He keeps your leg curled over his shoulder, his lips peppering kisses along your ankle and calf, his other hand and fingers gripping your thigh. The cool metal of Bucky’s fingers skip over your hot skin, down between your breasts and to your stomach before he flattens his palm against you, pushing down to add some pressure.

Bucky bites your bottom lip, pulling softly before he lets go. He nuzzles back into the side of your face, the stubble on his cheek cutting across your skin. He wraps his hand around yours that still pumps his cock and glides it slowly up and down, up and down, up and down as he moans into your ear; heavy, hot breath caressing your neck and the side of your face.

Steve hits a spot; your toes curl. Your hips jerk - your muscles tense. Fingers begin to massage your clit, slow, slow, slow circles to draw out the sensation. Teeth nibble at your ear lobe. Fingers glance across your skin. Mouths and lips take turns on yours. Steve drives his hips harder and faster - pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling. Bucky breaths fire laced words, provoking you, prodding you, coercing you to just let it all go…

You shatter. It consumes every bit of you. Physically. Emotionally. Their hands and fingers are everywhere, gripping, pinching, holding as you come. Steve pulls out of you - he always liked to watch you come, how your sticky, swollen sex convulses with each contraction from your orgasm, your clit jumping. He pushes his fingers back through your folds as he pushes his cock inside of you again, also loving the squeeze.

You feel hot, quick bursts of silk, over and over, splash against your stomach. Bucky groans with each, right up against your ear, the sound vibrating through your entire body.

Heat then blooms inside of you - Steve. Your muscles constrict around him, pulling each warm, thick ribbon of cum from him, coating your walls. He pushes deep and grabs your hand, placing it right in the middle of his chest so you can feel his muscles tense and flex as he comes. Feel the soft rumble of the grunts that vibrate through his chest. Feel his heart.

He collapses beside you, your body bouncing against the mattress as his weight pushes against it. The three of you are nothing but heavy breaths and balmy skin. Eyelashes resting against your cheeks as your eyes close with the recession of your lust. A head rests on your chest. You lift your hand and slip your fingers through the tresses, finding them short and kind of wispy - Steve.

Metal fingers curl within yours, a sturdy leg thrown over your thighs. A hand splays across your chest. Lips connect with your shoulders and jaw - fingers massage and scratch at your scalp softly. It’s all a blur. The haze won’t let your brain try and figure out who is who; but maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s what you need. You don’t need to know. You can let go some of the control that you’ve been so desperately searching for.

You inhale deeply; and let out the breath you’ve been holding for over a year.

Your delicate fingers are lifted and pressed against hot lips - each digit receiving a kiss before being placed on a chest. The thump thump thump of a heart beat drums against them. You let out another breath as you nuzzle into their heavy bodies, soft I love you’s passing back and forth. There’s a faint skip of the record player down the hall. The soft whoosh of the breeze playing with the open curtains that cover the windows. Three bodies huddled in the center of the bed; just breathing.

In and out.

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cafedanslanuit · 3 years

Text

pairing: jumin x mc

tags/warnings: canon divergence from episode three of the jumin bad ending dlc, mentions of parental abuse, fix-it fic, happy ending, fluff.

summary: your late night conversation with jumin takes another turn into a much better scenario.

words: 1.9k

"When I was young, I had no idea such sweetness could exist. That love could be so heart-warming and good.”

Jumin’s eyes are tired and I feel a pang of guilt for waking him up. There’s a raw vulnerability in his eyes I haven’t seen since we lived at the penthouse and I’m scared the tiniest move or word from my part could shatter him in pieces. His hand is resting on my waist and I feel his muscles tighten in yearning as he speaks, almost as if he’s scared I’ll disappear.

“You said you had bad memories around your basement. Can you tell me about them?”

“I don’t know how that would help,” Jumin answers, his mouth forming a thin line. I push his dark hair away from his forehead softly and give him a small smile.

“How about we try?” I offer.

Jumin shifts on the bed a little closer to me. He rubs his eyes and then sets his hand back on my waist, his thumb sliding under the fabric of my pajamas and drawing idle circles on my skin.

"My mother would lock me up in the basement when I was a child,” he starts, his gaze unfocused. “Once I was locked up for seventeen hours and fourteen minutes. I managed to find a way out eventually.

My expression falls at his words, my chest clenching at his remembrance. I immediately flush my body against his, his arms holding him tightly. I feel his muscles tensing for a couple of seconds before melting under my touch. Jumin buries his head on the crook of my neck and lets out a long sigh, so long it makes me feel he had been holding it for longer than I could imagine.

It all starts falling into place. The subtle jokes about keeping me inside a cage to protect me from harm and the way he had done the same to Elizabeth the 3rd before she escaped. I had always thought Jumin’s desire for control was rooted deep inside his need to be on hold of things. I knew he had been handled several responsibilities from a young age and I always guessed that where my need to control his surroundings started but now I knew I was wrong.

I was so wrong.

I had spent months feeding into his control fantasy, thinking it would ground him enough to find peace within himself and now I feel like a moron for letting it get this far. For thinking he would eventually start letting me go little by little when he felt better about himself. But I had definitely underestimated how much the man in front of me had gone through and how my intentions of helping him were practically useless.

I hold him in silence for a few more moments, my right hand caressing his dark locks while my arm is still around his body protectively. A million questions swim around my mind and I don’t know where to start. So, I decide to follow the line of Jumin’s story.

"Jumin, do you think your mother loved you?"

He lifts his head to meet my eyes. His eyebrows scrunch for a couple of seconds while his holds tightens on me.

"... I have never experienced my mother's love.”

A lump forms in my throat and I carefully cup his cheek with my hand, my thumb stroking his skin softly.

"I know,” I whisper. “But when you were a kid, did you think she did the things she did out of love?"

"I guess? Parents are mandated to take care of their children. So I assume a part of me thought she did it out of maternal love, yes," he reasons, his grey eyes surveying the room as he spoke.

"So, do you think maybe you're keeping me in this mansion because a part of you thinks that it's okay to lock up someone you love?"

Jumin furrows his eyebrows and shifts on the bed uncomfortably. I watch him in silence, almost listening to the gears inside his head turn, hoping my questions would help him ease the mess of threads he had talked me about back in the penthouse.

"Maybe,” he mutters, his fingers drumming against my skin.

“You don’t need to do that. I’m not leaving you, darling. My heart only knows one name and it’s yours. There’s no need to keep me restrained when you already own every part of my soul.”

“You said this was okay,” Jumin counters. “You even chose the heels where I put the tracking device.”

“I did. I…” I sigh. “You were hurting so much, my love. I thought if I complied with your demands you would find peace. I thought if I let you control me you would feel better. But I was wrong and I’m sorry. I see you losing yourself more and more as the days go by and it breaks my heart,” I confess, my thumb grazing the space between his chin and his lower lip. “I fell in love with a noble man who would do anything to protect the people he loves. A honest man, who may come off as blunt, but you know he would never lie to you. A man who is kind and loving.”

Jumin listens to me, his eyes widened. In his pajamas he looks young, a glint of fear in his expression as he tries to sink in my words.

“I don’t know if I can give that love,” he whispers.

“You can,” I assure him.

“How can you know?”

“There’s so much love inside of you, Jumin Han,” I smile, letting my hand settle on his chest, right above his heart. “I saw it the night you read me to sleep. I saw it all the times you helped the other members of the RFA expecting nothing in return. I see it when your eyes light up when you’ve had a good dinner with your dad. I don’t know why you believe you are unable to give warm love, because you’ve been filling up all my senses with exactly that from the moment I decided to stay over at your penthouse. I am in love with you, Jumin Han.”

“Say it again,” he mutters, bringing my body closer to him. The remains of his perfume still linger on him and I love how relaxing I find it. How much it feels like home.

“I love you.”

“Again,” he demands, his lips lingering against mine. I smile.

“I love you, Jumin Han. I am in love with you. Truthfully, madly, without any sort of question or doubt,” I say, holding his face tenderly. “I am in love with your heart and soul.”

He finally breaks the distance between us both and his lips collide against mine. His kiss is soft, yet firm, his hands holding me into place. I let my body mold itself against his and wonder if it’s alright to love someone as intensely as I love this man. His tongue grazes against my lips for a moment before softly pushing its way inside. His grip on my body tightens as he keeps deepening the kiss and I have to remind myself we’re not done talking to have the strength to pull away as softly as I can. I lay a couple of more kisses against his warm lips before smiling at him.

“Tomorrow, we’ll go to C&R,” I say and Jumin’s shocked expression doesn’t take long to show up. “Just a quick visit so you can take care of the paperwork Jaehee mentioned yesterday,” I explain, my fingers stroking his arm in a soothing motion. “I’ll be waiting for you downstairs at C&R’s cafeteria.”

Jumin shakes his head. “No.”

“Jumin,” I say, holding his face and forcing him to look at me. “Just for a couple of hours and just so we can try something new. After that, we’ll return here. I promise.”

He lets out a long and tired sigh. When he looks at me again, my eyes are set on him, the smallest pout on my lips. To my surprise, he laughs.

“My mind keeps telling me there’s a chance you won’t be there,” Jumin admits, stroking my sides with his hand.

“You are my home, Jumin,” I remind him. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be but your arms.”

Jumin stays in silence, his eyes lost somewhere in the bedroom and I can almost listen to the loud and contradicting thoughts inside his head.

“If you’re still not done after two hours, you can leave the rest for another day,” I offer. “Two hours tops, my love. Could we try?”

He sighs, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. He looks defeated, yet there’s love in the way he sets his eyes back to mine.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my love,” he breathes out and a big smile makes its way to my face. I press two soft kisses against his lips and then a couple more on his right cheek and forehead. “I’m sorry for my troubling thoughts.”

I shake my head. “I love you, Jumin. Troubling thoughts and all. I adore your mind,” I smile, pushing some of his hair away from his forehead. “I understand you’ve gone through rough times during your childhood and I know there’s nothing I can do to erase those memories. I want you to revisit them, understand them and finally heal. And no matter how long that takes you, I will always be there by your side”.

Jumin smiles and holds my waist as he turns on the bed, leaving me to rest on top of his chest. I see the warm smile back on his face and I realize how much I had missed it.

“Always?” he asks. I press a kiss on his lips.

“I promise. You are the love I always dreamt about since I was a little girl.”

Jumin arches an eyebrow.

“You dreamt about living in a mansion?”

“No,” I shake my head. “I dreamt about someone loving me exactly as I am, no matter how low I thought about myself some days I dreamt about someone caring for my well being and protecting me if necessary. Most of all, I dreamt about someone that would make me feel like there’s no one else in the universe but us both.”

“And do I make you feel that way?” he asks, a playful smile on his face that makes me wonder if it’s possible I love him more than I did an hour ago. I nod at him, an equally cheeky grin on my face strengthened by the knowledge that my words made him decide to do better.

I had never loved anyone as much as I loved Jumin. So any hardships that would come between us, would face to face us both. There’s a soft red hue on his cheeks again and for a moment it’s hard to recognize the cold man I first met in a chat room.

But Jumin Han is more than that. He’s more than his job, more than his money, more than the darkness and tangled thread inside his mind. He’s kind, he’s loyal and the rock his friends turn to when they find themselves in dire situations. He’s had everyone’s back before, in one way or another, and I love that he’s now giving me the chance to have his. To show him that he also deserves warm, pure love. That even if he can deal with everything by himself he doesn’t have to. Not anymore.

“You do, my love. You do.”

#mystic messenger #mysme #jumin han #mm jumin #mysme jumin #jumin dlc #jumin bad ending #jumin bad ending dlc #jumin x mc #jumin han x mc

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Text

Rowaelin massive fluff

As I said yesterday, I was writing a massive Rowaelin post filled with small fluffy scenes of them. Most are very domestic, and all are very lovely. My friend said it was better if I didn’t add smut to this, but I might write it if anyone has interest. Well, enjoy!!

Warnings: Cute

“He’s in love!” Fenrys was shouting out of the apartment windows.

Rowan had half a mind of going up to Fenrys and pushing him out, but was blessedly stopped by the apartment’s door opening and the rest of their friends filling in. Lorcan, Vaughan, Connall and Aedion stared strangely at Fenrys, as if the man had definitely gone mad this time.

“What the fuck?” Lorcan asked.

“He’s in love. He’s in love. He’s in looooooove.” Fenrys laughed maniacally, singing the last part.

Vaughan and Connall sat in the sofa in front of Rowan’s armchair while Aedion and Lorcan took the loveseat. The four kept looking at Fenrys, hoping for a better explanation. Fenrys, realizing the stares, grinned like a wolf and threw himself on Rowan.

“Get off of me, you stupid prick.” Rowan grunted, but Fenrys did nothing of the sorts. Instead he just sprawled himself more.

“Rowan is in love.”

Lorcan smiled humorously. “With you?”

Fenrys grinned. “Always. But I am actually talking about Galathynius.”

All eyes went immediately to Rowan’s face, and although he tried to control it, a dopey grin appeared on his lips. There was a chorus of grunts and pained moans, and both Rowan’s and Fenrys’s smiles grew.

“I’m not in love. I just really like her.” Rowan tried to say before Fenrys shoved his elbow into Rowan’s mouth.

“Shut the fuck up. If she asked you to walk in all fours you would. No questions asked.” Fenrys replied, earning laughs from everyone but Aedion who seemed to be in physical pain.

“I can’t believe that you and my cousin…” He shuddered. “I never want to know details. Never. I already miss the times you two despised each other.”

“Well those times are gone!” Fenrys announced, getting up and walking to the kitchen. He more hopped than walked, to be honest. He came back with a pile of red cups and a bottle of cheap champagne Lysandra had left here the other day.

Fenrys threw a cup at everyone, going around and filling it with the sparkly liquid. For Rowan, however, he just handed the bottle so he could drink whatever remained. Fenrys cleared his throat dramatically, and even with his face hurting from smiling so much, Rowan rolled his eyes.

“I have been, for years, trying to get these two together.” Fenrys announced and Rowan scoffed. The others laughed, undoubtedly remembering some of Fenrys’s attempts of making Rowan and Aelin get together. “And today, this man right here made my dreams come true.”

He grabbed Rowan’s shoulder with a hand, and when Rowan looked at the rest of the guys, he could see that all were trying very hard not to laugh.

“We kissed once, Fen.” Rowan tried saying.

“Nonetheless,” Fenrys shouted to drown Rowan’s words.” It is the start of something that I will not allow to be broken.”

Fenrys’s gaze went around the room, stopping at everyone’s eyes at once. Rowan bit the inside of his cheeks not to laugh, but nodded just the same when Fenrys looked at him. Seeming pleased with himself, Fenrys gave himself a nod.

“And so let’s celebrate tonight! Because today we celebrate what will one day be a long lasting and loving marriage!”

“Marriage?!” Aedion choked.

“Shut up!” Fenrys screamed. He took a deep breath before plastering a smile back on his face and raising his cup. “To Rowan and Aelin!”

All the guys were laughing their asses off, Vaughan had even tears rolling down his cheek, but all raised their drinks and all let out an animated shout.

——

4 years later

“Let me start this speech by saying that I was fucking right.” Fenrys said, earning a laugh from everyone in the party. Rowan shook his head, but Aelin was beaming by his side.

Rowan tore his eyes from his best man to look at the woman that was now his wife. She was smiling so much as Fenrys went on about being the one bringing the two of them together, that Rowan couldn’t help the smile on his own face. He put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her side as he gave her a kiss on her temple.

“I spent four years trying to get these two together, and four years ago Rowan finally put his big boy’s undies on and kissed the girl.” Rowan scolded at Fenrys’s words, but Aelin laughed freely.

“She could have kissed me!” Rowan shouted.

“Shush, I like where this is going.” Aelin said, giving him a playful slap on the chest.

“Yeah, Rowan, shush.” Fenrys winked at the newly-wed, and Rowan could only roll his eyes as everyone else laughed. If he had been hoping for a serious best man speech, then he should have chosen someone else to be his best man. “But, despite me being right as per usual, the night is not about me and my intelligence. Unfortunately.”

“I should have picked another best man.” Rowan muttered against Aelin’s hair. Although he couldn’t see it, he knew she was smiling.

“I think Fen would have died. After killing you, of course.” She muttered back, putting her hand on top of his on the table. She rested against his side, raising her head to give him a quick kiss on his jawline. “Besides, he’s your best friend.”

Rowan simply grunted as Fenrys went on with his speech. His voice went unbelievably soft, and he gave Rowan and Aelin a serene smile. “No, tonight is about Rowan and Aelin. Just so everyone here knows, the two of them are so in love. I mean, they are getting married so everyone knows that they love each other, but I don’t believe everyone knows to what extent. For you to have an idea, you see that dopey grin Rowan has because he is hugging his wife? Well, he has had that same grin since their first kiss.”

At that, Aelin looked up at Rowan at the same time he looked down on her. Her eyes were brimmed with tears, and Rowan cupped her face to give her a soft kiss as Fenrys continued his speech.

“I saw the two of them falling in love. It was beautiful, the type of shit you see in movies. It was slow, and natural, and so pure that there was no doubt in this universe that the would end up together forever. Rowan, I have been your best friend for twenty seven years now. I knew you since before we were one, and I had the immense pleasure of being by your side during most important moments of your life. I saw you travel the world, get into college. I saw you have hundreds of stupid adventures during your teenage years, saw you have hundreds of dreams throughout your whole life. I saw everything, from the best to the worst, and yet I can’t remember one single memory in which you seemed happier than when you simply look at Ace.”

Moments ago, the whole party had been laughing at Fen’s jokes. Now, there was a sweet silence, all the guests looking at Rowan and Aelin.

Rowan felt his throat constricting, and gripped Aelin’s hand harder as she melted even more against his side.

“In all you adventures, all your dreams, I am so, so happy you found Aelin to be the greatest of them all, Ro. Because a love like the two of you have? That’s a one in a billion, man. You found what everyone looks for their whole life, and you are so unbelievably lucky that you are also Ace’s greatest dream. You deserve each other. You deserved the four amazing years prior to this night. You deserve the beautiful wedding, the people here to witness your love. And I am sure that you deserve the next decades together, the good and the bad, the funny situations and the sad ones. You deserve to be together through them because I don’t think there is any other way the two of you can overcome the hardships of life if not together. I never believed in soulmates, but if I did, it would be you, Aelin and Rowan. Because there is no Rowan without Aelin, and no Aelin without Rowan. Not anymore.”

Aelin was fully crying now, just as she had been during Lysandra’s speech, and Rowan also felt his eyes watering even though no tears came out. He raised his glass the same time Fenrys raised his. The two of them shared a knowing smile before Fenrys turned to the whole party, willing them to raise their own glasses.

“To Aelin and Rowan! Let their love last until they draw their last breath!”

Everyone screamed and shouted merrily, drinking down the champagne in big gulps. Rowan took a single sip, offering the rest to Aelin who was still resting against his side. She raised her head, taking the glass and drinking a small sip before setting the glass down. She turned to him, taking his face in between her hands.

When Aelin smiled at Rowan, his heart seemed as if it was going to burst inside his chest. Even in tears, Aelin was the most radiant thing he had ever laid his eyes on. She was so beautiful that sometimes Rowan would wake up earlier just to look at her while she slept. Since the beginning, Aelin had been like a magnet, and Rowan couldn’t help but feel pulled towards her.

He cupped her face back, thumb brushing over the tears as he bent down to kiss her. She met him halfway, smiling into the kiss. Her hands sneaked from his face to the back of his neck, going down his back until she was hugging him. Rowan felt Aelin’s body flushed against his, and his smile only widened when she laughed against his mouth. “I love you so much, Ro. I can’t explain how much I love you.”

He withdrew a little, resting his forehead against hers. Their eyes were closed, but they knew that both were smiling. “I love you too, Ace. I love you so, so much.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw Aelin already staring at him. Her smile became soft, another single tear falling down her cheek. Rowan kissed it away, pulling her deeper into his arms. She sat on his hap, face burrowed in the crook of his neck. She brushed her nose against his throat as his hands went up and down her back. They stayed like this for a while before getting up to enjoy the rest of the party.

To enjoy the rest of their lives.

———

Rowan had gotten rid of his tie and blazer hours ago, and Aelin’s hair was a mess of curls and pearls as the night went by.

She laughed merrily when Rowan spun her around and then pulled her back into his arms. Her white and silver dress caught in the light, and it made her seem like a star while she danced animatedly with her husband.

Her back hit his chest, and his arms sneaked around her body, hugging her body against his. She had forgone her heels a while ago, and so the top of her head only reached his neck. Rowan bent down to whisper on her ear, his smile as bright as Aelin’s.

“Mrs. Galathynius-Whitethorn.”

She giggled. “You’ve said this a thousand times in the last hours.”

“You’re my wife.” The dopey grin Fenrys had cited earlier took over his lips.

Aelin bit her cheeks to keep another giggle in. “I am.”

“You are legally bound to me.” He sounded so dreamy that Aelin couldn’t help but titter.

She turned in his arms, looking up at him as her arms hugged his neck. “And you are legally bound to me. Forever, buzzard.”

He nodded, kissing her before retreating, the smile never leaving his face. “I am married to the same woman that said she would rather die before being alone in a room with me.”

Aelin scoffed, rolling her eyes. “That was years ago.”

“I seduced you.” Rowan said, ignoring Aelin’s words. He looked so smug that Aelin narrowed her eyes.

“Be quiet.”

“I seduced you so bad that you married me.” He kept ignoring her, his expression more and more complacent.

“I will divorce you.”

“My amazing personality and incredible techniques in bed convinced the most stubborn human being in the world to change her mind.” He had a shit-eating grin on his mouth now, looking down at her extremely pleased with himself.

“Definitely more your dick than you brain, love.” Aelin singsonged, and Rowan narrowed his eyes at her.

He grabbed Aelin in his arms, bringing her up against his body until their mouths were at the same level. He kissed her, tongue sweeping over her lower lip. Aelin let out a small whimper, opening her mouth against his. As Rowan’s lips moved lazily against hers, he muttered. “Liar.”

She opened her eyes, staring at his pine green eyes until both of them were smiling. She nodded, one hand cupping his face as her thumb stroked his cheek. “I do love you, though.”

He nodded too, hugging her more strongly against his body. “I love you too, Mrs. Galathynius-Whitethorn.”

Rowan felt his face hurting from smiling so much at her answering chortles.

Aelin laid her head on his shoulder, ignoring the party around them as she breathed her husband in. His pine and snow scent had always reminded her pf her childhood, of her home. Maybe it had been the universe’s way of showing her, since the beginning, that Rowan was destined to be her end point, her permanent home. Every day with him had her thinking that she couldn’t be happier, couldn’t fall deeper in love. And yet, every night Aelin went to sleep, she loved him more than she had in the morning, and every morning when Aelin woke up in between Rowan’a arms, she loved him more than she had in the previous night.

There was a difference between falling in love and loving someone, she realized. A difference between the passion and the feeling of being home. The burning from inside out and the warmth that took over her body whenever she was near Rowan. A difference between knowing she would wake up every day and fall in love with him again, but that loving him would be forever, never needing to start again.

Falling in love had been hot and intense, but loving him was calm and welcoming. The intensity of passion morphed into the unbreakable feeling of being safe, of being welcomed. Aelin would constantly be falling in love with her husband, but she couldn’t help but be glad about the already established love she felt and how good it felt.

As Rowan held her in his arms, her beautiful wedding gown brushing against the floor, she couldn’t help but feel like she had reached the peak of love, the peak of happiness. She couldn’t help but believe that if she loved him a little more, she would burst.

And yet she also knew that, as always, she would wake up the next morning a love him a little more.

“Mr. Galathynius-Whitethorn.” She whispered, and she only knew he had heard when his arms crushed her against him, face burrowing in the crook of her neck.

————

“Ro!” Aelin called, her bare foot sounding against the wood floor as she went around their new house looking for her husband. They had just moved out of their apartment into the new house a two days ago, and neither of them seemed too excited about organizing everything. “Ro!”

She reached the living room, seeing Rowan sitting on the couch, a laptop in front of him. He was typing lazily, eyes squinted behind his glasses. He tore his eyes from the screen, looking Aelin up until his gaze landed on her face. A small smile took over his lips, and he closed his laptop, setting it on the coffee table in front of him.

“What happened?”

“The shower.” Aelin grunted, walking in his direction. She stopped in the middle of his legs, crossing her arms. “It’s not working properly. I’ve been trying to fix for thirty minutes now.”

Rowan scoffed, pulling Aelin by her elbows until she was straddling his hips. “And?”

“And I need help.” She said impatiently, but she did put her arms around his shoulders, fingers playing with his silver hair in the back of his head.

“What do you need a shower for, anyways?” Rowan asked, nose grazing her neck.

Aelin fought a smile. “Take a fucking wild guess. I’m all sweaty and disgusting.”

His grazing evolved into small kisses, and despite her best intentions, Aelin arched her neck back slightly. “You’re not disgusting. And I don’t exactly mind the other one.”

Aelin laughed, taking his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. He had a smile on his lips, and she couldn’t help but smile back. “Fenrys and Lysandra were very nice in throwing us a two anniversary party. A party that starts in three hours. Meaning I have to shower.”

“Or we could ditch it and spend our anniversary in bed.” Rowan mumbled, hands gripping her hips.

“We don’t have a bed yet.” Aelin replied, brows raising.

“I can fuck you in the couch just fine too.”

Aelin laughed again, quickly leaving his lap before he convinced her that his idea was the best one. He narrowed his eyes at her, and Aelin must gave him a saccharine smile. “Party. We are going to the party.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Sounds like you have to help me with the shower.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, but he got up. Aelin turned to walk to their bathroom when she felt Rowan’s arms coming around her chest. She rested her head against his chest as they tried to walk to the bathroom. In a matter of moments they became a mess of legs getting in the way of one another, and Aelin could only try to hold herself up as she felt them falling. Rowan hugged her and turned his body so Aelin wouldn’t hit the ground.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds after falling, opening them to find Rowan staring at her face.

They looked at each other in silence before both started laughing uncontrollably. Rowan’s arms were around her waist, and Aelin fixed Rowan’s glasses on his face while she laid on top of him. She could feel his body shaking with laughter, and her own laughs got more intense due to the happiness in his. Her hands here playing with the strands of hair that fell on his face, and as the laughter gave out, Aelin smiled down at Rowan.

He smiled back at her, the hands on her hips making sweet circles against her skin. Aelin leaned down, brushing her nose against his before giving him a soft kiss.

“Are you hurt?”

“If I say yes, do we stay home all night?” Rowan asked, a knowing smile on his lips. He winked at her and Aelin shook her head, a single laugh coming out of her.

“No, but I will refuse to do any activities after the party that can worsen your condition.”

Rowan grunted, sitting up with Aelin on his lap. He rested his back against the wall. “In this case, I never been better.”

Aelin scrunched her nose quickly, giving Rowan another kiss before standing up. His hands gripped her thighs and he looked up at her. He had an ironic smile on his face, and it only grew when Aelin shook her head and sat back down.

“So predictable.” Rowan mused and laughed when Aelin gave him a playful slap on the shoulder.

“Shut it. I’m your wife for two years. It would be an absurd if somethings weren’t already predictable.” She tried to sound angry, but the pulling in her mouth gave her away. “We are going to that party.”

Rowan nodded solemnly. “Later, though. The shower can wait.”

Aelin didn’t have the chance to reply before Rowan’s hands tangled in her hair, pulling her in. His mouth was hot and soft against hers, and Aelin felt herself melting against his body as his lips moved against hers. Even after years together, kissing Rowan was still one of the best experiences of her life. His mouth was like heaven, and whenever he kissed her, all other thoughts fled from her head.

Rowan and Aelin remained seated in that corridor for the next hour, boxes full with their lives all around them. It would take weeks until they managed to get through all of them, but neither was worried about that at the moment. Instead, they just kissed, touching each other, loving each other.

It was only when Rowan’s phone rang that Aelin drew back, eyes wide at the time. She got up quickly while Rowan cursed the stupid phone.

“The shower!” Aelin said, rushing to the bathroom.

Rowan grunted, getting up. He sighed, walking after his wife. “I need a shower now. A cold one.”

———

“Are you sure this is right?” Aelin crunched her nose, bending down to look at the pot in front of them. “I don’t think this is the right color. It’s supposed to be beige.”

“What the fuck is beige?”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Aelin looked at her husband, his confused expression matching her own. “The color beige.”

Rowan just stared at her.

“Aren’t you an architect? How the hell do you not know what beige is?”

Rowan grunted, ignoring her question and going back to the recipe in front of him. He red it once more, looking around the mess they had created in the kitchen. It was impossible to know if they had used the right measurements and ingredients, because the measuring cups were all around the place. Flour, sugar and cocoa powder smeared against the kitchen island, floor and even some cupboards. It looked like a hurricane had hit their kitchen.

“We don’t know how to cook, Ace. Let’s give up.”

“Give up?” She almost shouted, incredulous. “If I can create seven marketing campaigns in less than a week and you can build a building with a hundred floors, thousands of rooms and make that shit safe, we can bake a goddamn can.”

Rowan had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from laughing. He shook his head, looking up and down his wife. She was as dirty as the kitchen, sugar and cocoa powder all over her.

She looked at him, eyes narrowing at his expression. “What?”

Rowan didn’t know if it was her expression, the anger in her words or her appearance, but he couldn’t help but start laughing. He was laughing so much that he had to grip the island while he doubled over, flour falling from his hair. He saw his reflection in one of the windows, which only caused him to laugh more.

Aelin was strangely quiet, and when Rowan looked up to see if she was a little pissed or majorly pissed, he received a blow of flour right to his face.

His laughter was immediately ended, and he took a step back. He was so shocked that it took him a moment to realize what had happened. He looked at Aelin, his wife with a smug smile on her face and a hand completely engulfed by flour. She pressed her lips against one another, nodding to herself. “You know what? This is funny. I understand you laughing.”

Rowan gave her a dangerous smile, taking off his glasses and sweeping a hand over his face. When she turned back to the recipe, Rowan grabbed one of the sugar bags on the counter.

“Enough of the jokes, Ace. If you want to do this cake, focus on the cake.” He said, stepping behind her and looking over her shoulder at the recipe. She nodded, reading the instructions.

Even though she couldn’t see it, Rowan smiled as he raised his hand holding the sugar bag and turned it upside down right on top of Aelin’s head.

She let out a screech, immediately turning around to face Rowan. She cleaned her eyes angrily, tilting her head back to glare at him.

“I am becoming a widow today.”

He chuckled, grabbing a handful of cocoa powder when he saw her reaching behind her to grab some more flour. They threw the ingredients at each other at the same time, the air becoming misty.

Rowan could barely see what was happening, and he could only have an idea where Aelin was based on the sound of her loud chortles. He himself was laughing too, throwing more sugar in the direction he thought she was.

Suddenly, she went quiet. Rowan looked around, the air still clearing from all the cocoa, flour and sugar thrown around. He had a hand full of sugar and was about to call for Aelin’s name when he felt something cold and wet being thrown on top of his head.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He screamed, turning around to see Aelin holding the pot they had been using to make the cake. She was laughing so hard that tears were streaking her cheeks, extremely evident as they made their path through the cocoa powder on her face. She let go of the pot, taking careful steps back when she saw the expression on Rowan’s face. She tried to control her laughs, raising her hands. “Truce?”

“Fuck truce.” Rowan said, taking big steps to catch her. Aelin tried running, but she didn’t got two steps before Rowan’s arm sneaked around her waist. Her back hit his chest, and although she knew she shouldn’t, Aelin couldn’t stop laughing.

Rowan turned her around, pinning her back to the fridge and her chest against his. He reached back an arm, coming back with the full bag of cocoa powder and dropping it on top of Aelin’s head. She coughed as she laughed, shaking her head to make it all fall down.

When she looked up, her whole face was dirty. “You’re a terrible cooker.”

“You started.” Rowan said, looking at his reflection on the fridge and knowing he wasn’t much better than Aelin.

“You’re older. You’re supposed to be the responsible one.” She said, hands on his shoulders. She brushed some sugar off, doing the same with his face.

“The responsible thing to do is never let you cook again.”

She snickered, giving him a sarcastic expression. “I would have done just fine if it wasn’t for you.”

“Me?” He raised his brows, a half smile on his lips. “This mess is my fault?”

“Uh-hum.” She muttered, raising on her tip toes to kiss his jaw line. She peppered his jaw with open mouthed kissed, tongue sweeping over his skin. “If you didn’t have a terrible concentration and got distracted by me, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Oh?” He said, pressing her more against the fridge. His hands went from her waist to the back of her thighs, fingers squeezing her skin. “Aren’t you the one distracted?”

She kissed the hollow of his throat, going up his neck with the tip of her tongue. She went all the way to his earlobe, biting it gently. “No.”

Rowan hauled her up, Aelin’s legs going around his waist. “My bad then.”

Aelin smiled as she there her head back, Rowan’s mouth on her neck and the cake they were supposed to do absolutely forgotten.

———

“Ro. Ro.” Aelin shook her husband. “Rowan. Love.”

Rowan slowly opened his eyes, gaze immediately falling on the woman sitting down on they bed. Her hair was a mess, and the moonlight filtering through the curtains made her creamy skin glow. Her eyes were shining as always, the turquoise and gold looking like they irradiated light.

“Did something happen?” He grumbled, turning his body so he could rest his face on his wife’s lap. His arms went around her waist, and although he could feel her impatience, her hands started playing softly with his hair.

“It’s snowing.” She whispered.

“Ok?” He asked, more awake now. He looked up to see Aelin beaming down at him.

“Want to go play?” She looked so excited that if Rowan hadn’t been laying on her lap, she would probably be jumping up and down the bed.

“Now?” He said, slowly. She nodded animatedly, and although it was three in the morning, Rowan couldn’t bring himself to say no. He just grumbled, getting up.

Aelin let out an excited squeak, rushing to their closet to put on her winter clothes. Aelin had always loved winter, every year waiting for the perfect snowfall to go play outside as if she was a kid. Rowan had never been as spontaneous, even when he was younger, but he had to admit that hearing Aelin’s delighted laughs as she threw snowballs at him was the closest thing to heaven he had ever witnessed.

He got dressed slowly, and the moment he finished putting his boots on, Aelin grabbed his hand and pulled him to the backyard. Rowan had to walk faster to match her steps, a smile already taking over his face at his wife’s excitement.

She giggled happily the moment she stepped outside, arms wide open as she looked up. Snowflakes immediately covered her honey-gold hair, a few on her lashes too. She opened her eyes and looked at Rowan. He had been resting against the threshold, arms crossed and a grin on his face as he watched Aelin.

She extended a hand to him, and he grabbed it, pulling her into a hug. “Are you happy, Ro?”

He rested his chin on top of her head. “Yes, of course I am.”

“I don’t mean only about this. I mean about us, about our marriage.” She looked up at him, fingers brushing away a strand of hair from his temple.

He cupped her face, cleaning her cheeks and eyes from the snowflakes. When she opened her eyes again after the swept his thumbs lightly over it, Aelin found Rowan smiling down at her. It wasn’t the grin from moments ago, of the smile he usually gave her whenever she entered a room. No, this one was the smile he gave her whenever he wanted her to know how deeply in love he was with her.

“I can’t imagine a life that would make me happier, Ace. I can’t even believe how happy I am in this one.”

She nodded, bitting her lower lip. “It’s just that I love you so much that it’s sometimes hard to believe that you can possibly love me as much.”

Rowan hugged her tightly against his body, her chin against his chest as she looked up at him. “I can’t explain how much I love you, Fireheart. I can’t explain how happy just being around you makes me. We’ve been married for more than two years, together for even longer, and having you for myself still feels like a sacrilege.”

She gave him a small smile. “A sacrilege?”

He nodded, grinning down at her. “The biggest one.”

“Do you believe you have violated something sacred, Ro?”

He held her face I both hands, fingers tangling in her hair. “Having all of you, Ace. It feels like a sacrilege to know that you are mine, and only mine. Maybe it’s a violation to get you all for myself, nothing left for the rest of the world.”

Aelin’s fingers squeezed his waist, and she had a beaming smile as she raised herself to kiss him. Rowan’s mouth seemed even hotter due to the cold weather, and Aelin realized the if she could lose herself in him, she would. If she could spend the rest of her days feeling his soft mouth moving lovingly against hers, his tongue brushing hers, she wouldn’t hesitate in saying yes.

“Loving you is sacrilegious, Ace.” He breathed against her mouth.

“Loving you is sacred, Ro.” She breathed back.

—————

Aelin relaxed against her husband’s chest, her head resting on his shoulder.

He kissed her cheek, hand on her bent knee. Aelin’s hands were playing with the misty water in the bathtub, drawing small circles with a single finger.

Rowan’s arms were embracing her against his body, and he was humming softly.

“Ro?” She said, voce somewhat tense.

Rowan immediately opened his eyes, trying to see her face. “Yeah?”

“We need to talk.” She said, fingers playing more agitatedly on the water. “Can I ask you something?”

Rowan’s heart constricted, and he felt his throat twisting. Something like terror was creeping up his veins, and he had to clear his throat and blink a few times. He gripped Aelin more strongly, as if he could stop what was about to happen from actually happening. The best way to stop it was from showing her why this was a terrible idea before she even started explaining the whys, before she started breaking his heart.

“Do you want a divorce?” Rowan asked before she could say anything, voice so low he could barely hear his own words.

Apparently, Aelin had heard them without a problem, because she immediately sat up, turning around to look at him. Where she had been sitting moment ago with her back against his chest, she was know kneeling, looking at him. Her face was crumpled in worry and pain, and she could feel her eyes watering.

“What?” Her voice sounded small, sounded so careful. “You want a divorce? I— I thought we were fine. I thought we were happy.”

She bit her lower lip, trying to control the tears. She honestly thought everything had been fine, that he still loved her but if he wanted a divorce, didn’t even want to give them a chance to fix things, then maybe she had been blind the last few—

“What? No!” Rowan sat up, eyes wide and voice frantic. “No. No, of course I don’t want a divorce. I thought you wanted one.”

She felt a single tear falling down her cheek. She furrowed her brows, crossing her arms. “Why the fuck would you think that?”

“You sounded as if you were about to say exactly that when you came with the whole ‘we need to talk’ speech.” Rowan answered, clenching his fist to not reach forward and wipe Aelin’s tear away. He hated when she cried, and he had never been the reason for it before. It was tearing him apart inside.

“No, of course not.” Aelin shook her head, staring at Rowan. “Of course I don’t want to divorce you. That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard you say.”

Despite the situation, Rowan felt his whole body relaxing. His racing mind came to a stop, and he felt like he could breath again. Of course she didn’t want a divorce, of course things were fine. They hadn’t argued in months, and they were genuinely happy. Rowan had been crazy in even considering that.

“I’m sorry.” She said, coming a little closer to Rowan. “I didn’t think you would think I wanted to end things when I said we needed to talk. I should have worded it better. I don’t want to talk about anything bad, it’s a different topic.”

Rowan nodded, relief setting even deeper into his body. He pulled Aelin in, hugging her. She rested her chest against his, head on the crook of his neck. Aelin could feel her body relaxing against Rowan’s, could feel the blinding fear leaving her body. The prospect of losing Rowan was terrifying, and she had never been more relieved then when Rowan explained he had no interest in divorcing her.

“I’m sorry, Ace. I should have been more delicate about it. I should have let you talk.” His hands went up and down her spine, half to calm her down and half to show both of them that they were still together, that they still had each other. “I’m so, so sorry, love. I didn’t mean to make you scared or sad.”

Aelin simply nodded, bitting her lip. “I don’t want a divorce, I want a baby.”

Rowan tensed beneath her, and Aelin felt herself become tense. She wanted to have this conversation for weeks now, but she never knew the best way to bring it up. Obviously, the one she had chosen wasn’t the best.

“I want us to have a baby. I know we never talked about it before, and that we’re still young but I want a baby. I want a baby so bad, Ro. I’ve been trying to talk to you about this for weeks now, and I will completely understand if you don’t want it. You’re thirty and I’m still twenty six, we have time, but…” She said it too rushed, the last words trailing down.

When Rowan didn’t say anything, Aelin slowly raised her face. She was nervous to look at his expression, but all worries vanished from her body when she found Rowan beaming at her. Incapable of holding herself back, she beamed back at him. “Can we have a baby?”

Rowan laughed, hugging Aelin until she was breathless. He gripped her face, kissing her strongly before drawing back and laughing some more. “Yes. Yes, we can have a fucking baby. No to divorce, yes to baby. Fucking Gods, yeah we can add a new person to the family.”

Aelin laughed with him, the tense mood immediately disappearing. “No to divorce, yes to baby.”

———

“Mrs. Whitethorn?” Maeve, Rowan’s coworker at the agency, asked. She had a puzzled look on her face. “Is everything all right? Do you need help?”

Aelin knew how she looked. She had ran here, too anxious to risk the chance of getting caught in traffic. Her hair must have been a mess, the winter clothes he had on looking all disheveled. She was breathing hard, a hand over her heart. “Is my husband in?”

“Yeah, he’s finishing a meeting with Gavriel and Lorcan. Everyone else already left.” Maeve said, getting up. She offered Aelin a hand, expression washed in worry. “Are you sure everything is ok?”

“It’s January.” Aelin said as if that explained it all.

“Ok…” Maeve said cautiously.

“Me and Rowan started dating in January.”

“Is today some sort of celebration?” Maeve asked, a smile on her lips.

“No, no.” Aelin said, trying to control her breathing. Maeve looked so confused that Aelin calmed herself down enough to explain. “It was so unexpected that for the past seven years January is the month we have our little competition. Whoever surprises the other the most wins. It’s a joke regarding how surprised people were when they discovered about us.”

Aelin didn’t tell her the prize the winner won.

Maeve laughed, finally understanding what was going on. “And I assume you have something surprising for him.”

Aelin nodded, a smirk on her face. “It’s the last day of the month and. I can’t tell him by phone, and if I called him to come home instead of going out with the guys, he would refuse just so I would only be able to tell him tomorrow. In February. Rowan thought he had won with the surprise trip for Italy during spring break.”

“But no?” Maeve seemed extremely interested in their little game.

Aelin shook her head, and the moment she opened her mouth, she saw a door opening and her husband coming out with Gavriel and Lorcan behind him. He took a few seconds to realize that Aelin was standing there with Maeve, but the moment he noticed her, his face was washed with confusion and worry.

“Is everything all right, Ace?”

Aeling laughed almost maniacally. “You lost.”

“What?” He approached her slowly.

“You lost this year.” She grinned brightly and animatedly. “You fucking lost, dipshit.”

Aelin heard Maeve choking on laughter as she left the room, and even Lorcan and Gavriel smiled at that even though they had no idea what was going on.

“The hell you mean, Aelin?”

“You thought the trip would be the biggest surprise? Idiot.” She laughed again, and now that Rowan finally understood, he narrowed his eyes.

“It was.” He declared.

“No, no, dear husband. Because I know something you don’t, thus it is a surprise. So, so much bigger than yours.”

Rowan crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the floor. “Oh, yeah? What is it then?”

Aelin’s grin became a full smile, and she was beaming as she continued. “I’m pregnant.”

Rowan looked at her in silence for what seemed an eternity. He looked down her belly and then up her face, a huge smile breaking on his face. He laughed just as hard as she had. He ran up to her, grabbing her in his arms. Rowan spun her around as they both laughed, Aelin’s arms going around his neck to hug him back.

“I’m gonna be a dad.” He announced, and smile even harder when Aelin nodded. Rowan turned to Gavriel and Lorcan who were smiling at them. “I’m gonna be a fucking dad!”

The two men laughed, muttering their congratulations. Rowan hugged Aelin more tightly, peppering her face and neck with fast and lovingly kissed.

“We are going to be parents.” Rowan said, voice full of joy as he looked down at Aelin’s stomach.

Aelin nodded, tears swelling in her eyes. “We will.”

“We made a baby. We are going to have a baby.” He sounded so amazed by the words that Aelin laughed again.

“Yeah. Yeah, we will, love.” She said, voice soft and gentle. Rowan raised his head to look at her, and Aelin could see the tears brimming his eyes. She cupped his face, kissing him before laughing against his mouth. “We are going to be a mom and dad.”

Rowan rested his forehead against Aelin’s, one hand on her stomach and the other one in the back of her neck.

When he heard her voice again, Rowan opened his eyes to stare at the turquoise and gold staring back at him. She gave him a smug smile full of hidden meaning. “I won. And I know exactly what I want.”

———

“What is all this?” Aelin asked, a smile on her face. She entered the living room, loosing at the lights hung from the ceiling. They casted a yellowish hue to the whole room. The furniture had been move away, and now the room had a huge empty spot in the middle.

Rowan came from behind her, embracing her body. “As much as I loved our second anniversary party, this year we’re staying at home.” He said against her ear, giving her a small kiss. “Alone.”

“The baby.”

“Alone with the baby.” Rowan corrected, a hand going down to Aelin’s stomach.

Rowan let go of her, walking up to an old victrola. He turned it on, the vinyl immediately turning. A soft melody filled to room, and Aelin smiled as she recognized the song.

“Nostalgic?” Aelin asked, walking up to Rowan.

He took her in his arms, one hand around her waist, the other one holding hers. Her free hand went to his shoulder, and they slowly swayed around the room under the melody of the song they danced during their wedding party.

“Whenever I’m stressed at work I listen to it.” Rowan said, a small smile on his lips as he looked down at Aelin. “Remembering our wedding night always makes me calm.”

Aelin matched his smile, gripping his hand and shoulder more tightly. She closed her eyes, focusing on Rowan’s touch and the melody only. “I love this song.”

“I love you.” Was all Rowan replied.

Aelin kept dancing, the melody and the movements so peaceful, so tranquil, that she felt as if she was floating. She felt her smile becoming more serene, and when she opened her eyes, Aelin looked at Rowan reverently. “I love you.”

Rowan nodded, and Aelin laid her head on his chest as the two celebrated another year together.

A year that had so many memories that they would tell their kids, so many memories that they would tell their grandkids.

Memories that they would remind each other, memories that they would whisper against each other’s skin.

And so Aelin and Rowan danced throughout the whole night. Danced alone for hours and hours.

Well, alone with the baby.

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt

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nightshade-minho · 4 years

Text

-Babygirl-

Warnings: roommates!au, suggestiveness, shirtless Jisung (again), voyeurism (kind of..?), male masturbation, panty kink, implied sexual activity during driving. (Please be safe on the roads! This should never happen irl lol.)

“Jisung? JISUNG!”

The boy in question shot awake, rubbing at his eyes. He looked at you, confused.

You sighed. “You were telling me about the wedding, but you keep dozing off in between.”

“Right, right...” He said, looking like he was struggling to keep his eyes open. “I’m sorry, but it’s so late and I barely got any sleep last night. And...no offense but it’s kind of your fault.”

You nodded sheepishly. You’d spent most of last night under a really hot guy named Hyunjin that you’d met at the club, and was way too caught up in lust to care about your poor sleepy roommate.

“You really need to tone it down a bit. I bet this whole floor heard your moaning. Give it to me daddy!” He mocked, prompting you to slap his arm.

“I do NOT sound like that.”

“You do.”

You groaned, leaning back into the sofa, your hand rubbing your temple. A few seconds later, the snores resumed. You exhaled angrily, slapping Jisung’s arm to wake him.

“Ow...” he mumbled, rubbing his arm. “You’re really testing my patience, you know that? Just let me sleep in peace, babygirl.”

You knew he was mocking the way Hyunjin had called you that the previous night...but something about that word leaving Jisung’s lips had you pressing your thighs together for a moment. When you realized what you were doing, you groaned to yourself. Jisung? What were you thinking? Dude was your roommate, and not a very good one at that.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

You ran a hand through your hair, quickly standing up. “Yeah totally. Maybe you could tell me about this wedding later? I’m just going to go to my room...”

Without bothering to see his reaction, you briskly walked to your room, shutting the door and lying down on your bed. You couldn’t deny the frisson of arousal that had passed through you when he said that word. Every single person you slept with was well aware of how much you liked being called that.

You dug your head into your pillow, trying to expel these thoughts.

•••

You sat at the breakfast counter, groaning as you used the spoon to draw circles in your cold milk.

“Y/n. What happened yesterday?”

You looked up, and all sleep remaining in your eyes immediately disappeared as you took in Jisung, with nothing on but a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair was seemingly still wet from his shower. You watched as droplets of water fell from his strands onto his stomach, running down his abs...whose existence you knew nothing of prior to this moment.

“Nothing happened! I wasn’t feeling very well.”

He sat down next to you, pushing his hair back as he looked at you, an eyebrow raised. “Uh huh. I totally believe that.”

You felt uncomfortable with his intense gaze fixed on you, and felt yourself becoming very slightly wetter. Oh god...this can’t be happening.

“Honestly. I just wasn’t feeling very well. You know...the weather’s getting colder and I’ve never really had a strong immune system.”

He raised an eyebrow in concern, leaning in to rest his hand on your forehead, his face dangerously close to yours. You felt yourself turning red slightly.

He pulled away. “You feel fine to me.”

You cleared your throat. “It’s one of those sicknesses that don’t change your temperature or anything.”

He looked at you for a moment, like he was trying to figure you out. Finally he rolled his eyes, grabbing a granola bar from the shelf and unwrapping it slowly.

“So...the wedding?” You referenced what he was talking about yesterday, and his eyes widened.

“Oh! Oh yeah...well...I have a favour to ask of you.”

You raised your eyebrow. “What kind?”

“Well. I was hoping you’d come with me to my cousin’s wedding. Not exactly as a date or anything, I just want to prove to my bullshit childhood friends that there are others I talk to...and being able to introduce a pretty girl as my best friend would really put a damper on their egos.”

Pretty. He thought you were pretty.

Holding yourself together, you tapped your chin in mock curiosity. “If you have friends, how come I never see them come over?”

“Oh, they come over all the time. I just choose to invite them at times when I’m alone or you’re already asleep, cause I didn’t wanna disturb you. Trust me, one minute spent with my best friends and you would probably move to Antarctica the next day. And I need a roommate to pay the bills.”

You laughed, trying not to choke on the milk. Jisung grinned at you. “So is that a yes?”

Jisung’s enthusiasm was always contagious. You were more than alright with this, especially since it meant you got to attend a party. You nodded.

“So...are any of these friends attractive or-“

“NO!”

•••

You stared at the mirror, hoping you looked good. You had on a soft blue dress, with a heart-shaped cutout right on your chest. You felt cute and yet also a little sexy.

You turned around finally, satisfied, and made your way out of the room. Jisung was sitting on the couch, straightening his tie and glancing at his watch. You cleared your throat.

He looked up and gasped, trying and failing to hide his shock. “Wow, you look...you look...”

“Pretty?” You offered, grinning cheekily. He nodded. “What about me?” You gave him a thumbs-up.

“You look hot.”

“Oh do I, babygirl?” He said, chuckling right afterwards. There it was. That word again...you felt a jolt of pleasure run straight to your core.

You sat down next to him on the couch. “Are you never going to let that go?”

“Do you want me to?” He asked suggestively, and you almost slapped him.

“You’re such a dickhead.” He laughed, and got up, sneaking another glance at his watch. “Ok y/n, we’ve really got to go now. We’ve got about 4 hours worth of driving to do.”

You sighed and hoisted your bag over your shoulder. “4 fucking hours in a car stuck with you. It sounds like a medieval torture method...fucking unbearable.”

“Why? Because of all the sexual tension?” He joked, but you chose not to reply. How could you explain to your bastard roommate that he was making you feel things ~down there~? Living with this guy blurred enough lines as it is...if you fucked him, there was no going back.

You followed him to his car. You had decided to take turns- you would drive two hours, and then you’d stop at a restaurant for snacks before Jisung drove the rest.

As you got in the driver’s seat and fastened your seatbelt, you heard Jisung curse. “Why do my crappy relatives have to host their wedding so far from my fucking house...”

“Um, probably because it was more convenient to them and...oh yeah, it isn’t YOUR wedding?”

He rolled his eyes as he fumbled with his seatbelt. “You’re infuriating. Sometimes I wish I could just shut you up somehow.”

You don’t know where it came from, but you blurted, “I can think of a few ways to do that.”

Jisung’s eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. He’d been the one flirting nonstop- but they were half-jokes. Now that you’d actually replied to one with an innuendo of your own, he felt his pants tighten all of a sudden.

Jisung couldn’t deny that he was sexually attracted to you. After all, you were quite hot...when you weren’t chewing him out because he forgot to wash the dishes again.

He also couldn’t deny that he was slightly envious of the guys who got to fuck you.

There was an incident that happened a few months ago, which he still hadn’t talked to you about. And he probably never would...it was way too embarrassing.

Jisung had been in your room one night, to find a book of his that you had borrowed. You’d been out when he was rummaging through your bedside table trying to find it, but then suddenly he heard the front door click open...and judging from the moans his ears picked up, you and whoever you were with were going to come inside the room at any time.

As he heard the footsteps approach, he groaned, ducking under your bed and crouching under there. The door opened just then, and the moans and kissing sounds were significantly louder. He felt the bed dip, and soon unspeakable things were going on above him. He held his head in his hands, wanting to escape...but then your moans got to him. The way you whimpered and whined for the guy to take you...it made Jisung incredibly hard.

Clothes were being shed after that, and from his position, he watched as various articles of clothing rained on the floor in front of him. And then...there it was.

Your panties. They fell on top of the heap of discarded jeans and shirts...a tantalizingly red pair, reaching out to him, begging him to take them and use them.

And that’s how he succumbed, his hand reaching out to grab your underwear. As your moans from above filled his ears, he sniffed your wet panties, inhaling your heavenly scent...and hesitantly licked your juices that had rubbed off on them. He felt absolutely filthy as he got his cock out and used the fabric of your panties to get himself off, cumming at almost the same time you did.

It was a secret he hoped he could hold forever.

But now here you were, being suggestive... and he didn’t know if this was just his imagination, but he saw you clenching your thighs and getting slightly affected whenever he called you certain pet names.

What Jisung was about to do next was probably a bad idea, just like taking the red panties to his room that night and never returning them was.

He decided that he was going to try to rile you up again, and if you showed any signs of being into it...he was going to go for it.

“So...y/n.”

“Hmm?” You said as you concentrated on the road, your hand on the wheel.

“Exactly how do you want me to shut you up, babygirl?”

Ever so subtly you pressed your thighs together, your cheeks turning red. And that’s when Jisung finally decided...fuck it!

His hand slipped between your thighs and spread them apart, going to your cunt and rubbing it through your panties. His slender fingers pulled your panties to the side so that he could drag his digits over your exposed wet cunt, slowly pushing a finger inside.

You let out a shocked squeak followed by several groans, your eyes desperately staying trained on the road in front of you. “J-Jisung...what’re you doing?”

“Shutting my babygirl up, of course.”

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #kpop smut #kpop imagines #jisung smut #jisung fluff #jisung angst #han jisung smut #han smut #han fluff #han angst #stray kids

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tahitianmangoes · 3 years

Text

Snow Falls

Pairing: Charles x Arthur Summary: After Charles had found Arthur unconscious on that mountain and he vowed that he'd never leave him again. Now he’d broken that vow. Words:3018 Chapter 1/1

Not cannon compliant | NSF W

And the snow falls, the wind calls The year turns round again 'Til then put your trust in tomorrow my friend For yesterday's over and done

****

The cabin was the best way up a mountain, far from prying eyes. They were safe here. Arthur could rest here. Charles could almost rest too but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t spend the moments that he wasn’t caring for Arthur looking over his shoulder for bounty hunters, Pinkertons or worse, Dutch and Micah.

Arthur was awake before Charles, he had gotten out of bed and was stoking the fire. “I can do that,” Charles said huskily, still half asleep and half dressed, getting out of bed and going over to Arthur.

Arthur's frame was slimmer than it had been a few months ago, a few months ago when Arthur had been well enough to eat. At that time, Charles had been able to see Arthur's spine through his paper white skin when the older outlaw let Charles bathe him. No matter how hard Charles tried to get Arthur to eat more, he didn't. He couldn't. Some days, he had no appetite. Some days, it was all he could do to get out of bed and sit by the cabin window. His brilliant blue eyes were less blood shot now though, perhaps because the stillness of the mountains allowed him to sleep compared to their tiny but noisy room in Saint Denis. The colour had returned to his sallow cheeks and he was beginning to grow stronger day by day.

But Charles could still hear Arthur's breaths sometimes, laboured and shaky. He tried to hide how breathless he became doing simple things like even brushing the horses, tried to stifle his coughs from Charles perhaps because he was embarrassed but of course, nothing escaped Charles.

“I know,” Arthur replied, “but I want to. Maybe you can let me chop the firewood from now on - you always do it.” “Oh Arthur…” Charles started. “Don’t oh Arthur me, “ Arthur said quickly. “Charles, I know you’re just trying to help but… I’m bored! I’m so damned bored, stuck in a little cabin in the middle of nowhere like… Like Little Red Riding Hood!” Charles chuckled at this. “It ain’t funny, Charles.” Arthur said huffily, continuing to stoke the fire doggedly. “You said we’d be across the border soon and I’m... I'm feeling better. We could go soon.”

Charles sighed, he reached for Arthur’s face. Arthur let Charles stroke the soft downy hair out of his eyes and caress his cheek tenderly. “I just want to take care of you, my love. You’re… well, you’re still healing.” “I’m fine…” Arthur started but Charles brushed his thumb over Arthur’s lips in a bid to silence him. They held each other’s gaze, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Charles thart Arthur's shimmering blue eyes were more tired these days. But he was still the man Charles had fallen in love with, loved like no other. “We're lucky we've made it this far. I don't want to push the limits. We’ll go as soon as you’re ready, I promise.” Charles said gently, moving his head closer to Arthur's, “you know what the doctor said, you must rest.” “Charles-” “Arthur…”

They didn’t say it often. Arthur would flush and look away and Charles found himself getting tongue tied. So he kissed Arthur and Arthur kissed back. Arthur was always so strong but at the feel of Charles's lips to his own, he softened. He sighed into Charles’s mouth.

“You've spent your whole life taking care of other people,” Charles said to him in earnest, “let me take care of you. Just this one time.” Arthur was powerless to argue.

****

Charles chopped firewood in the morning, made sure Arthur took the medicine the doctor had prescribed for him for his pneumonia with his breakfast of eggs and potatoes. After that, Charles cleaned his guns, crafted some arrows and mended some of his clothes that seemed to miraculously sprout holes faster than he could stitch them. Arthur dozed, the medicine made him drowsy and the warmth from the fireplace only exacerbated things. Charles was glad to see Arthur resting, though. Once he was better, they would head further north into Canada and start a new life. Get some land. Maybe some animals, too. Maybe change their names. Spend every day together. Grow old together. Forget what happened out east. Love each other until they stopped drawing breath… But Arthur wasn’t well enough yet. Charles had waited this long, he could wait a while longer.

Charles’s cough started that evening after dinner. Arthur’s eyes widened, “d-did I..?” Charles shook his head and laughed softly, “it’s not contagious. I must have caught the cold, that’s all.” By the next morning, the cough had worsened and Charles's chest hurt; it felt like he was tearing through him with each swing of his axe while he chopped the firewood as usual. He fixed breakfast while Arthur slept in - he hadn’t slept well during the night, he'd woken wheezing a few times and sweating. Charles had feared it was a fever but he seemed better by the time he awoke the next day.

Charles didn’t tell Arthur that it hurt when he moved, that his head felt stuffy and the blood pounded like he’d been running. But he didn’t need to. Arthur noticed that Charles seemed groggy and tired. “It’s just a cold. I’ll be fine.” Charles said dismissively.

But Arthur saw how he shivered as he tried to stitch the clothes he hadn’t managed to finish yesterday.

“Come to bed.” “Arthur, I’m hardly in the mood-” Charles was cut off by Arthur’s rasping laugh. “I ain’t propositioning you, Mr Smith.” Charles looked over at Arthur who was still lying down and felt his cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. “It’s warm here. We can keep each other warm, pair o’ invalids together.” Arthur said, patting the bed beside him. Charles smirked. “How can I resist?”

So the pair of them spent the rest of the day in bed together, huddling under the blankets, Charles's head aching and his chest tight, dozing in each other's arms in a contended way that they’d never really been able to when they had been living a life on the run.

They spent the next few days like that until the worst of Charles's cold passed. Arthur seemed to enjoy this role reversal of taking care of Charles. He made him hot herbal tea that he said Hosea had taught him to brew. Better than that stuff you buy in the store. Whether the tea really helped or not, Charles was able to get up and back to his usual self (or near enough,) after a couple of days. But by this time, there was almost no food left in the cabin. “I’m going hunting,” Charles told Arthur that morning. “Charles… you’re not well.” Arthur said sleepily, holding his hand as he went to leave the bed to get dressed. Charles tugged away reluctantly, fingers slipping through Arthur's like water. “I’m well enough. Besides, we’ll both starve if I don’t go. I’ll be back before nightfall, I promise you.”

But he wasn’t.

The snow came down heavy and thick. Charles cursed himself for being so careless, so stupid. He’d been tracking a mountain ram, perhaps a little too far. He should have known when to give up and turn back, maybe ride into town the next day and get supplies from the general store but as much as Charles would never admit it, it was his pride that kept him out longer than he should have been. He didn’t want to return to Arthur empty handed, though he knew Arthur wouldn’t be disappointed. It was stupid, male pride. It was that pride that found him unable to get back across the mountain to the cabin, to Arthur. Taima had always been a strong horse but this had proven to be her limit. The snowstorm rolled across the hills and Charles was lucky in that he found a cave that looked like it had once been home to animals of some sort - wolves he suspected - but now seemed empty. He did his best to light a fire for them both but the wood he managed to gather in the boisterous wind was too wet and the embers soon died out.

The storm swirled and the wind howled. He was reminded of the time after the Blackwater fiasco, when the gang had been stuck in a storm at Colter. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. He had shared his first kiss with Arthur not long after that, just before the gang had moved from Horseshoe Overlook to Clemens Point. He remembered that night, when they’d camped under the stars in Big Valley, how Charles had felt so comfortable with Arthur in a way he’d never felt with anyone else. He’d never foreseen this future for himself, falling for a man, a white man, a murderer and outlaw… but Charles knew he couldn't question the way the world turns. All he knew was that he cared for Arthur in a way that set his heart on ablaze like nothing before.

Rains Fall had looked him deeply in the eyes that night when Arthur returned to Beaver Hollow and said, “go to him.” Charles had opened his mouth to protest but Rains Fall shook his head steadfastly, He had wore a sorrowful smile but the look in his eyes was as resolute as ever. “I have lost too many people I love, Mr Smith. You have too.” He lay his hand gently on Charles’s shoulder. “Mr Morgan can be saved. He needs you more than we do, now go.”

So Charles had rode into the night, the sky had gone from deepest navy to a blanket of obsidian above him. No stars shone. Charles rode desperately to Arthur, each beat of his heart was Arthur’s name as he flattened his body to Taima’s and urged her faster and faster, please, girl. Please just this once, please.

He had found Arthur unconscious on that mountain and he vowed that he'd never leave him again. Now he’d broken that vow.

As the snow came down harder and faster than ever, Charles paced the cave, flooded with images of Arthur alone in the cabin and endless “what ifs?” Eventually the night rolled in, the moon reflecting off of the snow as if it were the ocean and Charles knew he he could do nothing but wait.

Two days passed. Charles managed to start a fire and kept himself and Taima warm. It was a comfort to have her there, she'd been through a lot with him and turned out to be the most loyal of everyone in the end. On the third morning, the snow had all but stopped and it was so serene on the mountain now, as if the storm had never happened. Charles mounted up and urged Taima back to the cabin, fearing the worst with every beat of his heart.

****

It was dark by the time Charles burst through the door of the cabin, Arthur was already on his feet. Neither said anything as they embraced, Charles holding Arthur so tight to his chest, tighter than he should be he didn’t care. Needed to feel the warmth of the other man, to feel his breath on his neck as they stood like that while time seemed to stand still and all that could be heard was the crackling from the fire. He wouldn’t let Arthur go ever again.

And then they were kissing. Kissing without care nor hesitation nor complexity. Just two people so fiercely in love.

“I’ve missed you,” Charles breathed, kissing Arthur so hard it almost knocked the air from his lungs. “I love you,” came Arthur’s reply, his lips soft and warm against Charles’s cold ones.

He’d missed Arthur desperately, that feeling that he might not see him again, just like the night he went to the mountain had flooded him Every doubt he’d ever had, every time he had wondered if he had made the right decision was erased.

He kissed Arthur hard, bruisingly so. Arthur sighed into the kiss, lacing his arms around Charles’s neck and pressing their bodies together.

Charles had never loved anyone like this, never felt the branches grow, felt it take root in him until it was at his very centre. All consuming. The reason he woke up in the morning and the reason he didn't just give up when things looked bleak. The reason the sunsets looked beautiful and the reason why food tasted good.

Charles didn't know which one of them had started to the bed or maybe it was both but suddenly, he was lying Arthur down and Arthur was kissing his neck and unbuttoning his shirt.

Charles hesitated, “Arthur… Are you sure?” He asked gently.

They’d only done this a handful of times, Arthur inexperienced and shy about his body, Charles not wanting to press the issue because of Arthur’s inexperience but also because Arthur was still frail. But he’d make love to Arthur every day if he could just to see the way the older man’s eyes seemed to shine when he lay beneath Charles and how his face lost all tension when it was enraptured by bliss.

Since Arthur got sick, they hadn’t been able to be intimate. Arthur’s health was more important. And then they were moving from place to place, Charles paranoid that someone had recognised them from their bounty posters even though he would slip out at night sometimes while Arthur slept and tear them down, burning them in the fire.

This was the first time in months that they were truly alone. Arthur leaned up to kiss Charles’s lips, before pulling away, their eyes meeting in a rich gaze, “it’s ok… I want to do this.” he told him

Charles brushed Arthur’s hair from his face, the love he felt overpowering him, hands working away at Arthur’s shirt and union suit until he was bare. Charles kissed his lover’s pale, flushed skin, ran his lips tenderly over the gunshot wound at his shoulder, let his tongue flick teasingly around Arthur's nipples and softly nibble at his stomach, delighting in how Arthur quaked beneath him and gasped.

Arthur’s hands reached for Charles, too, slipping his shirt off of him, fingers working at buttons and fastenings until Charles was freed of his clothes. Arthur continued, caressing the wide expanse of Charles’s back, down his flank and kneading his ass. Charles chuckled softly. “I want you,” Arthur whispered. “You’re sure?” “Y-yeah.”

Charles rolled them both over so that Arthur was now astride him. His feet remained planted on the floor, his hips supported by the bed, Arthur straddled him. Both were panting and flushed, both achingly hard.

Arthur looked away hesitantly, arms moving up instinctively to cover himself but Charles held his wrists gently, “I want to see you, all of you.” Still not meeting Charles’s gaze, Arthur positioned himself over Charles’s length and, not able to wait any longer, after quickly slicking it with hair pomade (that tore a shiver down Charles’s spine but he managed to stop himself from bucking up into Arthur), he sunk down, swallowing Charles inch by inch.

Both of them gasped and moaned softly. Arthur’s dazzling eyes closed now as he adjusted to the length buried deep inside him to the hilt..

Arthur moved, he groaned as he did so. Charles filled him, felt so big inside. He reached down, steading himself by placing his palms on Charles's broad chest and then began to find a pace that he could enjoy. Charles watched with adoration as Arthur rode him, slow and sensual at first. He saw the flush deepening, saw his brow furrow as he found a rhythm, Charles placed his hands on Arthur’s hips to steady him Charles reached up to caress Arthur torso, his hips, the swell of his ass. The older outlaw’s weight bared down on him, engulfing him. Everything from the past few days, the past awful months felt like white noise. All Charles could focus on was his hard cock inside Arthur, his breathing, Arthur’s moans, their bodies rubbing against each other's, the feel of Arthur’s erection on his stomach as he slid in and out out of him, him becoming part of Arthur and Arthur becoming part of him.

It didn’t take long for Arthur's moans to grow louder and for him to bring himself down harder, passage squeezing Charles, making Charles growl in response. Arthur’s eyes rolled back and his body stiffened, he juddered almost collapsing if Charles hadn’t been holding him. He came without touching himself the first time. Charles saw the ecstasy clouding Arthur’s vision and as he barely came down from his first orgasm, he began to chase a second, raising his hips, grinding down on Charles with a force that Charles hadn't been certain Arthur wasn't capable of. Arthur huffed and cursed, he chanted Charles's name between low, careless moans. Charles groaned, doing his best not to spill himself in Arthur just yet and fill him up as much as would love to, Arthur’s heat was hypnotising but so was the way he moved, so was the way he looked above him, fawn coloured hair framing his handsome face, biting down on his lip, unable to hide how good this made him feel, how much he loved this,

Charles’s cock wrung orgasm after orgasm out of Arthur until he was left breathless and exhausted and finally collapsed into Charles’s arms. Charles thrust up into Arthur now, shivering and chest rumbling as he came, foreheads pressed together, breath hot on his face, Arthur’s lips trailing lazy kisses over his skin until they both stilled and lay in each others arms.

They lay like that until it began to grow light again outside and Charles could hear birdsong. "I love you," Charles murmured. Arthur slipped his hand in Charles's and whispered it back before he began to snore softly.

#charthur #rdr2 #writing #charles x arthur #arthur morgan #charles smith

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goonandfightme · 3 years

Text

Numbers Pt.1

After a particularly horrifying case involving a serial killer starving his victims, Spencer Reid of the BAU relapses into old habits as past trauma resurfaces. The team slowly catches on as Reid falls further into his eating disorder and addictions but will they be able to help him before it's too late?

Pt.1 Concentrate

Trigger Warnings - EDs, drug use and addiction, child abuse.

Spencer Reid knew he has a problem at age 10. He had a routine, and once Spencer Reid had a routine it became part of him. He would wake up at 6 am, ensure his mother was asleep, pick his outfit for the day. His messenger bag would be packed with textbooks, notes and pens. He would brush his teeth, shower, then get dressed He went through this mental checklist, these motions were fluid, practised and precise. The clock would read 7:30 am, he would leave the house to grab the bus to go to school. High school. He was two years short of graduation, his mother had insisted on it, he was smart, he was special, he could be anything he wanted, he could have anything he wanted.

He would leave his lunch behind.

He would get picked on, laughed at, kicked, bruised all too easily, then go home. If his mother was lucid, he would have a proper meal, if not, whatever he could reach from the cupboards. He was malnourished, the corner of his lips cracked from b-vitamin deficiency, the rims of his eyes white from anaemia, his hair messy and breaking. People only knew him as his shadow of himself, no concerns were raised.

He would complete his homework, lay on his bed, his heart would palpitate, his world would spin. No one noticed, his grades hadn’t slipped, he never participated in sports. No one noticed.

His alarm sounded; it was 6 am. He started again; his lungs screamed, his heart pounded, and his headache came back, he always had a headache, but Spencer Reid had a routine, and he would stick to it. He went to check on his mother.

--Present Day--

It was six-thirty and Reid was getting ready for his day at work, removing his pyjamas while he waited for the shower to heat. The top came over his head easily, it was baggy, it was more than a couple of months old, it didn’t fit him anymore. He looked forward towards the full body mirror, tossing the clothes into the hamper, his face was thin, as it always had been, even when he was a healthy weight he’d always struggled with his figure. Brushing his hair out of his face he looked closer running his fingers over his features, saw how his eyes were more hallow, he pulled the lower lid down the reveal the ghostly white colour it had become, his cheekbones slightly more pronounced and painful to press against, his jaw slightly sharper in contrast to how he felt. His hand dipped and traced over his ribs, he could count them all, name them if he wanted, then his hand lowered to his wrist. His thumb and middle finger enclosing the joint, measuring how far he could raise it, whether it would come past his elbow, would it fit past his bicep. It stopped just after his elbow and he squeezed as if trying to rip his flesh after, from the bone, the white marks lingered across the already pale limb.

“White marks that last after applying pressure to the skin suggest poor blood circulation, common among those with anorexia nervosa.” There was no one there to hear him but when he was alone, he liked to talk aloud it helped him think through things slower, it helped keep him calm. “It also causes the exterminates to become cold and discoloured,” he looked down towards his feet. He removed his trousers, the shower warm and producing a numbing white noise as Reid continued his routine. Checking how each bone moved under his skin, thin, grey and translucent. He had so much more to lose.

“Grey skin indicates poor blood oxygenation, which can be caused by anaemia, a low level of iron within the blood that prevents red blood cells from delivering oxygen effectively. A common symptom of malnutrition.” He breathed out slowly to calm himself as he turned on his heel to enter the shower, it was much warmer than his apartment, the floor cold and unwelcoming, he was always cold anyway. He made quick work of scrubbing down his body, no longer wanting to look at it, feel it. He spent longer on his hair, it no longer sat right, it would always fly away as it became more brittle, he wasn’t the biggest fan of the longer-haired look but it suited him, made his face slimmer, so he kept it.

Reid turned the tap off and jumped out as quickly as his legs would let him, he swiped his towel off of the rack and placed it on his face, holding the weight in his hands as his head stopped swirling, then used it to finish drying himself off. He walked back into his bedroom where his clothes laid neatly. He placed on his underwear socks and trousers, a cream shirt and striped tie, a thick soft orange jumper to go with it, then blazer, then belt, he tightened and placed it through the newest punched hole. It was a nice belt he didn’t want to get rid of it. Checking that the apartment was in order and that everything had been done, everything he needed was in his bag, he picked up his keys from the dish and left after briefly sorting his hair in the hallway mirror.

It was another day at the BAU for Reid. Walking over to the staff space he started the kettle and placed his bag down, he retrieved his favourite mug and placed three teaspoons of coffee in. Once the water was boiled he filled his mug and let the thick scent waft through the air, he grabbed the sugar and poured, originally he would have counted the spoons of sugar but decided that cutting out the middle man would save time, he was slightly late as it was. “Want some coffee with that sugar?”

“Had a long night, need something to keep me functioning” Reid retorted as he turned to face Morgan who stood behind him placing his lunch in the fridge. “Nice one pretty boy, what was she like?” Morgan smiled. “Not that kind of long night,” he picked up his bag and walked towards his desk before Morgan had a chance to reply. He slouched down into his seat while taking another sip of his coffee and reached down to grab a file from the bottom of his desk drawer and after rummaging for a while he found it. A wave of nausea hit and Reid lent forward over the desk to stop his stomach from protesting, his body wasn’t used to this level of starvation. He’d lowered his intake from 700 to 500 yesterday, it was taking time to adjust.

The BAU hadn’t had a case for over two days so the team was catching up on all paperwork that needed doing, anything that had been shoved in draws to be forgotten was to be finished and filed.

He opened the file and glanced over the first page, thumbing over the papers to spread them out. Emily Moore, aged 25, died of malnutrition after a serial killer had starved her to death. Reid placed his right hand beneath his chin and ran his thumb over his mouth as he traced a finger over the outline of her body and closed his eyes. That was four months, two days and three hours ago that case started, and it was four months, two days and three hours since Reid had relapsed. He could see them still so vividly, all of them hung up like puppets, so skinny and frail. He still couldn’t bring himself to finish the file.

“Reid?” Hotchner asked, Spencer, opened his eyes to see the team filling into the meeting room as Hotch stared at him from across the room. Reid quickly snapped the file shut and followed behind everyone else, Hotchner joining the line afterwards. Spencer enclosed his hand around his wrist to help his heart stop beating as fast. It calmed him down, he didn’t even realise he had done it. Hotch was absorbed in his paperwork.

Reid sat down next to Morgan in his unassigned assigned seat as Gideon began the brief and Reid for one of the first times since he had met Gideon, didn’t listen to him.

I shouldn’t have had that much sugar, how much did I have, right, the coffee cup was about 5cm in diameter so that means the area of the cup was five multiplied by pi, then to find the volume of sugar the cup raised about 1cm.

“The victim was found face down lying in a pool of her own blood.” Gideon turned to the board displaying pictures of the woman.

The volume of sugar would be 15.7cm squared, which equates to about 25 grams of sugar which is 80 calories.

“Nothing was left at the crime scene, but her hands were bound with what appears to have been some sort of rope shown by the burn marks.”

“Could have suggested the killer was physically weak, needed to restrain her to get his way” Elle interjected. “Judging that the unsub took the rope it probably means he also brought it, premediated, definitely an organised killer,” Morgan added.

Why didn’t I just measure it out it would have made this so much easier, I’ll round it up to 100 just in case.

“Local police teams have already sectioned off the scene,” Hotch added, “alright but why call us, nothing about this case seems extraordinary, seems like a run of the mill homicidal rapist,” Elle questioned while looking to Gideon. “Well,” Gideon started.

If I can get home by 8 pm I can burn off that coffee, wait no if I run home then I can leave later but still burn it so if I have the 500, well now I can have 420 no 400, then I can-

“Right let’s go, the jet leaves in half an hour.”

With that the team all stood up abruptly, creating a whirlwind around Reid that made him snap out of his thoughts, his head and eyes darted around the room trying to figure out what was happening. He jumped out of his seat to follow everyone out but was stopped at the door.

“You alright Reid?”

Spencer spun back round to face Gideon who was looking at him, seeming to expect an answer. “Sorry, what was that?” Gideon's face became stern as his eyebrow slightly lifted along with his chin, he was not just looking at him, he was analysing. “I just wanted to know if you were alright?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine” Reid frantically looked across the room trying not to meet the other man’s gaze, “I’m just going to go grab my stuff” he stated while starting to walk backwards out of the room, pointing behind him with his thumb. “Uh yeah, see you on the plane,” he turned almost bumping into JJ “sorry JJ I uh didn’t see you sorry,” and with that, he took off to go grab his bag.

JJ turned to Gideon with a questioning look. “Keep an eye on him” was all he said before also going to grab his bag. Gideon wasn’t a man to say anything unless he was sure unless it was important, but he was worried. His intuition was screaming at him that something was wrong, but Reid would be at least three steps ahead if he didn’t want anyone to know. Damn profilers.

They had all swarmed into the jet and had taken their seats. Reid lay in the long seat reading a book, but not at his normally inhuman speed, it was slower, only just noticeably. Hotch sat next to Gideon reading all the information they had on the case thus far again, making sure nothing was missed. Gideon watched. They were sat at the other end of the plane with Reid’s back to them, the other team members preoccupied with their activities.

“Something’s wrong with Reid.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look at him.”

Hotch looked up from his papers and looked towards Reid, Gideons line of sight hadn’t wavered since he sat down. Hotch looked back from Reid to the man next to him. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s anxious, jumpy, overreactive,” Gideon still looked over to the boy and Hotch joined back, “I asked him this morning after the brief, he didn’t turn his back to me once until he was out of the room.”

“He was being defensive, wouldn’t turn his back on the perceived threat,” Hotchner added, “he knew the answer but couldn’t tell you, he looks at you as a father figure you know, he doesn't want to disappoint you”

Gideon paused, “he probably does, he doesn’t know much about his father,” he said shaking his head, they sat and observed in silence.

“He’s not turning pages as quickly as he normally does,”

“He’s not turning pages as quickly as he normally does,” Gideon repeated, “how’s his paperwork?” he finely looked away from the younger man. “Still exemplary, maybe a little less than normal but handed in on time, it hasn’t suffered any more than anyone else’s while we’ve been busy.”

Gideon nodded “somethings eating away at him, I just don’t know what.” There was a pause.

"There was one file I never got back."

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #sad #angst #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #spencer reid drugs

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shadow-assassin-blix · 3 years

Text

Something in Your Mouth

Santiago “Pope” Garcia x reader

A/N: A song fic has been done. This is a Nickelback song (don’t @ me they are my favorite rockband). Warnings: Sex (allusions and some descriptions), BJ, shitty ex. Um. I think that’s it? Maybe some self-esteem issues

Everything tag: @mikeisthricedeceased

Oscar/Triple Frontier tag: @m-123 @artsymaddie @mcrmarvelloki

Got to meet the hottie with the million dollar body

They say it's over budget, but you'd pay her just to touch it, come on!

Santiago Garcia was not a shy man. If a woman was willing, he’d do anything she was comfortable with. Sex in a public bathroom? Done it. Fingering under the table? Yes ma’am. Vibrating panties with him having the remote control? Hell yes.

However, this is the first time he’s ever been with a girl that was so shy. He met her at a local coffee shop that he had become a regular to. She happened to come in one day, needing some long-winded concoction that he wasn’t even sure was actually coffee, for her boss.

When she got it, she had the misfortune of some asshole running into her and spilling the coffee all over her. Santi after yelling at the dude who dared to get in her face about it, bought her a replacement coffee, and strolled out to his truck to grab an old army t-shirt he kept in there.

“It’s clean I swear, it’s a bit a good luck charm I guess,” He awkwardly explained as he handed it to her.

She took it from him running into the bathroom to change. She had to tuck in the bottom of it into her pants since it was bit big.

She stepped back out and quietly asked, “How can I return this to you? Or better yet, repay?”

“If it’s not too bold, may I take you out on a date? And you can give it back to me then?” He questioned hoping she would say yes.

She smiled shyly, nodding her head, as she unlocked her phone for him to give her his number. He quickly typed it in, sending himself a text as he saved it.

She grabbed the replacement coffee and left a moment later. He texted her that evening and that was the beginning of it all.

Needs to hit the big screen and shoot a little love scene

If Hollywood had called her she'd be gone before you holler, come on!

She worked for a fashion company, currently working as a secretary to the CEO, hoping to one day be able to present her ideas as a creator. She loved to draw; it was one of her biggest passions as a kid. As she got older, she realized she loved fashion as well, and combined the two loves.

She had finished up her degree some months ago and got a job working for a local fashion industry. It wasn’t nearly as famous Prada, Gucci, or Hermes, but the name was recognized as a steppingstone for those companies.

Granted, she thought she would be working in design when she applied for the job, not as secretary number 2. A job was a job, however. She decided that she would grin and bear it until she had her chance.

Running into Santi was strange to say the least. She was sure, so sure, that he was just joking when he asked her out. But lo and behold… that night when he texted her details, she was pleasantly surprised.

They had gone out on a few dates, and while he was always respectful of her boundaries, she could tell he was used to more… provocative women. It’s not that she wasn’t interested in exploring his ideas, it was that… he was the first guy she had dated in a long while that seemed interested in seeing her naked.

She was used to guys getting bored with her after the first date, or when they found out she worked in fashion, they mocked her.

Santi, however, thought it was interesting. He would actually listen to her when she would rant about fabrics or colors. He at one point told her he thought it was adorable.

“It shows your passion. I think it’s cute as hell,” He told one day after a rant in which she cut herself off thinking she was being annoying.

She did eventually open up to him that she wasn’t used to having a man be attracted to her for more than 5 minutes.

He was shocked to say the least, “Who the hell were you dating honey?”

She shrugged, “Jerks. So. I mean… I want to do all those things with you… I just… worry I won’t be good at it? I guess?”

Crafty little lip tricks, tattoos on her left hip

She's bending as you're spending, there's no end to it, so baby come on!

When she said that, his jaw dropped. He wanted to beat up whoever had made her feel this way. He found her shyness refreshing, but not at the expense that she worried that he would think she was inadequate.

“We’ll move at your pace, baby. I like you, for you. I’m not going to drop you like your yesterday’s news just because we aren’t having sex every time we see each other,” Santi assured her, with a kiss.

She gave him a look of appreciation and kissed back more firmly. He grinned at that, cupping her cheek as they kissed.

Dressed up like a princess, betting that her skin smells

Better than the scent of every flower in the desert, come on!

It took several months before she was ready to sleep with him, in a more intimate way. By that point, she had met his friends and their significant others. The girls were all too willing to help her when she asked for advice on what to do or wear.

Frankie’s girl was the calmest and took her shopping to get some nice lacey lingerie. While she appreciated the advice from Emma and Maura (Will’s, and Benny’s girlfriends respectively), she wasn’t quite sure she was up for the risqué ideas they came up with.

Valeria was the one who said to keep it simple. “You two have all the time in the world to explore kinks and such. You do not have to jump into that on your first night together.”

So, the two of them shopped, deciding on a dark blue number that Valeria said would make Santi drool at the sight of her.

That night, she had spent a good two hours shaving and primping before slipping on the barely there thong, and matching corset.

She tossed on a silk robe and waited for Santi to come home. She didn’t have to wait long before she heard the door open and close, Santi’s voice calling out for her.

“Hey babe, where ya at?” She heard him ask.

“Bedroom!” She answered waiting.

She could hear him walk down the hallway before opening the door. He stared at her curiously, taking in her robe.

“What’s happening sweetie?” Santi asked as he stepped further in.

She bit her lip slightly, as she undid the robe and let it slide off of her. His jaw drop as he gazed at her.

He sauntered up to her, his hands hovering hesitantly over her waist.

“Does this mean… what I think it does?” He questioned quietly, not wanting to assume anything.

She nodded with a small giggle, as she stood on tiptoes to kiss him. He deepened the kiss after a moment of hesitation.

The two of them crawled onto the bed, not breaking the kiss.

They spent the night, getting to know one another’s bodies. Learning about each scar, each spot that drove them crazy. It was night that fueled the fire in her; she knew right then… no other could ever compare.

She loves the night scene, bar queen, just living for the fun

Taking over every dance floor like she's the only one

After that night, the two of them were far more open about affection than they once were. It used to be she would shy away when he would kiss her in public. Now, she was used to it, and welcomed it far more. She still wasn’t quite used to the idea of doing anything sexual in public, which he was okay with.

He was just thrilled to know that she enjoyed his attention.

The two spent more time talking about previous experiences, mostly to learn about each other.

“In college I was definitely a bit more… wild child. I went barhopping with friends almost every weekend. Had a few one-night stands, if you can believe that. It was during one of my more serious relationships when I kind of lost apart of myself. He… he wasn’t like… physically aggressive or anything. He just… knew how to destroy every bit of my self-confidence,” She had told him one night while they were having pizza on his couch.

“I am sorry that happened to you. If I ever saw him, I would beat the shit out of him. No one deserves to be treated like that,” Santi said to her kissing her cheek softly.

“Hopefully you’ll never have to meet him. He was… the worst I dated. The others were… just… unsatisfactory. Then you come along… rescuing me from that jerk and giving me that shirt… that honestly kinda smelled,” She teased him slightly.

“Sorry, I was… just trying to help,” He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like… I appreciated it, I truly did. It was better than having iced coffee on me all day. By the way… do you want that shirt back? I just realized I never returned it,” She said realizing that it was in her laundry.

“Nah. Keep it. I enjoy catching you wearing it randomly,” He flirted back.

She turned her head away, scrunching her nose up in slight embarrassment.

He turned her head back toward him to pull her into a short but passionate kiss.

In the spotlight, all night, kissing everyone

And trying to look so innocent while sucking on her thumb

They had been together for almost a year now. She had begun to feel a lot more like her old self. Felt more confident in her stride, and her work. In fact, her boss had informed her that a position had opened up in design and that she had sent her portfolio down to the lead supervisor to review.

She had just gotten off the phone with him and was super excited. She had gotten the job. She ran to Santi’s place and animatedly told him the news. He congratulated her and said that they should celebrate.

That night, the two of them plus the rest of the gang met at their favorite local pub for drinks and greasy foods. They were happily talking when she noticed someone come up to the table.

“Well, well. If it isn’t little Mouse?” She froze as she heard her ex’s voice speak.

“Rob. What do you want?” She asked not bothering to look at him, as she tried to control herself.

She could feel her hands shaking and it was getting a little hard to breathe.

“Not even going to look at me? Now, that’s just rude, Mousy,” His tone was a vicious tease.

“Get away from her. Now,” Santi’s voice cut in, cold.

“Who the hell are you? Her new squeeze?” He questioned with a scoff.

“Yeah. I am. You have exactly 10 seconds to walk away,” Santi warned him as he stood up.

“Or else what?” He dared.

Santi simply moved to stand between them, waiting a moment.

Rob started to laugh, thinking Santi was just all talk.

Santi punched him so hard in the face that he passed out before he hit the floor. Rob’s friends came over quietly to pick him up and carrying him out, not bothering to try and fight.

Santi breathed heavily through his nose once, trying to calm down before he turned back around.

“Hey, my little Lioness, you okay?” He asked her softly as he leaned closer to her.

She had started fidgeting with her fingers, a nervous tick he had picked up on early on.

He sat back down, pulling her hands into his, rubbing his thumb softly over her knuckles.

Conversation between everyone slowly picked back up, and she soon felt comfortable enough to join in again. She wasn’t as excited, but she tried to push past it.

When he eventually took her home, she collapsed into his arms. Her breathing was shaking as she tried to hold back the tears that threatened to escape her.

He whispered to her, “Let it out, my heart.”

She found herself sobbing into his chest.

When you never pull it out

(So much cuter)

He wished he had done more as he held her. Wished he had strangled the bastard. Here was this beautiful woman, whose confidence he had seen bloom over the past few months, crumble because of 2 sentences.

He whispered sweetly to her, telling her how much he loved her.

The tears eventually stopped, and as she pulled away, she apologized for the mess she made on his shirt.

“My shirts have seen worse things than tears. It’s fine honey. How about we get ready for bed?” He proposed as he led her to the bedroom and started strip down to his boxers.

She nodded, walking into the bathroom briefly to wash her face. She came out wearing his army shirt, joining him on the bed with a sigh.

The two of them fell asleep together, within minutes.

When she woke up, she realized it was one of the rare times, she was awake before Santi. She stared at him for a moment. She wanted to thank him for last night and an idea popped in her head.

She slipped her hand down under the covers, playing with the edge of his boxers briefly. When she had built up the nerve to do so, she slid her hand under his boxers, quicky finding his half-stiffened length. She ran her hand up and down it, enjoying the smoothness she felt as it quickly stiffened further. She slowly pulled it out from his boxers, moving under the covers as she did so.

This was something she had only slightly explored with Santi before. It had been a brief act, him claiming he didn’t want to cum in her mouth.

She gently ran her tongue around the head, savoring the slight salty taste of his precum that had beaded. She slowly took him into her mouth, breathing through her nose, to prevent her gag reflex from enacting. She bobbed her head up and down, her hands massaging what she couldn’t fit.

She heard him moan above her, and felt his hips jerk up slightly. The covers were pushed off her head as Santi woke up, looking down. He groaned at the sight before him; it was super sexy to see her like that.

She continued with her actions until he finally exploded in her mouth; she swallowed a couple times as she pulled away. She wiped the corner of her mouth, as she crawled back up him.

“What was that for honey?” Santi eventually asked as his senses came back to him.

“Last night. I wanted to show my appreciation for you being there for me and defending my honor,” She whispered to him.

He simply kissed her in response.

“I’ll always be there for you and defend your honor against assholes. You’re mine, my lioness,” He murmured against her lips.

With something in your mouth!

You're ripping up the dance floor honey

(You naughty woman)

It took a full month before she was able to shake off the experience. Santi was there for her every step of the way. Santi had taken to calling her Lioness, every chance he got. The nickname made her smile each time she heard it, especially when he was the only one who used it.

“Hey Lioness, we going or you goin’ to continue checkin’ yourself out,” Santi asked as he stepped into the bedroom, wondering why she was taking so long.

She had been staring at herself in the mirror making sure everything looked okay for their date.

“I don’t know. I think I look pretty hot, don’t you?” She complimented herself jokingly, twirling a bit.

He hummed as he stepped forward and checked her out in an exaggerated manner, circling her.

“Yeah. You’re pretty sexy Lioness. Now, shall we?” He offered his arm to her, giving her a flirty smile.

The two of them were going to go eat dinner and then go dancing.

Their meal passed by quickly and soon they were entering a club, music blasting.

Santi led her out on the dancefloor and brought her in close, his hands firmly on her hips. The two of them danced and grinded against one another. She occasionally showed off, twirling around him, bending over backwards, and dropping down low.

He laughed a little at first but soon his laughter turned to choked groans as he tried to smother his arousal as she showed off her moves, purposefully grinding against his crotch.

She was having fun, enjoying teasing him and hearing his grunts. They had been dancing for about an hour before he had enough. He took her hand and dragged her outside into the alleyway.

The cool air felt nice on her heated skin, but she wasn’t able to enjoy it for long as Santi pinned her to the wall in a deep kiss. She giggled softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands burying into his hair.

His hand snuck under her skirt, massaging her thigh, hooking it around his hip.

“Been drivin’ me nuts all night darlin’. Where exactly did you learn all that?” He asked as he kissed her neck.

“Told you. I went clubbing a lot. Had to learn some moves, to snag a guy,” She said with a soft moan as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on her neck.

“Good to know,” He murmured his hips rocking into hers.

She could feel his hard on that she had caused and tried to hide her grin by biting her lip.

She heard him undo his pants slightly and felt her body tremble with anticipation. He shoved her underwear out of the way as he buried his length into her. The two of them both moaned at the sensation.

Their movements were hurried, neither of them wanting to be caught.

All too soon, the both of them were reaching their peaks with happy sighs. The two of them quickly sorted their clothes out, a moment before a group of people walked out into the alley to smoke.

Her and Santi quickly left before the group could notice anything off with them. Santi took her home, joining her upstairs for a much more thorough appreciation of her.

You shake your ass around for everyone!

I love the way you dance with anybody

(The way you swing)

Another couple of months had passed, and they had taken the next steps and she had moved into his place. The two of them having been together for almost 2 years now.

The only thing she really had to adjust to was just how often the gang come over to hang out. At first, it wasn’t a problem, but it had begun to feel like she never got any alone time with Santi when she wasn’t at work.

Today, she had gotten off early, and was texting Santi to let him know, hoping to have a late lunch with him or just watch something together. She had picked up their favorite orders from a local sandwich shop, drinks, and all.

She stepped into the apartment, freezing slightly when she heard multiple voices coming from the living room.

She walked over to the living room, raising an eyebrow. The guys had arrived early that morning, disturbing the happy mood she was in. Santi and she had woken up early, and she was feeling frisky and wanted some attention from him. Before they could get very far, the front door opened and in came Benny with no hesitation.

Frankie and Will had the decency to look apologetic for barging when they greeted her that morning.

“Still… here… I see. Don’t yall… I don’t know… have your own homes to go to… girlfriends, fiancés that sort of thing?” She asked not particularly happy to see them.

Santi winced as he answered, “Hey, sorry, we have a mission coming up. We have been strategizing.”

She nodded, unimpressed.

“Okay. Well. When you remember you have a girlfriend who wanted to have lunch with her boyfriend, alone, I’ll be in our bedroom….” She said annoyed, tossing his sandwich onto the table with his drink as she muttered. “Making no noise and pretending I don’t exist.”

She strolled into their bedroom, closing the door firmly. She changed into some cotton shorts and his old army shirt, before making herself comfortable on the bed and turning the TV on.

She had taken an aggressive bite out of her sandwich when the door opened to reveal Santi who looked a bit confused.

“Hey… what was that?” He asked her.

She didn’t answer, just pointedly stare at the TV, flicking through Netflix.

He slowly approached her, taking a seat on the bed.

“I understand that they are your friends. Hell, they are basically your brothers. I get it. However, do they have to be here…. everyday at all hours of the day? They came here at 6am and have yet to leave,” She began feeling herself getting frustrated.

She took a breath as she also felt guilty for complaining and shook her head.

“Forget it. Just… go finish your strategizing. Clearly, it’s important,” She stopped, taking another bite as she chose some random animal documentary.

Santi opened his mouth to speak but stopped, sighing heavily.

“It should only be an hour more,” He estimated, as he got up and slowly walked back out.

She made a noncommittal noise in response, focusing on the soothing sound of David Attenborough’s narration.

About halfway through the documentary, Santi had returned, a bag in hand. He took a seat near her again, and quietly unloaded the bag one item at a time. He placed each item in front of her: her favorite candy, chips, drinks. He also placed some flowers and a random plush.

She glanced down at it noticing it was one of those reversible octopus plushie with a smiley face on one side and a frown on the other. The frown side was facing her.

“The guys left. It’s just us. Mind telling me what’s going on in that mind of yours, honey,” He spoke softly.

“I don’t mind the guys being here. I do mind when they just waltz in without knocking. Or are here several days in a row. I get… I get that this is your apartment and I’ve only been living here 2 months but… I feel like I am just… your roommate. Not… your girlfriend,” She explained, pausing the documentary beforehand.

Santi nodded in understanding, “I see… yeah… This place has been… a bachelor pad of sorts for a long while even after we began to date. I will… talk to the guys. You’re right. This should be OUR place.”

“I feel stupid for getting short with you about this,” She whispered softly looking down at the plush, playing with it.

Santi scooted forward, sitting next to her, putting his arm around her.

“Don’t. I… I was excited to see your texts and was trying to hurry up our meeting so we could be alone, just wasn’t going as planned. You are perfectly allowed to be annoyed. Just gotta talk to me baby,” He told her pressing a kiss to her shoulder and her cheeks.

She nodded somewhat shyly.

“Did you really go out and get all of this?” She asked him, motioning to the pile of junk food before her.

“Yep. I did. Now then shall we finish this documentary, and I’ll make dinner to make up for missing our lunch date?” Santi offered kissing her hand.

She nodded once, “Can we watch the next one in the series too?”

Santi chuckled and said, “Yeah. We can watch the next one too. We can watch whatever you want.”

The two of them watched the rest of the one she began, and the next one. As they watched it, she slowly reverted the octopus to the happy side causing a small smile to appear on Santi’s face.

When the second documentary ended, Santi got up to go make dinner. She followed him wanting to help him prep food. He turned on the radio, which made her smile. As the two of them cooked, she danced around him, shaking her hips.

He laughed at her, as she convinced him to dance a little between stirs. Santi slowly realized it had been a while since they had spent time together, just relaxing. He had recognized that she had a point, since she moved in, they hadn’t really spent time together as a couple.

When a slow song came on, he turned the fire on low, and pulled her in close. He swayed softly with her, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like a roommate and not my girlfriend. That wasn’t my intention,” He whispered to her as they danced.

“Apology accepted. I just… I love you and I was excited to spend the day with you and was disappointed,” She admitted quietly.

“I love you too. Promise me you’ll tell me if something’s bothering you next time?” He pleaded as the song ended.

“I promise. As long as you do the same,” She said back, as they pulled apart and finished up making dinner.

They made their plates and ate, catching up on what’s been going on with work.

Afterwards, they cuddled on the bed, and ate her 20 snacks together. She slowly fell asleep in his arms as they watched another documentary. In the morning, he was planning to talk to the guys about everything. He knew they wouldn’t care too much about setting some rules and would be understanding once her reaction from early was explained.

And tease them all by sucking on your thumb

You're so much cooler when you never pull it out

It took some time but after that, the guys made more conscious efforts to knock and not be there every day. She had apologized to them for her attitude when she saw them again. The three of them waved it off, ruffling her hair.

“We were being annoying. It’s not a big deal,” Frankie said with a shrug.

The boys with their girls plus baby Isabella were over for to watch a football game, a few days later.

“Yeah. We are not upset,” Will chimed in with a half-smile.

Benny bounded over and gave a loud exaggerated kiss to her head, “MWAH. You’re fine, Prada.”

She shook her head at the nickname that the boys had taken to calling her.

The boys piled in the living room to watch the game with beers. Emma, Valeria, and Maura joined her in the kitchen, wine glasses all around as they gossiped.

“So… Prada… have you ever designed a wedding dress?” Valeria asked her.

“Not yet. Why?” She questioned curiously.

“Well. I have everything else decided, but I cannot find a dress that I absolutely love you know? I’ve been to 4 different boutiques. Think you can help me out?” Valeria explained, with a tired sigh.

She held up a finger, telling her to wait a moment. She ran over to the desk in the living room that had her sketchbook, fabric swatches, and pencils. She grabbed all three items, rushing back over to the island.

“Alright. Describe to me what style you want, and then we will work on material,” She stated as she got comfortable with her sketchbook and pencils.

Valeria spent an hour describing the dress she was looking for, including fabrics. Once it was finished, she revealed what she came up with. Valeria gasped then squealed excitedly.

“That’s it! Oh… Now the real question… can it be made?” Valeria asked worriedly.

Prada took a photo of it and sent it to one of the designers, who made dresses as a side job, asking if this could be done. A minute later, she got a response telling her yes.

“Yes. It can be done. I’ll set up a meet so you can get measured and get it started,” She tells Valeria who tackles her in a hug.

“Think they can also do bridesmaid dresses?” Valeria asked hesitantly.

“Probably. I’ll talk with him,” She said with a nod.

The four of them continued to talk about wedding plans while the boys continued to watch the game. When the game ended, they had made their way into the kitchen to collect their wine drunk ladies who had been reduced to giggles.

Santi and she said their goodbyes with everyone and collapsed on to the couch together. She had made cinnamon rolls earlier and they snagged the last one. They shared it, not bothering with silverware, ripping off pieces randomly.

As they ate, she noticed that he had some icing on his thumb and she teasingly licked it off. He raised an eyebrow at the sudden intimate moment she created.

“Darling. You are going to be the death of me one of these days,” He said somewhat seriously as he kissed her, abandoning the last of the cinnamon roll.

“Hmm. Yes. But you see… I had a more nefarious plan…” She said ominously.

He looked at her confused watching as she suddenly shoved the last of the cinnamon roll into her mouth and running away.

“Mine!” She called out, her mouth full.

She heard him chase after her, she chewed quickly, swallowing as she reached the bedroom. She coughed a moment when it got caught slightly in her throat. Santi caught up to her, staring at her incredulously.

“Rude. Very rude. Distracting me to catch me off guard and steal our cinnamon roll? That deserves a punishment of some sort,” Santi teased, shaking his head.

She cleared her throat and asked, “Promise?”

He growled a bit, picking her up and tossing her on the bed, her giggles followed by her moans, filling the air.

Life was full of surprises. Santi wasn’t expecting his Lioness to come into his life, but he wouldn’t trade her for the world.

'Cause you look so much cuter with something in your

#santi x reader #santiago pope garcia #Triple Frontier #song fic

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years

Text

listen before i go > bucky barnes

|| pairing: bucky barnes x black!reader

|| word count: 6,630

|| warnings: angst, heavy angst, smut, sex, bucky barnes’ trigger words, cock warming if you look close

|| square filled: @star-spangled-bingo SSB2020 N5: needy clingy sex

|| square filled: @buckybarnesbingo C1: angst

|| summary: you and bucky just can’t say what you want to say.

|| link: ao3

|| note: sad boi hours are still commencing. this one is gonna hurt, dudes. please heed the warnings. i think i said i don’t like posting on sunday’s, and here i am posting two sunday’s in a row. what are ya gonna do? title inspired by billie eilish’s listen before i go. don’t hate me!

line divider by @writeyourmindaway

Tears leak from your eyes. You cover your face with your hands as he shoves his clothes into his old duffel bag. Say you’re sorry. Don’t let him leave!

“Bucky-”

“Don’t,” he says curtly, zipping up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder, “You want me out, I’m leaving.”

You don’t want him out. You don’t… or do you? Yes. You do. That’s what you told your friends. That’s what you told yourself. That’s what you told him. He has to go - he has too. This isn’t working... right? Emotion wracks your body again as he storms past you. Your shoulders shake as the sadness consumes you. Your face breaks, your heart sinks, your cries clog your throat, choking you.

You don’t follow him.

Bucky stops at the door of your apartment, his hand on the knob. He turns his head, just a little, listening to you cry. He closes his eyes, cursing himself. He doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to leave you. He should give it up - running around the world, fighting aliens and robots and god knows what else. He’d give it up for you, he would. He should.

He walks out the door and slams it behind him.

----------

It’s been a while, maybe three weeks? Four? You’re not really sure. You’ve busied yourself to keep from thinking about him. You signed up for a cooking class, and a dance class, and picked up a few extra shifts at the bookstore you volunteer at sometimes - just to stay busy. It’s worked for the most part. Between work, your friends, and your new hobbies, you barely have time to think about Bucky Barnes.

That’s a lie. You know exactly how long it’s been. Four weeks. You think about him - not often, this part is true - but you still think about him. Mainly at night, when you’re alone in your big room and your big bed. It’s weird to you now, your bed. Foreign. You never realized how big it was until he wasn’t in it; the whole room really, it’s just so big.

The two of you never made it official, moving in together, but he was there more often than he wasn’t. His broad, heavy body weighing down the mattress, or barely fitting in the shower, but you loved having him here. You always felt safe; consumed by all things him when he was here. Now it’s just empty - quiet. Just you and your little house plant, that he picked out, of course. You just didn’t have the heart to throw it away.

Just like you don’t have the heart to throw him away - his memories.

Not yet.

Not entirely.

That’s why most nights you stare at your phone, your thumb hovering over his name. You’ve tapped it a few times, his name, but always panic as soon as it starts ringing. You tap on the little red phone and throw it into the chair in the corner of the room. You roll over, away from it, just in case it illuminates from an incoming call or text and stare out at the moon, until the emotion just can’t be held back any longer.

You’re lying again. You cry yourself to sleep most nights.

So, this is why you make yourself busy.

----------

It’s been awhile. Four weeks, two days. The girl behind the bar looks like you, kind of. Well, enough to remind Bucky of that soft, warm smile of yours. He remembers it like it was yesterday. It was usually in the morning when you’d give him that smile. You’d have your face buried in the pillows and sheets, little slivers of skin poking out from underneath here and there. He loved to watch you sleep.

He’d do anything to be able to wake up next to you again.

Anyway, it was usually early, early in the morning when you’d smile at him the way that bartender is smiling at him now. You’d be half asleep, not really coherent enough to even know who you were smiling at, but you’d shift next to him - curl right into his body, and just smile. Softly. Sweetly. Then you’d take a breath, a deep one, tighten your grip around his waist and fall right back asleep.

He’d fall right back asleep with you.

“You doin’ okay?” The bartender asks, smiling at him again.

Bucky drops his eyes to the glass in his hands as he spins it slowly. She doesn’t look like you up close. He picks up his drink and finishes off the last drops before he slides it in her direction, “One more.”

She winks at him, “You got it.”

She’s flirting with you, Bucky. He used to not care when women were flirting with him. If he’s telling the absolute truth, he still doesn’t - he should. It’s been four weeks and two days after all.

She’s not you.

She kinda looks like you, smiles like you, but she’s not you.

He doesn’t want a similar version of you.

He wants you.

She slides the now full glass of whiskey towards him, Bucky catching it with just the tips of his fingers. He can feel her eyes on him as he lifts it to his lips and takes a slow sip before he nods slowly, staring at the glass. He slides his eyes towards the flirtatious bartender and smirks, “I’m Bucky.”

“Tamera.”

----------

It’s Friday night, so that means it’s sushi class night. Steve decided to come with you this time, he’s been trying to get Sam to try it for the longest time - figured, maybe Sam would feel a little more comfortable with it if Steve made it. You and Steve have always gotten along really well, which surprised you because, you know, he’s Steve Rogers; rigid and uptight. He’s not that uptight, Sam’s still working on the rigid thing, though.

The two of you have been having fun. It’s nice seeing Steve be not-so-good at something for a change. Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, but your hands are sticky and covered in rice, so you bounce off to the sink to wash them quickly. You pull out your iPhone, expecting to see a text from your sister, MJ, but find a notification from Apple News.

Avengers bad boy, Bucky Barnes,…

Your lips part as you read his name. You glance over your shoulder, you’re not really sure why, as if everyone’s eyes are going to be on you because you're reading up on your ex-boyfriend. You take a breath. You shouldn’t care what Avengers bad boy, Bucky Barnes is doing, but you want to know what Avengers bad boy Bucky Barnes is doing. God, you hope he’s not hurt.

Don’t look. It isn’t your business anymore. You turn on your heel, shoving the phone back into your pocket, but can’t seem to take a step away from the sink. You just - fuck, maybe he’s hurt. He’s probably done something stupid again, he just got that new arm not three months ago. Shuri is gonna kill him.

It’s still not your business, even if the fucker is hurt. You still can’t move. You place your hand on your back pocket, feeling your phone, debating with yourself. You shouldn’t fucking care - but you do. So you pull it out and tap on the notification, taking you to the original TMZ article. Your blood runs cold.

Avengers bad boy, Bucky Barnes, seen leaving an uptown bar with mystery woman

Your mouth goes dry as you read down the page. Your breath hitches in your throat when you get to the pictures. His fingers curled in hers as they move down the street. Smiles on their faces. Then his arm is over her shoulders. Then -

You blink back the sudden flood of tears furiously as your chin starts to tremble. He’s kissing her. He’s got her up against his apartment building, his hands cupping her face. Her eyes are closed and his head is tilted - his body is crushed up against hers - just like the two of you used to do. He used to pull you close, so tight into his body as the two of you would wind your way through the city. Then, right when you turned the corner onto his street, he’d whirl you around him, and push you up against the building. He’d push his hands up your shirt, pinching, grabbing, his lips crushed to yours.

Now he’s found someone else. He’s kissing someone else the exact same way he used to kiss you. You can’t help but read on, seeing the pictures of them leaving together in the morning - hand in hand again. It��s over. All the nights you’ve spent staring down at his name on your phone, trying to call him, wanting to call him… you should have called him. Maybe he wouldn’t be with her.

It’s over.

You and Bucky are really over.

“Hey,” you don’t even really hear Steve when he walks up to you, “Hey, you okay?”

He follows your eyes to the small screen in your hands and tips it towards him, clearing his throat as he skims the last few lines of the article, “Lets not - come on, let’s take a break, huh?”

He ushers you outside and immediately draws you into his chest, rubbing your back, resting his chin on the top of your head, “Oh, honey.” He sighs softly as you sob.

It’s really over.

----------

It’s Friday night. No, actually it’s Saturday morning; 2:32am. Bucky sits on the edge of his bed, his head hanging as he rubs his forehead with his hand. He picks his head up just high enough to glance over his shoulder at the sleeping woman behind him. Tamera. It’s the second night in a row that he’s had her and she’s still not you.

She doesn’t feel like you - her body, her mouth. She doesn’t sound like you, she doesn’t move like you… she’s not you. No matter how hard he tries to pretend that she is you; she’s not you. He blinks and hangs his head again as his thumb hovers over your name in his phone. He needs to hear your voice, especially now. He wasn’t… ready for this. He wasn’t ready the first time, but he forced himself and hated it. He forced himself again tonight and not only did he hate it, he hates himself.

He should have called you weeks ago.

He should have texted you and apologized and asked if he could come back because that’s all that he really wants; to just walk through your front door, back into your apartment and your shared life as the proud parents of a small plant. He should have called you weeks ago. If he had, he wouldn’t be here right now, with Tamera in his bed, pain in his heart, that nagging voice in his head.

Call her now. Tell her you’re sorry.

He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t feel bad right now. He did what every other person does, he moved on. He shouldn’t care about what you think anymore - but he does. He knows how you feel about these kinda things. You weren’t this kinda girl, the one who just goes home with some guy named Bucky after eye fucking him for half the night. Not that you’re a prude, not that you shame anyone, it just isn’t you - these random hook ups.

He liked that about you. That you were kind of old school. Reminded him of the good old days, back in the thirties. Innocent dates, sneaking little kisses so nobody would see, those little giggles that filled his ears when he pushed a little further every time he saw you. He’s always enjoyed a little chase. He enjoyed chasing you, and when he finally caught you, he still found himself fantasizing about you. Every damn day.

Even now. Even with someone else underneath him, he still thought about you - he had to, or else he couldn’t have…

He bites the inside of his lip before he lets out a deep sigh. Your name stares up at him from the soft lighting of his phone. He needs to hear your voice. He doesn’t want to be in this apartment, in this bed, with this woman. He just wants to be wrapped up in your arms, curled around your little, warm body, his fingers pressed into your flesh, your warm breath splashing over his face.

He swallows. His thumb starts to tremble as he holds it over your name.

Call her now. Tell her you’re sorry.

He closes his eyes, “Fuck.”

He cuts his eyes towards the nightstand, staring at it until it doesn’t even look like a nightstand anymore.

He throws his phone into the chair in the corner of the room.

He stands and moves into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before he flips on the water of the shower, turning it as hot as he can.

He’s gotta get that woman’s smell off of him.

----------

It’s been four months since that Friday night sushi class. You’re now a sushi rolling expert - which, you are pretty proud of. You got a promotion at work. You have a kitten. You and MJ have a Hawaiian vacation coming up over Christmas. Things are… brighter, to say the least.

There’s still moments. You’ll be at work, or waiting in line at the coffee shop and a brief thought will streak across your mind. I wonder what Bucky’s doing? You don’t think about it for long - not anymore. You’re finally starting to get to the point where you really don’t care. You made the right decision that night, asking him to leave. That life - his life - wasn’t one that you wanted to lead. You didn’t want to have to hide away in some upstate safe house every time some villain got wind of your romance.

You didn’t want to stay up all night long, worrying about him as he kicked and punched his way through aliens or robots or whatever the hell decided to come to earth that day. You don’t want to waste days waiting for him to drag his tired, beaten body out of bed after returning from a mission. That life wasn’t - and isn’t - for you. You made the right decision.

“Here you go, doll,” the barista says, smiling as he hands you a vanilla Frap.

Doll. You haven’t heard that in four months. You smile widely, “Thank you.”

You head back out onto the street, sipping on your coffee as you turn up the music to your airpods. The Cottage on the Beach, from the Atonement soundtrack. One of your favorite movies. It’s tragic, but beautiful - the movie, the soundtrack, and your life. You’re getting to the beautiful part, you’re sure of it.

You’re heading back to your apartment after getting lucky at work and having two of your afternoon meetings canceled. Instead of taking the train, you decided to walk - another way of keeping yourself busy. You turn down fifth avenue, also deciding to window shop on the way home, and slow your pace as you move past Saks, eyeing a gorgeous pair of pumps in the window. They would look great on your feet while dancing in Hawaii, that’s for sure.

You stop, pulling out your phone to take a picture to send to your sister, when a voice sounds behind you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey.”

You snap your eyes from your phone to the window in front of you, almost too afraid to turn. You take a breath, shifting your eyes around the glass window as if you aren’t exactly sure if you heard it or not, you are listening to music after all. Maybe you -

“Hey, can you hear me?”

You turn quickly - and there he is. Blue eyes, fluffy, short hair, stubble covering his cheeks and chin. The leather jacket that you loved so much on his broad torso. He’s slimmed down a bit, but he always did fluctuate, unlike Steve, which you always thought was kinda weird.

He smiles at you, a wide smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle on the sides, “Hey, I thought it was you. How are you?”

You nod quickly, “I’m um, I’m fine. Hi,” you laugh a little.

“You look… great,” he says, looking you up and down, “Really great.”

“Thank you,” you answer softly, tilting your head down as you tuck some of your hair behind your ear, “You.. you look nice too.”

He shrugs, tearing his eyes from yours to glance off across the street, “Ah, you know. I’ve lost a couple pounds.”

You nod again, “Yeah, I can tell.”

He snaps his eyes back to yours. You stare at each other for a couple of seconds, both of your minds racing, wanting to say so much.

I miss you.

I love you.

Please let me come home.

Please come back.

----------

Bucky blinks at you as you duck your head away from him again. Steve’s words play back in his mind from all those months ago. You didn’t see her that night, Bucky! She was crushed seeing those pictures. Crushed. He couldn’t get the word out of his head for weeks afterward. Crushed. You were crushed seeing those pictures.

He never wanted to hurt you. He should have known better. He shouldn’t have left the hotel with her. Fuck, he shouldn’t have went to the hotel bar in first place. He should have called you, like he wanted to. Maybe, the two of you could have avoided all of this.

Now that he has you here, he doesn’t want you to leave. It’s awkward between you. He watches as you shift nervously, not able to keep your eyes on him for long. Constantly pushing at your hair and then tugging at your blouse. It makes him sad. He doesn’t want you to be nervous around him - unsure of him. He still doesn’t want you to leave, though. He’ll deal with the awkwardness.

“Do you wanna get a drink?” His mouth moves before his brain can keep up with it.

He watches as you shift again nervously, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth, “No, I -”

“Please?” He’s nearly begging, “Just,” the words drop away as he runs his hand through his hair, “So, we can talk?”

“There’s not really anything to talk about, Bucky.”

----------

You end up in the bar of the Marriott Hotel with him. He could always talk you into doing shit you didn’t want to do - because after a while, he always made you feel safe. He wouldn’t let anything hurt you, so you just did what he asked you to do. He orders a bourbon, you get white wine. You both sit at the bar, facing straight, not looking at each other, your wine glass placed at your lips, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. He takes a drink and sits the glass down softly, bowing his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says simply, after a while.

You finally turn towards him, “For what?”

“For,” he shrugs, “I shouldn’t have - I don’t know. I’m just sorry, for everything.” I’m sorry for leaving you.

You look back down at your wine glass and your fingers, “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” I should have asked you to stay.

“I could have been more discreet. Those fucking paps are everywhere, I gotta remember that.” Please forgive me.

You shrug a little, you should have known Steve would tell him, “It’s,” you dip your head, “It’s okay. We’re adults, we can… do whatever we want.” I forgive you.

It grows silent between the two of you. You’re both looking at each other now, eyes bouncing back and forth. His eyes then slip down to your lips and fixate on them for a few seconds before they move back up to your wide eyes. Then, suddenly, his large hand is on your cheek, his thumb rubbing along your bottom lip.

His hand is so warm.

You blink as his hand caresses your face - gently. Just like he used to. He tilts his head a little as his lips part, his thumb still dancing over your bottom lip. His eyes still bounce, softly, between yours, reading you, just like he always could. His eyes dip again to your mouth, and his lips, they, they quiver - just slightly. His fingers wrap around the back of your neck and he’s pulling, pulling you into him.

You moan into his mouth almost as soon as his lips are on yours. It’s so familiar, his lips, his mouth, his tongue. For the first time in months, you finally feel like yourself. You lean into him, kissing him back, humming and moaning. It gets desperate - quickly. To the point where he’s standing, both of his hands cupping your face as he kisses you hard. Your hands slide around his waist to pull him closer as you inhale him.

He pulls you up on your feet and pecks your lips once, twice, three times. He grabs your hand and pulls your towards the front desk, lacing his fingers with yours as he asks for a room. Your heart pounds in your chest and ears as you rest your head against his back, shielding yourself from the clerk’s prying eyes.

Bucky digs in his pocket, grabbing his wallet and throwing his card down before scribbling his name on the receipt. The clerk slides the key cards in Bucky’s direction with a smile and drops his attention back to the small computer in front of him. He’s seen this too many times to care.

You keep your fingers twisted with Bucky’s as you wait for the elevator. Neither one of you look at each other as you stare at the illuminated numbers as they descend. The doors open as the soft ding sounds and you both step on, Bucky slamming his finger on the round number ten. Neither one of you say anything as the metal box carries you up into the hotel, slowing and then stopping at your floor.

You let Bucky guide you down the hall, stopping at room 1022. He presses the card against the reader and the door clicks, popping open slightly. Bucky pushes through, pulling you with him, only letting your hand go to close and lock the door behind you. You walk into the room, your eyes scanning. Your eyes land on the bed. It’s a big bed. It looks soft.

You inhale sharply when you feel Bucky’s chest crush against your back. His fingers slither around your waist as his lips press against the back of your neck. You close your eyes and push your hand up and into his hair as you let your body melt into his. You tilt your head towards the ceiling as he starts to sway the two of you back and forth slowly, his tongue sneaking out from behind his lips to lap at your warm, sensitive skin. His metal hand moves up into your shirt, inching along your skin until it cups your breasts firmly, making you moan, really moan for the first time.

You love that arm.

His digits push into your bra, rolling your nipple softly as his teeth sink into the crook of your neck. You jump, grunting deeply as your body tightens. God, it’s been so long.

His free hand snakes down to your jeans, popping the button and pushing down your zipper. It slithers in, his flesh sliding into your panties and between your slick folds. You jolt forward at the sensual touch, bent at your hips as his fingers start to massage your sex. Your mouth hangs open as you draw in ragged breaths, your hips pushing forward, anticipating his next stroke. He bends forward with you, groaning into your ear as he rubs your clit - quick - just how he knows to do.

He pushes his fingers inside of you and you push back up straight, reaching back to pull on his hair. He pumps them hard as he pinches your taut nipple, his breath hot and heavy against the side of your face. He pushes his hips into your behind, wanting you to feel him, feel how much he wants you - how much he’s missed you.

He tugs on your earlobe with his teeth and you whimper. The pain mixing with the pleasure his fingers bring. You don’t want his fingers any longer. You want him, all of him. You want to scream his name as he fucks you into the mattress, hour after hour. You want to drag your nails down his long, sinewy back. You want to feel his cock stretching you, spreading you, spearing you.

Bucky apparently wants the same. He could always read your mind, it seemed. He pulls his hands away from you to strip you down, tossing your clothing to the floor without a care. He pushes you onto the bed once you’re exposed and bare, flipping you onto your back by your ankle. He pulls you down to the edge of the bed by your calf and pushes his knees into the mattress as he starts to disrobe himself.

You sit up, wrapping your legs around his and bite down in your bottom lip as you send your eyes up to his. You place your hands on his hips, raking your fingers down his back as soon as his polka dotted shirt falls to the floor. You drop your eyes to his hands as his fingers start to fumble with the thick belt holding up his black jeans. You moan a little as you watch him, his skilled fingers moving slowly - - dropping the belt to the floor with a thud before popping the button and pushing down the zipper.

You hiss when his jeans fall. Dark hair peeks out over the band of his Hugo Boss boxer briefs and you can’t resist any longer. You lean in and press your plump lips to his warm skin, placing soft kisses along his sculpted stomach, breathing in his scent. He lets out a deep breath as his metal fingers skim over your shoulder and cup your chin softly. He pushes his index finger into your chin, pushing your head up so the two of you can link eyes once more. Your lips part as you stare up into his stormy eyes - blinking only when his thumb sweeps over your bottom lip.

He kisses you quickly, holding your chin all the while. He pulls away, but not far, his lips still brushing the tip of your nose as his eyes move around your face. He always did like to look at you. He cups the back of your head and lays you onto the mattress, spreading your legs with his knees. You hold onto his shoulders as you fold your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles together as you feel him start to press at your opening.

When he pushes, and you start to spread for him, you slam your eyes closed and dig your nails into his thick flesh. You whimper as he sinks into you slowly, his weight pushing you into the mattress. Once you’ve swallowed him - his hips are flush to yours - you wiggle your hips and push your heels into the small of his back, wanting him deeper, even though it isn’t possible.

Agonizingly slow, he pulls out of you - his mouth dropping open as he watches. You wrap your hands around his forearms as he withdraws, and then plunges back in with a little force. You push upward with the thrust, releasing an airy grunt as he fills you back up. He kisses you again, hard, desperate, as he starts to fuck into you, his hips pushing and pulling with a rhythm all their own.

You’ve always loved the way Bucky fucks you. It was instant, from the first time that the two of you were together, he just knew you; knew what you wanted, what you liked. It’s kind of dirty, the way he fucks you. Even when he’s being sweet, and gentle, it’s still a little obscene - crude. The darkness in him comes out when he fucks you. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

He’s ruined you for other men.

Your hips dig into the mattress with each of his deep thrusts. You’re loud, grunting and mewling within minutes - he feels so good. He always feels so fucking good. You keep your eyes on him as he watches you, his eyes shifting from your eyes to your mouth, then down to your bouncing tits. He’s always loved them too. He cups your left breast with his metal hand, squeezing gently as he runs his tongue over his teeth. He leans down and sucks your tit into his mouth, swirling his tongue over your hard nipple.

He bites down and your hips jerk into his as you gasp, pushing him deeper. You yelp as the pain and the pleasure rip through you, making your toes curl and your fingers jab into him even harder.

“God,” you rasp, your face twisting with lust as he drills into you.

You shut your eyes again and you get a flash of her. His arm thrown over her shoulder, pulling her into his body. The smiles on their faces. His body crushed up against hers in front of his apartment building. You fling your eyes open, gasping a little as your mind starts to race. Don’t do this. Not now. Please. Just -

He probably fucked her just like this. Just how he’s fucking you right now. Your scent is gone from his sheets, his pillows, replaced by hers. You focus in on the ceiling as the intrusive thoughts pull you out of the moment.

Your lips part.

Your chin trembles.

----------

Bucky’s missed you. Your body, your noises, these perfect, pretty tits. He’s dreamt about this since the night he left your apartment - having you again. Making you scream. He pulls your breast into his mouth, sucking on you just how you like. He bites down and you buck into his cock, driving him deeper into your pussy and he shudders. You feel so goddamn good around him.

“God,” you rasp, your full voice hitting his eardrum just right, drawing a groan out of him.

He releases your nipple with a smack, leaning back up and resting his weight onto his palms that press into the mattress on either side of you. He feels your tight grip loosen, just a tad, your shrieks get quiet and then disappear all together. He sends his eyes back up to yours and his hips halt instantly.

You’re crying. Your small hands cover your face as your body is wracked with emotion. All of the air is sucked right out of the room. What’s worse, is that he doesn’t even have to ask why. He just knows. Bucky exhales as his own face twists at the sight. He pries at your hands, trying to pull them away from your face, “Baby,” he whispers, “Don’t. Don’t cry. Please, baby.”

He watches as you turn away from him, pressing your face into the pillow, still trying to hide, “Baby,” he tries again, his voice shaking, “Look at me.”

He pushes your head to face him, his own emotion choking up in his throat. He shakes his head, his breath getting shaky, his eyes filling with tears, “I’m sorry.” He whispers as his own tears start to fall, “I’m so sorry.”

He drops his forehead to yours and kisses you hard, “Baby, I’m sorry.” He sobs, “I’m sorry, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, baby.”

I never meant to hurt you. Just say it. I never meant to hurt you, I love you.

Say it, Bucky.

Just say it.

“Stay with me, baby,” he whispers, wiping away the tears that streak down your cheeks, “Stay with me, stay here. Please.”

I love you.

Say it!

----------

Bucky kisses you hard, “Baby, I’m sorry.” He sobs, “I’m sorry, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, baby.”

You can’t help it. It’s just different now. He’s not - yours anymore. You have to share him with her. Your face is wet with your tears and his, your body crushed to his body as he holds you tight - so tight. He begs you not to cry, not to think about it, to stay with him, here, in this moment. You want to. You just want to feel good again. You want to feel like yourself because God knows this has been the most alien four months of your life.

You grab his face in your hands and kiss him, moaning into him as the sobs still wrack your body. You just want to feel good. You want to stay. I want to stay. You rock your hips into his, trying to coax him to move again. He does. He pushes his hips into yours as he kisses you again, his lips plump and salty and soft from the tears. You wrap your arms around his neck and close your eyes as he nuzzles into the side of your face, still murmuring his apologies.

His hips push harder and faster, like he wants to fuck the sad right out of you - and right out of himself. He keeps his face buried in your neck, his hands underneath you as he cries and you cry, your dull orgasm starting to gain steam. You push your fingers into his back as his muscles tense and flex. You cup his ass, squeezing his flesh as it bounces with his hips.

You feel his teeth on your skin, nipping and nibbling before he rests his forehead to yours again. His mouth hangs open, his hot breath washes over your face as his lips tremble softly. You slam your eyes closed and just give in - into him, into the emotions, into the sadness, into the moment.

You squeeze your legs around him and let it consume you. You come, hard, your body shaking, your toes curling, your breath hitching as it courses through your veins. You cry out, your wails filling the room as Bucky continues to slam into you until he too succumbs to the pressure. You feel his cock throbbing inside of you, jumping with each spurt of cum. He fills you up, up to the brim, stuffing you full of his seed.

He collapses on top of you, his sweaty skin sticking to yours. You run your fingers along his spine as his breathing calms and his body starts to relax. He stays tucked inside of you, his cock warm and still stiff. This was always your favorite part. Sure, the fuck was good, but this is what you crave. The closeness. The stillness of him. His skin pressed against yours, his weight holding you to the bed. The feeling of his heart beating against you.

I love you.

Say it.

----------

You didn’t say it.

You should have, but you didn’t.

You did say that you would meet him for dinner, so that the two of you could talk, really talk this time. You’re nervous, but you’re here. Despite not understanding why you wanted to come, MJ helped you get dressed, soothed your nerves. She told you to call her if you need her - I owe that metal armed asshole a punch in the mouth.

You tap your fingers against the table, biting the inside of your cheek, glancing around the restaurant as you wait. Your foot dances underneath the table with nerves. Why are you so nervous? You know him, you love him. You just need to say it. Just fucking say it and this will all be over. There’s no need to keep living like this when you don’t have to. You want him, you need him. You just need to tell him.

You nibble on a piece of bread. You check your phone again. He was supposed to be here. Twenty minutes ago, Bucky was supposed to be here. You wring your hands together harshly, pushing your thumb into your left palm over and over again. Your eyes dart around the restaurant and focus on the door.

He’ll be here. He’s just… running late, is all. He’ll - he’ll be here.

You check your phone again. No call. No text. He was supposed to be here, forty minutes ago. You close your eyes and rub your forehead, trying to push back the emotion that threatens to spill out. It didn’t mean anything. You whimper as the thoughts start to race around your head. Last week meant nothing to him - he used you. No. No, that’s - that’s not the Bucky you know. He wouldn’t do that to you. He wouldn’t, he’s just - Fury kept him late today, is all. He’s coming.

He is.

You push out into the night an hour and twenty seven minutes later, tears rolling down your face as you bring your phone to your ear, “MJ,” you sob, “He doesn’t love me anymore.”

“What?” You barely hear her, “What did he do? Where are you?”

“He doesn’t love me anymore.” You openly cry, “He never showed up. He doesn’t love me anymore, MJ.”

----------

“Bucky!” Steve shouts angrily, pushing through the front door of his friends apartment, your cries and MJ’s seething voice still ringing in his ears, “Goddamn it, what in the fuck do you think you’re -”

He stops in his tracks. His eyes skirt around the empty apartment as he stands perfectly still. Steve snaps his eyes towards the floor when a soft light illuminates from it. He moves towards it, bending to pick up Bucky’s phone. Five missed calls, two voicemails, one text message, all from you.

I fucking hate you. Don��t ever come near me again.

Steve’s eyes scan your message as his lips part. He glances towards the bathroom. The light is still on. He squints as he picks up on the sound of the water from the sink still running. His eyes fall on Bucky’s wallet that still sits on the nightstand before he eyes the phone in his hands again.

He turns on his heel and rushes out of the apartment, taking the stairs two by two, “Sam,” he says as soon as the sleepy man answers the phone, “Something isn’t right.”

----------

Bucky slams his head back in the cold, metal chair that he’s strapped down to. He pushes his arms against the clamps that hold him in place, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t break free.

“Longing. Rusted. Seventeen.”

“Please don’t.” Bucky begs, tilting his head towards the ceiling, “Please don’t do this.”

“Daybreak. Furnace. Nine.”

Bucky screams as he starts to struggle, twisting and turning, bucking and fighting against the clamps around his wrists and stomach. He’s not strong enough. He can’t break them, “Please!” he screams, “Please don’t! Please!”

“Benign. Homecoming. One.”

He starts to sob. He slams his eyes closed as he tries to remember your face. Your smile. Your smell. Your soft skin against his. He should have told you he loved you. He should have begged you to let him come home. He should have never left you.

“I love you.” He says aloud, “I love you baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He cries, the tears streaking down his cheeks, “Please don’t hate me.”

I love you!

“Freight car.”

Bucky blinks.

Tears still roll down his cheeks, but he isn’t actively crying anymore. He hears a pair of boots walking slowly around him, the soft thwump of a book closing as the mysterious man approaches his side.

“Soldat?”

“Я готов отвечить.”

Ready to comply.

#SSB2020 #buckybarnesbingo2020 #bbb2020 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #you x bucky #bucky x reader #reader x bucky #bucky x black!reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fandom #black reader #bucky barnes x black reader #bucky #avintagekiss24

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let-me-love-you-loki · 3 years

Text

Hoping Too Late

I would never get enough of the days that Matt and Nick were home from running loops. Sometimes, it felt like I only saw them a week for every month. It had certainly taken some getting used to, and, early on, Matt had promised me he would understand if the life were too much for me. That alone had been enough for me to work hard to keep our relationship together. It didn’t hurt that I knew the moment I lost Matt, I would lose Nick, too.

But that had been over a year ago, and Matt and I were two months away from getting married. I’d gotten used to the long absences, training myself to be awake at any given time based on where they were so I could talk to them. FaceTime conversations were a multi-time a day occurrence. The boys shared a room to save money, so sometimes Matt and I spoke in whispers while he sat on the edge of the bathtub.

Almost as soon as he proposed, we started talking about our future plans. Matt’s proposal had taken place on the roof of his apartment complex, but he was desperately certain that we would have a real home when we married. He and Nick went looking, searched for a few months, and then decided to buy houses right next to one another. Matt wanted it to be a surprise, but Nick snuck some pictures of the house. I fell in love with it the second I saw it. And, guiltily, I was secretly desperately happy that the younger Jackson would be so close.

But buying a house wasn’t the only thing Matt wanted to talk about. We spent hours thinking and talking about what our life would be like. Not long after we started dating, Matt insisted that I be the one to design their shirts and other merchandise. Nick would joke and say that they were making more money on merch now than they did before they met me. It was a fun use of my art degree, and I loved seeing the boys so happy with the things I came up with. The family business was booming… just without the family.

I’d spent a long time thinking about marriage and family and everything that came with it. The more I let the idea simmer in the back of my mind, the more I found myself wanting everything—the house, toys spread all over the place, kids with their mess, their stress—more than I’d ever wanted anything before. My dreams were suddenly taken over with the image of cherubic babies with Matt’s dark hair and laughing eyes.

***

It was a few days before the wedding, and the three of us were sitting at a table on the patio of Cheesecake Factory. My mother, sister, brother-in-law, and niece were in town, and it felt as if we were hurtling toward the wedding day. I couldn’t explain it, but I had a deep desperation to keep Nick close. There was a cloud hanging over me, as if the moment Matt and I said I do Nick would no longer be part of my life. It didn’t matter that I knew—logically at least—that he would always be around. But it wouldn’t be the same.

I snuck a forkful of the raspberry swirl cheesecake on Nick’s plate and grinned. “Have you got your speech ready?”

He smiled back and pushed the plate toward me. His eyes were bright and crisp, a blue like chips of ice. “I’m going to wing it. Might even cut a promo on you two.”

Matt laughed and leaned back in his chair. He reached over and took my hand in his. “Make sure you mention the family business. And the family that’s coming, too.”

Nick sputtered his drink, coughing hard. “Excuse me?”

I felt the heat burn all over my face. My heart smashed against my ribs. Matt looked perfectly serene as he smiled at his brother. “Mom and Dad are itching for grandkids. And I wouldn’t mind having a kid or two.”

Matt’s fingers slid up my wrist and along my forearm. A shiver went up my spine, and I knew my face was burning even more brightly than before. I nipped my lip and glanced up at Nick, my stomach turning sideways as I saw the look in his blue eyes.

Nick

I didn’t know what to say. Honestly, I couldn’t find the words to describe the thoughts going through my head at that moment. Matt had always talked about wanting kids. It was an easy thing for him to imagine. Theoretically, I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that Y/N and Matt would have kids someday. But that had always been that kind of far away possibility. Not something that would be happening anytime soon.

Y/N’s face was bright red, and she didn’t want to look at me. Her eyes were turned away, the color creeping down her throat in splotches. I watched her draw her bottom lip between her teeth. She was so completely beautiful that it hurt. More so because I knew that that I would never be able to tell her.

Before I could stop myself, my thoughts conjured up an image of her that I knew I would never forget. I saw her, backlit from sun streaming through a huge window, gauzy dress fluttering around her body. Her hair hung in soft curls against her shoulders, the light making it seem as if she had a halo around her head. Every care and edge of her was smoothed into an ethereal image of her with her hands cradled protectively around her stomach, round and full with the child that grew inside her.

My heart squeezed so hard that it nearly choked me. Acidic tears burned my eyes as a mix of sadness and wistfulness ran through me. The sheer beauty of the image made me feel as if my chest was going to crack open with the force of my emotion. I couldn’t deny that I wanted to see Y/N beautiful and glowingly pregnant.

But I would never admit that I wished it was mine.

Matt

Y/N blushed so red that I was sure I could have toasted a marshmallow from the heat coming off her face. Goosebumps rose along her arms, following the trail of my fingers along her flesh. She was beautiful in her embarrassment, although I couldn’t honestly understand why. We’d talked for months about what we wanted our future to be. She’d been the one to bring up kids, to talk names and dreams of a house full of our children.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that we’d talk about it with Nick. He was my brother, my best friend. And they had long been best friends too. Why was she so shy about talking about it in front of him?

I turned my attention from my wife-to-be to my brother. Nick was watching her with a strange sort of awe. His eyes were glued to her face. There was something about the way that he looked at her—a strange mix of sadness and peace and wistfulness and happiness. Nick’s fingers clenched into a fist before he drew a deep breath and forced them to relax. I watched the way he tapped them against the tabletop, each movement seeming to draw his hand closer to hers unconsciously.

For a moment, my brother looked as if he were about to be sick. He drew another deep breath and swallowed hard. Then he smiled. “Promise you’ll name your son after me?”

Y/N laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ears. I slid my fingers between hers. “Of course.”

***

We’d been married for less than forty-eight hours when Matt tugged me down on the hotel sofa between him and Nick. The memory of that first night—and yesterday, and last night, and this morning—made me feel warm and happy. Nick gathered me back against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. He nuzzled his nose along the side of my neck before leaving warm kisses below the curve of my jaw just under my ear. Matt turned sideways to look at the two of us, a contented smile settling on his lips.

“Are you happy?” Matt asked, reaching out to stroke his fingertips along my cheek. The pad of his thumb swept the flesh of my lower lip. I fought the urge to lick my lips and flick my tongue against his thumb. His brown eyes darkened, pupils dilating slightly, as if he knew exactly what was going on in my head. “Honestly?”

I grinned until I thought my face would crack in half. “Happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

Nick’s arms tightened around me as he kissed me again. He settled his hands low on my belly as he nuzzled against my shoulder. He gathered me close in a way that made my heart skip a beat in my chest.

“I know we’ve talked about it before—you and me—but…” Matt said nervously, running his hand over his hair. I watched him tug at the strands caught up in the knot at the back of his head. “But I think we should talk about it again. Since there’s three of us involved with this now.”

“What is it?” I asked frantically, feeling a weight settle deep in the pit of my stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Sunshine,” Nick whispered against my throat. “Nothing’s wrong, we promise.”

The ache in my chest settled. “Then what…?”

Matt moved closer until I was caught between the two of them. His palm cradled my cheek. A small, mischievous, hopeful smile tipped the corners of his mouth upward. Nick’s fingers drew gentle patterns on the flesh beneath his hands. The warmth of his breath settled against my throat as he rested his chin against my shoulder.

“You wanted to have a family once… we me,” Matt said quietly. His brown eyes softened in question. As if he thought that I’d changed my mind. His gaze flicked to the side, settled on his brother. “Things have changed since then.”

“I’ll understand if you want to keep it that way,” Nick murmured, his voice sad and faint. “I promised you I won’t get int the way, and I meant it. Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy.”

I turned in Nick’s arms before I gave myself time to think. Matt’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he moved back to give me room. My fingers cradled Nick’s jaw, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “How could you think that? I love both of you more than you could ever know. You’ve given me the chance to have everything I’ve ever wanted. What makes you think that doesn’t include children? With both of you?”

I heard Matt chuckle from behind me and turned to see him grinning at Nick. “He’s stubborn. And he needed to hear it from you.”

My arms slipped around Nick, pulling him close to that I could whisper in his ear. I reminded him of that first night—the wedding night—and how I thought I’d made myself clear with my intentions. Heat rushed into me at the memory of the first time he touched me, the first time he kissed me without guilt or shyness.

“And, if all else fails, we can have a lot of fun trying…”

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it @mox-made-me-do-it @lilred91 @imagineall-the-fandoms @maelleoute @librathepheonix13 @justamess44

#the too late tales #too late tales #matt jackson #nick jackson #matt jackson fanfiction #nick jackson fanfiction #young bucks #young bucks fanfiction #reader #matt x reader #nick x reader #matt x reader x nick #polyamory #polyamorous relationships #aew #aew fanfiction

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merakiaes · 4 years

Text

Bésame Mucho - Oscar “Spooky” Diaz

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x reader

Requested: By @harringtoncastle

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: Warning for slight OOC-Spooky. Very cute and mushy. This is based around the song “Bésame Mucho” by Andrea Bocelli. You can listen to it here. It’s a really beautiful song so I recommend you listen to it while reading this! Translation of the text is at the end but keep in mind that I’m not a native Spanish speaker so there might be mistakes, and this is my first time writing a song fic so it might be bad xD Not proofread!

Wordcount: 1747

Summary: You’re laying around with Oscar in bed, listening to music together, when your song comes on.

Quiet, relaxing moments were a rare occurring thing for Spooky with the pressure he was living under because of Los Santo and Cuchillos constantly being on his ass, but whenever he did manage to squeeze in one of these moments into his busy schedule, it was always spent with you.

You were tucked into his side where you laid in your shared bed, your head resting on his shoulder and your hand on his chest while his arms were wrapped around you.

In your other hand you held your phone, the wires of your headphones going from the bottom of the mobile device and splitting into two between yours and Oscar’s heads, the two of you having one earbud each plugged into your ears.

Low music was playing from the earbuds, your phone set to shuffle on a random Spotify playlist of Oscar’s choice.

It wasn’t often that moments like this occurred so you treasured them with everything that you had in you.

Your fingers were absentmindedly drawing circles on your boyfriend’s chest, the grey fabric of his t-shirt soft under your touch. His chest was in turn rising and falling at a slow pace, his breath equally as slow and deep.

He was following your example and soothingly caressing your bare upper arm with his thumb, the feeling sending shivers down your spine and making you feel more content than ever.

The song you were currently listening to came to a stop and the next song started, and the sound of guitar strings being plucked in a familiar melodic tune instantly brought a wide smile to your lips.

Bésame Bésame mucho Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez

The words were all too familiar to you at this point in your life and they never failed to make you feel nostalgic and over the moon; like you were on cloud nine.

The memory of that night six years ago automatically resurfaced in your head. Your body grew warm as the feelings you had been feeling back then returned like it had only been yesterday that you had been standing there underneath the dim, blue lights.

And judging by the way Oscar’s thumb had now stopped moving over the skin of your arm, he seemed to have recognized it as well.

As the song continued playing in your ear, you opened your eyes and shifted your head on his chest so that you were able to look at him, smiling.

“It’s our song.” You noted, despite the fact that he already knew. “Do you remember? This was the song that was playing the night we first met.”

The memory in your head played out as clear as a movie, like you were watching it on a flatscreen in high quality right then and there.

The white and red roses were spread out throughout the room, people slow dancing on the dancefloor while the band played on stage.

The room was dark, only dimly lit up by the white and light blue lights in the ceiling as the bride and her groom danced in the middle of the crowd, their loved ones moving in an identical way with their significant others around them.

But you were sitting alone, your third flute of champagne hanging from between your fingers as you scanned the room.

You remembered it so vividly, the feeling of boredom and longing to go home that you had felt in that moment feeling as fresh in your body as ever as you looked back.

And that’s when it had happened.

That’s when you had averted your gaze from the dancing wedding guests and looked to the other side of the room, meeting the pair of deep, brown eyes that you today loved more than life itself for the first time ever.

Beside you, Oscar hummed, his chest vibrating under your hand, and you watched as he droopily opened his eyes.

“I remember, mamas.” He mumbled, his brown eyes meeting yours in real life like they had just done in your memory.

His voice was groggy from not having been used for so long, the two of you having laid in silence for over an hour. Yet neither of you had fallen asleep, enjoying each other’s company too much.

You smiled at him, scanning his face. “I was forced there against my will because Jessica hadn’t found a date, and you were there with Sad Eyes and his ruca. You were wearing a black button-up, grey jeans,-”

“And you were wearing a yellow sundress.” Oscar recalled, his full lips pulling into a smile of his own.

You snorted at that, remembering how mad you had been about being forced to wear that ugly dress.

“Don’t remind me. It was way too small for me and I still can’t believe Jessica forced me to wear it. It did nothing for my figure.” You shook your head, still disappointed after all those years.

But Oscar’s smile only widened and he pushed himself up on his elbow, now leaning over you and moving his hand to the side of your face.

“You looked beautiful.” He corrected, gingerly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Just like you do now.”

A chuckle left your lips. “Well, I must have.” You teased, squinting your eyes playfully and raising your hand to touch the Santos cross inked into the skin on his neck. “Because I don’t think the infamous Spooky would have asked me to dance if I hadn’t.”

The memory changed in your mind, taking you back to when Oscar had walked up to you and asked for your hand in a dance.

You had only been eighteen at the time but he had already been jumped into the Santos a long time prior to that moment, and you were… well, let’s just say that you weren’t the fondest of human interaction, so neither of you had any experience when it came to dancing.

But still, you had taken his hand without as much as a single doubt in your mind, and you hadn’t regretted it once.

Bésame, Bésame mucho Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez

“I think back to that moment every day. Every time we kiss, I kiss you like it’s our last moment together.” Oscar’s face was concentrated, his fingers absentmindedly touching your face, his eyes following their movements as he listened to the lyrics and reminisced the past.

His words caused your eyebrows to crease together, your hands moving up to cradle his face. “You don’t have to think like that.” You mumbled, shaking your head. “I’m not going anywhere, papi.”

The fact that he would even think about you leaving him made your heart tug painfully in your chest. You could be threatened to be killed, be held under gun- or knifepoint, and you still wouldn’t even consider leaving his side.

But you understood his worries. All of the people he had loved throughout his life had ended up leaving him in one way or another.

He knew that you loved him, but he would always be scared that history would be repeated with you like it had been with everyone else.

Bésame, Bésame mucho Que tengo miedo a perderte Perderte después

“I know you’re not.” He agreed, continuing to look down at you with nothing but pure, raw admiration. “But I’m scared. I’m scared that I’ll fuck this up like I’ve done everything else in my life.”

He closed his eyes, leaning closer to your face and pressing his forehead against yours. “I know this shit between us is real, but it still feels like I’m dreaming.” The confession brought another tug at your heart. “Like you’re gonna disappear if I open my eyes; if I let you go.”

Quiero tenerte muy cerca Mirarme en tus ojos Verte junto a mi Piensa que tal vez mañana Yo ya estaré lejos, Muy lejos de ti

“I’m scared that I’ll get caught up in this shit too deep, that I’ll-” He let out a breath of air through his nose, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment. “That I’ll have to leave to keep you safe and never get to see you again. Never get to look into your eyes and see the reflection of the man you make me. A better man.”

“You’re a good man all on your own, baby.” You quickly objected, holding his cheeks with just a tad bit more force in your hands. “You don’t need me for that.”

“I do.” He kept fighting back, his eyes narrowing to the point where you could only see his dark eyelashes, his brown irises hidden behind them. “You don’t just make me better. You want me want to be better. Without you, I would have been dead a long time ago.”

Bésame, Bésame mucho Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez

“Then kiss me like this is our last moment together.” You said, your eyebrows furrowing together. “Kiss me as if tomorrow, we’ll be on opposite sides of the planet, surrounded by other people and with no way for you to tell me you love me. Kiss me. Kiss me as if it’s the last time.”

He stared into your eyes and just for the briefest of times, the world seemed to stop around you. The moment between a glance and a kiss where the only thing between you was the intense affection and the anticipation of each other’s lips on yours.

It was a moment so intense it hung in the air and pulled you closer, and then he did.

He kissed you like he was drowning and you were his air, like he was starved, like he hadn’t eaten or drank in two weeks and you were the only thing keeping him alive.

He put his hands on either side of your face, the room fell away around you and you had never gotten so lost in a kiss before.

The space between you exploded, your heart kept missing beats and your hands couldn’t bring him close enough to you.

One of his hands left your face to tug the headphones out of your ears just as the song came to an end, and you allowed him to grab them and your phone and put them somewhere to the side without ever breaking the kiss.

You were intoxicated by the feel of his arms around you and his lips moving against yours in perfect synchronization.

Slowly, he began to unwrap you; your mind, your heart, your soul. He hadn’t gotten to your clothes yet, but you knew he would, because he just kept kissing you more, truly as if it was for the last time.

Bésame.

TRANSLATIONS:

Bésame, Bésame mucho Como si fuera ésta noche La última vez // Kiss me Kiss me a lot As if it were tonight The last time

Bésame Bésame mucho Que tengo miedo a perderte Perderte después // Kiss me Kiss me a lot For I am afraid to lose you To lose you afterwards

Quiero tenerte muy cerca Mirarme en tus ojos Verte junto a mi Piensa que tal vez mañana Yo ya estaré lejos, Muy lejos de ti // I want to have you very close Look in your eyes See you next to me Think that maybe tomorrow I will be far away Far away from you

#oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz #oscar spooky diaz #spooky #spooky x reader #on my block #on my block imagine #on my block x reader #omb imagine #omb x reader #omb #mario martinez #mario martinez x reader #mario martinez imagine #ruby martinez #jamal turner #monse finnie #cesar diaz

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dawninlatin · 4 years

Text

Tell me a story

Part of the Manorian Teacher AU. This one takes place only months after “Online classes are the worst.

Words: 2676

AO3 Link

Link to my masterlist and the other parts of the Teacher AU

A/N: It feels so good to write for this AU again, and this part might just be my favourite yet, so I hope you enjoy it<3

Feel free to leave a comment or some constructive criticism or whatever;)

I also am aware that the timeline in this AU doesn't make sense, but it's summer and I have forgotten math, so we'll just ignore that:))

Peace&Love<3 -Dawninlatin

It was on a warm July evening that Manon Blackbeak declared to no one in particular that she was done being pregnant.

Only moments later, her asshole of a boyfriend decided to crush all her hopes and dreams by walking into their bedroom and saying, «You still have three months left, babe.»

Not deeming him worthy of a verbal response, Manon instead grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it across the room with full force, not that it was much these days. Gods, she was so tired.

The pillow didn’t even make it all the way to Dorian, instead it landed with a weak thump by his feet, and Manon let out a frustrated sigh as he made his way over to her, taking the pillow with him and placing it back with the many, many others.

Manon was nestled on their bed, amongst the horde of pillows, all of them meticulously placed to create the perfect position, the only way she could sleep with a two pound human being inhabiting her body.

«Don’t worry, those three months will be over before you know it,» Dorian tried to comfort, picking up a discarded t-shirt and pulling it over his bare chest. His inky black hair was still wet from the shower he’d just had.

«That’s easy for you to say,» Manon mumbled, crossing her arms.

Something in her expression made Dorian pause, a guilty look on his face. «You’re right, it is easy for me to say. How are you?» He sat down on the bed, and Manon took in the pleasant smell of men’s soap.

«Exhausted,» she sighed, rubbing her swollen belly. Manon didn’t know how she could take three more months of a constantly bloated and aching body. Already she felt as if she could burst at any moment, and bigger would she get. None of her clothes fit, so she had simply taken to just wearing Dorian’s. Then there was the fact that she had to pee every ten minutes, and she still got nauseous, even if she was far past her first trimester, and no matter what she ate, she was kept up half the night by heartburn.

Yet the physical exhaustion was nothing compared to the emotional fatigue. All the hormones heightening her every emotion, and it completely drained her. She got incredibly angry and frustrated by the littlest things, and she cried. All. The. Damn. Time.

The fact that they were in the middle of a pandemic, and that the world was falling apart around her didn’t exactly help. Manon didn’t take well to spending all her days cooped up in their small house. She wanted to go out and do something. Instead she spent all her days inside, watching crappy TV, trying to ignore how helpless she felt.

Manon truly envied Dorian’s ability to sit down with a book and wholly disappear in it. Sometimes he stayed in that bubble of his for hours, paying no mind to the world around him.

All of this felt like some sick, twisted, alternate reality where everything was well on its way to hell. And for her part, it had began with a positive pregnancy test.

The baby had been a shock to them both. After feeling sick for a few weeks, Manon had taken a test just to rule it out. She hadn’t expected to find two pink lines staring back at her. Kids had never been part of her ideal future, but as she saw the positive test, as she saw how excited Dorian got, no matter how much he tried to hide his joy, she couldn’t stop picturing them as a family. Couldn’t stop picturing a small child with Dorian’s blue eyes and inky black curls and irresistible charm. Deep down, she wanted them to share this together. And Dorian would make a great father. Manon on the other hand…

Quarantining made it even harder for Manon to deal with her pregnancy. How was she supposed to enjoy this, supposed to create a bond with her unborn child when all her time was spent inside, isolated, silently panicking over the state of the country? She didn’t get to stroll around shops, buying cute baby clothes, didn’t get to visit friends and family, sharing this journey with them. Manon had been to one ultrasound, and Dorian hadn’t even been allowed with her. The worst of it all was that she felt like a selfish, whining bitch for being sad about it all.

Now that summer vacation had started, she didn’t have work to look forward to either. As a science teacher, there was nothing she was more passionate about than her job. A few weeks back, she’d had to say goodbye to her graduating seniors over a fucking video call. It had taken all of her stubbornness and unrelenting will-power to not burst into tears in front of them. They didn’t know she was currently a hormone-filled mess. Gods, how she would miss those brilliant young minds that annoyed her to no end. She’d never tell them that, of course. She had a reputation to uphold after all.

But without the distraction of her work, she’d had to take up other hobbies to busy herself. Yesterday, Manon had cried her way through an entire season of ‘Our Planet’ while knitting a blanket for their baby. Knitting, of all things! It had quickly become an obsession, and truth be told, she was excellent at it, but it was something Manon had never imagined she’d be filling her time with. Maybe this was what they called nesting?

Her thoughts were interrupted as she noticed Dorian moving down the bed and settling with his head next to her belly. He had a book in his hand, one he’d pulled out from their crowded bookshelf. It was thin with a picture of a sweet-looking dragon on the front. Manon also noticed how old and worn-out it was, the spine barely binding it together.

Dorian cleared his throat, turning to the first page, and Manon let out a confused chuckle. «What are you doing?»

«That weird pregnancy app I downloaded told me that our baby can register sounds from outside now, so I’m reading them a bedtime story.» He looked at her as if it was obvious that’s what he was doing. Then he turned his head back towards her belly, his voice turning high-pitched. «And you better get used to it, dude…or dudette, ‘cuz I’m gonna read you a story every night from now on.»

Manon tried to control her laughter, but his baby-talk, mixed with the ridiculous look on his face made it very hard to hold it in. She laughed even more as he kept going. «But if I’m gonna read to you, your mommy needs to stop laughing at me! Yes she does!»

Hearing herself referred to as someones ‘mommy’ made her chest tighten uncomfortably, but no matter how wrong it sounded, she ignored it for now. For Dorian’s sake. Instead, she chose to mask her fear and doubt with flirty banter, as usual. «If you’re spending the entire evening in my lap, you might as well go a little lower and put that mouth of yours to good use.»

«MANON!» he chastised, playing the perfect role of a disappointed parent. Dorian placed both his hands on her belly, as if covering a pair of ears, and said in a hushed voice, «There are children present!»

Chuckling, Manon answered, «That’s not what you said last night when you-»

«CHAPTER 1!»

As she beheld the exaggerated look of shock and horror on his face, Manon failed to hold in her cackling laughter any longer.

Manon had closed her eyes long ago, simply enjoying the sound of Dorian reading one of his favourite books to their unborn child.

He was a natural at storytelling, his tone eager, making up different voices for each character, giving life to it. Manon knew he would make an excellent father. Could already picture him with their child, reading them books, tucking them into bed at night, soothing them after a nightmare.

Whenever she tried to picture herself as a mother, the only image coming to her mind was the image of her grandmother, the woman that had raised her, the woman that had made Manon’s childhood a living hell. Who was she trying to fool? She knew nothing about motherhood!

As she kept spiraling, tears began to sting in her eyes. Manon tried to stop them to no avail. She sniffled, and the noise got Dorian’s attention. Turning his head, he found her shaking with silent sobs.

«Manon? What’s wrong?» He rushed to her side, the book completely forgotten. He pulled her to him, stroking up and down her arms, and the loving gesture only made her cry harder.

«Talk to me, love,» he whispered against her hair.

But how could she? How could she possibly express everything she was feeling? All the fear and doubt. And Dorian was so excited, Manon didn’t have the heart to take that joy away from him by telling him how she really felt about all of it.

Instead, she voiced the one question that had been playing at the front of her mind for months now. «Do you think I’ll be a good mom?»

«Oh, Manon.»

Her breaths came in choking gasps, and no matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn’t get enough air.

«Breathe,» Dorian tried to soothe, running his hands up and down her back in long, calming strokes. Manon let her forehead fall to his shoulder, clutching his shirt.

«I just-» she began, but she didn’t know what came next. Drawing a ragged breath, she tried again, «I have no idea what I’m doing! Like, do you know all the ways a baby can die? You hold it wrong and it breaks! And I have no idea how to be a mother! None! Everyone says they’ll be different than their own parents, but in the end they end up the same, and I know I will be just like my grandmother! I can’t do this! I can’t-» Her words turned into a heartbreaking sob.

«Look at me,» Dorian said, taking her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks, wiping away her tears only for more to follow. «Do you think I will be just like my father?»

His question took her by surprise, enough that she regained some control over her breathing. «Of course not!» Manon blurted out, wiping her eyes. «You’re nothing like him!»

«Exactly, and you’re nothing like your grandmother,» Dorian said firmly. Manon started shaking her head, but he grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

«I know you’ll be a great mom.» She was about to protest, but Dorian beat her to it. «You’ll make our child feel so safe, and loved, and supported, no matter what.»

«Dorian-» Her words died on her tongue as she saw how he looked at her, his eyes shining with love and adoration.

«You wanna know how I know that?» He pressed a kiss to her temple. «Because that’s how you make me feel, every single day.»

Dorian laid down, pulling her with him so that she lay with her head on his chest, feeling his heart beat, a steady rhythm that grounded her. Tears kept streaming down her cheeks, but her breathing had gone slow and even.

Manon broke the silence by whispering, «I’m so lucky to have you.» Dorian hummed in response.

They nearly fell asleep like that, until Manon suddenly spoke, her cracked voice startling Dorian in the process. «Will you keep reading? I wanna know how the story ends.»

This brought a huge grin to his face, and Dorian gladly slid back down to her belly, kissing it once, before picking up his discarded book. Manon settled back against her pillows while he skimmed to the right page.

Dorian cleared his throat once more, and picked up where he left, telling the story about a small, brave dragon that would much rather spend his days in fields of flowers than fighting wars.

«The end,» Dorian finished at last, a yawn escaping Manon’s lips.

«I liked this one,» Manon whispered. «You’re a great storyteller.» Dorian closed the book and sat up, a strange look on his face.

His eyes softened, and he said, «It’s not done yet.»

Manon’s face shifted into a confused expression, but Dorian didn’t explain further, simply placed the book on the nightstand, taking her in with burning intensity.

Outside, it had gone dark, the only source of light being the string lights that hung from the ceiling. They cast a soft, golden glow over the room, making Dorian look ethereal. He drew a ragged breath, before speaking, his voice quiet, «And as the lost man finished telling his story, he looked down at the love of his life, her white hair shining like liquid moonlight, her golden eyes glowing brighter than any star. He laid down next to her, face to face, took her hand in his, and asked, his heart ever so hopeful, ‘Will you marry me?’»

Manon couldn’t believe this was happening, her eyes widening in shock. Not pulling her gaze away from Dorian’s, the man she loved more than she could fathom, could ever put into words, she managed to choke out, «You- You’re asking me to marry you?»

«I am,» he whispered back, brushing a few loose strands of hair away from her face. «Wait a second, will you,» he blurted out, turning towards his nightstand and opening the drawer. «I actually have a ring,» he continued while rummaging around for it, his voice frantic.

«Got it,» Dorian said, facing her again. He inhaled once more, bracing himself. «I’ve had this ring for a while actually. I bought it straight after our first date, because I knew, already then, that there were no one else I’d want to spend my life with. You’re the love of my life, Manon. You’re my best friend, my equal, my everything, and I would be honored if I would also be able to call you my wife.»

How much love could a heart take before it would burst? Manon wondered to herself.

Flustered, Dorian kept talking, kept rambling, and damn her if it wasn’t the most adorable thing she had ever witnessed. «I had planned this big proposal with a candle lit dinner and roses and every other cliché ever invented, and you deserve so much more than this,» he gestured to them, to their bedroom, «but I couldn’t wait any longer, and-»

«No, it’s perfect,» Manon interrupted, shaking her head in disbelief as she took in the gorgeous ring. It was a thin, golden band with a simple, turquoise stone. It was really just perfect, all of it. Yes, she was in her - no, actually his - worn out pajamas, her hair pulled into a messy bun, her face bare, without any makeup, but it was perfect. She couldn’t have imagined it any different.

«Is that a yes then?» Dorian asked, his voice full of hope.

«Yes,» Manon laughed, and at the enormous grin appearing on her fiancé’s face, she burst into tears. «Those damn hormones,» she managed to choke out in between sobs, letting out an incredulous laughter.

Though this time it wasn’t purely the hormones’ fault. She had never felt so loved, and she knew Dorian felt the same way, because his own eyes were also lined with silver, mirroring her own.

After he put the ring on her finger, she pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing her lips to his. As they laid there, Manon took Dorian’s hand, placing it on her belly, where their child, their baby, had begun kicking ferociously. He gasped as he felt the fluttering kicks, and she couldn’t help but smile at the look of awe on his face. How right it felt, to be three. A family. Manon marveled over the feeling, something settling deep inside her.

Maybe the future wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#manorian #manorian fluff #manorian fanfiction #dorian x manon #manon x dorian #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #sarah j maas #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #tog fanfiction #modern au #dawninlatin teacher au

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mycupoffanfiction · 4 years

Text

Our Girl

Biker!Bucky x Reader x biker!Pietro smut

Summary: You spend the morning with your bikers after treating them the night before

Warnings: Pure smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, dirty talk, lots of teasing.

Word count: Approx 1500

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, this one was requested by my lovely @mushyjellybeans. I won’t lie, I really wanted to write moooore (I might anyway lol), but I want to see if I can follow this up with some fluff because I really wanted to see how Bucky and Pietro would act normally outside of smut in a relationship together with their girl. Thoughts?

Hope you’re all keeping well 💖

You woke slowly with a little whine which was responded to with a soft groan on your left side. You reached up to rub your eyes, something soft shifting on your abdomen and you peered down through half open lids to see your chunky, fluffy old man of a cat, Harold curled up on you. An arm was thrown over your middle and on your other side a leg strewn over yours.

The amount of times that cat had gotten lost and Pietro and Bucky somehow always manged to find him before you three had gotten into a relationship was quite ridiculous and sometimes you even wondered to yourself if Harold was somehow in cahoots with the two bikers and had been their wingman.

The soft tickle and shift of hair against the side of your face coupled with an unhappy grunt told you that Bucky was awake and his arm around your middle tightened, pulling you closer, only to be immediately tugged back against another warm chest behind you. “No fair, you got all her attention last night.” Pietro grumbled, his thick accent was groggy from sleep and you scooted your butt against him, eliciting a low grunt from Pietro, his grip on you tightening.

“Can you two ever share?” You asked, a joking edge to your voice and Bucky chuckled, his fingers dancing over your warm skin below the covers. “Apparently not, darlin’.” Bucky smirked at you as he pulled himself a little closer, sandwiching you between your two bikers. Your gaze trailed over Bucky’s left arm, decorated in an impressive sleeve of tattoos that had initially started a few years ago not long before you had met him.

Bucky and Pietro were both bikers and rolled with a group of friends who worked alongside the local police, but the rest of the time, he was a reserve firefighter and spent most weeks working some hours in the local department, but that meant he’d had his fair share of injuries and during a particularly bad incident, had ended up with some burn scars on his left arm.

You’d never really seen the full extent of the marred skin before, but you didn’t care, you would find Bucky attractive all the same with or without tattoos and scars. You nudged your nose against Bucky’s, lips pressing delicately against his and he groaned into the kiss, fingers pressing into your skin as he kissed you back with slow yet passionate intensity.

Pietro sighed and tugged you away from Bucky, turning you over in his arms and capturing you in a sweet kiss, his tongue gently tracing against yours, working you deliciously slowly. Your fingers trailed down Pietro’s shirtless torso and you felt the long since healed scars under your fingertips. Bucky wasn’t the only one who had seen injury on the job, only Pietro’s had been a lot more touch and go and every time you saw and touched the scars, you felt relief that he was still with you after you and Bucky had almost lost him.

He’d sustained several gunshot wounds, the outlaw bikers from the next town over having caught him alone after he’d managed to turn one of them in to the police and they shot so many bullets into him with the intent to kill that you, like everyone else was amazed he’d survived and managed to pull through. “Fuck, I want you doll.” Bucky murmured against your ear, grinding himself against you as he held you around the middle, Harold prancing off the bed in a rather grumpy manner and leaving the room.

You parted from Pietro, the lust in his eyes telling you he wanted the same as Bucky and he gently pushed you onto your back, the warmth low in your belly blossoming into butterflies as you felt Bucky’s warm fingers gently nudge at the hem of the soft t-shirt you had stolen from him. “I want you too, both of you.” You whispered, though your voice had an edge of want, a soft whine following as you craved their touch.

Pietro leaned in, soft lips pressing hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck as Bucky pushed your shirt up to just below your chest, exposing your panties and he teasingly drew his finger across the cotton of your underwear, careful not to touch where you wanted them the most. “Please.” You gasped out, Pietro teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your top and you whined out at the attention.

“Please, what baby doll?” Bucky asked, his voice was so deep and smooth, like soft velvet. “Do you want us to make you feel good, Prinţesă mea?” Pietro murmured, fingers dipping under your top and between the valley of your breasts, pushing the fabric up to leave you bare to both of them. “Yes, please.” You panted, already worked up and Pietro smirked at your desperation for both of them.

“Let us take care of you then, darlin’.” Bucky cooed, fingers working their way into your panties and you gasped at the contact as he parted your folds, gently teasing the soft bundle of nerves beneath his fingers, eliciting a moan from you. Pietro lowered himself, tongue darting out and fluttering lightly against your nipple, his thumb and forefinger teasing the other.

Bucky couldn’t wait to pull your underwear off and hooked them to the side with his fingers as he nudged your legs apart, settling between them. You glistened with want and as much as Bucky wanted to give you what you wanted that second, he also wanted to see you ache for the attention you craved. “Bucky, please.” You whined at his teasing as he lowered himself to press kisses along your thighs, fingers brushing closely to your core and you wriggled, attempting to get more of his attention.

“C’mon Barnes, I think she deserves it after last night.” Pietro smirked as he parted from your chest to glance at Bucky, who met him with a devious smile. “I think you’re right, I think she deserves a little somthin’ after she let us fuck her on your bike yesterday.” Bucky grinned. “You want that, Prinţesă?” Pietro asked, full well knowing your answer would be yes and you frantically nodded, unable to give a verbal answer.

Bucky chuckled at your response, his thumbs parting your folds gently before he licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, circling around the soft bundle of nerves deliciously slowly and you rewarded him with a drawn out moan. Pietro moved to hold your legs open and he leaned down to tease you with his tongue, just above Bucky’s. Both had different pressures and slightly different feelings as you gasped in at the intense pleasure, angling your hips upwards wanting more.

“So good Prinţesă.” Pietro sighed against your sensitive skin, his voice sending vibrations through you as they both lapped at your clit, Bucky slowly dipping his finger into your entrance and curling it to find the spot that made you gasp in pleasure. Bucky hummed in response, giving your clit one last flick with his tongue before he pulled away, giving Pietro full access while Bucky added another finger.

“Does that feel good darlin’?” Bucky asked, looking down at you through hooded eyes. “Do you like it when we both do it?” He questioned, getting a breathy yes in response. Pietro closed his lips around your bundle of nerves, sucking lightly as his tongue quickly flicked over your sensitive skin, drawing sweet moans from between your lips as he worked you.

Bucky leaned forwards, his fingers coming up to tease your nipples as he fingered you, picking up speed and you began to feel hazy, pleasure intensifying as Pietro brought you closer to the edge, pleasure building as he focused solely on your clit. Bucky’s fingers brushed quickly against your g-spot, getting you closer and he could tell by the way you tensed, the change in your breathing that you were almost on the edge, your fingers loosely gripping Bucky’s hand as he teased you with his fingers.

“C’mon doll, let go, we’ve got you.” He encouraged, speeding up a little, Pietro circling the tip of his tongue around you quickly and the pleasure stilled for a second, holding you in a moment of pure hazy bliss before the pleasure finally rolled through you, capturing you in a high you’d never felt so strongly before and you cried out, clinging to the sheets as Bucky and Pietro worked you through your release, gently bringing themselves to a stop, though Pietro couldn’t resist giving you a few teasing post orgasm aftershocks.

Taking a second to catch your breath, you looked up at them both in your euphoria, completely mind blown at the pleasure you’d just experienced and Pietro smirked at you, his fingers teasing your sensitive clit and you watched at his tongue darted out across his lips, silvered hair tousled and messy, hanging to the side as he eyed you.

“We ain’t done yet darlin’, still got three more orgasms to go.” Bucky spoke lowly against your ear, lips and stubble brushing against your sweet skin and your eyes rolled back, a moan of pure, intense pleasure pulled from you as Pietro began to lap at your sensitive clit again.

“We got all goddamn day.” He chuckled.

Permanent Taglist (OPEN):

@swanlakemikey @scuzmunkie @scarlett-berserker @wendaiii @megantje123 @sideeffectsofyou @veganfangirl5 @loving-life-my-way @lancetuckershairgel @southernbell91 @book-dragon-13 @marvelgirl7 @searching-for-neverland @mushyjellybeans

Pietro Taglist (OPEN):

@valkyriesryde @virtualmemmecollector @sebbbystaaan @yougottakeeponkeepinon @kitkatd7 @herwaywardskies

#bucky x reader #pietro x reader #biker!bucky x reader #biker!pietro x reader #biker!bucky #biker!pietro #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x yn #smut #pietro x you #pietro x y/n #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff #pietro

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redheadedteatotalfanfic · 3 years

Text

You're the One, the Only (Ch. 1)

Chapter One:

Gina sat in a chair by the window in the front room of her grandparents’ house, trying her best to block out the noise going on behind her. She stared out the window, her mood as gloomy and bleak as the sky outside. She had zero interest in celebrating Christmas now that her Marine wasn't going to be here with her. When Kevin had called home for Thanksgiving, he'd explained how he'd deliberately not requested leave in the hopes that it would make it easier to get approved to come home for Christmas. She'd been fine with that, preferring it to spending time with him at Thanksgiving. He'd called day before yesterday and told her his chances of coming home for the holidays looked nonexistent. Her mood had soured, and she now just wanted to get tonight and tomorrow over with.

She had kept to herself despite her family's best efforts to cheer her up. She spoke when spoken to, but gave short perfunctory answers, and avoided looking at pictures and talking about favorite Christmases like her mom's side of the family did every year. She'd do the same tomorrow at her dad's, and hopefully go to bed early to get the day over with as quickly as possible. It wasn't the same without him here. Her only bright spot had come in the mail yesterday as his Christmas gift finally arrived. He'd gotten her the red Marines t-shirt she'd fallen in love with, along with a set of custom dog tags that had black silencers. She had both on today, hoping it would make her feel closer to him, but it hadn't worked. She glanced at her phone in her lap, he had promised to try and call tonight so they could at least hear each other's voice on their favorite holiday. But as the day dragged on it didn't appear that was going to be possible either. They normally talked at least three times a week, but all she'd gotten this week was the very brief phone call to tell her he wasn't coming home. She held out a small sliver of hope that he was saving the call for tomorrow.

A small package landed in her lap, and she looked up to see her little sister standing next to her chair with a cheesy grin. "Open it," she said.

"Not interested," Gina groused, handing it back. Since they were kids, they'd had a habit of opening one gift before dinner, as a way to tide them over until the adults were ready to open presents.

Casey refused to take it. "Trust me," she said. "You wanna open this one. You need what's in it."

With a frustrated sigh Gina ripped the paper open, revealing a packet of kleenex with a funny saying on them. She rolled her eyes and shoved them back into her sister's hand. "Very funny," she growled.

"Okay sourpuss, you don't wanna be nice go make yourself useful and start bringing the deserts in from the back porch," her mom said in the tone all mother's use when tired of their teenager's attitude. "And find a better mood while you're out there, hear me?"

"Gladly," Gina muttered, getting to her feet, and stuffing her phone in her back pocket.

As soon as she stepped into the kitchen Casey shifted to a point where she could see her sister and began providing a play by play for the rest of the family. "Through the kitchen...opening the back door, and..."

There was a muted scream that made everyone laugh and both of Gina's sisters and their mom headed for the porch. They were wrapped in each other’s arms, his around her waist and her own around his neck. She would've stayed that way forever if her family would've let her. She pulled back, and they shared a quick kiss, knowing her grandparents would have issue with more than that. "C'mon, let's get back in the house," her mom said.

"When did you get here?" Gina asked.

"He took a red eye last night, we picked him up at the airport this morning and dropped him off at the hotel," Chris said. "We waited until he got here and got hid on the back porch before Case gave you the kleenex."

"I got a few hours sleep, and went and spent time with my family today," Kevin added. He dropped his tone to a murmur, making sure only Gina could hear him as he entered the house. "I'm all yours until I gotta go back the day after New Year’s."

"Two weeks," she murmured. She was unfazed at knowing he'd elected to spend most of the day with her family instead of his own, he hadn't had the greatest upbringing, and most of them had been furious at his choice to join the military to the point he'd severely limited his contact with them.

"Two weeks," he confirmed. "And a room at our favorite hotel."

She squeezed his hand as they passed through the kitchen and back into the living room. With Kevin here her entire demeanor changed, and she became the giggling goofball that her family knew her to be at this time of year. She sat down in one of the chairs and he sat on the floor in front of her, using her legs as a backrest. It gave them the excuse to touch each other without enduring any teasing.

"I thought for sure you'd cry, it's why I gave you the kleenex," Casey said.

"She called you a crybaby when she bought them," Chris added.

She laughed, unfazed by the ribbing. None of them noticed when her legs shifted so that they were over Kevin’s shoulders, and he had his arms wrapped around them. They made it through dinner, and she was surprised to see the small pile of presents her family had gotten him. She had left her own gift for him in her car and was now looking forward to giving it to him in person later instead of mailing it on the day after Christmas.

She had needed the kleenex when they'd been given identical boxes by her grandmother. "This has been a year in the making, and I had to enlist the help of both families. It should make it a little easier to be separated when he goes back to the base," she'd explained. "And I didn't get them mixed up."

They had each been given a quilt made of the other's t-shirts. What made it extra special was that some of the shirts used had some sort of meaning between the two of them. She didn't know about him, but it would definitely make it easier to sleep once he left again.

During a lull as the night began to wind down, her mom gently pulled her aside. "Don't mention anything about staying with him. Just make it look like you're gonna drop him off at the hotel on your way home, okay? Otherwise, you'll get an earful from them both," she said.

Gina nodded. "I can use needing to pick up his Christmas gift as an excuse," she said. "I'm surprised you're okay with him staying."

"You're nineteen and have your own place, there's not much I can do to stop you. Now you know why I questioned you about doing your laundry yesterday, though I still dunno why you bothered with your underwear," her mom teased.

"Ma!"

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

After getting all the gifts loaded into Gina's car and making a quick stop at a gas station to pick up enough snacks to last until the day after Christmas when everything would re-open they headed for the hotel. They pulled up to a stoplight and Gina pulled a small package from the center console, where she'd put it with the intention of mailing it the day after Christmas. She turned on one of the overhead lights and handed him the package. "Merry Christmas baby," she said. "It's gonna seem weird until I explain what it's for, but I promise you'll love it."

Kevin tore into the packaging and unwrapped a set of keys. "Keys?" He questioned. "Keys are usually a good thing."

"Uh huh," Gina agreed. "An incredibly good thing in our case. We're not staying at the hotel for two weeks."

"We aren't? Why?" He asked.

"Remember the pictures I sent of the house I told you my dad was looking at?" She countered.

"Yeah," Kevin said a split second before comprehension smacked him on the back of the head, and his expression changed from confusion to anxious disbelief. "No..."

Gina nodded. "Dad doesn't like the idea of us living in the dorms on campus, so he was planning to lease me an apartment like he did my sister. I don't like the thought of living squished in with other people, and I found this place not too far from school. It's nothing spectacular, but it's ours," she explained.

"Explains why your sister was so adamant about me only booking the room for one night until the two of us went back to the hotel. The last two words you said are all that matters. I don't care what it looks like or what's wrong with it, it's ours," he said. Kevin leaned forward and they shared a kiss just as the light changed. She reached up and shut off the light as they began to move again and he reached over and grabbed her hand, kissing the back of her palm before threading their fingers together. The streetlights allowed him to see her smile, and he sat watching her for the longest time.

She couldn't wait to get to the house and show him the trivial things that she'd yet to tell him about. She'd turned one of the smaller bedrooms into a studio of sorts, where she could write, and he could draw. The master bedroom had an en suite bathroom, and double closets, and she'd sectioned off part of the garage to make a little home gym. They would hit up the supermarket on the twenty-sixth and pick up the last few things needed to turn it from a house into a home.

When they left the hotel after picking up his bags and checking out, she gave up her keys to let him drive, something she knew he enjoyed and likely hadn't done since he left several months ago. She also gave him quick instructions on how to get to the house, smiling when he easily pinpointed the location. As Kevin drove towards the house she unbuckled her seatbelt, wiggled out of her hoodie and stretched out across the center console, pillowing her head on his thigh. Kevin knew she wasn't sleepy; she was satisfying her desire to want to do more than just hold his hand. She covered up with the hoodie, and after giving her a couple of minutes to get comfortable he slipped his hand under it with the intention of curling his arm over her ribcage. His fingertips were met by bare skin, and when his thumb brushed against the lower curve of her breast he realized she'd taken off her bra when she'd gone to the restroom at the gas station. "Touch me," she begged in whisper. "I want you so bad."

Kevin smiled as she voiced her desires, he'd been gently coaxing her to do so ever since their first time. When she'd sheepishly admitted she struggled with it because she was afraid of being laughed at, he'd kissed her forehead and explained that any man that laughed at his girl for telling him he was doing something she liked or didn't like wasn't really interested in pleasing his girl. He let his hand drift up her chest and brush over her soft peaks enjoying the soft moans she made in response. Kevin kept his touch light so that neither of them would get frustrated by having to stop when they got to the house. She growled low in her throat when he withdrew his hand, making him chuckle. "We're less than five minutes from the house," he said.

She fidgeted a moment, readjusting her clothes, and then sat up, wiggling back into the hoodie, and raking a hand through her hair. She decided that when they got home they'd get the car unloaded, she'd give him a quick tour of the house, and then spend the next several hours tangled up in bed. Gina was about to inform him of her plans when she suddenly remembered something she desperately needed to take care of before he saw it.

"I gotta tie up the bathroom a bit, need to shave," she said as they pulled in the driveway. "Haven't been keeping things quite as trimmed as I was before you left."

Kevin smiled, knowing she wasn't talking about her legs. "I packed my straight razor, want me to do it again?" He asked, hitting the button to open the garage door. He pulled in, putting the car in park, and shutting off the engine before turning in the seat to look at her.

She nodded with a smile. He had done it for her one other time, the first time she decided she wanted to go bare. Letting him take care of something so intimate had been an amazing experience, and she'd decided to always take him up on the offer should he ever ask again. "I wanna do what I did last time too, it felt so good afterwards," she said.

They got out of the car and got the bags and gifts from the backseat. Gina led the way inside. She put the snacks on the counter before leading him into the living room where a couple of photos caught his attention. Kevin stopped and looked around, seeing several of his belongings sprinkled throughout the room. "I went to your parents place and picked up all your stuff that your mom boxed up and put in the garage," she said, putting the gifts on the sofa.

His duffel bag slid to the floor and he turned to her with tears in his eyes. She'd done much more than that. Unhappy with his decision, his mom had pretty much kicked him out when he went to boot camp, clearing out his room and relegating his belongings to the garage for him to pick up as soon as possible. Her family had taken him in, to the point that her grandparents treated him like their fourth grandkid. Gina pulled him into a hug, and he silently sobbed in her arms. "Welcome home baby," she murmured.

She cuddled him for a few minutes and decided to forgo the tour for the time being. He needed to stop thinking about his family and the bullshit he'd endured since he made the announcement that he was joining the military. "C'mon, let's go unwind a while and celebrate being together in our new house," she murmured.

Kevin lifted his head and smiled, and they shared a quick kiss before he reshouldered his duffel and followed her towards the bedroom.

#actor fic #you're the one the only

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