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j-u-u-z-o · 6 months

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Sharing is Caring (Renji Abarai x F.Reader) 18+ NSFW‼️

AN: Hey y’all! I’ve been thinking about this scenario for a while now and I had a hard time choosing which character would suit it. It was between Ikkaku, Kisuke and Renji. So I chose Renji! Cos’ I’ve never written anything about the guy. I kinda went soft on writing him cuz I had to control myself 😩. Or did it? Anyway! Of course, you can use any character to your liking. I had fun writing this. Enjoy! 💕😉

PS: there might be a part two to this. 😚 *fingers crossed*

Synopsis: Renji wants some more time with you before bedtime but you’re ignoring him . you want to watch your favorite movie in peace while eating a good ol’ Twix chocolate bar in your hand. What’s he gonna do?

⚠️WARNING: NSFW‼️, slow burn, fore playing, fingering, sneaky n’ spicy pineapple head, squirting, GRAMMAR.

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It’s finally Friday.

You’re sitting comfortably on the small couch at renji’s place. You’re also watching a horror movie while eating a Twix bar - that you picked up from the candy bowl, on the small table in front of you. Meanwhile, Renji is washing the dishes after eating a delicious dinner with you.

Soon after, Renji dragged out a long sigh as he walked into the living room. He saw you invested in eating the chocolate bar, your eyes wide open as loud screams and shattered glass came from the tv screen.

She looks hypnotized. He snorted to himself.

Hmmm. A smirk came up on his face, slowly. He quietly walked towards the back of the sofa. Careful not to make the wooden floor creak; Getting closer to his prey. The screams were so intense and relentless that you didn’t hear renji walk into the living room. Until…“Boo!” A pair of hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders. “Aaah!!” Your eyes closed shut. Your body felt completely empty from the scare. you turned your head and screamed at the red-headed man.

“Renji! Why would you...Don’t do that! You know I’m watching a scary movie, jeez!” You yelled, not realizing that you’re squeezing the poor chocolate bar. Almost falling out of the wrapper.

“Well then. I’m glad you got frightened.” He smirked, your eyebrows twitched. “because you’re eating the last Twix bar.” He pouted, raising himself and crossed his arms. You watched him. Getting a better view of him now. His broad body - his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, tattoos covering up to his head; his hair in a messy bun. Yeah. He’s hot. But that’s not the point! You lost your train of thought.

“Oiii. Y/nnnn.” He called you, pointing at the bar. You blinked. “Eh?” You looked down at the source in your hand. half of it literally on the verge to fall out of the package. “Pffft!” You laughed. Oops. “You can’t be serious! You turned your head back to look at him. “It’s just a chocolate bar, Renji.”

“That you didn’t even share. With your boyfriend.” He continued to pout, walking around the couch to sit next to you. You snorted at his reasoning; You were going to protest but he cut you off, “Make room for me.” You moved over a bit - your legs folded to the side. You watched the red-headed man; trying not to laugh - bitting your bottom lip.

He sat next you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. Pulling you closer to his chest. “Here.” You quickly aimed the half broken chocolate bar to his lips. He leaned down pulled it out with his teeth and and ate it. Your listened to the crunchy sounds. “Feel better now, baby?” you emphasized, smiling up at him. Renji didn’t miss it. He just chewed until he was satisfied. “Yeah.” He licked his lips, looking at the tv screen.

“You’re such a baby, Baby.” You pointed out, poking his left cheek with your index finger. “I’m not.” He said, looking serious.

Liar. You looked at back the tv screen and wrapped your arm across his midsection, and slowly caressed it, while your head laid on his broad shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moments later, you found yourself leaning against the armrest of the couch. Almost halfway through the movie; Leaving Renji alone. His eyes slowly turned to your direction. Clearly, you’re still deeply invested in the movie. But, he isn’t. As loud banging noises, gore, and screaming filled the dark room, renji moved closer to your side. Careful not to interrupt you.

He gently lifted your folded right leg and puts it in between his legs. You scoot over a bit to stretch your back - feeling a bit better after sitting on your side for a while. His fingers then circled your inner thigh. Making you squirm under his touch. Feeling the feathery sensation from his rough calloused fingers, he gently kneaded it. “Is my leg that interesting to you, babe?” You giggled, letting him continue his task. He grinned, “Hm. Maybe.” His brown orbs followed his hand slowly grazing your soft skin - gliding it up and down your thigh.

He moved closer to you - wrapping an arm around your waist; pulling you closer to him as he started leaving kisses on your shoulder. His other hand continued to caress your inner thighs. eventually moving it up to skim your midsection. His lips felt so warm and comforting on your skin - feeling relaxed from his ministrations while you watched the movie. Then, his hand slid down to knead your inner thigh again. “Mmm.” You giggled. “Your hand is very warm, babe.” You praised him while you watched the movie. A throaty chuckle was heard from him while he kissed your shoulder.

He stopped leaving gentle pecks on your shoulder and said, “I know.” He bit his bottom lip and his eyes looked up at you, slowly yet slyly. He slid his hand down to your covered pussy while checking to see your reaction. You shivered when you felt his fingers slowly move in the -right- leg hole of your shorts from underneath. you breathed in deeply when his rough callous pads brushed passed your puffy lips to stroke your folds, side to side. You listened to him hum close to your ear; finding out that you aren’t wearing panties.

“No panties, babe?” He mumbled, your pussy throbbing as he stroked your hole with his middle finger, teasingly. You shook your head before he slid his fingers up to rub your clit in circles. He smirked while he looked at you. Beginning to feel your slick arousal on his fingertips. “Hm. I like your honesty.” He softly chuckled, knowing that you like it.

He then moved his hand away and palmed your pussy above the fabric. You can feel a wet spot on your crotch on your shorts - the thin layer making it easier for his fingers to rub your clit and how slippery the fabric was getting while doing so. “Mm.” You softly moaned, your clit throbbing at the sensation. he leaned closer to you - his chest resting on your side, he began kissing up your neck softly. You felt the warm exhales on your neck while continued he circled your throbbing nub.

“Mmm.” You whined, feeling his lips on that one spot that makes you flutter. He form a smirk on your neck while the sounds of his soft lips smacked against your skin; distracting you. “Ren.” You whispered, sitting up properly after laying on the armrest of the couch. “What are you doing?” You asked softly, looking at him. trying not to seem turned on by his actions. his eyes glowered and he bit his bottom lip. You held your breath for a second. You saw it. And he knows you can’t get over at how attractive he is.

“you know what I’m doing.” He mumbled, now moving his hand up to caress your midsection. You tucked your lips in. “What? You don’t believe me?” He pretended to seem concerned. You slowly shook your head. He slid his hand down to your inner thigh and stroked it. Up and down. “Ma. I thought… I felt something.” He kneaded it and said, “you were…responding to my…hmm…movements?” He raised an eyebrow. You pouted. You know what he’s doing. He wants you to admit that you’re liking it. “Like, What movements?” You asked, choosing to play his game too. He snorted and asked, “Can I show you, babe ?”

You nodded. “Just watch the movie.” he mumbled. You turned back to the tv and already, he resumed rubbing your covered nub in circles. You spread your leg that’s close to his chest a bit more. he used his arm to push it close his chest for more room. “Babe.” He whispered. You turned to him and your lips met his. Both lips softly moved in tandem. The soft sounds of his lips smacking yours passionately makes you feel hot. Especially when his tongue was wrapping around yours, lovingly.

The gentle kisses went on for a while the movie played; probably missing the best parts of it too.

Renji slid his hand under one of the leg-holes of your shorts again - while his warm tongue licked around yours. “Mm..!” You squirmed, feeling his index and middle finger caress your clit, softly. Your clit throbbed relentlessly while his calloused fingers rubbed right on it. You broke the kiss and looked down at his ministrations. “Ugh.” You groaned, biting your lip as your breathed deeply. “Right here?” His middle finger rubbed it a bit quickly. You hissed and gripped his firm wrist with your dainty hand to keep it there. He applied pressure on your leg that he held back against his chest, while it trembled from the pleasure.

“Oooh.” You grunted, your head falling back on the headrest of the couch. “Oh baby..” you moaned breathlessly, feeling sparkling the fire in your stomach as started circling your hips, slowly. “Feels good, huh.” He smirked, knowing that He’s got you wrapped around his finger.

He stopped and dipped his finger into his mouth. You watched him lick his finger and brought it down to rub your clit.

You gasped and looked at him as your breath hitched; encouraging you to buck against it. His dark brown orbs pierced your eyes. The sounds of the cushions slowly creaking from your movements. “Oooh.” You voice cracked, rolling your hips in circles. Your warm arousal covered his fingertips as you grinded against it. “You’re so wet, baby.” He whispered with pure lust, spreading it around your folds.

You dainty hand held his wrist, feeling the muscles and veins move against your fingers. A specific whimpers rang his ears and he looked at you. You raised your hips to encourage him to at least put a finger inside your needy cunt. You needed something to squeeze on. “Oh.” He grinned, he slid his fingers up and down in between your slick folds and then down to your cunt. “Unh..!” your breath hitched, clearly ready for the best finger fucking from your boyfriend.

He slid them up to your clit to tease you. You attempted to look at him in the eyes, annoyed. but, now’s not the time. Your mind is too cloudy.

He kept doing that - hearing the wet sounds of your arousal slip on his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet.” He said, sliding it down to your cunt and tapping it with a finger, teasingly. You whined - wanting him to just do it already. “Okay. Okay.” He mumbled.

Soon after, two big digit slid into your needy cunt. He watched your face contort in pleasure as he inserted them in your heat. Slowly, he thrusted them halfway, in and out. Feeling your tight plush walls squeeze him, lovingly.

Moments after, the slow strokes were becoming increasingly repetitive. You pushed your hips forward to get it all the way in. He hummed, feeling your tight walls squeeze them. “Watch the movie, baby.” He teased, chuckling when you failed to shoot a glare at him. Suddenly, he dug deeper into your heat; his fingertips rubbing your that spongy spot, playfully. “Ah!” You gasped, bucking your hips up.

“Ren.” You whimpered. He hummed. “F-faster…” you pleaded, rolling your hips to meet his slow strokes. He submitted by bending his fingers and increased his pace a bit. The squelching sounds coming from your cunt echoed in the living room. “Oh baby.” You said breathlessly, grabbing his face and pulling it close to yours. “Look at you. So needy.” He smirked, apply enough pressure into his thrusts - his thumb bumping against your throbbing clit.

Your needy lips captured his own. Both lips feeding off from each other with so much want. The sounds coming from you two got louder. “Mmm.” You whimpered, getting lost in between the heated kisses as you kept on rolling your hips to meet his strokes. From the outside looking in, You imagined another “you”, watching yourself getting fingered by Renji in front of the couch - bucking your hips up over and over to meet his thrusts. Very lewd. but, it’s a promising orgasm.

Your relentless clenching on his fingers. You’re getting closer to your release. “Good girl. Like that, baby.” Hebroke the kiss, wanting to listen to your broken whimpers. He still kept your leg back pulled up closer to him with his other hand; from behind. “That’s it.” He whispered, feeling how putty you are next to him. “Ugh.” You squirmed under his hold. still holding on to his face as you now laid on the armrest of the couch. His face extremely closer to yours, he looked into your eyes, deeply. “A-ah.” You cried, twitching and listening to the sounds of the lewd ministrations.

“Hmm. Keep doing that, baby.” Feeling extremely shy at how he’s looking at you and his praises, your eyes lowered down - to watch his hard thrusts enter you, instead. Your eyebrows lifted and gasped when he bumped your g-spot. “Oh! fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cried, his fingers rubbing that spongy spot again. And again. “Mmm…Ren.” You breathed out, slowly squirting on his fingers. Your warm arousal dripped onto the couch as you bucked your hips up to feel him more. He grunted and increased his pace. “Yeah, baby. Don’t be shy.” He said, hearing the wet sounds smack against his and your skin.

Your chest heaving - getting closer to your release, your breathe hitch in his face and your walls tremble uncontrollably. “Good. Almost there, baby.” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your breath hitches bounced off the walls relentlessly as your hips began to gyrate against his fingers. “just like that." His forehead touched yours. your hands moved up to his cheeks. You breathe into his mouth; you were unable form any coherent words. You kept leaking while you focused on his fingers fucking you to oblivion.

Soon after, a sensation overtook your body. A Feathery one. One that flowed through your body. Quickly making you fidget under his hold and squirt a bit more. “Ooooh.” You pushed your head up against the armrest and arched your back - releasing everything you could feel in that moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You felt very putty from the orgasm. So laid just laid on the armrest.

Meanwhile, revealing more of your neck, he started to leave gentle pecks on it, while he gave you a few more thrusts. “Ugh.” You stared at the ceiling as you listened to him hum against your skin while he leaves kisses on it, gently. Moments later, He slid his fingers out. You felt the the cool air brush your pussy and your thighs. And, other places.

A throaty groan came from him. You looked down at his red ponytail before he raised his head to look at you. “So. How was the movie?” He asked, smirking in victory as he began caressing your pussy in circles. “Renji.” You softly called him, still in a daze. . “Hm.” He grinned, busy rubbing your clit. “You’re very sneaky.” You pouted, your face still looking flushed out. “I told you to jus’ watch the movie, babe.” He still kept that knowing smirk on his face. You laid in silence - contemplating what you were going to do to this man. Something evil.

He chuckled, interrupting your plans. “Wanna watch another movie then?” You rolled your eyes. “My treat~” he sang out; giving another sly smirk on his face.

Damn, he’s good at this. His game, of course.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” You squinted. He laughed out loud - his head thrown back. You still squinted. He leaned closer to you and whispered, “I have hidden stash of snacks somewhere.”

“AND YET YOU CRIED ABOUT ME EATING THE LAST CHOCOLATE BAR?!” you gawked, sitting upright on your elbows - spot orgasm already left your body.

“Well sharing is caring, babe.” He chuckled at your reaction.

“I swear you’re - “

“In love with me. You are.” He cut you off. You were about to protest but he cuts you off again, “Now, make room for me.” He moved behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist, listening to you mumble about how cocky he is and something about “pineapple head” slipping in somewhere along the lines.

“We’re gonna watch the Exorcist cos’ you’re saying weird things right now.” He said, holding the remote. “I have to change my shorts!” You refused but he pulled you close to his chest. You blushed and smiled softly at the screen. Attempting to forgive him. But -

“Okay, baby?” he emphasized, selecting the movie to watch and dropping the remote behind on the couch, and then kissing your neck, playfully.

Your eye twitched.

He’s gonna pay for that.

End.

#renji abarai #bleach renji #renji abarai x reader #renji x reader #bleach tybw #bleach #bleach x reader #bleach imagines #bleach headcanons #bleach smut #bleach x you #bleach x y/n #bleach x female reader #abarai renji #bleach fandom #anime #manga #bleach fanfiction #bleach fic

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cheriepits · 1 year

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Also the little bit of lore in the AU now has me hooked I love when writers do that.

Some things that I can't get out of my head (I don't think these quite qualify as lore, though LOL):

ao3. [part 1, 2, 3a.] 3b. adorn me.

The kids from the clinic like to give Vash earrings or, better yet, charms that will fit through the single hoop he wears. They're fascinated by this towering young man with his hint of gold and how he sometimes wears his hair spiked, the tresses dancing and dangling in the same way as his charms.

The gummy bear is a crowd favorite, a translucent little thing under light, glowing blue-green like his eyes.

ii.

On Halloween—which is also his last day as a volunteer—the kids present him with a halo headband and half a wing.

"We ran out of glue sticks and cardboard," one of them says, a piece of a rice crispy treat hanging off his cheek. "But it kind of matches your arm," he grins.

"Oh, yeah? Is that the angelic part of me, then?" Vash cajoles, leaning down to ruffle the young boy's hair and accepting the Twix bar from his hand—a smaller prosthetic than his own.

"This is done, though, right?" Vash's words are slightly muffled from his chewing, and he gestures towards his head. The halo has two thick ribbons flowing from its wire, little messages and stickers adorning the white satin. In bright red-orange marker, the boldest inscription reads:

bYe Bye VasH thE stamPde StAmpEde ☺

A cluster of stick figures surround the message and just to the left of the crowd is a comically lanky figure, engulfed in a red coat. Vash suddenly feels his throat constrict.

"Where are my dust clouds?" Vash tries to joke, voice unbearably soft.

iii.

Vash stands over a bucket of flowers from one of the corner stands near campus. He stares at the red-violet bundle of sweet peas and is distinctly reminded of the color of bruising. There’s an underlying unease with his fixation, noting the delicate folds of the flower and the way the ends can’t seem to do anything but bow forward. They’re the color of and the feel of bruising, but.

Vash thinks of the blueberry compote you left open this morning in a rush to beat traffic. He had barely caught you, shushing your noise of complaint and gently tilting your head towards him.

“Vash, I’m—” you had begun, a whine forming in your throat.

“There’s, ah.” His thumb had swept over the corner of your lips, catching the stray stickiness there before bringing it into his own mouth. He had let go of you shortly after, unlocked the door, and watched the unreadable look on your face as you passed him.

“Have a good—” his words were cut short with your departure, lock clicking in place. His stomach still twists thinking about it, hence whatever this is, right now, feet planted on the concrete in front of a bucket of flowers. I just want to liven up the place, he thinks blithely. Right.

When he checks his phone, there’s a message from you.

thanks for cleaning me up this morning;

hope the blueberry wasn’t too sweet.

Vash laughs under his breath, cheeks heating up despite the autumn cold.

He takes the bundle home, marveling briefly at how light it all is.

#bash.wr #bash.wr.coldcoffee #roommate!vash #vash x reader #vash x you #trigun stampede #trigun #trigun au #thanks anon :)#anon asks #asks #i was listening to taylor swift's mirrorball while writing this #vash the stampede #this was not the domestic chappie but it leads to it :)#YOU'LL FIND ME ON MY TALLEST TIP TOESSSS #spinning on my highest heels love is vash coded

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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years

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eating dave yorks last twix

Spooktacular Day 1: That Was Mine

pairing: dave york x f!reader

rating: E (fingering, dave being a TEASE, squirting)

Spooktacular ‘22 Masterlist

You and Dave had just gotten back from taking your toddlers trick-or-treating, the little ones now fast asleep in their beds, both still wearing their costumes—a mini Darth Vader for your daughter, a Groot costume for her twin brother.

Dave had plucked a few candies for you from each of their buckets along with a few of his favorite candy, Twix. Now, you were sat on the couch in the living room, you still in your Black Widow costume, Dave in his Stormtrooper getup aside from the helmet that sat on the other side of his body, Halloween playing on the TV.

Mindless nibbling left you all out of candy within the first twenty minutes of the movie, your eyes now flickering to the single candy bar resting on the coffee table. You glanced over at Dave focused on the movie, your legs resting over his thighs, one of his hands rubbing over your shin, the other lifting a beer to his lips. With a grin, you leaned in and grabbed the candy, the bottle being lowered from his lips as he looked over at you with a disbelieving expression.

You kept eye contact with him as you slowly peeled open the golden wrapper, his brow raising as though to warn you. With a chuckle you moved the bar closer to your mouth, his lips parting as you took a bite out of it, humming at the taste. “Mm, so good.”

“That was mine,” his voice was quiet but no less stern.

“Well, the ring on my finger says what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine.” You challenged, tipping the bar towards him with a smirk. Dave gave you a half smile, looking absolutely devious, shaking his head as you ate the remaining bit. “Mm, you’re right. Those are good.”

Before you had time to gasp, Dave was on you, tasting the chocolate on your lips and tongue with his own, his hands lowering down from your face to your sides, your sides to the valley of your legs. You gasped into his mouth as he ripped the seam of your black catsuit open, exposing your pussy and ass. He pulled back, half knelt on the cushion, admiring you as you laid spread eagle on the couch, your head propped up by some throw pillows to allow you a glimpse as well.

“Well, if that’s true,” he spoke condescendingly but you loved it. Dave brought two fingers to your clit, rubbing circles around it until you were twitching. “Then I may as well just take something of yours to make us even.”

“Yeah, whatcha gonna take, daddy?” Dave lifted an eyebrow at the pet name, his eyes glued to yours as he slowly lowered his fingertips to your entrance, ghosting over it and teasing you until you were bucking your hip forward. “Please.”

“You took your time teasing me,” he leaned back over your body and pressed his lips against yours in a teasing peck, pulling away every time you tried to deepen it. He was grinning down at you, his hand now cupping your heat but not stimulating it at all. “I’m gonna enjoy this just like you did.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’ll get you a king sized bar to make up for it—OH,” he cut off your bargaining with two thick fingers shoved inside of you, the flimsy white plastic “armor” of his costume pressing against your chest as he held you down with his weight, his lips on yours swallowing down all the little sounds you were making just for him.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes. “Cum for me so I can have a taste of my actual favorite candy.”

“Fuck,” he was curling in and out at such a fast past that the entire couch was shaking, his fingertips punching up against the spot inside of you that always led to you soaking him. You let out a strangled groan, your head falling back against the couch and digging in as you tried not to pass out from the pleasure, whining a warning to him when you felt your climax starting to build. “Dave, fuck…gonna make me squirt.”

He growled at the whiny whimper you spoke through, desperate, needy, and wrecked—just the way he liked you best.

“There it is,” he grinned as he felt you grow wetter and wetter, pussy fluttering before you were squirting all over his wrist and costume, his lips on yours to muffle your screams. He cupped your pussy again as you came down, knowing how sensitive you must’ve been and not wanting to overstimulate you quite yet. “Mm, let’s see…”

You peeled your eyes open to watch him lift his soaked fingers to his lips, sucking them clean one at a time, his eyes closing as he moaned at the taste, your pussy twitching at the sight.

“Mm, so good.” He repeated your teasing words from earlier as his eyes opened to meet yours. You grinned and shook your head at him, pulling his fingers into your own mouth to taste what remained, your hums around his fingers earning you a growl. “Get upstairs, Black Widow. This Stormtrooper wants some more candy before bed.”

“If I wasn’t so turned on I’d call you a nerd, Mr. York.” You teased, standing up and gasping at just how big the hole he ripped at your crotch was. Dave just stared proudly as he followed you up the stairs, eyes glued to your dripping arousal.

“Call me a nerd, Mrs. York. I don’t care. Long as you let me taste you again you can call me whatever you want.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #dave york fanfic #dave york x reader #dave york #dave york smut #spooktacular ‘22

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domidextrus · 2 years

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Welp, so much for praising Fresh n Rebel! After only one and a half months of having used that new pair of headphones and gritting my teeth through the discomfort on the auricles as well as the recurring bluetooth syncing problems, it snapped like a Twix bar. All I did was gently remove it from my head and the plastic broke instantly.

Good thing that I still have those cheap-ass Unotec headphones, and that I can connect it directly to my phone through a 3.5mm jack plug cable and a USB-C adapter in order to avoid the ear-scraping background noise it makes from the bluetooth signal. The irony in this turn of events is so thick that not even a lightsaber could cut through it.

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artemistsukiko · 2 years

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Sun 4/17/22

¾ cup coffee with caramel almond creamer

Leftover Mcdouble

3 bites macaroni salad

4 wontons, 2 Peeps

6oz Pepsi, biscuit

Glazed ham, stuffing, cranberry sauce, half sweet potato, biscuit

Meds & supplements - digestive enzymes, moody bird, multivitamin, sertraline

Slice chocolate mousse cake, 8oz Pepsi

Made glaze for ham, peeled and cut eggs, put garlic butter on the rolls

—

Mon 4/18/22

3 mini dark chocolates, some sour cream & onion chips

~9oz Apple Hint water, plain bagel with chicken salad, 2 pickle spears, ~10oz Coke

Black and white cookie, 1 rainbow cookie, 8oz raspberry ice tea

Ham soup, 2 biscuits

Meds & supplements - digestive enzymes, moody bird, multivitamin, sertraline

Slice chocolate mousse cake

Bank, Rite Aid, King Kullen

—

Tues 4/19/22

Egg sandwich - 2 eggs, oat milk, pinch sugar, salt, pepper, ketchup, dill, wheat bread

Little Bites chocolate chip mini muffins

Chocolate peanut butter Kind bar

6oz Sprite, buffalo chicken slice, plain cheese slice, 1 garlic knot

Meds & supplements - digestive enzymes, moody bird, multivitamin, sertraline

Salad with cesar dressing

20oz cherry vanilla Coke

Put away laundry, Richard Ramirez docu

—

Wed 4/20/22

5 garlic knots, Little Bites banana mini muffins, 2 slices American cheese & some saltines, 3 Milano cookies

Little Bites chocolate chip mini muffins

Watermelon Mountain Dew

5 taquitos with ranch and bbq, 6oz pink lemonade

Meds & supplements - digestive enzymes, moody bird, multivitamin, sertraline

Rewatched ending of Beastars and started season 2, sorted through clothing bins, put lots of laundry away, have a large garbage bag of clothes to donate

—

Thurs 4/21/22

6oz pink lemonade, mini Dove chocolate & mini Twix

Burger with pickles, tomatoes, ketchup, and Chick-fil-A sauce

6oz Sprite, 1 small bottle Fiji (11.15oz)

Potato taco, chicken chalupa, ⅔ beef crunchwrap, ⅓ large Pepsi

Meds & supplements - digestive enzymes, moody bird, multivitamin, sertraline

Visit Yoel

—

Fri 4/22/22

Peanut butter and dark chocolate Kind bar

6oz apple juice, leftover crunchwrap, potato taco

3 bbq pork rinds, 3 chips ahoy, 11.5oz Arizona

2 rainbow cookies

Asparagus with butter & garlic, pork chop, 6oz Coke

Meds & supplements - adaptogenic mushrooms, digestive enzymes, magnesium, moody bird, multivitamin, rhodiola, sertraline, shatavari, veggie omega

Mini watermelon Air Head, 6oz Coke, ~3.7oz Fiji

Watch more of Beastars S2, clean bookcase, clean AC and in front of it, vacuum, laundry

—

Sat 4/23/22

6oz Coke

Sargento cheese & cracker snacks, 2 Milano cookies

Sip of lemonade Mountain Dew

Coke, 2 mac n cheese balls, some mashed potatoes & asparagus & fried chicken, half a slice tiramisu cheesecake

Most of a package of almond Pocky

Meds & supplements - digestive enzymes, moody bird, multivitamin, sertraline

Little can of space Coke

Shopped at 99 Ranch, Cheesecake Factory date with Daniel, randomly saw Venessa and Marlene there, Daniel summarized the first Fantastic Beasts movie for me, watched the second, brain got very confused

#april 2022

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wkemeup · 4 years

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Eclipse

summary: When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 8.4k warnings: canon level violence, hurt!reader, PTSD, dissociative episode, nightmares, a rapid switch from sweet/fluffy to pain, angst with a happy ending

An eclipse finds its home in the darkness Thriving as it suffocates the sun and shadows her light In its passage she lays in wait Waiting— for the moon to give way and grant her morning

Bucky thinks he’s found heaven when he lays with you under the cover of thin, linen sheets; the soft, white of the fabric touching over curves and edges of exposed bodies, peaks and dips, like snowcaps nestled upon the crest of mountaintops. Lying flushed with heat, hearts beating a little faster, breaths a little labored, Bucky reaches out and traces the lines of your face.

The tip of his finger brushes over your nose, slips down along your jaw, touches the sun kissed stream of light against your cheek as it seeps in through the sheet thrown over your heads. You giggle as he pulls you in for a kiss, chaste and sweet, his hand curling into the hairs at the nape of your neck and he tugs you closer. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world, the way you laugh to his lips, muffled in his kiss but still uncontained.

Hidden under sheets, shared breaths between you in your own little world, Bucky decides he will be content if he stays here forever.

“I won’t be gone long, you know,” you tell him as you press lightly on his chest, just enough to get draw his attention away from the trail of kisses along your cheekbone and down your jawline. He pouts playfully at you, but you soothe your hand along his shoulder, recognizing the shift in energy as his eyes flicker a shade of hesitancy. “I’ll can handle myself.”

“It’s not that,” he replies quietly, voice soft, barely a whisper, as his smile begins to fall. It’s subtle, but you notice.

“Then what?”

Bucky shrugs, swallowing back the anxiety that begins to pool deep into his stomach every time you leave on assignment. But he pushes out a smile, one you do not question, and he leans in to kiss the button of your nose.

“I’ll just miss you, is all.”

You grin and it lights up wide across your face. The cast of sunshine behind you as it filters in through the sheets tossed over your body drapes down like a halo, an illumination of an angel, and Bucky commits the image to memory. Stored to a safe place in the back of his mind for the dark nights alone in this room. He’ll find you those moments, even when you’re miles away.

“You’re a sap, Bucky Barnes,” you laugh, ruffling his hair as you toss the sheet up from over your faces and take in a deep breath of fresh air. It’s brighter in the room than you realized and you squint your eyes, tucking your face to the crook of Bucky’s neck to shield yourself from the sun.

“Only for you, sweetheart.” He tries to ignore the bright red flicker of the clock beside you as he crawls out from under the safety of the bedsheets, the fantasy fractured by the reminder of your impending assignment; four weeks in a classified location, entirely on your own.

A smile presses tight to his lips as you steal a glance back at him full of bright eyes and sunshine.

He does his best to swallow the anxiety though it churns like blades through his stomach.

***

Bucky paces back and forth in his room, stealing looks at his phone as it sits face up on the bedside table. He taps the screen every few seconds, as soon as it dares to fade to black, so he can see your face again; the picture of you laughing behind an ice cream bar melting down your hand. A shimmering red bow and mouse ears on the top of your head from your trip to Disney last spring. He can still smell the melted vanilla and hardened chocolate when he looks at it and he tries hard to focus on the memory, but he knows it’s an excuse to make sure he doesn’t miss your call.

Tap.

Still nothing.

You’ve been gone over a week now and though he does his best to busy himself with time spent sparring with Sam in the gym, running out along the lake behind the compound, cleaning the kitchen until the stench of bleach burns up to the floor above him, you’re still at the forefront of his mind.

He knows you’re safe. He knows that you can protect yourself and that you were capable of solo missions long before Bucky came crash-landing into your life, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying. It doesn’t stop the incessant twitching in his hands as he curls them to fists, doesn’t stop the frantic pacing and the wear he drives into the carpet, doesn’t stop the panic that skips the beat of his heart when it’s two minutes past check-in and you haven’t called.

“Stop it,” he grumbles to himself, “she’s fine. Stop worrying. She’s fine.”

Another glance back at the phone. Tap-tap on the screen until it lights up with your smile. Nothing.

Three minutes past check-in.

He has half a mind to track down Fury himself when suddenly, the phone rings.

A ringtone you’d changed early in your relationship - a synthetic, almost electric, instrumental of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You right when the music starts to pick up and the trumpets are blaring and it throws him straight into overdrive.

Bucky lunges it at, hands fumbling for the phone but it falls to the floor in his hurry. He hits his shoulder against the edge of the nightstand with a loud thump and collapses down to the carpet as the phone bounces down under the bed.

“God-fuckin’-- ugh!”

He grips tight to the phone by the chime of ‘I love you, baby!’ and quickly brings it to his ear. He’s out of breath but he stills himself, takes a moment before he says anything and he hopes his voice is calmer than the rush in his chest.

“Hi.”

You snicker on the other end of the line and he knows in an instant he’s been busted. “Thought I told you not to wait by the phone, Buck.”

“I wasn’t.” A full faced lie. He grimaces as it comes out.

“Sure, you weren’t,” you drawl, a laugh tucked sweetly into the hum of your voice.

Bucky can hear floorboards squeaking faintly through the speaker between your breaths. Old wood, the whistle of the wind in the distance; a motel built in the early sixties with poor insulation and cracking foundations. He wonders where you are or if the image of you pacing amongst faded shades of burnt orange and green curtains, of once brightly colored comforters and pealing wallpaper only exists in his imagination.

“You okay?” he asks first because he needs the confirmation. Despite hearing the even tones in your breath, the sweet laughter in your voice, he needs to hear you say it.

“Always am, honey,” you respond lightly and Bucky lets himself take in a deep breath before you add, “I miss you though. It’s awfully cold here and I could really use a super soldier to keep me warm.”

It makes him smile; the first one that pushes up into his cheeks without force since you left. God, he misses you.

“Don’t go calling Steve now, okay?” he teases, the anxiety draining from his body in gentle waves, cast out by the flow of ocean water through his bloodstream in the sound of your voice and the image of your smile as you tug your lower lip between your teeth.

“Never. I prefer my men one-armed and dangerous.”

Bucky laughs as he sinks down further onto the floor, the carpet rubbing against his tailbone though he doesn’t mind. He’s grinning, listening to the sound of your voice as you tell him about how much you’re craving popcorn and chocolate chip movie nights and he feels like you’re sitting right next to him. He can see the creases in your smile, the lines by your eyes, the faint markings of old scars on your skin. He hears your voice and it reminds him of home.

“It’s beautiful here, Buck,” you sigh and he wonders if you’re staring out a window to mountains or ocean or tundra. “I wish you could see it.”

“Where is ‘here’ again?”

You giggle and—God—it's the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, even crackled and broken through the speakers of an old satellite phone miles away. “Nice try, baby.”

The timer on his watch starts to ding and his heart clenches.

“Time’s up, huh?” you whine playfully, but he can hear the disappointment in your voice. It’s never long enough, these three minutes that Steve allows for you, but he’ll take seconds if he can get them. Just long enough to calm his nerves, to give you the motivation to keep going on your own, without the possibility of the call being traced.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, clenching at his hand. He brushes closed knuckles against his forehead, presses deep into his temples because he can already feel the pit in his stomach forming again. “Stay safe, alright? Come home to me.”

He pictures your smile, the soft edges and the curve of your lips.

“Always do, don’t I?”

You do. He knows this.

But his mind is cruel and it wonders when the day will come when you won’t.

***

“I’ll raise a Kit-Kat,” Bucky concedes nearly two weeks later with a tired huff, tossing a chocolate bar to the center of the table to accompany a handful of M&M’s and mini-Twix. It knocks over Natasha’s carefully constructed tower of Milkyways and she shoots him a warning glare.

To his right, Sam snickers under his breath, a laugh too confident for a man with a dwindling stash of chocolate in front of him to the mountain sitting beside Natasha. He hides his face behind the fan of cards, but Bucky can still see the crease in his brow, the pinch of lines together at the center that tell him Sam is bluffing. Natasha is as stone cold as he would expect and he has no interest in challenging her resolve, so he decides to weed out Wilson first.

“When’s your girl getting back, Barnes? Think you might need her around to console you after I obliterate your snack drawer,” Sam taunts, changing the subject abruptly. Another tell of his.

“End of the week, I think,” Bucky replies with a shrug, playing it off casually because he knows Sam is trying to throw him off his game.

“As if you aren't counting down the seconds.” Natasha scoffs, a smirk pushing at pursed lips.

“You're an absolute goner for her, you know that don’t you?” Sam says as he pushes a few more M&M’s to the center. Brightly colored pile at the center and he plops one from his own stash into his mouth.

Bucky, meanwhile, chews on the inside of his cheek, avoiding Sam’s wandering eyes because he knows it’s true. You’ve only been together a little under a year, but he’s spent twice that loving you from a careful distance, just out of fingertip’s reach until he’d come back from a mission with one too many bullet wounds in his body and he couldn’t take the tension between you anymore.

He could still picture the smile on your face as he told you, the way your eyes lit up and you jumped into his arms; IV drips and wires to machines and all. The press of warm lips to his cheek, his temples, his nose, his mouth. Sun streaming in through the window and casting a halo behind your hair.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Atta boy.” Sam nudges Bucky’s arm, grinning wildly.

They turn to Natasha as she nods in approval before setting her cards down on the table with the kind of look in her eyes that tells Bucky the game was over before it even began. Royal Flush.

“Not again!” Sam whines, slumping down into his chair.

“It’s starting to feel cruel playing with the two of you.” Natasha reaches into the center and gathers the mountain of chocolate to drag it towards her towering pile. She starts to unravel a mini-Twix, keeping a taunting eye on Sam as he glares back at her. The chocolate passes behind parted lips and she bites down with a contented hum.

Sam rolls his eyes. “You owe us drinks, ma’am.” He gestures to his empty glass.

Natasha smirks, conceding easily as she stands to grab their glasses. She turns to Bucky. “You want a refill, Barnes?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

As Natasha makes her way back to the kitchen, Sam sneaks a few M&M’s from her pile and quickly plops them into his mouth with a cautious glance over his shoulder. Bucky begins to shuffle the cards and he can feel the burn of Sam’s stare even before he opens his mouth.

“What do you want, Wilson?”

“When’s Y/n coming back? For real.”

Bucky glances up. Sam’s arms are stretched out along the backs of the empty chairs beside him. He’s relaxed into his position, chewing on the stolen chocolates as he raises an eyebrow.

“End of the week... like I said.”

Sam leans in closer. “That a question?”

“No,” Bucky retorts shortly, though Sam clearly isn’t buying it. He exhales a tense breath as he bridges the deck. “She’s supposed to call tonight. Longest stretch without a checkpoint since she left.”

Sam nods. “What about the three minute calls?”

“Last one was four days ago. Same day she checked in with Fury.”

“You worried?”

Bucky slices the deck. Shuffles it for the fifth time. Bridge. Repeat. “Course not. I’m sure she’s fine. I’m not worried at all.”

“You sure?” Sam chuckles, leaning back into his chair with another quick grab of a few stray green M&M’s.

“Fuck off, Wilson.”

That gets Sam laughing. He reaches across the table and snatches the cards out of Bucky’s hands before he can shuffle for a seventh time. He flashes Bucky a smile, dimples into his cheeks and all.

“I’m dealing this round.”

Bucky nods, letting the tension slip easily from his muscles. He pushes out a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

But then, a glass shatters behind him and Bucky jolts up to his feet.

“Nat? Are you--”

He freezes in an instant, tension burning through him like marble; the full force of a train straight to his chest and knocking the wind from his body, fracturing the stone to pieces around him.

Natasha stands just a few paces ahead of him, her hands clasped at her mouth in an array of shock and horror, glass shattered at her feet. Ice along wooden floors and the smell of vodka burning into the air.

Bucky almost doesn’t recognize you. There’s a slump in your shoulders, a far off look in your eye like you can’t quite focus on what’s in front of you, and a knife in your hand that won’t stop shaking.

But that’s not the worst of it.

You’re covered in blood. Deep red seeping into your hair, sticking thick and wet to your face and down your neck; trails of it along your cheeks like raindrops against a windowpane. It soaks into what remains of your suit, ripped and torn, exposed skin stained with grim and dirt. You look like something out of a horror movie.

“Oh God,” Sam mutters out, pulling Bucky from his trance.

He wants to sprint, wants to scream for help and sound every alarm he can find, but instead, Bucky only manages broken exhale as he slowly walks towards you. He moves with cautious steps, a hand out towards you defensively, like he’s approaching a frightened animal. It’s what you used to do when the line between him and the Soldier blurred, how you’d seek him out amongst the trauma and distortion and bring him back home.

“Y/n?” he calls gently and finds his voice rough in his throat.

You don’t respond, don’t even look at him as he stands within a foot of your reach. Nat and Sam are close behind, but they hold their distance.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Bucky asks as evenly as he can manage, eyes glancing down over your body in search of injuries. There’s too much blood and he doesn’t know how much of it is your own. He wants to tug you into his arms, tell you that he’s got you, that you’re safe now, but for the first time since Shuri removed the triggers from his head, he’s afraid to touch you.

Your lips part, a few short blinks of your lashes, and you mumble out, “I came to find you.”

Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It’s too flat, too void of emotion, and it rips Bucky right to his core. It’s a defense mechanism, he knows that. You’re still in there somewhere, he just needs to get you through this first.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” he tells you, trying his luck as he sets a hand on your back. You don’t flinch, but you don’t lean into him either. He shares a worried glance with Sam and Natasha before he turns back to you, pushing out a smile. “You did good.”

“How did she get all the way here from the Hanger without anyone stopping her?” Sam questions, eyes trailing over the mess of blood in your wake, footprints following you from the staircase by the elevator.

“She’s covered in blood and God knows what else,” Natasha whispers back. “They were probably afraid of what might happen if they did.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from you, vision tunneling on the mess of blood rooted in your hair and the stains of red on your face, your chest, your hands. Natasha and Sam’s voices become muffled beside him as he slides his hand down your back and gently lays it over your grip, still shaking as you hold onto the heel of the knife as if your fist had molded to stone around it. The tremors stop as he holds your hand.

“It’s okay, honey,” he whispers, impossibly soft that not even Nat or Sam hear him, “I need you to give me the knife, alright? You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

It takes a moment, but your grip on the knife slacks. It falls to Bucky’s palm and he gently guides it out of your reach and hands it over to Natasha. He doesn’t know what happened, but he knows what you’ve done for him when the Soldier has taken over his mind, when he didn’t feel like himself and needed reminded who he was, where the ground was solid under his feet.

He knows what he needs to do.

“Nat,” he starts, but she’s already a step ahead of him.

“I’ll go find Steve,” she says, like she can read his mind. “I’ll tell him what happened, see what he knows about her assignment that would have led to this.”

Bucky swallows back the bile in his throat and he nods. “Sam--”

“I’ll sweep the jet, see what I can find,” Sam replies quickly. He sets a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, gives it a slight squeeze, and pushed out a tight-lipped smile. He was your friend long before he was Bucky's. The determination reads in his eyes.

"Thank you,” Bucky whispers.

Sam and Natasha disappear down the hallway and then, Bucky is left alone with you. He’s suddenly made aware of how harsh your breathing sounds, like you’re gasping in air through a straw. You stare beyond his shoulders, though he can tell you’re not looking at anything at all. You’re existing. It’s all your mind can cope with.

“Love?” Bucky calls, willing his voice stronger than it is. “Can you come with me?”

You don’t respond. Bucky clenches his jaw and tries again.

“I’m going to take you to our room, alright?”

He thinks it’s better not to present you with choices. It never worked well with him when he got this like; too much stimulation. He knows you’ll resist him if you need to. He slips his hand along your back to guide you towards the bedroom and you take a step as he does.

You’re limping, he notices, as you cross the threshold into the bedroom. He tries to push his mind away from what caused such an injury, what could have possibly happened to result in the amount of blood drenched over you.

That’s Sam and Natasha’s job. Bucky’s only concern is you right now, in this moment, bringing you home, making you feel safe. He guides you to the bathroom.

“I’m going to start the water, okay?” Bucky tells you. You used to do the same for him, telling him what you were doing step by step in an effort to orient him. It grounded him back to his reality, brought him down from the plane of existence above his own head.

The room starts to fill with steam, enough to fog the mirrors, and Bucky tugs his shirt over his head. He removes his sweatpants, but he resolves to leave his boxers on.

“Sweetheart?”

You look in his direction and Bucky can’t help the wash of relief as it floods through him. You don’t smile and it’s almost as if you’re looking straight through him, but it’s something. Progress.

He extends a hand to you, waiting patiently. Though you do not take it, you step a take closer to him, then past him as you walk into the shower fully clothed in your tattered suit. Bucky steps in behind and closes the glass door.

There’s enough room inside that he can stand comfortably behind you as you approach the stream of water. You stare at it for a moment before you reach out and let the water fall over your hand. You watch as the water around the drain begins to turn a dark red.

“I’m going to wash this off. Is that okay, honey?” Bucky reaches steadily for the loofa behind you, though he pauses as he feels the texture of the sponge: exfoliating mesh. It’ll be too much for you in this state. He resolves for the body wash squeezed into his empty palm.

“You let me know if you need a break.”

Still, there’s no response.

Bucky pushes back the burning lump in his throat and gingerly reaches towards you. He places a soap lathered palm against your shoulder and finds your muscles so tense they could have been made of steel or the vibranium seared into his own arm. You stare at his chest as if you could see through to his heart, maybe beyond that to the shower wall behind him, as he begins to peel the dried blood and grim from your skin.

The water at his feet becomes muddied and red, the water slipping down your legs tainted by the aftermath of violence laid upon your body. He’s careful to only use his flesh hand as he washes you, something softer and kinder than the harsh touch of metal.

You start to relax the more he works, your rigid stance easing as the blood cleans from your body. Your suit is still plastered to your skin, ripped and torn and cut open, and Bucky knows he needs to get this off of you. There’s blood behind the fabric, seeped behind the open slashes.

He thinks of the softest clothes he has to dress you in when you’re clean and dry, something too big for your frame that smelled of fresh laundry or maybe the sweatshirt draped over the chair – the one you liked to wear when he was out on missions because it smelled like him. He just wants you to feel safe, to feel warm and protected.

But he needs to get you out of this suit first.

He reaches for the zipper at your chest and the next thing he knows, he’s pressed up against the shower wall, his head pulsing at the impact as you grip tight to his wrist. You’re panting, eyes unfocused at the center of his chest.

He lets you hold him there. He doesn’t try to resist though he knows with his strength he could easily overpower you.

“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Bucky,” he tries, his voice soft against the fall of water behind you. “I’m not going to hurt you, love.”

You don’t move, but your breaths start to come in a little more even. Your grip falters on his wrist though you don’t let go. His heart feels like it’s shattering inside his chest, stray shards embedding themselves into his stomach, his ribs, his lungs.

“Honey, look at me,” he pleads. “You’re safe now. You’re home. Let me take care of you.”

It takes a moment, but your eyes begin to trail up his collarbone, hesitant sweeps along his neck, his jaw, and then – his eyes. The hard resolve upon your features begins to crumble. Your lip quivers, your hand gripped tight around his wrist slacking in the tremors, tears burn into your eyes and Bucky doesn’t waste a moment before he gathers you into his arms, presses you tight to his chest and encases you against him.

It's like something finally clicks, a floodgate burst open, because you’re clutching onto him like a lifeline. He can feel the sob as it travels up your spine and shakes your body as you cry. He’s grateful for the mist of the shower that hide his own tears as he rubs gentle circles along your back, easing you the best he can. It’s torture seeing you like this and feeling so powerless to help.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there with you, but eventually, you stop crying. The exhaustion begins to take hold and your legs begin to shake under you, too weak to hold yourself up.

“I’m going to take your suit off, okay? You’ll be more comfortable without it,” Bucky says, gesturing to the zipper. You follow his gaze in understanding and then, you nod.

The suit already clings tight to your skin without the added pressure of the sticky residue of blood drenched into the fabric and the soak of water from the shower. He slides the zipper down to your navel and slowly peels what's left of the sleeves off your shoulders.

There’s cuts and slashes underneath, wounds where blades had cut through your suit and nicked your skin. They’re superficial, better than they could have been if not for the suit taking the brunt of the attack, but they’re still painful to look at.

Bucky helps you step out of the suit and he leaves it in the corner of the shower. He glances at your underwear and you slide it down your hips without question.

“Can I wash your hair, honey? Please?”

You nod and Bucky works quickly. You’re starting to shiver as the water loses its heat, so you stand a little closer to him, seeking out his warmth. It removes just an ounce of the boulder sitting upon his chest.

When he’s finished, the water at the drain is clear again. The fresh scars upon your body and the distant look in your eye the only evidence remaining of what happened.

Bucky reaches around you to turn off the water. He pulls a towel from the rack and begins to gently pat it over your skin until you’re dry. Then, he scrunches out as much of the water as he can from your hair, before he leaves the towel resting on your shoulders to soak up the rest.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you as he finished drying himself off. “I’m going to go grab some clothes for you.”

He doesn’t even make it a step out of the bathroom before your hand is on his wrist again. He stills, looking back at you. Your eyes fall to the floor.

Bucky swallows back the burn in his throat as he nods. “Okay. Okay, honey. Can you come with me?”

You nod.

By the time you’re dressed in a fresh pair of his boxers and the t-shirt he slept in the previous night, you can hardly keep your eyes open. He wonders how long it’s been since you slept, if maybe it was since the evening he spoke to you four days prior. You sway on your feet as Bucky guides you to the bed.

He lays you down, pulls the covers up to your chest and quickly rushes around to the other side of the bed to crawl in beside you. You come into his arms, curling up against his chest, and Bucky tries to pretend for a moment that this is just another night, that you just returned from a successful mission and there’s a relief in holding you again.

But he can’t shake the crippling dread as it burns into his skin. Even as your breaths fall even and you slack into his arms, Bucky stares up at the ceiling, eyes brimming with tears. He doesn’t sleep at all.

***

A few hours later, the soft tap of a knock draws Bucky from his trance. He blinks a few times, realizing how long he’d been staring up at the ceiling before he lifts his head and finds Steve peering in through the doorway. There’s a solemn look on his face as his eyes flicker towards you.

Bucky gently slides out from under you, careful to place a pillow under your arm where you’d been laying upon his chest as not to wake you. The bed rises a little as he stands and he takes a moment to brush the hair from your eyes before he makes his way to the door. When he meets Steve in the hallway, he’s careful to leave the door to the bedroom open a crack, just in case.

“What did you find?” Bucky asks.

Steve sinks down onto the couch. A hand brushes over his face.

“That bad?” Bucky can already feel the nausea beginning to take hold.

“We recovered footage from her last know whereabouts – the safe house in Juno,” Steve says. He leans forward to rest his elbows upon his thighs, staring out into the empty space of the kitchen. He sighs. “She was ambushed, Buck. The feed cut out a few minutes into the fight.”

“Who were they?” Bucky chokes out. His throat is made of sandpaper.

“We don’t know,” Steve admits, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Mercenaries, probably. Could have been hired in retaliation against SHEILD. Her mission was to identify the point of contact for an illegal arms distributor that was shipping assault rifles into Canada and carrying them over the border. She wasn’t supposed to see any action, Bucky. It was a surveillance op.”

Bucky doesn’t realize how tight his hands are clenched until he looks down to find puncture marks in the palm of his right hand from where his nails buried into his skin. He thinks of the woman who left him behind that morning, with sun kissed skin and a smile so sweet it made his heart melt, who has barely spoken in the hours since returning home, who’s bright eyes have dimmed into something empty and lost.

He’s missing something, he’s sure of it. Maybe if he could just see the footage for himself, identify the bad guys, track them down... maybe he’ll be able to fix this. He could bring you back, make you smile again. Killing those men who hurt you will be a small consolation prize for his efforts.

Bucky is determined as he stands. “I want to see it.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve shoots back. Bucky doesn’t even need to clarify before Steve puts an end to it. “What purpose will that serve, Buck? You don’t need to see the tape, okay? Just trust me on this. I’ve got everyone we have analyzing that video frame by frame. If there’s anything on it to lead us to those assholes, we’ll find it.”

“I have to do something, Steve. I can’t just sit here. Not with her like that...” Bucky glances back at the door to the bedroom. He can’t muster the energy to conjure the image of you standing before him drenched in blood that was not your own, a vacant look in your eyes as if you could see straight through him.

“She needs you here,” Steve argues, rising to his feet. “What do you think will happen when she wakes up and I’ve gotta tell her you’ve run off on some vengeance mission? That you’ve left her alone to face this by herself?”

“That’s not what I’m doing—”

“Yes, it is!” Steve clenches his jaw as his voice echoes into the hall. It’s quiet for a moment and they listen for the bed to squeak, for any sign that you’re awake, but they’re only met with silence, Steve relaxes again. He takes a step forward and places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It startles him for a moment, but he can feel the tension as it melts in his muscles. “Just be here for her, man. When there’s something to know, I’ll tell you.”

Bucky keeps his stare on the thin crack in the door, the moonlight peering in from the window and seeping out into the hallway. He listens for the even breaths as you sleep soundly for the first time in days and he knows Steve is right. He doesn’t know if he could leave you like this even if Steve handed him the direct files of every man who laid a hand on you.

“I should get back to her,” Bucky resolves, offering Steve as much of a grateful smile as he can manage. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Steve understands.

***

It takes days before Bucky can get you to leave the bedroom. He’s only been able to get a few words out of you here and there, short answers to direct questions, and you can’t hold his eye for very long, but he takes it as improvement.

It’s the small steps.

He remembers you saying that when he was at his worst, when he could barely get himself out of bed, when he could hardly touch you without fear of breaking you in half, when the guilt tore and ate through him unchallenged.

So, every time you lift you head when he speaks, when you glance in his direction, when you nod in answer of a question, when you curl against his side and seek out his warmth – it matters. It’s more than what you were able to do the day before and that has meaning.

When you finally do venture out into the living room, Bucky is sure to keep a hand on you at all times. Whether it’s wrapped up tightly in your own, pressed gently to the small of your back, resting against your thigh, over your shoulders – it helps to ground you, remind you that he’s there. You start to drift off into yourself otherwise.

Meanwhile, everyone else is walking on eggshells around you.

Tony turns out of the room before he can even step foot into the kitchen when he sees the back of your head over the couch. Peter is constantly shoveling food into his mouth to keep from his usual rambling one-sided conversations. Steve is deceptively quiet, constantly glancing in your direction as if he’s just waiting for something to set you off. Even Natasha keeps her distance, which surprises him. She stays in the room but she keeps to the corners, observing, like Steve.

Sam, on the other hand, was never one for subtleties.

“Hey kiddo!” Sam throws himself onto the couch beside you, bowl of popcorn in his hand as it jumps up into the air before landing back safely in the bowl.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion next you and Bucky all but stares daggers into Sam for startling you. Bucky was trying to keep your environment as calm as possible as not to set you off into one of those dissociative states again. It could take hours just to get you to acknowledge his voice after that and Bucky can only take that so many times before he’ll simply crumble.

“You know what I’ve been dying to watch?” Sam says aloud, as if someone is listening to him. He shovels a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

“Sam, no.” Bucky warns as he pulls you closer to his side. That movie has far too much violence, even for an eighties film. He doesn’t know how you’ll react to it.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam shoots back. He settles into the couch beside you, grinning as he turns in your direction. “Come on, Y/n. It’s been ages since we’ve watched Indie. I know the first is your favorite anyway.”

Bucky is all but ready to clock Sam ten ways to Sunday when you mutter out a quiet, “okay” and Bucky stills completely. It's the first time you’ve even acknowledged anyone besides Bucky since you came home. He stares at Sam with wide eyes, but Sam doesn’t seem to be surprised at all.

Instead, Sam simply sinks into the cushions, turns on the movie he must have already lined up in the queue, and leans the bowl of popcorn in your direction.

Indiana Jones starts his first trek into the cave in search of the Golden Idol and you reach your hand into the bowl. A few bites of popcorn within the first minutes of the movie and it’s more than Bucky has been able to get you to eat without coercion in days. A whisper of a smile crosses your face as Sam almost chokes on the handful he shoved into his mouth.

Sam Wilson might be a massive pain in Bucky’s ass, but he’s a damn good friend. He’s the only one who hasn’t treated you like you’ve lost your mind. He gives you a sense of normalcy when the floor has been pulled out from under you.

For that, Bucky owes him everything.

***

Bucky finds out a week later that there are no bad guys to track down, no one to enact vengeance on for the trauma they’d put you through. There is a reason you came home covered in blood and grime with barely more than a few superficial scratches on your body.

You’d killed them all.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks Steve, hands planted firmly on the conference table. The night sky is littered in cloud covered stars beyond the windows, crickets chirping in the distance. Bucky stares down at the mug shots of a dozen men now presumed dead.

“We’re sure.” Steve slowly reaches out to gather the images, sliding them back into the file and out of sight. “We’re still working on who sent them but it was probably the arms dealer she was sent to identify. Fury’s sending out a team in the morning to bring him in.”

“That’s... that’s good.” Bucky doesn’t have the strength for revenge anymore. He’s grown tired of carrying it in his chest, on his shoulders, weighing him down as if sinking him to the trenches of an ocean.

“How’s she doing?” Steve asks, gesturing towards the doorway as they begin to walk back to the elevator.

“Better,” Bucky replies honestly.

He’s even seen you crack a smile a few times watching movies with Sam in the living room, maybe even heard a breath of laughter when Sam dropped an entire bowl of popcorn and threw a fit about it.

You’re talking to Bucky more, asking questions, starting brief conversations outside of the necessary ‘yes’ and ‘no’s, humming to yourself as you shower with Bucky standing just a few feet away. It’s something. Small steps.

“She’s strong, Buck. She’ll get through this.”

Bucky takes a deep breath as the elevator doors chime open. He presses the button for his floor. “I know. I just hate seeing her like this in the meantime.” The elevator reaches his floor and he waits as the doors begin to part. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Steve nods. “You got it, brother.”

Bucky makes his way down the hall from where he’d left you just a few hours earlier. You’d insisted that you’d be alright on your own while he met with Steve. Sam is still sitting on the couch watching Netflix just a few feet outside the bedroom, leaving a blanket of security in Bucky’s absence. He can hear Sam singing along to the theme song as he passes by.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he approaches the living room, but a sudden, gut wrenching scream stills him in his tracks.

Sam jumps up from the couch, popcorn spilling to the carpet and Bucky stares back at the cracked door to the bedroom with wide eyes. He exchanges a glance with Sam and as another scream echoes out into the hall in a broken cry, the two of them rush into the room.

Bucky shoulders his way through the door, breaking the hinges on the top of the frame as he stumbles his way inside. You’re lying on your stomach, arms clutched under the pillow, sweat dampened sheets kicked off down by your feet. You’re whimpering, tear tracks into the pillowcase and your whole body is trembling.

“Y/n?” Bucky calls as gently as he can, his voice breaking in the effort. He moves closer to the bed, his hand hovering over your shoulder, almost afraid to touch you. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

You cry out again, face contorting in pain as you press your face into the pillow.

“I should get Cho,” Sam says behind him, starting to inch towards the door, but Bucky barely hears him as he runs into the hallway.

“Come on, honey,” Bucky tries again. He sinks down to his knees beside the bed. His heart is stammering in his chest. It’s pounding so loudly he’s sure the whole compound can hear it. He feels the tears burn in his eyes as you start to sob. “You’re safe. You’re alright, love. I’m here with you. I’m here, baby.”

Bucky lets his hand ghost over your shoulder and he barely has a chance to react before you jolt upright and there’s a sudden, stinging sensation across his chest. Your eyes are wide, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. It takes a minute before Bucky sees the hilt of the knife gripped tight in your fist.

“Bucky?” you gasp. “What are you—Oh my God...”

The knife drops from your hold as your hands clasp against your mouth. It falls at Bucky’s knees. You’re trying to stifle a sob as it threatens to consume you whole and Bucky tries to reach out for you, but you scramble away from him, fearful eyes staring below his collarbone.

Slowly, Bucky follows your gaze to his chest. There he finds that his shirt is torn in a long, pristine cut. Blood begins to soak into the light grey of the fabric from the open wound underneath. The knife you’d held in your hand bares his blood upon the blade.

“What have I done?!” you cry, shaking your head as you scurry off of the bed and into the corner of the room. You sink to the floor and Bucky shakes himself of his stupor to rush towards you.

“I’m alright,” he tries to reassure you, though he knows it’s no use. “Baby, I’m fine. It’s nothing. It’ll heal in a few hours. I’m okay.”

“Oh God, Oh God! No... I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to--” Your words are barely distinguishable, slurring together in your slobs, and you can barely catch your breath. You shake your head, fresh tears streaming on your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m-- I’m so s-sorry. I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Bucky coos. He can feel the itch of a tear as it passes his jawline. “Honey, I need you to breathe for me. Please, let me hold you. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

But your eyes are glued to the open sliver of his t-shirt, the blood as it soaks into the cotton, and the slash underneath. It only makes you cry more. Its uncontrollable, like you might pass out if you can’t allow yourself to take in enough air, and Bucky feels like he’s reaching out into a fucking void because there’s nothing he can do for you.

“Sergeant Barnes,” a stern voice calls suddenly from behind him. Helen Cho stands in the doorway with Sam just beyond her shoulder. She steps into the room, uncapping a syringe. “Hold her down.”

You’re in hysterics as Bucky pulls you into his arms. You don’t resist as you fall against his chest, but he can feel the unease with which you sit in your own body, like your skin is crawling and you’re caged inside of yourself. He knows the feeling well.

You barely notice as the needle punctures your neck, heavy head falling to rest against Bucky’s shoulder. He eases his left hand down your spine, hoping the chill of the metal will help soothe you as your breaths become more even and the sobs fall weak and far between.

“I’ve got you, honey,” he whispers. You start to close your eyes, giving into the sedative. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Just rest, love. I’ve got you.”

No one relaxes until it’s clear you’re out cold. Sam lets out a heavy sigh from the doorway, slumping into the arch. Helen sinks onto the floor beside Bucky, tossing the syringe into the disposal bag before she rubs a tired hand over her face.

Bucky feels like he can hardly breathe. He waits until Helen and Sam retire to their own rooms before he allows the lump in his throat to consume him whole, before the tears on his face mirror the watermarked stains on his shirt. He doesn’t move from the floor until sunrise, unwilling to disturb your sleep.

***

“I don’t know why you haven’t left me yet.”

The words pass your lips and they puncture straight through Bucky’s chest - like a knife embedded through his skin, nicking over bone and tearing through flesh. He feels sick, a wave of nausea crashing through him as he turns to look at you.

Your eyes are swollen red, lips chewed raw. It only takes a flicker of your gaze to the long faded pink scar across his chest to know what’s on your mind.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky says firmly.

You shake your head, unconvinced. “I could have killed you.”

“Don’t you go underestimating me, now,” Bucky teases, lighting his voice despite the burning ache he feels in his chest. He smiles at you but you can hardly meet his eye.

Your legs are swung over the bedside, hands wringing in your lap, reddening the skin. Your breaths are shaken, lower lip trembling, and he knows you’re trying to hold back tears. He can practically feel the lump building in your throat, suffocating you.

He sighs, sinking down to his knees in front of you. His hands reach out for your own and you flinch at his touch. It takes a moment before you can remind yourself who’s hands are holding you, who’s love you’re surrounded in, and you relax.

He thinks of the woman who taught him how to love again, who woke him from a decades long nightmare with the sweet touch of her hand and the adoration in her smile. He conjures the image of you he preserved before you left on your last mission, with sun kissed skin and laughter in your chest, as he stares up at the dark circles under your eyes, the frown upon your lips, the aching claws of shame draining you of the light you possessed.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He tips a finger under your chin and guides you to meet his eye. He smiles, softening under your gaze.

“You hold so much space in your heart for compassion and forgiveness,” Bucky eased, stroking his thumbs gently along the backs of your hands. “You never hesitated once to absolve me of my sins as the Winter Soldier. It didn’t matter how may nights I woke up empty, not knowing where or who I was. It didn’t matter how much I thought I was a burden to you and the team, or whether I deemed myself worthy enough to be loved by you. You were patient with me, kind beyond what I ever believed I could deserve. Can you not reserve some of that for yourself, too?”

He watches the sob creep up your spine before it breaks. There’s little more either of you can say and he resides to holding you in his arms, caged protectively against his chest where not even the demons lurking in the back of your mind can find you.

He knows, eventually, you’ll be okay. You taught him that. Even when the tunnel was its darkest, when he could barely see beyond the tips of his fingers, and the sun was cast over in shadows -- you showed him that as long as he kept walking, he’d find the light again.

***

“Come on, Y/n, what is the matter with you?”

Bucky hears you grumbling to yourself in the kitchen. He wipes the trail of sweat off his face from his morning run as he approaches the island covered in stray dollops of pancake batter, bottles of maple syrup, and mixing bowls. He smiles as he leans against the counter, waiting for you to notice him.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you groan, catching Bucky out of the corner of your eye as you dump a plate full of burnt pancakes into the sink. Your hair a little out of sorts, a bead of sweat dripping down your temple. It’s almost endearing if it wasn’t for how fast your heart was beating. Bucky could hear it down the hall.

“Missed you.” He shrugs casually, testing a smirk and you started to smile in return; all shy and sweet and full of the woman he adores. He glances to the mess in the kitchen and the smoke piling on the ceiling. “What happened here?”

“Pancakes aren’t my strongest suit.”

Bucky laughs at that. “I can see that.”

You sigh, scratching at the back of your neck. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, Bucky.”

Bucky can feel his heart sinking but he holds the smile to his face. “You do a thousand nice things for me all the time. Just being here is enough for me, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean,” you say under your breath, eyes falling to the floor by his feet. “After everything I put you through since that awful mission-”

“Hey, hey -- Don’t do that.” Bucky crosses the kitchen and places his hands gingerly on your cheeks, guiding your eyes back to his. “You didn’t do anything wrong; you hear me? You survived. You’re still surviving and I’m just... I’m so proud of you, Y/n.”

You part your lips to say more, to argue against him, but it dies on your tongue as Bucky smiles at you as if you hung the moon and the stars and every damn

“You don’t need to bring me coffee in the morning,” Bucky says before he presses a kiss to your forehead, “or bribe Stark into making new tech for my arm,” then a kiss to your nose, “or make me burnt pancakes to thank me for loving you through this.”

He pauses as he pulls back. You’re watching him with an expression somewhere between awe and relief, but it’s the warmth of your smile that does him in completely.

“We take care of each other, okay? That’s what we do,” Bucky says, leaning in to kiss your lips sweetly until he can feel the smile grow against his mouth. He pulls back, chuckling a bit under his breath. “Besides, I’m the last person who is going to be scared away by trauma.”

You laugh as you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer to his chest. Engulfed in the sweet smell of maple and butter and batter, Bucky feels a wash of calm for the first time since you left on that mission.

He thinks you may have finally found your way home.

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

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n

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what-a-silver-lining · 3 years

Text

Sugar and Spooks (But Mostly Just Sugar)

It's Grimmtober 2021!

Day 1: Candy

“Hey, honey, what’re you...” Henry stops his sentence short, making eye contact with Sabrina, mid-bite of her chocolate bar.

The slightly unhinged look in his eldest daughter’s eyes might have clued him in on the situation because he very quickly reassessed the situation.

“Alright. Great talk, honey, see you soon.”

or, Sabrina Grimm isn't a big fan of Halloween, but that doesn't apply to the sugary treats the holiday is known for.

Note: It’s been quite a while since I’ve written anything for the Sisters Grimm so bear with me, please! It’s also been QUITE a while since I’ve shared any of my work with the public, much less Tumblr, so that’ll be fun.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Sisters Grimm and I'm not MB. Just a fan partaking in a fandom even for Halloween :)

Some notes about this series: All the stories take place in no particular order of timeline. We’ll see about that though. It depends on how long I manage to keep this up. Not exactly canon-compliant since it’s been a hot minute since I’ve read the scripture, y’know?

So yeah, Briar’s alive (and whoever else I need for the purposes of the plot, I guess). Okay, I’ve kept you along for long enough, enjoy the first prompt!

Sabrina Grimm was not a big fan of Halloween.

Maybe she was, once upon a time, before losing her parents to a cult led by her long-lost grandmother’s magical mirror.

But the Sabrina who dressed up as the Sugar Plum Princess to go trick-or-treating around Manhattan would be very disappointed indeed at the Sabrina who grimaced at the thought of parading around in a silly costume and begging people for candy.

Which is precisely what Sabrina Grimm was doing as her younger sister begged her to take her trick-or-treating later that week.

“Please Sabrina?” Daphne begged, hands clasped together and face on the verge of breaking out into a pout. “Red and I’ve been working all month to figure out the optimus path for trick-or-treating!”

This, Sabrina knows, is very true. She’s had to chaperone a few late-afternoon adventures as the two girls timed each other on how fast they could run through the block to yield the most candy. But trailing behind her little sister and Red on the way home from school is very different from being forced to go trick-or-treating. Besides, she had plans.

“First of all Daphne, it’s optimal . And second of all, isn’t dressing up in Ferryport Landing pointless when half the people here look like they regularly shop at Spirit Halloween?” Heck, most of the people in the town have about a million variations of their likenesses up for sale in party stores around the country.

“But mom won’t let us out later unless we get someone older. She and Basil Jr. are just going to kill the mood if we have to stop before 5 pm!” Oh boy, here come the puppy eyes…

“Dad?”

“He’s too old and grumpy for Halloween.”

“And I’m not grumpy enough for you? Uh, how about Uncle Jake?”

“Already asked him. He said he’s going to a party with Briar. And something about a Monster Mash.”

“Granny? Canis? Snow? Charming?? ” Sabrina was running out of options at this point.

“Granny’s got some errands to run and Mr. Canis is going with her. If Snow takes us she won’t be there to give out giant chocolate bars, and If we ask Charming, then Snow won’t be able to convince him to give out his giant stash of imported fancy chocolate.” As Daphne counted off the options with her fingers, Sabrina felt her chance at a peaceful evening slip through her fingers.

Well… almost.

“What about Puck?” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Sabrina felt the soft halo of victory engulf her.

Fairy Boy was (more or less) the perfect candidate for Daphne and Red’s shenanigans— with the added bonus of keeping the trickster king from pulling any pranks on her in the spirit of the season.

With a quick shout of “You lucked out this time, Sabrina!” Daphne shot up the stairs in search of Puck. Presumably to work out a costume for him. There’s no chance that Puck will be able to say no to the opportunity to possibly pull a boatload of pranks on the houses that give out crappy candy.

Sabrina thinks that she’ll probably regret this decision by the end of the night on the 31st, but she’s mostly thinking about how nice it’ll be not to have to deal with Daphne on a sugar high on Halloween night.

And that’s exactly what she finds herself doing on the evening of the 31st. Not dealing with a hyperactive little sister or a prankster fairy boy with access to a million pounds of sugar. Sabrina’s confident she could probably handle Red, but she’s also never seen the Everafter girl eat a pixie stick.

None of that matters at this current moment, however, because by some stroke of luck, Sabrina is the only person currently in the Grimm household.

After double-checking that Elvis and her dad were actually out on their walk and that Puck wasn’t hiding behind any doors with an unpleasant surprise waiting for her, Sabrina let out a breath of relief.

Setting up the TV to one of the more classic seasonal reruns, Sabrina makes her way into the kitchen to retrieve her secret stash of candy. On the very bottom section of the higher shelf, out of reach of Daphne, and low enough to escape the direct view of Puck sits an inconspicuous box of generic raisin bran cereal.

Moving the box of cereal to the side reveals a second box of the same generic cereal box— gotta be careful in case her mom or dad suddenly crave a healthy dose of cereal for breakfast, right?

Again, moving that box of cereal to the side, right there . A box of plain, steel-cut oats remains the gateway between Sabrina and her secret candy stash.

Taking the box of oats with her back to the living room with the television, Sabrina spares one last cursory glance around the room to make sure there were no witnesses to her mini escapades.

The first treat of the night: a peanut butter cup.

Sabrina makes it through half the movie (and most of the peanut butter cups) before she switches to the next delicacy: a decent-sized milk chocolate bar.

As she’s about to take a big bite out of the bar, however, she hears the front door open.

Sabrina freezes, eyes wide as she realizes she’s probably been caught, and now Daphne and Puck are going to eat all her candy, and just after she’d saved up all the candy over the past couple of weeks. All that sneaking just for—.

“Hey, honey, what’re you...” Henry stops his sentence short, making eye contact with Sabrina, mid-bite of her chocolate bar.

The slightly unhinged look in his eldest daughter’s eyes might have clued him in on the situation because he very quickly reassessed the situation.

“Honestly, sweetie, I totally get it. I think Elvis and I should take an extended walk today, hm, Elvis?” The great Dane barked his agreement. “Okay, so we’ll be heading out. Maybe we’ll catch your mother and brother on the way and we’ll pick up some dinner from the diner?”

Silence.

“Alright. Great talk, honey, see you soon.”

And with that, Sabrina Grimm was once again alone in the house, free to stuff her face with discounted Halloween chocolate to her heart’s content.

Gummy bears, jelly beans, Twix bars, gumdrops, even a couple of pieces of candy corn met their demise as Sabrina continued on with the movie just as before.

Candy after candy succumbed to Sabrina’s sweet tooth binge until a decent dent had been made into the stash. As the credits rolled on the cheesy horror film, Sabrina gathered up the wrappers and candy boxes and cleaned up any remaining crumbs on the couch to dispose of the evidence.

Replacing the box of oats behind the cereal boxes in the cabinet, Sabrina silently pats herself on the back for her sneakiness. Just in time, too, as she can hear the sounds of the other kids stomping around by the entrance.

“Sabrina! We’re back!” Daphne calls from beyond the kitchen door.

“Yeah, Grimm! And we’re not sharing our candy with you!”

“...I’ll share with you, Sabrina..” Red’s voice rings, softer than the other two.

As Sabrina walks back into the living room, she sees that the three trick-or-treaters have already begun trading their candy from their trek around Ferryport Landing. True to Daphne’s word, there looked to be a couple of full-sized candy bars, probably from Snow.

The older Grimm sister sits on the couch, letting out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t been caught. Her stash was safe— at least for today. She snags a Kit Kat and listens to the three (mostly Daphne) catch her up to speed on everything she missed when the trio had taken off earlier that afternoon.

“So actually, Puck had to do a little convincing for Charming to hand over some of his fancy candy but thankfully...”

So Sabrina Grimm isn’t the biggest fan of Halloween, but she does see the appeal of candy.

And that's a wrap for day 1! I know, cutting it super close to the deadline! I can't believe I got Ao3, Tumblr, AND FFN

Speaking of ffn, you can find me at LavenderMoonRose on fanfiction.net and Archive of Our Own

#sisters grimm #grimmtober #grimmtober 2021 #sabrina grimm #puck goodfellow #daphne grimm #i tried #fanfiction

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hurricanery · 3 years

Text

If You Went Away - pt. 3

A/N: Hi! Sorry for the delay but here’s part 3! You can read the previous parts here:

part 1 // part 2

Thanks so much for the feedback on this- I get nervous when I post this story because it’s kinda a downer. This chapter especially. But things will slowly turn around! Scout will be more involved in the next chapter :)

_______

(present day)

Halloween isn’t a scary holiday. In fact it’s one of Amelia’s favorites. In her younger days, she’d take all of the opportunity to celebrate in more rowdy ways. But even after some lifestyle changes, she still finds purpose in the holiday. Specifically with dressing up, trick-or-treating with Scout, and sharing a twix bar at the end of the day. Amelia and Scout had that in common, it was both of their favorite candy. And they made a tradition out of sharing. Every year Scout would drag his parents around the neighborhood on a mission, until finally a twix bar would land into his bag, and then it was officially time to go home. And the first thing he would do when they arrived home was rip open that twix bar and hand half of it over to Amelia.

This halloween is different, though. This year it is scary, and uncertain. And if Amelia properly admits it to herself, maybe it’s even lonely.

It’s 7am and she has a 14 hour surgery ahead of her. Today is the day. The one she has been preparing for over the last month. Today’s the day she removes one of the largest spinal cord tumors she has ever seen. And she has to do it flawlessly. Because the spinal cord tumor belongs to a 17-year-old boy.

Amelia places her bag down in the attending’s lounge, pulling her phone out one final time to check her messages before she heads to scrub in. A text message lights up her screen from Link.

There are no words in the message, just a picture attached, and Amelia’s heart sinks at the image. Link has sent her a picture of Scout, all dressed up in his halloween costume. They are presumably on their way to school, for his kindergarten class party. This year he’s gone as his favorite baseball player. Amelia can’t remember the name of his current favorite player, because it changes constantly. But, he’s smiling wide, ear-to-ear in the picture. He has Link’s smile, almost identical. Amelia feels her eyes sting but she ignores it.

She wishes she could be there. With her boy. But Amelia is here. All alone. About to perform an impossible task.

_______

14.5 hours later and Amelia feels completely numb. Almost in a shell-shocked trance as she leaves the hospital. She’s completely on autopilot as she drives her car.

She’s been staying at the hospital, or at Meredith’s almost every night for the last month. Mostly in preparation for the surgery. But in part because she’s been avoiding sleeping at home. So it’s totally perplexing to her that she’s currently pulling up her own driveway. Walking into a house she hasn't properly stayed in for weeks.

It feels foreign to her, entering the house. And she even questions the action of hanging her keys up by the door. It’s late and the house is quiet, but she can hear some shuffling around upstairs. In a daze, she follows the sound, heading up the stairs numbly.

When she reaches their room, Link jumps, dropping the laundry he’d been putting away.

“Shit, Amelia,” he breathes, clutching his chest. “You scared me. I didn’t even hear you come in.”

It’s like his brain is catching up as he watches her pause in the doorway.

“You’re….” he frowns, confused. “You’re here. I wasn’t expecting you-”

Amelia drops her bag on the ground harshly. Then begins removing her jacket and ankle boots. Link watches her as she crosses the room to sit in the arm chair in the corner. She hasn’t made any eye contact yet and it concerns Link a little bit.

“Are you….okay?” He tries.

She stares at the floor numbly and Link walks forward, towards her. When he almost gets too close, her eyes finally snap up to his. Link halts in his spot. Her eyes look glassy, like she’s holding back tears. And then it clicks for Link. The surgery.

“Amelia….”

It’s almost as if the way he says her name is what makes the first few tears fall. Whatever the cause, the unwelcome tears are rolling down her cheeks. She tries to blink them away.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, assuming she’d lost her patient earlier. “You did everything you could, Amelia….it was an impossible case. You had to try, you had to-”

And with that Amelia looks at him again, and it makes Link stop mid-sentence. In a completely desensitized tone, she speaks into the space between them. “He lived.”

Link’s brows furrow in bewilderment. She’s been preparing for this surgery for over a month. Usually she’d be over the moon about this sort of outcome.

“He lived,” she repeats, unfeeling. “And….and I didn’t even paralyze that boy, I-” She’s cut off by her own sudden laughter and Link grows even more perplexed at her bizarre outburst.

“I don’t even remember deciding to come here,” she laughs, a stark contrast to her glassy eyes and damp cheeks. “I think I came here by accident. But here I am….”

She trails off, taking a moment to glance around the room that she hasn’t occupied in some time now. Her eyes land on something and Link watches her focus. He follows her gaze until it lands on Amelia’s bedside table.

“Oh,” he mutters. “That’s for you.”

He reaches for the twix bar on the bedside table, handing it to her.

“Scout wanted to split it with you, of course-”

She takes the candy from him, examining the opened package. One half remains. Her half.

“He’s asleep now,” Link explains. “I told him I’d make sure you got it, but, to be honest….I didn’t think I’d actually see you….” He trails off as he takes in her dejected appearance.

“You don’t have to have it, right now….” Link mumbles, watching as Amelia sucks in a shaky breath. “Amelia….what’s going on? I’m not sure….did I upset you? Did something happen?”

She looks up at him, and tries to smile through her dismay. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had a long day. I’m….not myself right now. I’ll go.” She gets up swiftly from the chair, reaching for her jacket.

“No, no,” Link walks forward, grabbing under her elbow. She flinches out of surprise at his touch, but then tries to suppress her reaction. He looks at her apologetically, but continues his previous motions, guiding her to their bed. “You should stay here. You just came out of a 14 hour surgery. Please, just sleep.”

Even though the look on her face is causing all sorts of concern, Link leaves her there. He crosses the room carefully. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says as he reaches for the door.

“Wait.” It’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it.

He glances at her, where she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, looking completely out of sorts.

“Link, please.” She breathes, desperate. “I can’t be alone right now. Please.”

And the look on her face makes Link think he’ll never be able to deny her anything ever again.

Before he can even respond she’s up on her feet, walking toward him with intention. It’s perplexing, but intentional all the same.

“Amelia, what are you-” his murmuring gets cut off as her cold hands slip around the back of his neck. She’s pulling him forward and moving backwards at the same time, until her back hits the recently closed bedroom door.

“Amelia, wait.” He attempts, but her face is getting dangerously close to his. He reluctantly lets out a sigh when her lips meet his neck. She’s kissing at him with purpose, her breathing sporadic. Link has no idea where it comes from. His mind feels like it’s moving in slow motion as he processes her actions.

His hands drop to her waist, ready to push her away. Ready to put a stop to this. But he’s not pushing her away. In fact he finds himself pulling her even closer. Squeezing frantically at her sides as she moves her mouth up, and up.

Until she actually bites down on his earlobe. And he moans.

She pulls away suddenly and Link actually feels relieved. Maybe they can stop whatever this is right now. Maybe this doesn’t have to happen.

Amelia takes a step back, holding his gaze with bloodshot and lustful eyes. Her hands move to the hem of her shirt before she’s lifting it off and letting it hit the floor.

“Amelia, wait,” he takes a step closer, trying to find the courage to stop her.

But then her hands are at the button on her jeans. She pops them open and they fall slightly loose around her waist.

“Amelia….”

She refutes the idea of any space between them then, grabbing his hands in hers, placing them on her hips, squeezing at his hands until he gets the hint.

He hesitantly slides her jeans down until they’re all the way off, leaving Amelia to step out of them, now clad in black lace underwear. Link groans. And Amelia sighs with content. She gets even closer if that’s possible, moving her hand between them. She bites her lip. Pleased to feel that Link is reacting to her.

“Amelia, we shouldn’t-” He’s cut short once again when she frames his face with her hands, kissing him hard. He doesn’t reciprocate right away, his brain feels like it’s going backwards from all the times his body doesn’t respond with what his brain is thinking.

She bites down gently but purposefully on his lower lip, and he opens his mouth to her in response, allowing for her eager tongue. He groans, despite himself, but manages to reach for her wrists, pulling them until his face is free of her hands.

She isn’t phased by his actions. She moves her fingers instead to the belt loops on his jeans, while her mouth remains on him, kissing his jaw and the length of his neck. She pulls and pulls and walks until her knees hit the edge of the bed.

And they’re right where she needs them to be. She scoots backwards until she’s laying on her back, pulling him down on top of her.

“Link,” she mumbles out. “Please. Please. Kiss me."

It comes out as a whine. And it’s simultaneously the most attractive yet desperate thing he’s ever heard.

He knows he shouldn’t be hearing it. But part of him wants to hear it more.

So he sucks down on her pulse point, and it causes her to groan.

"Please.” She repeats. “I need this.”

He lifts his head and his eyes focus on her face. She’s flushed and her breathing is out of control. He waits for her eyes to open. And when they do, his heart tightens. Because this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. This isn’t his Amelia.

This Amelia is sad and needy and desperate.

This isn’t how they do this.

Her eyes sting with moisture, and her voice cracks itself even more. “Link. Please. Just this once. Please. And then we can go back to how it’s supposed to be.”

He isn’t even sure anymore. How it’s supposed to be.

Amelia’s eyes shut close and her teeth clamp down on her bottom lip. She sucks in a breath as she feels his hands hover hesitantly over the hem of black lace.

“Amelia….”

“Please.”

“Amelia…” he repeats, his voice gentle and cautious. “This isn’t….right. This is-”

“What?” She retorts.

“Not like this,” he pleads with her. “This doesn’t feel-”

“You don’t….want me?” her voice is thin, almost a whisper, and Link looks into her eyes, searching.

“Of course I do, Amelia,” Link reaches with one hand to push a few strands of hair out of her face. “Just….not like this. Not-”

“Right, no. I get it.” She sounds bitter. Suddenly she’s shoving him away from her. Pushing passed him and standing up. She reaches for the nearest piece of clothing, Link’s oversized Mariners sweatshirt which is hanging off of the chair in the corner. She tosses it over her body and immediately it swallows her, long enough to rest just above her knees.

Link collapses back onto the bed in complete confusion, watching her as she steps into her slippers and moves towards the door.

“Where are you going?” He questions, bewildered at this turn of events.

“I’m going to Meredith’s,” she mutters, reaching the door. “I shouldn’t have even bothered coming here.”

“What?! Amelia, no. Just wait!”

His voice is raised in concern and Amelia glares back at him, sniffling and wiping at her eyes, rubbing away any evidence of her distress.

“Don’t follow after me,” she says pointedly. “I don’t want to wake Scout.”

Amelia doesn’t stick around to listen to anything else Link has to say. Whatever additional words he has are drowned out by the ringing in her ears. She hurries down the stairs and out the front door, grabbing her keys off of the hook as she goes.

Once she’s seated in her car, she pauses, collecting herself. Her hands grip the steering wheel and she exhales slowly, head dropping forward to rest against it. She focuses on breathing in and out, over and over again. Until the process frees up some space in her head.

She can’t bring herself to start the car. Instead she straightens up in her seat, her eyes focusing on their bedroom window as she glances up. Through the window, a light gets turned off, probably the lamp on Link’s bedside table. The room goes dark and Amelia glances away.

Minutes pass by. Close to twenty or so, maybe even a half hour, but Amelia can’t truly tell. She doesn’t remember deciding to get out of the car. It’s like her body is moving on it’s own accord again.

The next thing she knows, she’s up and out of the vehicle. Her feet carry her towards the front door and suddenly she’s re-entering the house. She doesn’t make a sound as she climbs the stairs, still considering the fact that Scout is asleep. She walks past his bedroom carefully and towards the end of the hall.

When she reaches their bedroom, it’s dark and quiet. Amelia shivers upon entrance, her body adjusting from the bitter outside temperature to the comforting warmth of the space. She sniffles involuntarily, a result of her decision to venture off outside in just a sweatshirt and slippers. The sound causes Link to stir, rolling over in bed to face her.

“Hello….?” He whispers into the darkness, barely comprehending that it’s her silhouette in the doorway.

She sniffles again, the action indicating more than just a consequence of the temperature outside. She feels tears roll down her cheeks again and she questions when she let herself start crying. Or maybe it was just that she never stopped.

“Amelia?” Link questions, his voice more firm this time. He leans over to his bedside table, switching the lamp on.

A dim light fills the room and Link immediately sits up in bed, frowning when his eyes adjust. Frowning because there’s Amelia, standing anxiously in the doorway, looking small and uncertain.

As soon as he makes eye contact, Amelia blinks away. She struggles momentarily to find her voice.

“I….” It comes out raspy. “I couldn’t leave. I-” She cuts herself off with her own bitter laugh and Link’s frown deepens at the sound of it.

“I don’t know why,” she adds. The silence of the room drives her into an over-explanation. “I’m just so tired, I’m sorry.”

She turns awkwardly in the doorway, not sure whether her next move is the couch or just straight back to her car.

“Wait,” Link’s voice effectively stops her from going anywhere. “Amelia, hold on a second.”

She turns back around, eyes apologetic at her own erratic behavior.

Link takes a moment to look at her, like he’s deciding something. He exhales with uncertainty before he finally speaks again.

“You should just….come to bed.”

She stares back at him blankly.

“Just come to bed,” he continues, patting the other side of the bed, her side of the bed, lazily as he collapses back down against his pillow. “You’re tired, come on.”

She hesitates only briefly, deciding that her exhaustion overrules her own stubbornness in this moment. She steps out of her slippers, crossing the floor and slowly lowering herself onto her side of the bed.

She lays stiffly, flat on her back looking up at the ceiling. She lets the sound of Link’s breathing be her focus. He’s laying with his back to her, facing the opposite wall. Amelia turns her head slightly to glance over at him, and it’s like Link can feel the small movement of it. Because the next thing Amelia hears is the low murmur of his voice.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he mumbles. And Amelia has to second guess whether or not that’s what he actually said. But then he repeats himself sleepily.

“We’re just tired, it doesn’t have to mean anything.” He repeats, referring to their current situation. The fact that they’re sharing a bed.

Her heart aches at the reality of his words and she sucks in a harsh breath. This was all so stupid. She felt so stupid for totally falling apart in front of him. She’d let her guard down. Let herself be too vulnerable. And tomorrow morning she’d wake up and have to explain herself. And then try to go back to normal.

Her eyes sting at the idea of what’s normal for them now. She doesn’t realize that she’s lost control of her own breathing again until Link rolls over, facing her.

“Hey….” he sounds more awake than he did a minute ago.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, instantly regretting it when she hears the evidence of crying in her own voice. “Just ignore me. You can sleep-”

She gets cut off when strong arms wrap around her. Link pulls her into his chest and it completely catches her off guard. Her voice gets lost the moment her face buries itself in his embrace.

It intoxicates her senses. The closeness. His comforting smell. And the way it feels to be completely engulfed by him.

It’s intoxicating and it’s overwhelming and she’s crying again. Harder than before. And her attempts to suppress her sobs are making it much, much worse.

Link squeezes her tighter, letting her cry. Somewhere deep down, he’s been waiting for this to happen. Amelia has been repressing her feelings for weeks straight, probably since he’d arrived home. And he knew it was a matter of time before she let it all come to the surface like this. All it took was an exhausting and highly emotional day to put her over the edge.

He runs his fingers through her hair comfortingly, as she cries into his chest. He stares straight ahead as he repeats the motion, deciding he’d stay like this all night, or until she fell asleep, if he had to.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he repeats his words from earlier, numbly. He feels Amelia nod into his chest. And her subtle indication of agreement hurts him. Because although he’s grateful that she’s finally being vulnerable, he wishes the circumstances were different. He wishes that it did mean something. That it meant they could try to work through things.

He continues the repetitive motions of his fingers through her hair until he feels her breath even out against him. Determining that she’s fallen asleep, he carefully loosens his embrace. Gently, he rolls her body away from him, until she’s mostly occupying her side of the bed.

He stares at her face for a moment. Noticing how it doesn’t look all the way restful, even in sleep.

Then he swifty turns over, facing away from her. Shutting his eyes tightly, he tries to sleep.

#amelink #amelink fanfic #amelinkfic #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #amelia x link #greys anatomy fanfic #grey's anatomy fanfic #grey's anatomy fic #greys anatomy fic #my writing

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allandoflimbo · 4 years

Text

Take It Back (Chapter 31)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: About five years ago, a one night stand with Y/N tore Bucky’s life apart. It was also the night before his wedding. Now he’s married to her sister and she needs a place to stay.

Take It Back Full Masterpage |

Well, damn. Looks like we’ve found it.” - Nat

Outside the tower, the sky had turned into a midnight black.

If the windows were open, they would be able to identify that earthy smell of an approaching thunderstorm.

“I haven’t seen this thing in years. I can’t believe it was this easy to find.” Wanda mumbled, roughly pushing Scott aside to grab the computer mouse.

She clicked around the screen, quickly finding the print button.

Nobody waited for another second to get to work.

“So what exactly is your plan now?” Scott asks, looking between Wanda and Nat.

He leaned back on the chair, his arms crossed behind his head. His smirk further proved how proud he was of himself.

Nat shares a look with Wanda before Wanda’s eyes return to the computer screen, thinking. There’s a pinch between her eyebrows.

“Well, we have an idea. But we won’t know for sure until we print it out and look at it.” She explains.

Wanda walks around the desk, pushing Scott again, to make her way to the corner of the room and towards the printer.

Scott stands with a huff and stands next to next. Her arms were crossed as she eyed Loki down with an expectation from him.

Scott copied her stance, doing the same.

Loki looked between the two, obviously unamused.

“What?” He snaps.

Nat and Scott look at each other and then back at Loki.

“We’re waiting for you to tell us what happened,” Scott says. “What you know.” Nat clarifies, darting an eye at Scott.

Specificity.

Scott shrugs, walking away to tend to his daughter.

Loki stared at her for a second longer before looking back over at Wanda.

It was obvious he wouldn’t be getting out of here tonight without any explanation.

He didn’t like the feeling of being interrogated.

His heart sped up drastically at the thought of sharing what he knew as he watches Wanda printing the will.

He wondered how they would react. He knows he didn’t when he found out.

The memories of that day hit him and he gazes down at the floor, biting his lip nervously until it cracks and bleeds.

He curses under his breath, loosening his black tie from around his collar.

“Fine,” he finally mumbles, “You want to know what I know? Just prepare yourself.”

The sting of his hurt lip mixed in with irritation.

There’s a beat of silence and Natasha looks him up and down. She looks away nervously for a second before looking back.

It was clear she feared the unknown, but none of them had any choice at this point. Enough was enough.

“What do you mean?” Nat asks worried, calmer.

Loki stands tall and moves up closer to her.

He doesn’t flinch an eye nor meet a beat, “Three’s a crowd, Romanoff.”

Seven Years Ago

The rain poured outside the tower like a heavy sheet of despair.

It hadn’t rained in almost fifteen days; mother nature decided that today would be the day to let it all go.

Finally.

The grays of the sky was heavily depressing as he stared out into it, and the over-air-conditioned building did nothing to help the chill on bare skin. It managed to cut through the thin fabric of his white dress shirt.

He knew he should put his suit jacket back on.

His foot kept tapping against the ground as he looked out into the window, thinking hard and trying to conjure any explanation as to why his future boss has been looking for his current girlfriend.

Loki raised his hand, taking a big bite of the Twix bar.

Something wasn’t right. He needed to find out what it was.

He was on a mission to unravel what mess he had just walked in on, what he had gotten himself into. He should’ve been smarter than to date Ashlyn’s sister.

Sure, he could be a dick, but he wasn’t an idiot. Something was very wrong.

Last night, he had told you that maybe Bucky had just run after you for an apology.

He laughs to himself, taking another bite of the chocolate.

He was a man. He knew Bucky had pushed you away for a reason.

The only reason a man in an already established relationship would walk in on something like that would be to take something back.

Loki knew Bucky was never very fond of him, but Bucky always at least showed him some professional respect in the work area.

He had nothing against him per-se.

But why? Why was Bucky Barnes running after you when he had someone at home?

There was only one explanation and he knew he had to find out.

He took one last bite of his chocolate bar before tossing it in the grey bin next to his neat desk.

He didn’t waste one moment before getting back to work.

He knew it had to start with a source. The only reason a man starts an affair is that he’s unsatisfied. It wasn’t rocket science.

Loki wondered if there was a prominent issue going on between Ashlyn and Bucky that no one had been aware of. Come to think of it, in normal interactions, they seemed perfectly fine.

Loki didn’t get to talk to her too much or get to know her, but from the few times he had interacted with Ashlyn, she seemed decent enough.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

She was always too busy spending too much time with Mr. Barnes for Loki to get to truly know her.

His brows furrow together.

Ashlyn and Mr. Barnes.

He quickly opens up his security system and logs in with his appropriate credentials.

It doesn’t take long for him to view all the cameras access that was available to him. Being the secret head of security to George had its perks.

Clicking and clicking, he finds all the footage from the last year, from the cameras. He thinks about how to narrow down his search.

He chooses the one just outside the hallway where he knew it was outside of George’s office.

Loki knew he was hoping for too much to get something out from hallway footage.

His eyes dart up towards his door before going through each one, starting with the earliest date closest to when Ashlyn first started, clicking around the time stamp, fast-forwarding…

Nothing.

He spends an extra half hour, looking and looking even further into other possible locations near the office, but nothing more than people leaving and entering George’s office.

He’s got his feet up on his desk and a hand running through his hair, his other foot he uses to swerve his chair from side to side.

He was pretty much giving up at this point when something finally catches his eye.

His head tilts to the side as he puts his leg down on the floor.

That’s interesting.

He pushes himself closer to his computer, rewinding the footage that he had quickly skimmed through.

He pauses it with a click to the space bar.

The timestamp had been about three months ago, nine forty-five PM.

The office was supposed to be closed, everyone already has gone except for a few handfuls that didn’t have a happy life at home.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

There was Bucky’s girlfriend’s arms wrapped around George’s knees, her head very clearly bouncing back and forth from an area between his legs.

Loki felt sick as he paused it and pushed himself away from his desk.

He knew at that moment that he had witnessed a scandal.

He didn’t want to partake in this.

Quickly, he exited out the page and cleared his search history. His eyes dart to the door once more.

Loki leaves his office that afternoon a bit on edge.

He closes his door behind him nervously and way too aware of his surroundings. He knew he was being paranoid, but he felt he had every right to be.

This could be potential blackmail; the law could be involved.

As his co-workers pass him, he wonders if anyone else possibly knew. He wonders if they could read his mind’s eye and if they could see what he had seen just moments ago.

He wipes the sweat on his jeans and the Twix off the corner of his mouth, even though there’s nothing really there. Paranoid is all he is, it was all in his head.

He goes about his day, subconsciously looking over his shoulder. He thinks he sees George, but it’s his imagination.

He was seeing things that weren’t really there.

He hopes to not run into any of them for the rest of the day. Or anyone, for that matter.

He still hadn’t been able to process what he had witnessed.

He didn’t know what was the correct steps to take with the information he had.

He was thankful when his workday had passed.

At the end of the day, he never signed out of his computer so fast, shutting it off so quickly.

He grabs his phone off his desk, sticks it in his pocket, and prepares to leave for the night.

He’s halfway down his hall, he thinks he’s made it, just about made it, when a hand grabs him by his shoulder, making him still in place.

Loki turns around, and when he meets his eyes, he gulps- hard.

Loki looks like he’s just seen a ghost while George is smiling wide.

Too wide.

He knows he needs to act nonchalant, so he smiles back, or at least tries to.

“Mr. Barnes.” He greets him.

George tilts his head at him, “You’re in an awful rush, aren’t you?”

Loki swallows thickly.

He flicks the nails of his fingers with his thumb, “I have somewhere to be.”

George nods, understanding, even though he doesn’t by it.

He gives Loki a firm squeeze.

“Got an extra second?” He motions a corner of the hall with his head.

Loki contemplates saying no, he really does. But instead, he says:

“Sure.”

Loki expects Mr. Barnes to lead them into his office as they take their time walking.

He’s startled when Mr. Barnes stops just halfway, Loki almost waking right into him at the abrupt stop.

“Nah uh. Here is just fine.” George says.

They’re in the corner of where the hallway turns, it’s a spot where it’s hidden and no one could see unless they were to go into the supply closer that was just on his right.

Loki nods.

George moves up closer to him until Loki’s back is firmly against the wall. Shit.

“Don’t worry, son. I’m not going to fire you.” Loki is half relieved at that. George’s smile quickly falls off his face, replaced by a stern glare, “but we need to make things clear.”

Loki gapes.

“Alright.”

“Is there anything you want to say first? Anything at all?” Loki stares at him and then shakes his head, “You know I can monitor every cyber movement of every single one of my employees, right?”

Loki swallows again, looking away. He caves. “Look, Mr. Barnes, I wasn’t looking for anything specific, I just happened to run into it—“

“That doesn’t matter to me,” his response shocks Loki. That didn’t matter? “What I care about is what you’re going to do with this information.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

George moves in closer and Loki feels trapped, “I mean, are you going to tell him? Are you going to play the martyr and tell your new little girlfriend? What are you going to do now that you know?”

Loki swallowed hard. “Mr. Barnes.”

George gives him a wicked smile that makes Loki shiver. “Here’s what you’re going to do,” his tone and volume lower drastically, “You won’t say anything to anyone, ever. I won’t let you ruin this. You don’t want to know what will happen to you if you do. It won’t just be your career that will be over. Do you understand me?”

Loki gives him a short nod.

“Yes, sir.”

There’s a glint in his boss’s eyes. One that Loki knows too well. It was mischievous and Mr. Barnes was…amused?

Loki scoffs.

“You knew there was a camera there,” George gives him a look that only confirms his suspicion, “If you wanted it to be private, you would’ve done it in your office. You did it on purpose. You wanted to be caught.”

George says nothing. He pulls away from the man and turns back the direction they come from.

Loki is left shocked as he stands there, unmoving.

It’s a few long seconds later when he’s turned back to where his boss had gone that George finally spins back around, calling his name.

Loki freezes.

“You’re a smart kid, Loki.” George says with a smile.

Present Time

“I can’t believe this. That’s why you left.” Nat says, running her hands through her hair. Loki nods. “Why would he want it recorded on purpose?” “I don’t know,” he says, defeated, “But there you go, I told you everything I know.”

Everyone stands there for a moment, taking it all in.

“Do you think the footage is still there?” Nat finally asks. Loki lets out a long sigh, “Possibly. But I’d be surprised no one else has found it.” Nat shakes her head, “If someone did, it would’ve been made public by now." “It would be in the hand of who’s currently in charge of the security for the building.” Loki says.

Nat looks over at Wanda who is still a the printer, “Do you know who that could be?” “Bucky.” Wanda says like it’s nothing, “He took over after George died.”

Loki and Nat share a look.

This just kept getting worst.

“I- I always had these feelings, there were always away together on their meetings in Paris. It was always in Paris.” Loki says quietly, shaking his head to himself.

It was so many years later and he still didn’t believe it. He had just run, like a damn coward.

“Okay, Loki, I know this much to ask, but,” Nat takes a deep breath, “Do you think it’s possible to obtain international footage from when they were there? Or also trace back the footage you had seen?”

Loki thinks and then nods.

“Difficult. Illegal, but not impossible. I can try from my old work computer. The certificate on it should still be valid. I could hack it.”

Wanda walks over to them with the document in her hand.

Everyone looks at her, but she’s too busy looking at it, trying not to smile too hard.

“I knew it,” she scoffs, “I knew something was off when I had seen it. I don’t know how it could’ve been overlooked, maybe some really expensive lawyer, I don’t know, this is crazy, or she could be an idiot. I, Nat we were right—“

Wanda scurries over to the desk.

She places the will on top of it and motions for them to walk over with her finger.

She points down at a signed line once they are nearby.

“Do you see anything weird about this?” Wanda asks Loki specifically.

They both stare at it for a bit. Nat’s suspicions are confirmed and Loki looks lost.

“No. I’m not familiar with wills.” Loki says, not my area os expertise.” He continues to stare at it, trying to decipher it like if it were some kind of puzzle, “Wait,” Loki says, pushing Nat politely aside, “Her signature.”

“What about it?” Nat asks, looking at him.

“This can’t be right.” Loki mumbles.

“The state of New York clearly states that no will is valid when signed without a witness present and a witness signature,” Wanda explains.

“But there’s no other signature on here.” Loki mumbles. They both stare at him for a second longer. “There’s no other signature on here. But why?” Loki asks shaking his head and taking the will in his hand. The three of them all look at each other.

The sink water runs cold water, but it was a ploy. He hadn’t used the bathroom, he needed to step away to think.

His fingers gripped onto the sides of the sink and his head hung between his shoulders in shame.

He had been so oblivious. He was disappointed at the woman that was now standing in her living room doing god knows what.

How could he be so blind? How could all of them have been so blind? It was as if now that he knew, it was clear as day.

It all made sense.

He was repulsed and shocked at the revelation.

He runs his fingers over the sides of the sink and the cabinet below it.

He was in a home; a home built for a family, a husband, and a wife.

His best friend had gone into this marriage thinking he was making the best decision regardless of how he felt.

Bucky had considered everyone’s feelings, especially Ashlyns.

Steve stuns himself at his change of heart.

You, for the longest time, you had been the object of his dreams; of his rich fantasies.

But it was like his eyes had been reopened and he now knew the issue went farther than merely what was between the three of you - him, Bucky, and you.

He needed to do something, and something quick.

He tries to think of anything that might’ve seemed out of the ordinary. There had to be a way.

His eyes dart around the bathroom, looking for a sign.

Bucky. You. This company…

He eyes the off-brand soap on the sink. He smiles to himself. Bucky, even having millions of dollars available to him, would rather spend his cash on cheap hand soap than the real thing.

Instead of Clé de Peau, he would always buy Cloū de Peau. They both looked really similar, almost smelled identical, but the way it was manufactured was nothing alike. One was real, one was a fake.

Steve takes the soap in his hand and plays with it.

It even felt different.

Steve’s smile slides off his face. He places the soap back in its place.

Cold realization washes over him.

He should’ve known the second he had pulled out all of the resignation forms that something was wrong. He had seen it on the desk, and he knew something was wrong. Working for Mr. Barnes for so long, he should’ve known.

Steve shuts the water off and gives it a few seconds to make it seem like he’s drying his hands.

With a deep breath, he walks back out into his best friend’s apartment.

He sees her standing there, arms crossed, distraught, and deep in thought.

How could he be so stupid?

He eyes her diligently up and down, approaching her like prey would a predator, and then he stops.

He sees her tense arms and the way she rubs them as if she were cold.

He clears his throat and she turns around, uncertainty clouding her face.

She didn’t know if he was still upset with her.

“Steve.” She mutters, her eyes just briefly darting behind him.

He takes a second before answering, swallowing thickly.

His thoughts are running wild.

He approached this delicately.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks, nodding towards her belly.

Ashlyn looks down, rubbing her belly consciously.

“I’m fine.” She says.

Steve nods.

His eyes dart to the open window, an incoming storm making its appearance in the dark sky as if flashes.

He had heard it would be a bad one.

The rumble shakes within the walls and under their feet.

“It’s going to storm.” Ashlyn says lowly, looking towards the window as well, but not taking to long to divert her attention back to the man in front of her, “I - shouldn’t…”

His furrows his brows, “Shouldn’t what?”

She takes a deep breath, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“I shouldn’t have done any of it.” Her words held heavyweight. She knows it as she licks her bottom lip, biting it slightly to keep from shedding a tear, “I was vulnerable, I wanted to take what would make me happy.”

My best friend wasn’t enough for you? Steve wants to shout.

But he knows that shouldn’t be how he should play this game. Instead, he settles for a nod.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.” He says it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ashlyn takes a deep breath, wrapping her arms around herself tighter around herself.

“I need to know who tried to open that file, I need to make sure he doesn’t find out, Steve, because if he does, I don’t know what I would do with myself.”

Steve feels the heavy hot iron in his chest - the represented himself being torn in half.

He wanted to help his best friend, but something about the way the woman was crying in front of him also made him feel pain.

“I don’t condone anything that you did to him.” He says.

“I understand-“

He cuts her off, “It wasn’t right. It was wrong. It makes you a bad person.”

“I get that, I do.” She pleads.

Steve bites the need to scoff, literally as he bits the inside of his cheek.

He digs his toe into her living room floor. Fuck his best friend for having the most beautiful girl on his arm and the most gorgeous dark wood floors he’s ever seen.

“Damnit,” he whispers under his breath, running his hands through his hair, “Look, I’ll help you.”

Ashlyn’s eyebrows shoot up surprised.

“What?”

Steve sucks in his bottom lip, wanting to yell at himself for what he was getting into, “I have a plan.”

And when she hugs him, thanking him for being her friend, he has to close his eyes tight together and hug her back, or else it would all fall apart.

The sun crept over the white bedsheets like a warm hello.

He was happy because this time you hadn’t run away.

You had allowed yourself to be wrapped up in his arms, his legs sliding in-between yours as he held your back tighter against his bare chest.

He had whispered good morning right under your ear, kissing you in the same spot.

He repeated it and you chuckled.

It had soon turned into a conversation of heavy sighs, moans, and giggles as his kisses turned into playful bites. He pulled on your ear lobe with his teeth.

“Stop it, Bucky!” You chuckled, swatting his arm behind you.

“Come on, just a little longer sleepy head.” His voice was a husky rumble.

“I’m already up, you idiot.”

He hummed against the back of your neck. You felt his hot breath hitting you there and goosebumps popped up on your arms.

“Are you now?” He asks playfully. You enjoyed this. But you had to be real.

Your smile fell off your face as you looked at the wall across from you.

“Yeah. And it’s Monday. We need to get going soon.” You pull his arm off of you, sitting up in bed.

He eyes up at you like a puppy dog, his eyes big and a small pout to complement it.

You sigh, looking away but pulling the covers higher towards your breasts.

“I have to talk to her today. Today is the day we go back to reality. We had enough of our fun on catching up, but now we have to think about what happens next. There’s much still left to do.”

Bucky sighs, throwing his covers off of himself, not caring that he was baring his entire naked self to the world.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He murmurs, picking his sweats up off the floor and pulling them on slowly.

He did know, but he wanted to enjoy you a little bit longer. He wanted to enjoy this live omit of headaches.

He looks back at you once he’s half-dressed and his face falls at the look of yours.

You were terrified, that much was clear.

Bucky stretches his arms on the bed, leaning himself closer to you.

Your eyes look up slowly to meet his eyes.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. I promise.” He says. You look at him for a second before nodding. “Come here.” He adds.

He leans forward just a few more inches, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

You raise your hand to grab the side of his jaw, kissing him back just as sweetly.

When you pull apart your eyes are glowing and you can’t look away from him.

“I love you.” You whisper.

He leans in and gives you another long kiss, letting his soft lips drag over yours sensually.

“I love you, too.”

You both take a separate shower and afterward you begin to pack your things.

It’s a comfortable silence, one for the books, as you both share flirtatious looks over folding your clothes.

You fold a shirt and he clears his throat.

You look up at him and he’s biting his bottom lip to keep a smirk from growing. He folds his sock as you bite your own.

You clear your throat and the game commences, he looks up at you and you drag the tip of your tongue over your top lip.

It goes on for a bit until you’re both rolling your luggage out from his room.

He wraps his arm around you in the doorway and lays a kiss on the top of your head.

You sigh contently, holding his arm around your front.

You don’t say anything to each other for a while. You don’t need to.

Bucky takes the things to the car and you stay behind to tidy up the home before the departure.

Your stomach rumbles and you perk up the need to make a quick breakfast sandwich before the trip.

You’re buttering up one side of the loaf of bread when you feel a hot wall against your back.

He wraps it’s arm around your waist and plants his chin on your shoulder.

He quiets for a bit until he mumbles, “Food.”

You smile. “Yeah, it’s for the road. We have a long drive ahead of us. I didn’t feel like stopping at a rest stop this time.”

Bucky makes a sound that is very much like a protest, “What’s wrong with rest stop food?” He asks, slightly offended.

“Seriously, Bucky?”

“Sorry, I forgot you were a chef.”

You just laugh as he pulls away to lean against the island behind you. He watches you silently as you scramble an egg and add a slice of melted cheddar to the top. He watches you intently as you fry the bacon, as you build the sandwiches, and then wrap them individually in foil.

“You’re amazing.”

You chuckle as you finish wrapping the last sandwich, your fingers pressing into the foil.

“It’s barely anything. A twelve-year-old could make this.” You shrug.

“Why can’t you just take a compliment for once?”

You sigh, placing the sandwiches beside him on the table.

His tone is playful and so is the sparkle in his eye when your eyes meet.

You step up closer to him until your bodies are flushed together. He hums softly.

His eyes turn dark as you give him that look.

You bring your fingers slowly to the edges of his lips, just hovering, but not really touching.

A tease.

“There’s something I never told you.” You whisper, looking at his lips.

Bucky swallows thickly.

“Oh, yeah?” His voice is husky and thick.

“Yeah,” your voice is almost inaudible. You drag your hand down his neck, like you’re inspecting a statue, and then down his pecks. They’re firm. “Remember how I told you that from the moment I saw I knew I always found myself attracted to you?”

Bucky’s Adam's apple bobbles up and down...

“Yes.”

“After I realized I had feelings for you, like real feelings —“

“—Wait, I thought you said you always had feelings.” “I thought you were always cute and I had a crush, but as I said, I harbored those down after I found out you were with Ash. But when I started—“

“Tell me.” He whispers, eyes darting to your lips.

“When I fell in love with you, when I realized it, I never wanted to kiss someone so much in my entire life.” You continue your hand down to the waistband of his jeans. You play with it, “but there was this other side of my brain, this carnal side, I never wanted to make someone feel good so badly before.” Your eyes dart up to his and his pupils are huge, and he’s also breathing a little heavier now. He feels your fingers on the button of his pants and he feels when you undo it, “I’ve wanted to suck you off for so long.” You say, pulling down his zipper.

The sound it makes is absolutely erotic.

He has no words. He’s never been so turned on by another soul before. The way you looked up at him, teasing him by allowing your lips to hover over his, and the way your fingers open his pants.

You leave him completely speechless until he sees you getting down on your knees, pulling his pants and boxers down along with you.

He lets out a long puff of air and a curse.

Bucky subconsciously juts out his hips, his right hand gripping onto the island behind him.

When you wrap your fingers around him, he’s already hard and leaking copious amount of pre-cum for you.

“Shit.” He says through his teeth, his left hand going to the back of your head.

You take him in slowly at first, teasing him. It’s the first time you’ve ever tasted him and he tastes just like how you imagined he would: Salty, musky, but an underlying taste that is just him.

It’s delicious.

You bob your head a few times, letting your tongue drag over the vein under his cock.

He groans beneath you.

“That feels so good.” He says almost pained. He pushes your head farther down and your right-hand lands on his tense thigh as you take him down your throat. You flex your throat a few times and he groans even louder, “yes.”

You pull back, needing to breathe, but you don’t take too long to dive back in again, letting him guide you with his hand as he fucks your mouth.

You feel his thigh clench beneath your fingers and you look up at him from beneath your eyelashes.

He’s looking down at you with so much desire. His eyes are half-closed and his face is completely flushed. His mouth is swollen from biting and licking and it’s gaping, moans leaving it.

“God, look at you.” He says almost admirably innocent, given the situation you were both currently in. He runs his thumb over the top of your head.

You quickly your pace, even more, bringing your hand to help stroke what you can’t reach with your mouth.

“Oh god.” He starts panting and you know he’s close.

You pull off him and grab his hot rod into a fist. Quickly, and with determination, you start jacking him off quickly.

You run your hand over his tip a couple of times, letting your thumb go over his slit, and then back over his entire cock. The sound is soaking wet and squelching.

Both his hand leaves your head and is gripping onto the table behind him.

You stroke and stroke his hard cock like it’s the only thing you want to do for the rest of your life and…

“I’m gonna cum.” He whines.

You jerk him faster until your hand is almost a blur, and with a tight groan, followed by a grunt, he cums right into your open mouth.

He throws his head back, a curse escaping his mouth as he continues to thrust into your hand.

You swallow everything he gives you and a shiver runs through him when you stroke him again.

You know he’s sensitive at this point but you love it.

He pulls away from you with a cry as you stroke him one last time. So, so sensitive.

You pull yourself back to your feet on wobbly knees and you’re momentarily caught off guard when he wastes no time to pull you into him by your elbow.

He kisses you deeply, running both his hands in through your hair.

You kiss for a bit until you lay your head on his chest, tucking him away back into his jeans.

You share chuckles as you each grab your sandwich and then close up the house.

Everything felt so surreal, it was amazing. You’ve never felt happier.

When you both get into the car, soaked from the rain, you’re smiling like two teenage idiots.

You’re a mess of giggles and laughter when you plug the address into his phone and then set it up on his dashboard.

Bucky turns on his Bluetooth on his phone and soft rock fills the speakers.

You throw your head back against the seat, not believing your life right now.

He pulls out of his driveway the same time you decide to unlock your phone.

Hey, Bucky wants to sit down tonight to talk about everything. Is that fine?

You send the text to Nat and you let Bucky know right away that it's been sent.

“I hope things will be easier from here on out.” You mutter, looking out the window.

“I’m sure they will. The hard part is over.” Bucky answers.

Your phone vibrates in your hand.

That’s good. Please tell him to come to the office. We’ll be there at 6.

About 100 miles west, Steve sits in his own office building.

His finger types away at the keyboard as he accesses the files that he hadn’t looked at since the dreaded day he left Barnes Enterprises.

He clicks and clicks until finally, a big smile fills his entire face.

He clicks the print button on the top left of the screen and he pulls out his phone.

He finds Ashlyn’s name.

I found out who it is.

With a reluctant pause, he clicks send and then tucks his phone away in his back pocket.

The rain was a downpour now. The drive took longer than you both wanted, but it was better late than dead.

Bucky held your hand in the middle as he drove through the heavy sheets of water on the highway.

It was around six-thirty when you both pulled up in front of the tower in the city.

You both run towards the front doors, trying to stay as dry as you possibly could.

There’s something strange in the air when you and Bucky stand to wait for the elevator. You’re not sure what it was, but something was different.

He gives your hand a tight squeeze when you’re both alone in the elevator.

“This is good, right? They’re going to help us.” You say slowly, looking up as the numbers of the floors grow.

51…

52…

53…

“Of course it’s good. Even if it weren’t about me and you, you have no idea how tied down I’ve been because of this damn will.”

“Trust me, I know.”

Bucky sighs.

“Y/N, everything will be fine.”

“So when these doors open, do we go in hand in hand or?”

There’s a brief pause and you know Bucky is thinking about it.

“Stand next to me. I don’t want anyone giving you shit.” You nod. No physical contact.

You’re not upset or offended. You knew this needed to be trodden carefully.

The doors finally open to a busy floor of late Monday afternoon workers. A few throw Bucky an additional nod and greeting. Others were shocked to see him and nervous.

He was their boss, after all.

He forces a smile as you both make your way to Nat’s office. If only these people knew what was going on around them.

Bucky stares at the mahogany door for a few moments before knocking. They echo in your ears as you felt the nervous butterflies in your gut.

The door opens and you’re both briefly surprised to see Wanda is the one behind the door.

“Hey, Wanda.” Bucky greets slowly. You do the same.

Wanda smiles at you but when she looks over at Bucky her face is stern and almost…afraid?

“Hey…” she says back, her hand sliding down the door and to the knob.

She closes the door behind both of you as you come in and it’s then that you both notice the other people in the room.

There, at the corner of the beautiful room, was Nat, Scott, and Loki.

You’re confused as hell as your eyes land on him.

He looks guilty as he looks at you and you know you look nothing short of stunned and confused.

Bucky’s face is covered in pure jealousy as he stares at the man.

He looks at all the others next, standing up taller. He feels a heavy knot in his stomach.

“What is this?” He whispers harshly. He looks over at Nat, visibly upset. “Nat, this was supposed to be private. Why—“ His voice grows stronger with each other, his eyes diverting back to each person.

Nat steps up to him, putting a hand up in the air as if to calm him down.

“Bucky, please, this—“

Bucky’s eyes dart once more towards Loki.

He remembers that night.

“Especially this guy? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Loki looks away from him, and his eyes catch yours for a moment.

Jesus, if it hadn’t been a minute…

“Bucky, there is more to this than you know.”

Bucky fumes for a bit longer before looking back at Nat. It takes time for her words to register in his head.

“What are you talking about?” He says slowly, “I thought you guys said you had a plan; a way out.” “We do, Bucky, we do,” Nat confirms. She stretches her arm out and takes his hand in hers.

The silence in the room is overbearing to him.

“But there are other things you need to know, too. Other things we discovered.” Nat whispers, running a hand over his.

Buck swallows thickly, growing nervous.

Nat looks over at you and, lets go of Bucky and takes your hand. With the other, she grabs your elbow.

“Y/N, sweetie.”

You can see the conflict in her eyes.

What was going on?

“What’s going on?” You ask.

Nat looks at Bucky and sighs.

“We found out the loophole in the will. There was no signature from a witness when Ashlyn had signed it. Thereby, it’s invalid. We don’t know how it got passed through everyone in this goddamn building or any lawyer, but it did. We can easily set up a case with a lawyer about this, but I know for a fact that it won’t be hard to win it.” She says softly.

Your lips perk at the side.

“That’s great,” you look over at Bucky, “Bucky that’s great.” But his face is stone cold and he’s still looking at Nat, “Buck?”

His eyes are hard as they look at Natasha. He’s known her for so many years, he knew something was wrong.

“What aren’t you telling us?” He asks lowly.

Your eyes fall as you look away from him and to everyone else in the room.

Nobody is happy or smiling.

It’s unnaturally solemn.

Nat pulls you aside and whispers, “We should let them talk in private.”

Your face falls.

“What? Nat, no. I’m part of this.”

Her face grows hard at your words.

“No, you’re not.” You gape at her and then at everyone else. They all hold that same look. “Please. I’m sure you’ll know soon enough, but at the moment this does not concern you.”

Bucky still looked distraught and fearful.

The whole interaction between you and Nat leaves Bucky on edge. He had a bad feeling. A really bad one.

You finally let her guide you outside and into the hall. You throw Bucky one last look over your shoulder.

The second the doors closes behind you, Bucky’s eyes dart towards the other individuals.

“Does someone finally want to explain to me what the hell is going on?” His tone is tart.

Loki’s face is nothing short of an upset. It’s obvious that if it were up to him, he would’ve been out of there in a heartbeat.

Scott looks between the two of them like a kid watching his two parents arguing.

“I think you should tell him, man.” Scott says, “Or at least let me tell him, the tension is killing it.”

“Quit it, Lang.” Nat snaps.

She takes Bucky’s elbow in her hands. He looks at her confused.

“We got the will, be happy about that. We did it. We can break this hold that you are under.” She says softly, looking into his eyes for any answers that there’s still underlying hope there for his sanity.

“Stop jumping around the bush, Romanoff.” He snaps quietly.

Nat’s eyes divert to Loki’s and he gives her a slight nod. A go-ahead for her to continue.

“There’s something you need to know.” She takes a deep breath and sits on the edge of her dark desk, her hands holding onto either side of it. Bucky swallows thickly and she feels bad for him. Her eyes drift away for a slight moment before looking back up. “When you and Ashlyn were still dating, Loki was with Y/N was he not?” She asks quietly.

Bucky looks at Loki for a fraction of a second.

“Briefly.” He answers curtly.

Natasha nods.

“What do you think went through his mind when he saw you that night?”

Her question makes Bucky’s gut boil in anger.

His face turns into a tight scowl as he takes a step closer to Loki.

His left-hand closes into a fist.

“You told-“ he starts, but Nat cuts him off with a hand to his chest. She pushes him slightly back away from Loki.

“Yes,” she says, “because there’s something else related to that.” Loki gives Bucky a slightly empathic look that makes him coward down a bit. Bucky took a deep breath and licked his lips, “Now answer my question.”

Bucky thinks about it for a moment.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” He says sharply.

“I was confused, Barnes.” Loki finally says, stepping closer to him.

Nat lets her arm drop off as Bucky’s attention goes back to Loki…again.

“Confused about what? The fucking weather? The hell are you talking about?” “Stop snapping at him, Bucky. He’s here to help you. Stop taking out your anger on him just because he went out with her.” Nat groans, running her hands through her hair. There's a moment of silence between all of them when Nat finally motions back to Loki, “continue.”

Loki takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

“I was confused,” He repeats, “I thought to myself, that’s not right, something had to be wrong back at home for him to run after his girlfriend’s girl,” Bucky swallows thickly, looking away, “So, you know what, yeah,” Loki motions with his hand, “I did my own digging, and I found out what drove you away from her - your wife.”

Bucky eyes him narrowly, “Yeah. She was always away, always on her business trips and we drifted apart. She changed. We all know this.”

Loki’s eyes suddenly softened. Everyone in the room shares a look with each other and it makes Bucky’s skin boil.

He didn’t like it. He knew something was very wrong and it sat unwell with him.

He looks at each person, waiting for elaboration.

“I -I don’t think he needs an audience for this.” Loki whispers, shaking his head to himself.

Nat nods and Wanda’s already opening the door to leave.

It takes Scott a questioning look from Loki - go, man - for him to get the message and he’s hurrying out of his seat.

“Yep. Right. I don’t even know why I’m here,” He stops awkwardly in front of Bucky and gives him a weird pat on the arm, “okay, bye.” And scurries off.

Bucky peaks a brow up at Loki until everyone’s gone.

The final sound of the door closing is his cue.

He wants to keep his tough demeanor and he wants to appear bigger to Loki. It took him months to get the image of Loki fucking you out of his head.

When Loki had left, it did him well. Seeing him again, brought it all up again.

But he knew he had to hear Loki out. A long sigh leaves his lips and Bucky sees the tired look in his eyes as he waited for everyone to leave.

“I want to show you something.” Loki finally says, guiding Buck to behind Nat’s desk.

He opens the laptop next to it.

Bucky recognizes it immediately as he takes a seat on the leather chair.

“I’m surprised you kept it after you quit.” Bucky mumbles.

“Bucky, just-“ Bucky could now tell he was losing his cool as the man took a deep breath. The two share a look of truce and Bucky nods for him to continue.

“I had found something that day and I did find something,” Loki decides to dive right in. Milking this cow wasn’t going to make this any easier. He had to rip the bandaid, “It’s going to be very hard for you to see, man.”

“Stop stalling. Just show me.” Bucky sighs, running a hand up to his face.

Strange, his hand was clammy and sweaty. Was he nervous?

There’s a few clicking sounds here and there.

Finally, a thumbnail to security footage comes on.

Bucky eyes the date.

What could Loki possibly have to show him that was so old? This was before he ever started falling for you. He was still fully committed to Ashlyn at the time of this footage.

He still loved her during this time.

“I’m gonna play it, okay?”

Bucky doesn’t respond, he just waits for it.

He notices Loki stiffen, taking a deep breath. Then, he clicks play.

Bucky’s eyes sink into the image being shown to him. He recognized the hallway right away.

But he stills at the image of his father.

Of course, it was him, even in the black and white image, that silver hair was uncanny.

What really stilled his heart was the brunette wrapping her arms around his waist…

Bucky’s heart was in his ears...

…his hips…

His chest grew heavy.

…and lastly, his upper thighs as she sunk down to her knees.

Bucky’s could hear his blood flow and his chest grew frigid cold. He felt himself struggling to breathe correctly as he shut his eyes tightly together.

Loki quickly froze the image, knowing it was best to not show him anything else- nothing graphic.

Bucky was breathing hard as he pushed the chair away from the desk.

“Wha-“ he groaned painfully as he brought a wrist to his eyes, trying to rub the image out of his head, “Why are -“ He shook his head quickly back and forth, “No, that’s not—“

“Bucky.” He says calmly, closing the laptop.

Bucky continued to shake his head, a look of absurd pain on his face.

He felt sick. He was going to be sick, right here in Nat’s office.

He could feel it coming up his throat in heavy waves.

“If we just told you, you wouldn’t believe us. I won’t show you the rest.” Loki promises him.

A whimper escapes Barnes’ chest as he manages to swallow down whatever it was that was trying to come up his throat and Loki flinches.

Bucky’s left hand was clinging tightly to the armrest, his right hand still digging into his eyes as he rubbed them harshly.

No.

Loki looks away, not knowing how to deliver the next part. It had to happen.

He waits for a bit longer.

Bucky is the first one to speak after a few minutes, “Did they…?”

He knows what’s he’s asking and his face falls. He gives a short nod.

“They were, yeah.”

Bucky covers his face with both his hands now, dragging them till it fell off the edge of his chin.

He looked like he was praying, especially when he shut his eyes tightly together.

Loki hated this.

“Bucky, I- he knew I found out.”

Bucky swallows again, blinking his eyes open. “What?” “Your…father. He knew I had seen the footage. He interrogated me shortly after. He threatened my life if I ever said anything to anyone. It’s why I left.”

Bucky couldn’t believe it. It was so unlike his father. But yet his own dad had… another ball of nausea makes its way up his throat.

How could she?

Loki takes another deep breath, “I don’t know why, there might be a reason, somewhere we haven’t looked, but he left this footage available to us for a reason. He knew the camera was rolling. He wanted to be caught. Or maybe,” He licks his lips, clasping his hands together on his knee as he sat with one thigh on the desk, “or maybe get her caught.”

This was too much information for Bucky to take in.

He needed to lay down; none of this made sense.

“Loki, I can’t-“ his voice is pained and hoarse.

Loki nods. “I’ll get you some water.” He pushes himself off the desk and walks to the side where there’s a little bar cart. He pulls out a scotch glass and then opens a bottle of water.

The room is silent as he pours the water into the glass.

Bucky feels numb, shocked for the first time in his life, as he stares at the closed laptop.

He couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t real. No.

She wouldn’t.

He’s remembered of the fight he had with you the day he had asked Ashlyn to marry him.

“She wouldn’t cheat on me. She would never.”

He had been so certain of that.

He felt sick.

He doesn’t even notice the water is already in front of him.

He doesn’t take it, he couldn’t move.

Loki looks concerned as he places it on the desk with a clunk. He could see the poor man fuming. He didn’t want to continue this. He knew that the guy was hurting. He couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling; what this felt like.

“I don’t want to continue doing this to you, I really don’t. But there’s more.”

Bucky’s breath hitches audibly as he looks up at Loki. His eyes are pleading.

There’s more? They ask. They almost squint it physical pain.

“I was able to hack into the international CCTV footage of when she had been away on those work trips.” Bucky’s face paled even further at his words, “I don’t have to show you if you don’t want to see it, but I do have it. It’s all in here.” He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

Bucky swallowed thick and was silent for a few long seconds. He eventually gives a short nod.

“You want to see them?” Loki asks breathlessly, “I could just tell you what they are. I know it’s hard —”

“I-“ he pulls his hand away from his mouth and groans. God this hurt him, “I want to see them.” He squeaks out, almost not even believing himself, “but not with you here.”

Loki nods, understanding completely.

“I’m just going to open it for you, and you can click play whenever you’re ready. There’s several of them.”

Bucky stills and then nods. Loki opens each tab.

Ten tabs, ten videos, ten different dates.

Son a bitch.

He wants to scream.

Ten fucking nights…

Loki leaves him to be, letting the door shut behind him.

Bucky doesn’t open it right away. He leans back, hand back to his mouth as he watches the thumbnails of each frozen video.

He was seething, his blood boiling under his skin like knives of steel.

Some of the thumbnails are alleyways in Paris, some are hotel lobbies, hotel hallways, one is even in a hotel bedroom where clearly cameras were allowed for some odd reason.

He doesn’t want to watch it, he fucking can’t pull himself to, but he knows part of him needs to see it to believe it.

His finger shakes as he moves up to press play on the first video.

He felt sick.

He’s thankful there's no audio in the CCTV videos.

The first one he watches is the hotel lobby, then he briefly watches the next nine.

He skims them, only trying to get a general idea of what he was seeing, but not wanting to taint his mind.

He’s shocked by the acts in them - kissing, oral sex, intimate holding. Obvious signs of a cheater.

What pisses him off more is the men. He’s surprised that only one of them had been his father.

He had expected all of them to feature him, that he had been her secret lover all along. He was wrong.

He recognizes the men. Hank, damn Tony-Effing-Stark.

He shakes his head again, trying to clear his eyes of all the burning tears in them.

This is what it felt like.

Dishonesty, betrayal, unfaithfulness.

Used.

He slams the laptop closed and stares at it in revulsion.

He feels the walls around him cave in, the walls he had trusted for so many years.

He had trusted and loved his own damn dad.

Bucky’s bottom lip trembled as he sucked in into his mouth.

He couldn’t take it.

Roughly, he pushes himself away from the desk and walks around it.

He was seeing red.

He opens the door to the hallway roughly, not surprised to see everyone else standing outside, waiting.

You grew intensely worried at the expression on his face. You could tell he was very angry about something.

You wish they could tell you what it was, but you knew he would tell you eventually.

You reach your arm out to grab him.

You could feel him breathing harshly out of his nose. He looks down at you, eyes blurred.

You see the tears in them as they beg to boil over.

“Bucky…” He sucks in a deep breath. “I’ll be okay. Go to your hotel for a bit, same one as last time,” he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and hands you his card, “Nat can take you. Get another room. I’ll meet you there tonight. There’s something I need to do.”

He’s not in his head as he says it, you could tell his mind was somewhere else, you knew he had to do something and be somewhere else urgently.

You nodded blankly as you stared at the card, taking it from him.

And then he was gone.

Seven and a half years ago

[It's everything you wanted

It's everything you don’t]

He looked at her from across the table.

This beautiful girl had him wrapped around her finger. A chuckle left her lips as she swiped the whipped cream off his pancake, sticking it in her own mouth.

He gave her a bright smile.

“You’re beautiful.” He had said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She smiled.

“Bucky, I — we’ve only known each other for a few weeks. Why do I feel like I’ve known you forever?” She says it quickly, but then laughs in disbelief, “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I said that.” Bucky grabs her hand on the table, “Hey,” he says softly, “No, I feel the same way.”

They stared at each other, not believing what was happening.

They were both so happy.

[It's one door swinging open

And one door swinging closed]

Present

Another shot of lightning flashes in the sky outside their multi-million dollar window, followed by a loud crackle of thunder.

It had been raining for two days straight and Ashlyn had just about had enough of it. She missed how everything used to be.

She missed how her life used to be with Bucky before shit hit the fan before she messed up.

Immense hope grew in her heart as she laid on her back on the soft, white Serena & Lily couch.

Her right hand dug into its luxurious fabric, her left rubbing her now empty tummy.

She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes tightly together.

The one strand of hope that she had left had been taken from her.

She felt alone for the first time in a very long time.

She knew she had been selfish, she knew that, but she had good intentions.

She hoped that whatever plan Steve had, that it would really help her get her man back, and the life she was supposed to live.

It had to before the truth came out.

She was terrified of losing it all.

Her eyes peak open at the ceiling above.

They had tall ceilings, about thirty feet high, but they closed in on her as she forced herself to listen to the soft creak of her front door opening.

After a few seconds, it closed softly. She tried to hear for heavy approaching footsteps, but it was hard to hear anything at all. It was almost as if whoever it was, they were purposefully trying to be quiet.

It was eery.

She sat up slowly, her one hand still on her lower stomach, the other now on the back of the couch to help pull her up into a sitting position.

She looked across the room towards her foyer.

Her heart hammered away inside of her as if it was seven and a half years ago all over again.

She had been afraid she would never feel that way again, yet here she was, hypnotized and enthralled.

She whispers his name like a prayer and his eyes dart up to meet hers in a heavy gaze.

His eyes are sunken, lighter than usual, and so was his skin. He was sickly pale.

Her eyes darted down, not seeing any luggage by his side.

She grew concerned at the sight of his tight fist as her eyes drifted. His other hand was trembling slightly.

It was quiet around them, too quiet. He was quiet.

Ironic. Considering the events of the last few days.

“Bucky?” She says again, this time concerned.

He looks at her and sucks in a deep breath.

For a moment, he seems like he’s going to turn away and give up, but then he turns back again, taking another step towards her.

“What’s going on?” Ashlyn asks. She doesn’t miss the way his hand and jaw clench.

He looks up at her- watching her - and examines the face of the woman he had loved once upon a time.

It sent a chill up his spine and it made his heart hurt. No way that face could belong to such an evil human being.

It was the same girl he had seen with the red hat and snowflakes in her hair, the one he had tried so hard to please, the one he had tried so hard to make it work with, the same girl he took to the Hamptons because he did love her.

He did.

Once upon a time.

He feels the anger, the betrayal, and the blood in his veins grow ice cold.

His mouth turns into a heavy snarl as he takes in her face, heavy tears clouding his vision.

He remembers it— the video.

“You-“ he starts, his voice is pure venom, like as if just the noun itself was distressful to him and it makes her physically shrink back, “You fucking —“ It comes out pained, almost inaudibly as he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth.

Ashlyn’s face crumbles.

He knew.

Part of her knows, the part that is so far back into her mind. The same part that had convinced herself that everything she had done to him wasn’t actually real.

Suddenly, like the strike of lightning outside, he comes for her.

It’s so fast she almost stumbles back in fear as to what he was going to do to her...

She cringes in terror, standing towards the middle of the living room. She blinks her eyes open at the lack of attack.

He stopped.

He barely made it more than four feet from where he was when she watches him take a deep breath, pulling hard on his hair.

A heavy whimper leaves his chest as he shuts his eyes, looking away from her. He curves into himself.

Ashlyn felt herself breathing heavily now too.

She didn’t know what to ask, what to do, where to go.

He sucks in a deep gasp, meeting her eyes again.

His eyes are drowned with hot, salty tears.

They fill his eyes to the brink, a few trickle out and travel down his cheeks.

He replays the images he had seen just earlier.

And then all eleven together.

He sobs and Ashlyn takes a tentative step closer to him until she’s around the other side of the couch.

His head falls as he shakes it back and forth.

No, no, no.

So many years for what?

He groans.

“How could you?” He asks. His head snaps back up to look at her, “How could you!” He screams.

She steps back again, terrified again.

Her heart was beating like crazy as he took in her mental state.

“Bucky, please just let me explain everything,” his head is shaking and his words don’t make sense as this lips move, but she’s stepping closer to him, she had to make it right, “Please, just let me explain,” she reaches up to touch his arm, “Please—“

He jolts.

His sadness quickly turns into aggressive anger, and he’s got her wrist in his hand, and her back up against the wall of their very expensive living room.

It’s coated in the off-white color paint that he had let her choose after they had gotten married.

Linen white, she had said.

He’s looking down at her, enraged. His hot breath was hitting off her forehead.

“Don’t fucking touch me again,” he growls. Ashlyn feels her own eyes fill with tears and she feels the pain of his grip on his wrist. He snarls again, pushing himself off of her, “you whore.” He seethes, not looking away from her.

Ashlyn’s face crumbles.

“You fucking disgust me.” He sneers, looking down her body in shame and loathing.

He never knew was true distaste was until now.

“Please.” She whimpers.

More tears cloud his vision.

“I gave you everything you ever wanted and needed. I continued to chase you, I tried to make it right, and for what?” Ashlyn turns, her hair falling over the side of her face, “For fucking what!” He shouts, “I gave you this home, ourhome. After everything, I still tried to make it right, regardless of what I was going through, what we were going through. You made me think I was so horrible when the whole time you were—“ he sucks in a deep breath.

He felt that anger again.

He feels like he’s going to cry harder as he brings his hands to his eyes. He rubs them furiously.

He hears a whimper leave her lips.

He rips his hands off his face.

“Don’t you dare cry. Don’t you fucking dare.” He sobs, stepping farther away from her but raising his voice. It cracks with sobs, “you have no right.”

They stand there both crying.

He takes her in with his eyes and he shakes his head, almost just to himself.

“Why would you do something like that?” He says weakly.

“I did it for us.”

Bucky’s face crumbles in confusion and anger, “You—you did it for us? You—“ he takes a deep breath, “You had sex —!“ he screams, but cuts himself off.

He feels that bile again. He was going to be sick.

His heart was aching.

Ashly shakes at his tone. Her wrist throbs.

“It didn’t mean anything.” She whispers, cowering towards the wall and holding her arm to herself.

Bucky glared at her.

“You fucked my own father.” Ashly crashes into herself as she collapses down onto her knees, “Who the fuck does that?” He spats at her, “Huh! You didn’t just cheat on me over and over again on your stupid work trips, but you had slept with my own dad.”

Ashlyn cries harder as she holds her hand to her chest.

Bucky’s chest moves rapidly up and down as he heaves.

“You have no right to cry. You have no fucking right! Fuck!” He spins around and slides the glass vase off the entry table.

It shatters to the floor.

Bucky runs his hands through his hair again as he tugs on it, sobbing.

How could she?

“You have no right. You have no right. You have no right.” He says it over and over again until it’s a whisper, “You never loved me. Not even when I loved you. You just wanted the money, the fucking power, it’s why you both signed the damn will.” He breathes harshly.

“It’s not,” Ashlyn shakes, pulling her knees to her chest, “It’s not.”

He looks down at her, repulsed.

“What, you can’t talk now? Huh?” He turns slightly to the other side towards the direction of the hallway, this time sliding the decor plates and wine glasses off the set dining table and onto the floor.

It’s loud.

Ashlyn’s sobbing grew more hysteric at the sound and so did Bucky’s whimper.

“You don’t even realize what you’ve done. What you did. You don’t know.”

Her lips were shaking and so were her hands.

“You cheated on me, too.”

Buck spins around, pointing a finger down in her face but from a distance, “Don’t!” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, “Don’t you dare. No.”

Ashlyn sniffs harshly.

Her eyes go to the shattered glasses on the floor.

“So what’s your excuse? Was I not fucking you properly? Was I too young for you? Not rich enough? Not powerful enough? Pathetic? Didn’t love you enough? Didn’t have enough to offer you? Was I too kind to you?”

“No…” She digs her forehead into her knees.

This pisses Bucky off.

He knows he shouldn’t, he knew he already did wrong by almost hurting her wrist, but he wanted to drag her up forcefully up on to her legs.

She kept hiding away as if she was the victim.

“Look at me.” His tone is harsh. It takes a bit long but she does as he says. Her eyes were red. “Now stand up. Why?” He finally asks when she’s up.

“He made me.” It comes out frail.

Bucky tilts his head at her. Taunting.

“He made you? I saw the damn video. You wanted it. You wanted it good.”

Ashlyn covers her face with her hands.

“You don’t understand! He promised me it would help us. Help our future.”

Bucky makes a disgusted face.

“Help our future?” Ashlyn nods.

It takes a second for Bucky to connect the dots.

“You slept your way into getting the contracts.” It’s not a question. Bucky takes a deep breath, covering his face with his hands.

He curses as he walks into their living room, as he looks out the window into the thunderstorm.

“This is all possible because you fucking opened your legs to all those men? While you were with me? It’s how we pay for all our stuff like our goddamn TV?” He screams.

Ashlyn takes a deep breath.

“I—yes.” She says.

Bucky rubs the back of his head and a dry laugh leaves his lips as if to say that’s just great.

He continues to stall around the room, rubbing his head and face like a mad man.

“I loved you. I slept next to you every time you came back,” his voice dwindles down again to a whimper, “even after you did that with dad and I didn’t even know.” His voice is a pathetic cry again, “that’s so fucked.” His hands clasp together and go to his mouth. He tries to control his tears and the bile in his throat.

“You both lied to me, not just you. This whole life is a lie. You never loved me.” He says.

“Of course I loved you.”

This angers him. “No woman that loves her man would ever do something like that!”

“I hated it after every time, please. You need to believe me.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. He scoffs.

“Don’t you realize, you —“ he wants to call her degrading things. But he can’t bring himself too. Maybe he didn’t have it in him, “—it’s not how you felt when you did it or after, it’s what you did. It’s what you fucking did to me!”

“I know that now.” Bucky scoffs again.

“Now? Seven years later? Were you even going to tell me? Were you going to keep living this damn lie?” “Don’t even try that. You kept your secret about my sister from me for five years, Bucky! Five years!”

“I know! Okay? I Know. I should have told you after it happened. I know I messed up on that part. But the difference between you and me is that what I had done to you killed me! I still felt bad! What you did to me doesn’t even bother you! You don’t see how much this hurts me! How it fucking makes me feel.” Ashly wipes her nose on the back of her hand. “You gave me shit for sleeping with her. You slapped me when I told you.” Bucky eyes her up and down, disgusted, “Don’t you realize what I want to do to you for what you did to me for all those goddamn years? Yours was worst. You gave me shit, and what you did was worst!” He takes one of the books knick-knacks off the coffee table and throws it at the tv and it shatters, “you’re sick!”

After he screams it’s dead silent again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No. You’re not. If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done what you did in the first place. If you really loved me you wouldn’t have done this to us from the start. I didn’t destroy this relationship you did.” Bucky moves quickly towards where Ashlyn is and she’s scared.

He stares down at her.

“Tell me this. Did you ever love any of them? Hank? Stark?” Ashlyn looks away.

“Tell me, Ashlyn.”

“Stark and I got close, briefly. But it never turned into anything, I swear.”

Bucky nods.

“But you had feelings.”

Ashly doesn’t answer.

That itself is an answer to him and he looks away in disbelief. Like this couldn’t get any worse.

“Look what you did to everyone around you.” Bucky whispers, “Come on, take a look.”

Ashlyn doesn’t raise her eyes.

“Yeah, you know what, I did cheat on you. We hurt you bad, but you need to take fucking responsibility for your shit and own up to the consequences of the awful decisions you made. You think you can just fuck your way around to the top? For some material gold and material satisfaction? You think that’s the key to a healthy marriage? News flash, I’m not my fucking father. I would never do the things he did. Not in a million years. I’m a good man, I know that now. I fucking know it. I would never do that —.” Bucky looks back at her again. “Jesus, fuck. I can’t even look at you anymore, you make me sick.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and looks around his home. He takes in the shattered vase, the plates, and glass.

The vicious anger from earlier has dissipated. He was still equally as upset, but his mind has defogged.

“This isn’t a home anymore. At least not yours.”

Ashlyn’s face falls at his words.

“Bucky—.”

“I’ll find a place for you to stay, but you’re out of here. I want you out of here.” He looks at the shattered glass, “I’ll take care of the mess like I always do. It’s not your stuff anyway.”

“I worked for this stuff, too—after he died and after the affairs, I still worked just like you! This is my hard work, too.”

“You married into this. This is mine. The only thing that is rightfully yours is that damn china in the fucking kitchen cabinet and all your fucking clothes. Because that’s all you spent our money on, anyway. Let me ask you one more thing? Are you sure that was the last time?” “Of course it was." “Really? Because I remember you going away not too long ago on another business trip where I couldn’t be. And all those late nights at the office, were you fucking Stark then, too?”

Ashlyn’s heart hurt at his words. “That was a real business trip,” she screams, her finger pointing behind her in the air, “I devoted myself to you one hundred percent the last few years of our marriage.” Bucky scoffs, “I love you.”

“Love. This isn’t love. This is obsession. You’re obsessed with the idea of the life you want to live, you don’t love me.”

She snarls.

“And she does?” “Yes! And I love her, too.” This stuns Ashlyn and she physically recoils, “We love each other. We have respect for each other.” Ashlyn scoffs, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She says nothing.

Bucky takes another look around.

“Tonight you can stay, or you can find somewhere to stay. I could care less. I don’t want to see you right now, or possibly ever again. I’ll find someone that will you find a place, but you’re not living here anymore.”

“You’re gonna throw me out into the street like a dog? What, you’re just expecting me to let you bring my little sister here to live in my house and replace me?” “Actually, no, you’re right. You can keep this place. I never liked it anyway, I only got it for you. I just hope you’ll be able to pay for it all when you’re out of a goddamn job.”

Bucky turns back towards the direction of his front door, preparing to leave.

“I’ll move out.”

He leaves his home feeling no better than when he had gotten there.

Betrayal was an awful feeling.

He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy, not even his father, the man who literally fucked him over.

He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

Most of it didn’t make any sense.

Why would his dad do that to him? Why would he want his own son to find out?

How could someone be so sick? How could Ashlyn be so sick?

To add to his nausea, he felt a migraine coming on.

He had pulled out his cell when he got to the same hotel you had been staying at before and texted you, asking for your room number.

1335. come up whenever you’re ready.

Your message had said.

He pressed the button to your floor - 13 - quite harshly. He couldn’t get to you any faster.

You opened on the first knock and the first thing he did when you opened the door, was kiss the life out of you.

Just a peck, but enough to leave you breathless.

You pull away from him with your hands to his face. You would never get tired of that.

You look at him tenderly and his eyes are so bloodshot that your heart sinks.

This man had been hurt so badly.

You run your thumb over his cheek and then lower your hand, taking his in your own.

You pull him in and close the door softly behind him.

It’s then that Bucky sees Steve sitting on your bed in a tux.

Steve gives him a short wave.

What was going on now? He couldn’t take it anymore. He really couldn’t.

You take his hand back in yours and you pull him over to your bed between you and Steve. Your touch comforts him a bit.

It’s then that Bucky noticed the piece of paper in Steve’s had.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asks. You rub his arm softly up and down.

“Tell him, Steve.” You say.

Steve takes a deep breath.

“Ashlyn thinks I’m helping cover her. I used her credentials to log into George’s and hers files. This is the supposed copy of your father’s will,” Bucky’s swallowed bile at the mention of his father, “the one Ashlyn signed.”

Steve hands Bucky the form.

Bucky looks at it. But sees nothing out of the ordinary.

“That’s Ashlyn’s copy.”

“Okay…”

Steve clears his throat and hands him another paper.

It looks the same, but a bit different in shade, and missing Ashlyn’s page.

“This was your father’s original copy.” A weird feeling creeps up Bucky’s back, “Do you see the difference?”

Bucky nods.

“The original is missing Ashlyn’s signature.” “The original,” Steve corrects, “Is a real.”

Bucky shakes his head. He looks at you and then back at Steve.

His head was still spinning. He still felt so, so sick.

“I don’t understand.” He breathes.

Steve took a deep breath. “The one she signed was a fake.”

@wxntersoldxer16 @void-imaginations @heykarsyn @avashroom @sarcastic-and-cool @lunaticbarnes @benhardygalileo @wildmavs @runaway-escape @stevieboyharrington @kimvmarvel @chipilerendi @hardygal69

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #Marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #MCU

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