#because it means I can’t scare myself by reading horror and then soothe myself with tv | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

radiant-reid · 3 years

Text

Touched starved

It was no secret this case had been extra hard on Spencer. Even Y/n, the newest member of the team, knew some bad things happened when he was kidnapped by Tobias Hankel. Most of the details were covered up though.

Spencer didn’t talk about it much. Only a few words when he felt strong enough. With having only been at the BAU for two years Y/n knew the least of what happened.

Then again, she was a profiler. She could tell this case was having a more-than-usual bad effect on Spencer.

It was because of the parallels, she figured. This unsub had been kidnapping and torturing victims. Having to solve it and, more importantly, knowing there was someone out there just like him, was hard on Spencer.

His brain almost didn’t work as it ran constant flashbacks of what Hankel did to him. Like a horror movie with no ending.

Everyone noticed, not just Y/n.

She just didn’t understand why they wouldn’t help him. They were all far closer to him than Y/n was. Prentiss, Morgan and JJ didn’t seem to be doing anything to help him but Y/n just felt like she couldn’t let him suffer in silence. She knew Garcia had tried to ask him how he was on the phone but there was only so much she could do from so far away. It wasn’t any of the team's fault though, they knew how Spencer operated.

That was how she found herself outside his hotel room on the 3rd night of the case. After seeing his condition slowly deteriorate throughout the hours they’d been on the case, she couldn’t just sit by. So dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, she knocked on his door.

“Y/n... what are you doing here?” Spencer asked as he opened the door to see who it was. It was very obvious that in the 4 hours since Hotch had sent them to get some rest, Spencer had not slept a second.

“I...” Y/n didn’t actually know how to answer his question. Instead, she just walked into his hotel room which caused him a lot of confusion. The puzzled look on his face didn’t stop. “I’m here for you, Spence.” She told him as she sat on his bed.

“Obviously, you’re in my room but I don’t understand why.” He replied. His brows were furrowed and his arms crossed across his chest. At least he’d changed into a hoodie and pants. Y/n didn’t think she’d ever seen him in a hoodie.

“Come here.” She instructed and he obliged, walking over to her so he was at the foot of the bed. “I’m here so you can have someone to talk to. Or not to talk to.” She explained. He still, very obviously, didn’t understand. “You haven’t stopped working on this case for almost 72 hours straight, that’s unhealthy. Now, you’re going to relax and just stop thinking about it.”

Spencer huffed out a sigh. “I can’t just stop thinking about it.”

“Why?”

“There’s someone out there who can’t stop thinking about it. He’s scared, terrified. And he’s just hoping that we can save him. But everything is telling him that there’s no one left. That they’re going to get there and be left with just his body.” Spencer hunched over as he talked, feeling as small as he looked. Tears were forming in his eyes and he was desperately fighting them. “I can’t stop working on this because we need to find out where he is. I can’t stop working on this because he can’t stop thinking about it. He’s living through the torture but he’s going to give up and want to give in to death.”

“What happened, Spencer?” Y/n softly asked as the tears started spilling down his cheeks.

He just stood there blankly. “I can’t.” He sobbed out.

Y/n knew about his aversion to hugs but she pulled him in for one, wrapping her arms around his slender waist. To her surprise, he leant into the embrace.

They stayed like that for a while before she pulled back, picking up his hand. She moved back so she was sitting against the headboard and pulled Spencer over, patting her lap. He didn’t even give a second thought to lay his head on her lap. His brain could almost stop spinning as he laid there.

Y/n moved her hand to his hair, threading it through her fingers. It was remarkably soft and fluffy.

“What happened to you, Spence?” She asked him again.

With tears still streaming out his eyes he could answer. “It hurt so much, Y/n. He wouldn’t stop it, no matter how much I begged. I was so helpless there.” He choked out, in a broken sentence due to his heavy breathing.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.” Y/n comforted again. She tested out the boundaries by running her hand over his cheek and when he leant into her hand she continued to brush the tears off his cheek. “Let it all out.”

“I couldn’t do anything!” Spencer cried. It was the most painful sound she’d ever heard. Someone so composed and always perfect falling apart. He was broken. “I just sat there while he beat me. I can still feel it. When I close my eyes sometimes I see him. It’s so stupid because I know, scientifically, I’m experiencing PTSD but sometimes I feel all the walls coming down on me.”

Y/n’s heart broke for him. “Spencer, it’s not stupid.” He cried even harder at that.

“I just need to crack the case and save him, Y/n. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t.”

Y/n moved her hand to rub his back. “I know you feel that way.” She didn’t really know what to say to comfort him. He was so often the one helping everyone else out.

“I feel so silly for still being scared too.” He mentioned.

“Oh, Spence, it’s okay. Hankel is dead and you’re safe now.” She soothed him, still rubbing circles in his back.

He was still bawling his eyes out, feeling unbearable sadness. “I know that. But I still see him and I can still remember every second of it.”

“You didn’t deserve any of that.” She told him firmly. “He was sick, I know you know that. You went through the worst things imaginable and you’re so strong.”

He lightly nodded. “Will it get better?”

“Yes, if you keep talking about it. To anyone. JJ?” Y/n suggested.

“I like talking to you.” He mentioned it, quieter than before. Y/n could finally smile at that. Despite everything, Spencer was still so kind.

“Good.” She told him as she moved her hand back to his hair. “I could see it was getting to you. With all the similarities in him drugging and abusing his victims. I can’t imagine what you went through but I’m so proud of you.” She continued, meaning every word she told him.

The tears had stopped coming so fast now. They were still constant but a weaker flow. “I just felt so helpless when I was there.”

Y/n almost chuckled at that. “Spencer, from what I’ve heard you were the one who told the team how to find you. I think you were so brave and I know they’re all so proud of you.” She told him.

“Thank you.” He murmured as he moved his head in her lap. She continued to comb through his hair.

They stayed in the exact position for a while. Until, eventually, the tears stopped.

Spencer then sat up. His cheeks were flushed red as he made eye contact with Y/n. “I’m sorry I completely freaked out.” He nervously rambled out an apology.

Y/n couldn’t have shaken her head faster. “Spencer Reid, you don’t have to be sorry for anything. Everyone needs someone to talk to.”

“I’ve got to save him, Y/n,” Spencer told her as he moved to get up off the bed, no doubt to go to his makeshift workspace.

Instead, Y/n tugged on his arm, not letting him move. “I know you’ve got to, Spence. But you can’t do that if you haven’t slept or relaxed in days.” She informed him. He was smart enough, and he had read at least 300 articles on the importance of sleep, to not argue with her.

“Okay, I’ll sleep. Thanks for coming to see me.” He told her, trying to get her out of the room.

Y/n noticed. “I don’t think so. You’re stuck with me for the night, buddy.” She told him as she pattered her lap again.

He looked like he was thinking about putting his head on it but he stopped. “Then you won’t sleep.” He realised.

“Okay then,” Y/n said as she pulled the covers of his bed up and got in. “I hope you’re okay with cuddling.” She was a little worried he wouldn’t be into it, just because of his germaphobic nature. But her worries subsided when he got in next to her and quickly put his head on her chest,

Y/n moved so she was lying flat on her back with her head on a pillow. Spencer put his own head on her chest and wrapped his arms around her waist like a baby koala would its mother.

She moved her arm so she could wrap it around Spencer’s torso and pull him closed but he stopped her. “Can you, uh... could you do it to my, um, hair?” He nervously asked.

Happy to oblige, Y/n moved her hand to his hair and started to run her fingers through it. “If you just want to lie here it’s fine but we can talk too.” She offered him, still unsure of what he needed. Spencer was so used to closing up that he decided to go against what his brain was telling him.

“My parents,’ He started, “When I was little we didn’t really do touching... no one’s ever hugged me like this.” The thought of a little kid Spencer not getting hugged broke Y/n’s heart again.

“Is this okay?” She asked, cautious of where his boundaries might lie.

“Yes.” He hurriedly answered, not wanting her to stop for a second. “I like it. I just didn’t get hugs as a kid from anyone. And as I grew up I learnt more about germs and figured that’s why my parents repealed me.” He spoke slowly and softly like he was half asleep. Maybe he was. “But I like this. It makes me feel better.” He figured.

“That’s good.” Y/n hummed. “I’m always here for you if you want to talk or just cuddle.” She told him.

The smile she could feel against her chest warmed her heart. “I’d like that and please don’t stop stroking my hair.”

She smiled at that. “I won’t.” She meant it as she leant down to place a kiss on his forehead.

2K notes · View notes

milliedazzledust · 3 years

Text

War Rages On: part 3 (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Words: 2451

A/N: if you don’t want to cry, word of advice, don’t listen to anything remotely sad. I literally have 3 potential endings to this story, don’t know which one I’ll choose. Part 4 will have a lot more action and part 5 will probably be the last. Don’t forget to keep tissue close by while reading ;) - enjoy!

Previously: part 1 - part 2

When Bucky walked inside the building he had once lived in, he felt anxious. Not for himself, but for Y/N. During the two hours his ride in the air lasted, he envisioned a thousand possibilities this could play out. He needed her to make it out of there. Whatever he would have to endure, he’d agree to any kind of torture so long as she was safe. He knew he wouldn’t bear to add her name to his already long list of victims. Her only fault had been to fall in love with him. It couldn’t lead her to death, not like this, not because of him. He would never allow Hydra to break the only pieces left of him she had managed to glue back together.

He knew the place by heart, so finding the cells where they would usually keep all their prisoners was fairly easy. Focused on the task, he was taking slow, measured breaths, watching every step he was making, avoiding the guards and the security cameras. He was silent. A ghost. He stopped at an entrance and sneaked out behind a soldier standing by the door. With a swift motion, he broke his neck and used his badge to access the place. Every movement felt rehearsed, a routine he had done a million times. He was mimicking the Winter Soldier with a perfection that still surprised him. He had almost reached the end of an endless hallway of empty cells when he stopped in his track.

“Y/N” He whispered. There she was on the dirty floor, laying right in front of him. She wasn’t moving and from the distance, she looked pale. Too pale to be alive.

“Y/N!” He repeated louder, not caring if anybody could hear him.

She didn’t answer, didn’t even move an inch. He took a tentative step toward her, afraid of what he would see when he would open the door. He raised his metal arm and grabbed the lock, tearing it apart in a swift motion. The gesture was effortless, the power colossal. He didn’t even blinked, his eyes remaining always on her frail figure. He slowly bent down, trying to ignore the bruises visible through her half-torn shirt and the dried blood everywhere on the floor. He laid a fearful finger on her throat and waited a second. Finally, he released a shaky breath, relieved beyond measure when he felt her heartbeat. She was alive.

Gently cupping her face, he brushed a hand against her cheek. His heart broke when he saw the shadow of a smile forming on her lips.

“Bucky” She muttered in contentment.

“Yes, doll. I’m here”

She didn’t open her eyes but tears slowly coursed their way down her face. Her lips parted and she leaned against his hand, inhaling deeply.

“We have to go, Y/N”

“You feel so real,” She answered. “Why do you feel so real ?”

She sounded upset, but not because of him. She could make out every detail, his scent, his voice, his touch. She wondered what kind of cruel game her subconscious was playing as she let his presence submerge her entirely. He raised his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding that, for her, there was no way he could be there. She had spent the last couple of days picturing him in her mind to ease the pain, to escape the torture. He was the fragment of her imagination keeping her alive. Her last shred of strength.

“Am I dying ?” She murmured. “Is that why you’re here ?”

“Y/N, open your eyes” He demanded with force.

“No..”

“C’mon, doll”

“You’ll disappear. You always do” She sounded broken, on the verge of snapping, but kept them closed.

“I promise I won’t” His voice cracked with every word, overwhelmed by the pain and helplessness when she spoke.

She grabbed his wrist, holding it tightly as she slowly opened her eyes. Her whole body was shaking, afraid the soothing sensation of his skin on hers would be gone and she would only see an empty room once again. It took her a moment to realize he wouldn't disappear and she started sobbing. Her shaky hands cupped his face, wiping his own tears. He gently laid his forehead against hers and she didn’t waste any more time and hugged him. She clung to him, her only safe place, as the battle for the remaining shred of her sanity raged. She tried to catch her breath but it was useless. This was days of emotions bottled up to survive, days of dreaming she could return to him.

“We’re gonna be okay” He kept saying, holding her tightly.

“Bucky …” She choked in despair. This was the safest she had felt in days.

“I’m here, doll”

He swallowed and blinked a couple of times, trying to stay strong and not break down.

“We have to hurry, Y/N” He reminded her after a while.

His voice seemed to bring her back to reality and she suddenly sat up, ignoring the dizziness and the pain it instantly ignited in her body.

“No, no, no, you have to leave!” She started begging, furiously shaking her head and clenched his shirt in desperation. “You can’t be here! You can’t! Please … Please go ”

“Y/N…”

“You don’t understand, they … they want you, Bucky. They’re using me to get to you” She put some distance between them and pushed him away when he tried to get closer. “You have to go”

“Not without you”

“You’re not listening!” She replied, frustrated.

“I am! And I am telling you i’m not leaving without you!”

He stood up and helped her do the same. She couldn’t hold on her own, too weak and tired. She pressed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself and his metal arm circled her waist.

“I’m taking you home”

“I don’t think so” A voice with a thick accent replied behind him.

The former assassin cursed under his breath and was quick to react. He pushed Y/N behind him, hiding her wounded body from the intruder. Suddenly on high alert, he stared at the man he once knew, a man hired by Hydra with the sole purpose of creating new super soldiers. He was the brain behind the Winter Soldier program. The Sergeant subconsciously grabbed the woman by her hip, bringing her as close to him as possible.

“Dr.Faustus” He greeted him without sympathy.

“At last we are reunited, soldier”

Bucky clenched his jaw so tight his veins were now visible. In all the time he had spent away from Hydra, he never thought he would come face to face with the doctor ever again. All their encounters had been turned into a distant memory, another one of his nightmares. The Sergeant was unexpectedly conflicted, like two parts of him smashing against each other for the first time, two very different men colliding together without his consent. The broken one felt scared, powerless, becoming once again a victim, while the assassin was already on the lookout, trying to find his way out of there.

Y/N could feel it. Hidden behind him, she laid her forehead on his back, defeated. His muscles were tensed under the pressure of his emotions and his grip on her hip tightened. She couldn’t contain her terror and silently cried. How could she save him now that they had him back ? What could she do when her body was in no shape to fight ?

“I wouldn’t advise trying to escape” The man spoke.

“You know I don’t back down without a fight” Bucky replied, eyeing the three agents surrounding the doctor. They were outnumbered.

“You might want to reconsider this time” He smirked viciously.

He made a step toward the couple, moving like a snake reading to suffocate its prey by strengthening its hold around their neck.

“Before you think about taking them down,” Hydra’s doctor began, pointing at the agents next to him “You should know she won’t survive. You see, the girl serves no purpose anymore. She was a mean to an end and she played her part perfectly. She got you right where we wanted you to be, up against a wall”

Bucky gritted his teeth in silent fury.

“I’m assuming she means a great deal to you, soldat” He sniggered irritatingly. He seemed to enjoy the emotional torture. “Now the real question is, how far are you willing to take this to save her life?”

Bucky looked around him and just felt a rage he couldn’t explain, a will to survive he never had before. Y/N grabbed the hand on her hip, entwining their fingers, and he closed his eyes. For a short instant, he held onto that comforting sensation, the sense of home she could bring to him by the simplest touch. He remembered the day they met, the exact moment he had fallen in love with her and the day they had promised forever to each other. He had a collection of precious memories they had built, engraved in his heart, and each one of them had the power to lessen his pain and lighten the weight on his shoulders. They needed more time to create their magic, to turn the horror they had endured into sparkles of distant memories. More time to live the life she had given back to him. But even more so, he needed her to survive.

“If I surrender myself, what guarantee do I have you’ll let her go ?” He offered.

“No!” Y/N shouted, trying to move around Bucky. He didn’t have to use much effort to push her back.

The doctor laughed, pleased his plan was working flawlessly. He turned on his heels and nodded at one of the soldiers next to him. The man took a phone out of his pocket and handed it to the former assassin.

“What is this ?” Bucky questioned him, ignoring the pleading eyes of the woman begging him to not give in.

“A message” Dr.Faustus replied. “With coordinates to this place, addressed to your Captain”

“This isn’t enough”

“Press the button and send it yourself, then”

Bucky gave him a wary look but took the phone nonetheless.

“I have a condition” He raised his eyes to stare at the man.

“You are in no position to negotiate, soldat”

“If you want me to follow you willingly, you will listen”

He pursed his lips in annoyance.

“Very well”

Bucky glanced back at his girlfriend, barely holding on her legs but still ready to kill him herself for what he was about to do.

“Let me have a moment with her” He pleaded, his voice deep with emotions.

“If you plan to escape …”

“I won’t” He cut him with a promise he would keep.

He seemed to ponder his options for a moment before he gave a nod, accepting the request. Bucky dropped his head in defeat and pressed the button on the phone screen, sending the message to Steve and praying he would be there soon to get her out of there.

The doctor turned around, gesturing to the other agents. In less than a minute, the room was empty and they were alone for what would probably be their last moment together. Bucky made a step toward the woman, knowing whatever time they had it would never be enough, but before he could do anything she gathered all the strength she had left and slapped him across the face.

“I hate you!” She shouted, tears streaming down her face. “I hate you!”

He had expected her anger but her words still hurt him. He couldn’t begin to understand what she was feeling when his own heart was already being torn apart.

“I had to…”

“Why didn’t you fight ?” She choked. “Why … why did you gave up on us ?”

“I gave up on me!” He told her in a deep voice, quickly closing the distance between them and cupping her face with force. “I’m choosing you over me”

“There is no me without you, Bucky” She muttered

“They don’t know the Winter Soldier is no longer here” He told her, trying to reassure her. “Whatever they have plan for me, it’s not gonna work”

“You don’t know that”

He laid his forehead on hers and a tear on his own rolled down his cheek.

“I know I need you to stay alive. I’ve lived on borrowed time long enough, Y/N, maybe …”

“Don’t you dare!” She cried, pushing him away. She struggled to stay on her feet but she couldn’t seem to care. “I swear to god, Bucky, I will kill you myself if you dare giving up now!”

“Steve is gonna find you and bring you back” He continued.

She shook her head and her eyes grew hot, the tears welling so quickly it was impossible to blink them away.

“Please don’t break my heart” She whispered.

His lips started trembling and he choked on a small but audible sob. Losses after losses, he had shed his own shade of tears, had been broken beyond measure and brought to hell. This was something else. Pain had a sweet taste of horror and self-hatred when it was felt under the power of all his sanity.

“Let me hold you” He begged her.

Despite her anger, she didn’t waste any time and sank her face into his chest, letting him comfort both of them. He kept her close, looking down at her with gleaming eyes, wishing he never had to let go as he tightened his arms around her.

“I love you” He spoke right next to her ear. “Like I’ve never thought it was possible to love. You picked up every pieces of me you could find and glued them back together. You built the man I am today from scratch with your kindness, your resilience and your love. You gave me a second chance, and a second life by your side, and what a life it has been. You are my world, my soul, but most importantly, my home. You will always have me, doll.”

“Don’t say goodbye like that” She muttered, an aching wound opening deep in her chest as the tears kept falling.

“This isn’t goodbye, I’ll make damn sure of that. Wherever you are is where I am too. That’s the deal we made, right ? I’m with you till the end of the line”

“This is the end of our line” She forced up the words.

He raised her chin with a finger to look into her eyes and in that moment they kissed, together in each other's protective embrace.

“It will never be”

“Promise me you’ll give them hell”

“I promise I’ll fight with everything I have”

Tag list below the cut

@briannareneea985 - @bangtanxberm - @kissmyoops - @steve-is-daddy - @tylard-blog1 - @harprs - @animegirlgeeky

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagines #the winter soldier imagine #falcon and the winter soldier #Winter Soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagines #fatws #tfatws

109 notes · View notes

demonsandmischief · 3 years

Text

Come Home To Me Part 5

Marvel - A Sam Wilson Imagine

Sam Wilson x Female Reader 1.4k Words

Here's Part 4 and my Masterlist for additional parts

-Part 5-

The ending.

----

You liked Washington DC. You liked Sam's house and being able to see the things he enjoyed.

It was also nice that you had the opportunity to be able to walk or ride the subway to wherever you needed. Even though there was a car for you to use, you couldn't drive. Sam had promised to teach you when he got back.

The only downfall was when he had to work. Sometimes he was gone for days. Two weeks had been the latest so far. It did give you a chance to find yourself beyond your sweet soulmate, but you always missed him terribly.

For this mission, it had been five days since you had last seen him.

You took boxing classes once a week to give you something to do. You considered getting a job, but you still were very uncomfortable and wary around other people.

It was also really difficult to sleep without him. The nightmares return full force. You didn't mean to be so attached to Sam, but how could you not, given everything that you went through?

You hum to the music as you eat some cereal for breakfast. Sam's place was full of old records, CDs, speakers. It was comforting to listen to the things he liked.

Sam: Miss you.

You grinned when you read the text. He had managed to call last night, and it had been so good to hear his voice.

You: Miss you more.

You could just push the messages right to his head, but you promised yourself you wouldn't when you learned they gave him serious migraines. Not to mention you had no idea what he was up to and you didn't want to be a distraction.

The TV program you had on in the background cut off to an emergency news broadcast, and even though it was muted, it still caught your attention. You turned up the volume.

It was definitely an adjustment to be without him, but you were learning lots of new things. How to cook and clean, different kinds of movies and TV shows. It was nice to feel like a normal person doing normal things.

Everything had been good recently, but that never lasts long.

"We interupt your scheduled program to inform you of the reports of a plane hijack containing US officials, including the Vice President. The plane has since crashed over Pennsylvania and is believed to be an act of terrorism. Captain America is believed to have been helping get the plane under control, but has not emerged from the crash site. Emergency personnel are on the scene."

You watched with horror as the cellphone video played, capturing your glimmering man falling from the sky before disappearing into the dust and flames.

You turned it off as a quick reaction, your heart pounding viscously in your chest. Your stomach threatened to turn, and your spoon hit the table with a clatter.

Oh god. Please let Sam be okay.

He had just texted you. He had to be okay. You cringed as the video replayed over and over in your head.

He had to be okay because you loved him.

Your phone ringing broke through your sluggish mind and you scrambled to get to it in time. It was an unknown number, but you answered.

"Hello?" you whispered.

"It's Bucky. Sam's been hurt."

A sob left your mouth but you muffled it with a shaking hand, "Is he okay?"

Bucky didn't say anything, only adding to your worry. You didn't even know Bucky was with him, or any of the details

"Bucky?"

"He's going to be fine, Y/N," he gave a tired sigh. "I'll come pick you up and take you to the hospital to see him. Is that okay?"

You nodded, before realizing he couldn't see. "Okay."

----

Sam was pretty banged up when you got there, but he was alive and you had never been so relieved in your life.

You sat impatiently by his bedside. The doctor told you his suit had taken the brunt of the impact, but he still hit his head pretty hard. Some of his ribs were fractured, along with his right wrist. He had been very lucky.

You dried your tears for the billionth time. Where would you be without him? Sam saved your life. He was your soulmate, your home.

You had dozed off in the stiff plastic seat when he woke.

He hissed as he shifted and stretched.

"Sam," you cried, reaching for his hand. "Don't move too much. Let me get the nurse."

"It's okay," he said hoarsely. "I'm fine. It's just a headache."

"You scared me," you whispered, feeling new tears. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Shh," he soothed, running his thumb over your knuckles and closing his eyes again. "I hate to see you cry."

----

The hospital monitored Sam's head injury for about a day before they cleared him to go home.

Bucky had stuck around and he drove you and made sure Sam was settled.

"Thank you for everything," you told him. "Are you sure you don't want something to eat before you go?"

He shook his head, "My girl is waiting for me at home. Let me know if there's anything he needs. You have my number now."

Sam was out cold. He was taking some medicine for the pain, and you felt beside yourself, not knowing what to do or how to help.

You had fallen asleep on the couch when you were startled awake by Sam standing over you.

"Jeez," you gasped, pushing yourself upright. "You scared the hell out of me. Why are you standing over me? Why did you get out of bed?"

Sam chuckled, "I'm sorry. You should have seen your face."

He nudged you over and sat down beside you, pulling the blanket onto his lap.

"Hey," you protested. "I was using that."

"Too bad. You have to scoot closer if you're cold. Why didn't you come to bed?"

"I don't want to hurt you, Sam," you protested. The cool air caused bumps to form on your arms.

"C'mon. You can't hurt me. Get over here before you freeze."

You hesitated. "I'll just get another blanket." You stood up, but he reached for you.

"Please, baby. I just need to hold you. I promise to tell you if you hurt me, okay?" He said it so soft and sweetly that you couldn't do anything but comply. Besides, all you wanted was for him to hold you.

You sat as close as possible without leaning too much on his ribs, resting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his left arm around you.

He reclined the couch, and you adjusted the blanket so it covered the both of you.

It was pretty quiet, and you could feel yourself starting to go to sleep when he spoke.

"All I could think of was you."

"What's that?" you mumbled.

"When I fell, all I wanted was to come home, to be with you."

You hummed, reaching for his hand. He kissed your head.

"When I accepted Captain America, I accepted my fate. I told myself that I would be okay with dying, but now I have so much to live for."

You smiled, turning slightly to see his shining eyes. He leaned down for a sweet kiss.

"I was terrified when I saw that video, and then Bucky called me. Like I told you before, I don't want to be anywhere you're not."

He sighed, "There's always a risk. It comes with the territory."

"I know," you whispered. "And I know it'll never get easier for me, but we can handle it."

Sam nodded, leaning back and closing his eyes.

"I'm surprised your sister hasn't personally come up here to beat your ass."

He laughed, wincing at the jostle it gave him. "That's only because you were around to tell her what's going on."

You smiled, "That laugh was payback for nearly giving me a heart attack."

Sam peeked down at you with another chuckle "You're a brat, but you're my brat."

You shuffled a bit so the blanket was pulled to your chin, a warm contentment settled over the two of you. He reached over to turn off the lamp.

"I do love you, Sam," you whispered very quietly into the darkness.

He groaned playfully, "You just had to wait until it was dark. How am I supposed to kiss you now?"

You giggled, a light happiness swirling in your stomach.

"I love you, too," he said back. "So much."

Tag List: @superwholockruleztheworld @imiiimargo @hiuahoe @idunnomayn @cable-kenobi @nialeesato @bklynxbaby @wolflover384 @mytbel0st @burnalley @heyarely16 @lilithknight1111 @loveyou5everr @yougottalovefandoms @lets-love-little-me @cxlpxrnia @daddyissuesmademe @queentorresstuff @spookycereal-s

----

Thank you guys for loving this series. I've been in such a mental slump and struggled with this, so I hope it ended okay. I appreciate each and everyone of you.

#sam wilson x you #sam wilson soul mate #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson #bucky barnes #anthony mackie imagine #anthony mackie #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #tfatws imagine #marvel imagine #marvel fanfic #marvel #marvel soulmate #captain america x you #captain america imagine #sebastian stan #san Wilson x reader #sam wilson x female reader

97 notes · View notes

genshin-hours · 3 years

Note

Hello dear! May I please have a Hunter and Survivor match-up please? Also if you'd like i'd be more than happy to match you with a hunter and survivor as well! Anyways, I love your blog and your writing! I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

Zodiac sign: Leo sun, Aries moon, Leo rising

Personality Type: ENTP

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Straight (For now might be bi but i'm going with straight)

I'm 5'4 and I have a very tiny body frame so i'm extremely petite and pretty small. I'm not very curvy and I literally have the body of a cereal box...lol but its fine because I have nice hips and thighs. I have thick brown hair that goes down to my back and it gets tangled pretty easily but its kinda fluffy. I have brown eyes and tiny freckles all over my face and body. I also have a very strong grunge style, like Flannels, band t-shirts, combat boots, leather jackets etc. But i'd also always enjoy a nice oversized sweatshirt or hoodie with a pair of skinny, ripped jeans and some converses or something along those lines.

For my personality.....this is where things get interesting. At first people find me very intimidating due to my resting bitch face and cold exterior but I promise i'm not like that ALL the time. When you get to know me, i'm goofy and about everything that comes out of my mouth is sarcasm or some dry humored joke. I'm also that one friend in a group where they literally will do the stupidest shit ever like for an example one time it was super dark outside and my other friend was there, while I was trying to climb a tree and I failed and fell out of the tree, and landed on my back. I got straight up after that somehow it didn't hurt.....like at all? But yeah i'm super reckless and sometimes people have to save me from myself if you get what I mean. I also have a very strong "I don't give a fuck" attitude and I will not hesitate to stick up for myself or my friends....like i'm the type of person where if someone glares at me, i'll glare right back.

I have bad anxiety and I can be very self destructive. This is where my feisty, stubborn, hardheaded side comes in. If I want something then i'll fight for it even if it hurts me and i'll get into a bad cycle of putting myself down and trying to do better even if I did great the first time but I always push myself too far and other people have to stop me because I usually can't see it when its happening. I also cover my emotions up and I have a lot of trouble talking about whats bothering me or what problems i'm having emotionally so I put up a wall and I act tough, or happy and sometimes i'll be the exact opposite but I try to hide it.Weird things about me: I've grown up in the south all my life so sometimes when I talk a few words they'll come out sounding WAYYY more country and southern then I wanted, I don't have an accent but sometimes my words just come out that way. Sometimes in the middle of the night you can find me just staring at a wall or something because I can't go to sleep.....I have trouble sleeping.....

Things I like: I love swimming (I was on a swim team for about 9 years), I love horror movies, I like rain and the sounds of thunderstorms because its calming to me, I also love the smell of rain, I like cloudy days, cooking, listening to 80's and 90's rock but mainly 90's because 90's is the best, My favorite bands are Bush, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Linkoln Park, Pearl jam but i'm pretty open to anything.

Things I dislike: Spiders.......I will scream if I see a spider.

hello! tysm for requesting, love! and you can of course :) ty for the offer btw, that would be lovely! also I hope you have a wonderful day/night as well <3 hopefully you enjoy all these hcs, dear ♡

I ship you with....

joseph desaulnier

so, I think joseph would really like you :>

joseph is one of the shorter hunters, so you being very small makes him lowkey excited

he loves letting you rest in his lap. he marvels at how small you are and how cute you look!!!

joseph gets the whole resting bitch face thing. he is told quite often that he has a bad case of rbf lmao

he also thinks your hair is really pretty, and if you're alright with it, he will offer to help brush/comb it for you or even style it. he is surprisingly good with hair. his hair isn't just fluffy and silky on its own, you know.

also joseph is pretty good at keeping you from doing like absolutely crazy stuff. he will make sure you don't get hurt, but the second he think you might he's gonna be yelling at you in french to stop or running to try and protect you from falling

and if you do get hurt, he is the first to provide you first aid. the whole time he is blushing and cursing under his breath. he is surprised by how bold and reckless you can be.

he loves your spirit and enthusiasm, but for the love of god, please be more careful

also, joseph loves your dry humor. he laughs at all your jokes. even if you're in matches and he is supposed to be serious

joseph also has a pretty "idgaf" attitude, so you guys will get along well. he is willing to fight for something he believes in too.

joseph isn't the best with emotions either, but this gives you both an opportunity to work together at it.

you both agree to come together and share what you're comfortable with to try and figure things out. tbh he is more likely to provide you with advice rather than consolation.

he thinks your accent is really cute, and teases you for it sometimes. but he actually thinks it's adorable.

also he will help you fall asleep by stroking your hair, reading to you, laying by you, etc. he is very comforting surprisingly

joseph is also probably scared of spiders but he will toughen up to get rid of them if you need him to.

(if the spider is scary enough though, you'll be hearing swearing in french and seeing another hunter coming to deal with it lmao)

I also ship you with luca balsa!

luca and you would be cute together!

he thinks your height is adorable, and he likes how small you are when you stand together

you're not too much shorter than him (only 3 inches or so) but it's really cute to him that he can lift you up and stuff or you can sit in front of him and he can lean on you.

he likes to be alone usually when working, though he wouldn't mind if you were to lay on his bed or sit on his lap while he works, but he needs you to stay safe so you're wearing a heavy coat and safety gear lmao

he thinks your style and rbf are adorable. you're not intimidating to him, so he thinks it's funny

luca also enjoys your humor, and he finds it relatable. he always laughs at your jokes, even if you make them at bad times

luca has similar habits to you though, which makes it easy for him to spot them in you and stop you quickly before things get bad

he himself is pretty reckless at times, but, he will admit, he is a hypocrite and panics when you do something dangerous, but turns around and works with dangerous equipment

you're both not the best with emotions, but he does his best to help you. he might not be the best at consoling you, but he will do what he can to make you feel better in his own way

he might tinker with stuff to improve it for you, or try to give you helpful advice

luca would think horror movies are super neat, but he analyzes them fast, and knows all the twists and turns. he still jumps though

he likes your accent and thinks it's pretty cool! he doesn't hear many southern accents, so he finds yours very neat and soothing to listen to

luca will take the time to help you fall asleep if you can't. he has some trouble falling asleep too, so don't be surprised if he accidentally passes out on top of you once you're asleep.

he isn't a fan of lightning and thunder, but some gentle rain and pretty clouds are lovely in his opinion :)

luca is also an entp, so you two would have plenty of lively debates lmao

#identity v #idv #identity v headcanons #identity v imagines #idv headcanons #idv imagines #identity v x reader #idv x reader #idv matchups #idv photographer #idv joseph #joseph desaulnier #idv luca balsa #idv luca #idv prisoner #luca balsa

39 notes · View notes

rosesareviolentlyread · 3 years

Text

Bakery Box Boy: Bath Time

CW: mentions of punishment, physical harm, scars, modern slavery, memory alteration, self-blame, people talking negatively about the character, internalized hatred, I’m really bad at these I’m working on it, anxiety WC: 1316

IT CONTINUES I swear one of you asked me to tag you but I forgot who. Thanks again to @moose-teeth and @whumpywhumper for beta-reading. And we also located the post that inspire this!! so thanks @whumping-every-day for that wonderful answer!!

The warm water swirls around his - Jasper’s - hands as he moves them through the water, feeling the gentle push and pull. It’s steamy, a fog of vanilla and sweet wood that clings to him like the cold had. He worries it’ll ruin the beautiful wallpaper, the one covered in yellow flowers with dark green stems that look like they’re growing all over the wall. He doesn’t want to ruin the wallpaper.

He doesn’t want to ruin things, not again.

But, nothing about this seems to be going right. The memory of coming out of the box still feels...foggy, like the air around him, a confusion that clings to his chest with the fear that he has done something wrong, with knowing he’s been bad. 847650 - Jasper his brain continues to correct - isn’t good. He can’t remember why, or how, but he knows. Not that he wasn’t good enough here, those blunders are still fresh. No, it’s a deeper certainty, that the core of who 847650 is, is mistake.

He knows because the things in his mind that he can grasp, they are only pain, and fear, and people yelling. Because he can see the thin tracery of lines that cover his arms, his legs. Because he can feel the way his bones crack when he stands. Because of the way skin pulls uncomfortably across his back that makes him scared to look.

But his new owner, they’d….touched him. Not the way they did in the white rooms, in the places he wishes would fog over more. It had been gentle. Warm. Hands that rubbed circles into the frozen joints, wrapped them in blankets far too soft for something as torn and broken as him. She knew, he was sure, because the one thing he could clearly remember, was her face when he’d first opened his eyes.

Horror.

He is a terror, a horror, a thing made to be kept in a basement. That’s what the handlers have told him this time or the time before or sometime that blends into a forever of white rooms only punctuated with the pain of knowing he is bad in the way a belt or a cane or a whip or a hand hits him until he is beat beet-red.

Useless, can’t believe it’s back again.

What’d it do this time? Can’t believe they keep sending it out. Guess money is money.

How much longer you think it’ll last?

Who knows? This thing’s like a bad luck boomerang, can’t get rid of it

And 847650 knows they are right, in his bones. That nothing good happens around him. To him. It’s written on his skin, in the box he came in, in the way her face had looked.

So, why had she touched him like that? Why is she letting him sit here, in this nice bath, that is using far too much warm water on him? Why does she only have nice soaps for him to use, ones that smell like sugar and sweetness and all the things he can barely remember beyond them being far too nice?

It feels so wrong, and he wants it to stop. He wants the shoe to drop, to kick his ribs, to crush his hand.

Doesn’t he?

He isn’t made for flowered walls, for warm fireplaces and hand-knit blankets that smell musty and cozy with years of use worn into their threads, not threadbare but instead comfortable, secure in their place.

He wants to be like that, to know where he belongs, to belong, but he is bad. Bad luck. And he knows there is no way he belonged somewhere like here, can’t, not for long.

A knock on the door jumps him out of his thoughts, water almost sloshing onto the soft bathmat.

One drop away from disaster.

“Sugar? I found some clothes for you. I think they might fit, you’re about the right size. I’ll just leave ‘em here on the edge of the counter. You just come on out when you’re ready, I’ll be in the kitchen.” He sees a hand slip a pile of fabric onto the edge of the counter before the door shuts again.

When he’s ready?

A test. It must be. To see how quickly he can recover, get himself ready to learn.

Even though the water soothes the ache in his limbs, he forces himself to pull the drain open, watching his solace slink down the drain. Grabbing the towel that is far too fluffy, he stands carefully in the tub, drying off before stepping out so to be sure to not slick the tile with water.

The pile of clothes have the same slightly musty, stored smell of the blankets. He doesn’t mind it, feeling the soft, pliable fabric in his hands. It’s not stiff, like clothes he feels in the edges of his mind he’s worn before, that felt too wrong on his body, too perfect in every angle and shape. But they’re not full of holes that make his skin shiver with the memory of cold far worse than that of the box. It’s clothing that’s been lived in, been given a home, for longer than he can imagine.

He pulls on the white shirt, feeling it hang loose on his shoulders as he puts the thick flannel over top. The jeans, while thin, hang loose on his hips, until he has to tighten the belt to the second to last hand-worn notch just so they’ll stay up. But it’s all so warm and soft over his skin. The socks are luxurious, thick wool that helps him cling to the feeling of toes. Of being here, even as the fog in his brain still makes it hard to think, to remember.

When you’re ready her voice echoes in his brain, and suddenly, he’s quickly folding the towel back onto its rack, and scrambling to the kitchen. He isn’t sure how long he stood there, fingers just trailing over the fabric on his skin, but he knows intimately it was too long.

Jasper nearly slams into the wall as the sudden slick of socks on his feet causes him to slide down the hall, limbs flailing like a newborn fawn. He manages to recover, grabbing the doorway as his heart thumps in his ears in fear.

Please, please let me to have been quick enough to be good

“Oh, there you are. I was starting to think you’d fallen asleep in there, was about to go check to see if you’d drowned.” His owner’s face is smiling, and she winks, but he can’t understand why. Clearly, he’d taken too long. Maybe she’s happy because it means she now has a reason to punish him, to start teaching him a lesson. Maybe because it proves that he isn’t good, just like she thought when she saw him. He ducks his head, feeling his shoulders stiffen and hoping maybe this punishment will at least be a bit lighter, since his bones still ache from the cold, muscles straining just to stay upright.

“I-I’m sorry I took so long Miss Della.” For no reason, dammit, he feels tears prick his eyes, and he forces them away.

Crying ain’t gonna do you no good, little boy, the voice in his head taunts with the crackle of electricity in its anger.

“No worries, I like myself a good soak too. I’m sure after getting soaked in the cold it felt nice to do an ole switcheroo hmm? Why don’t we go sit by the fire, warm you up a bit more, and I’ll go over the ground rules and what not” Her face breaks out into a smile as she crosses to the living room, picking up a dark iron rod to stoke the fire.

Jasper reminds himself to follow, even as a spot on his hip screams about how red hot pokers feel on skin.

71 notes · View notes

world-of-aus · 4 years

Text

Wish You Were Here - One Shot

Pairing: Biker! Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 8,915

Warnings: angst, fluff, blood, violence

Summary: Bucky will go to any extent to protect his family, even to the extent of pushing you far away from him, but has he gone to far this time.

Author’s Note: Anything italicized are flashbacks! Oh man was this one a fun one to write, there was so many times i was constantly adding things only to delete because it just wasn't flowing right, but if you ask me i’m pleased, and i hope you’ll enjoy it as well! Behind the Screen will be updated this week and ill be posting about a schedule for my works after i upload this! Happy Reading sweet angels!

“James, sweetheart five more minutes and then I'm going to need you to come inside and wash up before dinner!” you yelled through the backdoor of your home. Your rambunctious five-year-old looked up from where he was ankle deep in his sand box. You watched as your son comically threw his head back, a loud groan leaving his lips, “but mom!”

Though you knew your raised brow would be to no avail you still raised it anyway, your hands on your hip, “five minutes James, five minutes and no longer,” you called out.

You could almost hear his grumpy fine, as he glared at you from his spot in the sand. You chuckled at his behavior before turning away from the door, returning to your post at the sink where you were washing the pots you had used to whip up dinner for the two of you. You watched your son from the window above the sink, he looked so happy, so carefree, you wished all his days were like this. Recently his behavior had been at an all-time high, there was usually no consoling the five-year-old, not when he wanted his dad, and nothing to do with mom. What were you supposed to tell him though, surely “oh yeah daddy’s not going to be home anytime soon because he chose the club over you and I” would be the last thing your son would want to hear. Every day that passed you could see your son’s once happy form slowly shrink in on itself, you knew he sensed the change in your home, he could sense his father's absence, and it was affecting the both of you.

You sighed as you shut off the sink putting the last pan up to dry, peering up you saw your son stare off into the distance towards the front of your home before he was bolting from the sandbox. You watched with wide eyes as he ran past the back door, right past the side of your home. You cursed as you turned on your heel making your way through your home practically ripping the door off its hinges as you pulled it open. You ran down the steps two at a time, freezing at the last step, hand to your chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“Mama, mama, look uncle Steve is here!” he beamed from where he sat in Steve’s arms.

You gave him your best tight-lipped smile, “I can see that baby, say why don’t you go wash up real quick so I can talk to Uncle Steve,” You saw your son frown.

“Do I have to mommy, I really want to spend time with Uncle Steve,” he whispered eyes casted down.

You sighed, heart breaking, “as soon as you freshen up, I promise you can come right back out and spend a few minutes with Uncle Steve, okay?” you bargained.

Just like that a bright smile took over your son’s tiny face as he squirmed in his uncles hold. You watched Steve place him down, your son running up to you hugging your thighs tightly, “Love you momma,” he whispered placing a wet kiss to your leg.

“Love you too, now go on, go get cleaned up baby,” you spoke softly ruffling his brown locks. The second you heard your front door close you looked over to Steve.

“What are you doing here Steve?” you questioned arms crossing over your chest.

“It’s Bucky y/n he’s - ”

You held up your hand silencing him, “where’s Natasha?” you questioned.

Steve sighed, “Y/n it’s not what you think, it’s -”

You shook your head, “I don’t want to hear it Rogers, I asked where Natasha was?” you muttered.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, “Clint got into a bit of a slip-up with another member, she was called to go stitch him up.”

“so then wait for her to get back, Natasha has skilled hands she’ll be quick”

You could see Steve was getting impatient, “y/n Bucky will have lost a lot of blood by the time she gets to him, he need’s you.” he tried

“Yeah well we all need things, doesn’t mean it always happens,” you muttered looking at the floor.

“Please y/n,” he was getting desperate.

“This better be the last time Steve, I told you I wanted out the second he decided our family wasn’t his top priority, the second he decided-” your words caught in your throat, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Your head fell, you shook it slightly as you willed the tears away. You took in a shaky breath eyes meeting Steve’s, “where is he?”

Steve was about to answer, when you heard the distant rumble of two more bikes, one that you had grown accustomed to seeing for years.

“were you guys just going to show up,” you hissed at Steve, “did you just think I would agree to this?” you questioned getting angrier by the second.

“We were hoping you would say yes,” he sighed, “there was no one else y/n, you were always there to nurse us back to health, he needed you.”

You scoffed, “needed me, understatement of the fucking year,” you muttered under your breath as the bikes drew closer.

You watched Steve rush over to Bucky, his frame wobbling, your eyes grew concerned.

“Hey y/n,” Sam greeted, you nodded your head at him, “Samuel.”

Your eyes widen the second they land on Bucky, and you can’t control yourself as your feet carry you to him like they had done so many times before. A worried gasp is leaving your lips as you pull at the lapels of Bucky’s jacket, your feet almost fail you, there’s blood, so much blood, your face pales. “What the fuck happened,” you whisper eyes looking from Steve, Sam and then finally landing on his.

“Should see the other guy,” he smirks, “missed you doll,” he murmurs.

You scoffed, “please Barnes, if this doesn’t kill you, I’ll do it myself, what were you thinking coming here like this I have James inside the house!” you growled.

“Now sweetheart -” he’s cut off by the sound of your front door slamming, your son’s voice squealing in delight, “DADDY!”

Your eyes widen in horror, your son had never seen his dad like this, “apply pressure to the wound” you hiss turning on your heel to stop your son from getting any closer, but he’s too quick and before you can even get his name out in warning he’s stopping in front of his dad and uncles. He’s frozen, his head turns to look up at you slowly, “mommy, why is daddy bleeding?” he questions you, you can see his lip start to wobble his eyes glistening, a knot formed in your throat, this is what you wanted to avoid.

Your dropping to your knees to turn your little boy to face you, you need to divert his eyes from the blood soaking his shirt, your hands reach up to cup his cheeks, “daddy’s bleeding because he got hurt baby he’s -”

“is daddy going to die?!” your son questioned cutting you off, his voice scared.

“oh baby no, daddy’s not going to die, it’s just a cut, like a booboo,” you tried to reassure, “uncle Steve and Sam brought him to mommy, and mommy’s going to take care of him.”

“You promise you’re going to make him all better?” he questioned eyes glistening, bottom lip trembling.

Your thumbs ran under his cheek, “I promise baby, he’s going to-”

You were cut off by Steve’s frantic calls of Bucky’s name, you and your son looked up to see Bucky slouched over, face paler than when he had first arrived.

Your son looked over to you in fear, tears falling down his cheeks, “Mommy, what’s wrong with daddy,” he cried, “mommy please help daddy you promised, you promised you would make him better!” he screamed reaching for Bucky’s leg.

You held your son back while you shouted for Steve and Sam to get Bucky inside, and to your room. All the while attempting to soothe your thrashing five-year-old, the wails for his father tore at you. You scooped him into your arms, running with him towards the house as you tried to calm his tears. Sam greeted you in the living room reaching for your son, “ he’s in the room, Steve’s applying pressure, I'll watch the little guy.”

Your son kicked and screamed some more, “mommy no, please mommy,” he wailed as you pulled away from him, tears glistening In your own eyes, “please don’t let anything happen to daddy, please!”he said reaching towards you. You wanted to rush back and hold your son tightly while you whispered reassuring words into his ears, but right now you had a promise to keep, “daddy’s going to be okay baby, mommy promises daddy’s going to be okay,” you called back disappearing down the hallway into your room.

You entered the door shutting it behind you, your materials were already spread out on your night stand, you looked over to your bed, Steve hovering over Bucky, “i got the bleeding to stop but he’s not looking good y/n,” you nodded your head stiffly.

“I’ll take it from here Steve, just please go help Sam with James, please,” you whispered.

Steve gave you a stern nod before he was leaving Bucky’s side, you moved forward to take his spot. You made quick work of cutting open his shirt, you had no time to waist as your hands weaved between your nightstand and the wound on Buckys stomach, this was second nature to you, you had been doing this for years now, though this was the worse you had seen during your time at the club, the most you had ever seen was a small gash, but this was something new, even for you. By the time you were done with Bucky, you knew you’d need to get rid of the clothes on your skin, the sheets beneath his body, and likely get a new bed.

You were numb by the time you completed the last stitch, your skin was crawling as you looked down at the blood that covered your hands and your shirt. Making your way over to your bathroom you scrubbed frantically at the blood on your skin till it was red and raw. You slipped off your shirt dumping it in the trash-bin and slipping on another. You walked back over to Bucky checking on him, his breathing was even, and his color was returning ever so slowly. You went to push his hair from his face when soft knocks sounded on your door, you turned your head muttering a weak “come in”.

Steve peeked his head in giving you a small smile, before he was pushing in, the door behind him closing, “how is he?” he questioned.

You took in a shaky breath, “he did lose quite a bit of blood, but with enough rest and some food and water he’ll make a recovery, wouldn’t suggest moving him for a good day he’s going to be in for a hell of pain, so he can stay here, you and Sam as well if you’d like.”

Steve nodded, his eyes meeting your dazed ones, “thank you for helping us, for helping him, how are you doing?”

Who knew those words would be the ones to break you, the first tear fell and after that it was like a dam had been destroyed, a month worth of tears and pain fell through. Sobs wracked your body, your hands coming up to your face to try and contain them. Steve rushed forward his arms wrapping tightly around you. “It’s been a month Steve, a fucking month of radio silence, and the day he shows up he’s halfway to being on deaths door,” you cried “it’s been a long and hellish month of hearing James beg to see his dad, hell to see any of you, he misses the club, and he can't quite understand why dads never home to play with him, tuck him in, have a movie night, it’s funny that when the lot of you decide to finally show up it’s because Natasha wasn��t available to keep this asshole from dying, it wasn’t because you wanted to see your nephew, it wasn’t because he finally decided he was choosing his family, no it’s because he was hurt and you had nobody else,” your mad now, angry hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you swat at Steves chest, “did you see that little boys face when you showed up, did you see how his eyes lit up to see his dad, did you even care to think how this might affect us you guys coming here after a month of nothing” you yelled, “you can’t even begin to imagine how hard it is to raise that little boy on my own when all he wants is to see or spend time with his dad, he can feel his absence, I can feel his absence, and it's all because I asked him to cut back from the club a little, just a little, and what does he decide,” you shake your head, “he decides that he can’t do that, that his family isn't enough.”

“Y/n --”

You shook your head, “I don’t want to hear it Steve, if it’s not coming from his mouth,” you said pointing to your bed, “I don’t want to hear it.”

Steve tried to speak a confused look on his face but there was another knock on your door, this time Steve was the one to call them in. You had expected to see Sam and James, and you did but there was another head popping in behind them, you steeled yourself, your eyes watched as she went over to your bed, her hands running over the now bandaged wound, she looked up at you with worried eyes, “is he going to be okay?”

“he’ll be fine, he probably won’t wake for the rest of the evening but he’ll make it.”

You felt tapping at your legs to see your son looking up at you wide eyed, “did you fix him mommy, did you make daddy all better.”

You kneeled down smiling at your son, god he looked so much like his dad, “yeah baby mommy made daddy all better, he’s going to be okay,” you murmured.

Your son’s eyes lit up his arms throwing themselves around your neck, “I love you mommy, thank you for taking care of daddy like you take care of me”

“Love you too baby,” you whispered kissing the side of his head.

Your arms wrapped around your son as you hoisted him up, his arms still wrapped tightly around your neck, his cheek smushed to yours, “you guys are welcome to stay as long as you like, I'm going to go and feed this little guy and spend time with him before bed so if you don’t mind cleaning up I would appreciate it.” you murmured before you were stepping past Steve and Sam making your way out of your bedroom.

You didn’t see the three of them the rest of the evening, your sole attention on your son. James stayed glued to your side the rest of the evening, some part of him was always touching you, like he was grounding you to him, whether it be his hand holding yours while you ate dinner in silence, his toes brushing yours where they were nestled deep in the sand box, or his hands rubbing your cheek, his petite frame in your lap while you read to him in the comfort of his bed before bedtime.

“Mommy can I spend time with daddy tomorrow?” he questioned quietly while you tucked him into bed.

“Only if he’s feeling better, if he is you can go spend some time with him in the room, daddy’s booboo is very painful so he won’t be able to play with you.” you murmured pushing his hair from his face. The same grey eyes you had fallen in love with where staring right at you in the form of a new love.

“That’s okay, I can find another way to play with him, oh I know I can take him my blocks and a book and maybe some of my favorite toys that make me feel better when I got a booboo,” he replied cheerfully, his smile growing wider as he thought of all the things he could do with his dad, “i’ll make him feel all better like you did mommy!”

You smiled softly, “I bet you will baby, but right now mommy needs you to get some rest, and as soon as you wake up you can go see your dad,”

He grinned brightly before he was leaning forward placing a kiss to your lips, “goodnight mommy,”

You stood placing one last kiss to his head, “goodnight baby,” you whispered, turning off the light before making your way from the room leaving the door slightly cracked.

Looking towards your bedroom the room to your door was still shut, but a light shone at the bottom, you suspected the other three were still in there with him.

The events of the day finally caught up to you as you sat at your kitchen table a glass of water in front of you. Your form crumpled as you finally let the tears fall, hadn’t life given you enough pain when Bucky walked out the door, it seems it hadn't because now you had to witness the man you still loved almost die, and to hear the wails of your son crying out for the dad he missed dearly, well that just about did you in.

“Bucky we barely even see you now, the only time we do is if I'm needed at the club and I have to bring James along,”

Bucky sighed, his lips set into a deep frown, “Y/n this club is our life, the club needs me now more than ever, especially with Rumlow sticking his nose in our business.” he muttered his hands scrubbing over his face.

“The club is not our life Buck, this,” you said gesturing around you “this is our life.”

Bucky looked up at you his face set in a cold glare, “what is it that you want y/n, you want me to just drop everything, to leave the club, to be home with you and our son?”

“Is that so bad to ask for?” you questioned in disbelief, “is me wanting you to spend a little more time with me and your son a bad thing?”

He sighed standing from the table, “i can’t do this right now, I don’t want to fight with you,”

“then when are we going to do this Bucky,” you asked, “because between the club and you plotting with Steve, Sam, and Natasha, we barely even see you, James is always asking for you, he’s always asking for you throughout the day.”

“I’m working to keep the club running, I’m working to keep this family safe,” he said turning on you eyes in a cold glare, “the club might not be important to you, but it is to me, why can’t you be like the others, why can’t you be like Natasha?”

The question knocked you off your feet, the green monster rearing its ugly head into you, “wha-” you paused gathering your jealousy fueled thoughts, “what do you mean be like Natasha?” you whispered.

“Natasha lives for the club, she fights to keep things right, she’s there.” he hissed.

“Buck-”

“No y/n I know what you’re asking, and I’m sorry but I can’t, the club needs me, they need me now more than ever, we’re close to getting the upper hand on Rumlow and I'm not risking him getting away again.”

“So that’s it, the club, catching Rumlow, all that means more to you than your family, than your son, than me?” you questioned your voice wavering.

“Yeah I guess so,” he muttered.

“Then I want out James, I can’t do this anymore, I can’t be second choice, and neither can your son, it’s not right, I don’t want our son growing up around all this, we could handle it, but he’s beginning to understand everything, and I can’t raise him around the dangers that lurk.”

He scoffed before he was moving towards the door, “where are you going?” you questioned watching his retreating back.

He looked over his shoulder, “to Natasha’s,”

The jealousy reared into you again, “why?”

He glared at you, “because she’s there.”

That night that he left to Natasha’s you hadn’t seen or heard from him since, and it had only been harder when James started asking where daddy was. You hadn’t been too sure what to tell him, so you did the best you could and gave him the same short answer every time, with a promise that daddy would be home soon. Every day that passed James stopped asking less and less about his father, and when he was coming home. He knew something had changed, but he wasn’t sure what caused it, the day that he promised he would start being a good boy so daddy would come home broke you. Your son was blaming himself, and you didn’t know what to do or say to fix any of this.

The sound of feet walking down the hallway pulled you from your thoughts, you quickly wiped at your tears, fanning at your face. You looked to your side to see the Sam, Steve, Natasha. You gave them a nod before your eyes were going back to you glass. You heard the scrapes of the chairs next to you, you looked up their eyes trained on you.

“You okay?” Sam questioned.

You scoffed, you were so tired of that question, “does it look like I'm okay Sam, I already tore into Steve earlier, but maybe I'll feel the tiniest bit better if I give it another go,” you muttered. They looked at you confused didn’t say anything so you continued.

“I haven't heard from Bucky since he left a month ago, I also haven’t heard from any of you either, none of you called, texted or even showed up, and trust me I get it there’s things going on at the club so to some extent I understand,” you took a breath, “but you know what I can’t understand, is that it took Bucky being critically injured and Natasha not being available for you all to come by, you didn’t come by to see us, check on us, to spend time with James, no, you came because you had no other choice, so how do you think I'm feeling?” you hissed

“But y/n”

“But nothing Sam, the day Bucky left, I had asked Bucky to simply spend more time with me and his son, I never once asked him to give up the club, that's his life, but it wasn’t mine, not since we had James, and just like Bucky wanted to protect us, and keep us safe, that is why I chose to leave, James was beginning to understand the things he saw when I would bring him out with me, I couldn’t put my son through that, so I made that decision for my family,” you sucked in a breath, “when I told him my decision he decided that he didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to fight for us, but before he left he asked me why I couldn’t be like all of you, like Natasha, she was apparently more understanding, was there for him when I wasn’t, but the only time he wanted me around the club is when he called for me,” you shook your head, “so I'm sorry if I'm not doing my best, but the day Bucky left, he didn’t just leave with his things, no, he took all of me with him, so excuse me if I'm not the welcoming committee you all were expecting but for a month I had to raise my son alone, my son who asked me every hour of everyday where his father was and if he was finally coming home today, and that continued for weeks till he just stopped asking, stopped expecting to see the bike pull up, the door open.”

“Y/n,” natasha spoke up, you looked up at her through tear filled eyes, “we had no idea, none of us knew, Bucky didn’t explain any of this to us, he never told us there was any issues going on at home”

“of course he wouldn’t,” you scoffed, “as soon as he entered the club, it was strictly club business, family and home was not supposed to be brought up.”

“no y/n, understand when we say none of us knew, there’d be times we would ride with him over here once we were finished up at the club, and he would pull just outside of the gates, till we were out of sight, we thought he was coming home to you.”

“well he wasn’t, how did you not know about this?” you questioned her, “that night he left he said he was going to you, because you were there, because you’ve always been there.” you muttered.

“y/n I can assure you Bucky did not come to me that night, Bucky hasn’t been to my home unless it was with one of these two,” she said gesturing to Sam and Steve.

“she’s right y/n,” Steve spoke up quietly, “we swear none of us knew this was happening, or that it was this bad.”

“yeah y/n, if Barnes wasn’t recovering, I would have knocked him on his ass.” Sam muttered, reaching out his hand to you, you looked at his palm skeptically before placing yours in his.

“But Steve when I spoke to you outside before the two of them got here you seemed like you knew,” you questioned confused.

“Bucky told us he had upset you pretty bad before he arrived at the club this morning, he said you weren't going to be too happy seeing us there, that you might not want to help, because of how bad he messed up, I tried telling him you couldn’t stay mad with him, much less with the fact that he was stabbed, but he kept holding off coming over here, I just thought you were extremely upset still, but I didn’t know it was because of all this so when you got upset with me in the room, I was surprised as well, but you wouldn’t let me get a word in.”

You shoulders sagged, “so none of you knew,” you whispered shakily.

Sam’s thumb ran over your hand, “we swear none of us knew, we would never let you go through something like this y/n you have to believe us.”

You knew you believed them, they were the closest thing to family that you had, you knew they wouldn’t lie to you, not like this. The only thing that was bothering you was the thought that Bucky was hiding something much bigger, bigger than all of you if he went to this extent. To say your night had been restless was an understatement. You barely slept a wink, you were more concerned with confronting Bucky, to get to the bottom of all this, you needed to know why he had done what he did.

Sam, Steve, and Natasha had stayed up with you as long as they could, they reassured you every second that your mind raced with the thoughts of “what ifs”. Eventually you sent them off to the two guest bedrooms despite their protests.

“guys really, go get some rest, there’s no point in me taking a bed I won’t be getting any sleep in, there’s just too much on my mind.”

After sending them off to bed, you remained on the couch, it wasn’t until the first rays of sun peeked through the curtains that sleep finally pulled you under, and even then, your dreams were plagued by your own thoughts.

The smell of coffee and the sizzling sounds of eggs pulled you from your restless sleep. Peeking your head over the couch you saw five bodies, in the kitchen, your son was seated on the counter closest to the stove his legs swinging happily as he watched his father cook, the other three sat at your table a cup of coffee in front of each of them as they watched your son, you could sense an underlying tension in the room, had they confronted Bucky? Pulling yourself from the couch you let out a pained groan, your back screaming at you for sleeping on the too small couch, “Mommy, you’re awake!” your son squealed the second he had seen you.

You smiled at him softly making you way over to him, “good morning baby,” you whispered into his hair as you placed a kiss to his head. You bid the other’s one as well before your eyes were falling on Bucky, he gave you a tight-lipped smile a cup of coffee in his hand, “How are you feeling you questioned?”

“feeling more sore than anything, thank you for helping me out, but I think we need to talk, doll, or at least i have some explaining to do, and apologizing as well.”

You took the cup from his out stretched hand, your brow raised at him, “you think,” you muttered.

Wanting to enjoy a nice breakfast with your son, you dropped the subject for now, but you weren’t going to let him forget you needed to talk. You were relatively quiet during breakfast opting instead to enjoy your son’s joyous chatter as he told everyone surrounding him all he had done the month he had been apart from them. His laughter was contagious as was his bright smile, you almost forgot for a moment the storm looming over you. Once breakfast was finished and the dishes had been cleared, your son had asked if he could show his uncles and auntie Nat, his collection of toy cars you had recently purchased him. You nodded your head, smiling when an excited squeal sounded through the room, your son grabbing as many hands as he could.

The room fell into silence, the sound of a chair scraping against the tiled floor filled the room, you turned your head Bucky sitting in the chair closest to you.

“What are you hiding?” you questioned right off the bat.

A sigh left his lips, his head shook slightly, “there’s no easy way to explain any of this sweetheart.”

You glared at him, “well you better find a damn way too, because I deserve to know what the hell is going on with you.”

“It’s Rumlow,” the name made your breath catch in your throat, “we had underestimated him and how far he was willing to take things, we had stopped some of the business transactions he had been doing around our area and well he wasn’t too happy,” a deep sigh fell from his lips, “a few days after we had done that the first manila envelope showed up on the steps of the club, it was addressed to me,” he took a deep breath his hand that on the table was clenched into a fist, “there was pictures, they were of you and James, he threatened your life,” he growled his eyes boring into yours.

You froze at his words, “as soon as I saw the pictures of the two of you in there, I lost it, I didn’t know what to do sweetheart, he knew how much you two meant to me, and he knew that threatening to come after the two of you would throw me off,” he paused, “I had to do something, and I had to do it quick but I knew that if I did it right away you wouldn’t let me go so easily, so I had to plan it out, I had to slowly push you away from the club, only calling you when it was necessary, even coming home late, it pained me to do any of this sweetheart but that night that I told you I was keeping the two of you safe, I was really doing it.” You remained quiet wanting him to continue, “letters had still been showing up on the doorstep of the club, I thought by pushing you away little by little that they would stop but they didn’t, so I had to do it all together that night, I’m so sorry for what I put you through sweetheart, I would never intentionally hurt you or our son like this if I wasn’t trying my hardest to keep the two of you out of harm's way, I know it wasn’t the best way to go about things and you probably hate me for the hell I put you through, but I'm so sorry, i didnt think there was another way.”

You took in everything Bucky had just told you, you were frozen in your spot, “why didn’t you say anything, did the club know?” you questioned voice shaky.

“Nobody knew doll, I was always the first one to the club,” he sighed, “I didn’t want to worry anyone, I didn’t want them doing anything that would throw Rumlow off, from the photos I was receiving there was someone scouting the house, and I knew If I told the others they would be rushing over here doing what they could to protect the two of you,” he shook his head, “i felt helpless, and I thought by doing this it would help to protect the two of you, I've regretted it every day since.”

You took in a shaky breath, “and did it?” you questioned, “did you stop receiving threats”?

He nodded his head eyes casted down, you slumped in your seat, you didn’t know what to feel. You didn’t know whether to feel angry, sad, happy, scared, you just didn’t know, you were numb to it all, how do you take in the information that your husband had left you and your son a month ago to protect your life. You knew Bucky would go to whatever extent he needed to protect the two of you, but you would have never imagined it going this far, and that’s what worried you. How bad had this threat been to have him planning out weeks of pushing you away, to have him leaving you for a month, the way he did.

“Buck why couldn’t you just talk to me, why couldn’t you tell me what was going on?” you questioned looking up at him through tear filled eyes.

“I was scared doll, I didn’t want to involve you in this, especially with James and how you had been feeling about bringing him to the club, I imagined this only making matters worse, I just, I couldn’t put you through that,”

“Bucky we are in this together, you could have told me what was going on, and I would have understood what it was that you needed to do, you shouldn’t have had to do this alone.”

“sweetheart,” he sighed, “Rumlow is a dangerous man, he’s proved more times than none he will stop at nothing, and the second he threatened your life, I lost it, I wasn’t thinking rationally, all I knew was I needed to protect you and in that moment in time I hadn't cared how I did it, I didn’t think of the consequences, I didn’t think of the pain I would leave in my wake, I just wanted you safe,” Bucky’s hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away at a tear, “I’m so sorry I put the two of you through this sweetheart, I thought I was doing right, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am, I know now I should have come to you, come to the guys about this, but I was just so fucking scared to lose you, that I did just that,”

“Bucky I-”

Suddenly gunshots were breaking through the windows of the front of your home a scream tore through you, as glass continued to shatter around you. Bucky was quick to move as he flipped your table, yanking you down with him. You could hear the screams of your son, terror ran through you, you weren't thinking as you stood with a racing heart running through the kitchen “y/n no!” Bucky yelled over the gunfire; you didn’t make it far as Bucky jumped after you, both your bodies flying to the floor in the hallway, Bucky grunted his body crawling over yours. Tears were streaming down your face, as the gunfire continued to pour through your home, the sound of glass breaking and wood cracking filled your ears. You could still hear your sons screams a few feet away from the two of you, “Bucky,” you choked out.

He pulled you closer to him, your face pressed into his chest, time slowed for you as the rain of gunfire continued. You weren’t sure how long you laid there body pressed in terror against his before the gunfire finally ceased, the sounds of bikes loudly racing away.

“You guys good?” Bucky yelled out.

“We’re all good,” Steve called out,

“Sweetheart, you okay?”Bucky whispered looking down at you.

You pulled your head from his chest looking up at him, you nodded your head stiffly, “we’re going to get up slowly, and I want you to make your way to James room, you got that?” He questioned.

You didn’t give him an answer as you did what you were told, you were careful as you made your way over to your sons room only to find his bed flipped against the door. You leaned up peeking over it to see them in the farthest corners of his room.

“Mommy!” James cried as he pulled away from Steve’s hold, face red with tears streaming down his face. He ran into you his small arms wrapping around you holding on tightly as he cried into your legs.

You did your best to lean down hugging his tiny frame to you, “mommy,” he hiccupped, “daddy’s bleeding again,” you looked over to where Bucky leaned against the door, his bandaged wound stained in blood.

“Natasha do you think you can check him out please?” you whispered.

Natasha nodded beckoning Bucky closer, it was quiet for a few minutes, your son’s sniffles quieting the longer you held him.

Steve was the first to break the silence, “Buck is there something you want to tell us?”

Bucky stayed silent for a minute wincing when Natasha pierced the needle through his skin, a sigh left his lips before he was retelling the information he had just shared with you in the kitchen.

“goddamnit Buck, why didn’t you come to us earlier, we could have helped you with this, we could have avoided all this,” Steve grunted gesturing around your home.

“Fuck!” bucky hissed as Natasha finished the last stitch, “I know what you all would have done, rumlow already had eyes on the house, on my wife and kid, had I involved any of you, you all would have been in his radar too.”

“You didn’t have to go through this by yourself, we’re a team, a family, we would have figured something out with you, you didn’t need to do any of this.”

Bucky looked over to you, his eyes locking on you and your son, “I know that now,” he voiced quietly.

“Well we need to do something, we can’t let that asshole get away,” Sam piped in.

“We’re not doing anything till I get my family safe, and I know that they’re going to be safe,” Bucky grunted.

Bucky worked quick, he gave you a few hours to pack any salvageable belongings for you and James, you worked silently not lingering to long on things. Most of the rooms towards the front of the home had been destroyed with bullet holes, and your room just so happened to be in the front. You couldn’t help the various what ifs that popped up in your head, as you looked through your clothes, picking out ones that had no damage. Your mind kept racing; what if Bucky had still been in here when it happened, what if you had been in here, what if James had been outside playing, what if after what if played through your mind. You found yourself bracing your hands against your drawers as the tears took over.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky questioned softly from the doorway. You looked over to him, the second he saw your tear stained cheeks he was making his way over to you. You caved the second his arms wrapped around you, “I’m so sorry sweetheart, I’m so sorry I let it get this bad,” he murmured into your hair, pulling you closer the louder your cries got.

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed you in a blur as Bucky worked on getting you and James somewhere safe Steve, and Natasha had gone to check the location where you would you be moving too was ready for you, while sam was asked to go to the club and get some help in moving the two of you without anyone noticing. You had just finished packing the last of the things for the two of you when you head your sons small voice from his room, “are you not going to come with us daddy, are you still not going to come home?” From where you stood you were able to see your son sitting on the floor surrounded by his toys, Bucky kneeling in front of him.

Bucky took James face in his hand getting him to look up at him, “I won’t be home right away son, but I promise when daddy fixes all this mess that I'm coming home to you, and daddy will spend time with you every day when all this is over.”

“Will you be safe?” he questions in a timid voice, “I know mommy can’t go with you because she has to keep me safe, but will someone be there to keep you safe and fix your booboos, I don’t want anything to happen to you daddy,” he whispered lower lip trembling.

Bucky leaned forward to press his lips to your sons head, “I promise I'll be okay buddy, I’ll have someone watching my back.”

Your son nodded his head before he was looking back up at his dad, “when you come back home will you tell mommy sorry?” he questioned looking up at him with grey doe eyes, “mommy was really sad when you werent home daddy,”

He smiled sadly, “I promise I'll tell her sorry every single day for the rest of my life when I get home,” his head turned towards you, eyes locked on yours, “I’ll also tell her I love her, and that I'll never hurt her ever again, because you and your mom mean more to me than I could ever put into words, I love you so much,” though his words were spoken to your son, with the intensity his eyes held you knew the words were meant for you to hear.

It was nearing midnight when you finally arrived to your new home, pulling up to the stone gate, you watched Sam punch in a code, the gate swung open immediately, granting the car you were in, and the one behind you entrance. Just as quickly as it had opened it was also quick in closing, “Mommy is this our new home?” your son questioned from beside you.

“I’m not sure baby,” you murmured amazed at the vast expansion of land.

“I hope it is, it’s beautiful mommy, oh mommy look, a playground!” your son pointed out once you drew closer to the house. He was pressed against the window, his breath fogging up the glass, as soon as the car was in park your son was bolting out.

Before you exited the car, you turned to Sam, “I'm assuming you won’t be staying?” you questioned eyes meeting his in the mirror. He shook his head, “We got a lead on Rumlow and if we get moving tonight, we may be able to finish this sooner than later, Nat and Steve are already at the club waiting for us, they fixed up the place already for you guys.”

You nodded your head slowly looking back to your son to see Bucky had joined him your son squealing in delight as Bucky pushed him higher on the swing. You smiled at the sight, you loved seeing your son so happy, your heart clenched at the thought of what they were about to embark on. Your eyes met Sam’s again in the mirror, “Sam promise me you all will be safe, I need you all to come out of this unharmed,” you paused taking in a breath your eyes falling on Bucky, “ I need you to bring him back to us, James needs his dad, and I need him too, I can’t do this without him” Sam turned in his seat his eyes meeting yours, a warm smile on his face, “I promise, we’re bringing him back to you, and I can promise he’s never going to slip up again, not if any of us have a say in it,” he sighed, “that man loves you y/n, he loves you more than anything, even the club, so trust me when I say he’s going to come back to the two of you.”

You nodded your head your hand reaching out to touch Sam’s cheek, “please be safe Samuel, aside from Nat, I don’t think I'd be able to deal with all this chaos without you,” you smiled eyes tearing.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone with those two,” he chuckled, “now go, go talk to your man, we have to be getting ready soon, and I know if we stall any longer he’s never going to want to leave, not when he just got the two of you back.

Giving Sam one last smile you exited from the car making your way over to the Bucky, you son was giggling happily screaming at you to watch how high he could go. You hated to break your son’s happiness but you know Bucky needed to go.

“you’re going so high baby; say why don’t you and I go inside and check out the rest of the house?” you questioned.

Your son nodded frantically, slowing the swing down with his feet, he jumped from the swing bolting for the front door. Your son entered the home eyes widening, “mommy can I go look?” he questioned you from where you stood with Bucky in the doorway, “sure baby, but before you go, you need to tell daddy bye, he has to go already.” You watched him move forward just as Bucky kneeled his hands wrapping around his neck, “be safe daddy, and please come home, I promise I'll be good for you and mommy,” he said pulling back and placing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. Bucky grabbed his face in his hands, “I promise I’m coming home son, and when I do, me and you are going to spend a whole day out here on the swings, now go on and go look at your new room, I have to say goodbye to mommy before I leave.” Your son gave him one last squeeze before he was running into the house, his squeals of delight sounding through the house.

Bucky stood looking at you, “I’ll be back as soon as all this is over and we’ve taken care of Rumlow.”

You nodded your head, “Please be safe, we both need you to come home to us, I can’t do this without you.”

His hand came up to your cheek, “and I promise you won’t have to, I'll be home sooner than you think,” he assured his thumb running over your skin. Your feet moved your forward, your hands wrapping around him as you pushed yourself into him, though it was awkward Bucky still managed to wrap his arms around you. His lips pressed to your head, “I’m coming home to you and our son doll, and I promise, I won’t ever leave the two of you, ever again.”

You wanted to share those three words with him, the three words that you had longed to say for weeks, but you knew you would need to wait a little longer as Bucky was signaled it was time to go, he was out of time. You watched him walk away from you, you just hoped with every part of your being that this time he would be coming back to you. You watched the cars disappear down the darkened road, looking up to the sky you looked upon the glowing stars and wished.

Just like the first time Bucky had left, James had started to ask if his dad was coming home soon, it wasn’t like the first time, instead of every hour like he had before, now it was once daily every morning that he woke. One week quickly turned to two, and when you were rounding into the third week, you began to worry. There had been no word from anyone, no phone call, no text message, not even a visit since you had arrived to this home. Your mind and body had been restless, the morning of the beginning of week three began the same with James asking you over breakfast if daddy would be home today. You didn’t know what to say anymore, you didn’t want to offer him any broken promises because quite frankly you just didn’t know anymore. While you were tending to the dirty dishes James asked if he could go play outside on the swings for a bit, “of course sweetie, I’ll be out shortly just let me finish up here and I’ll join you, make sure you leave the door open just close the screen behind you,” you reminded him as his feet ran through the house. You went back to the dishes, you found this was the only way to keep your thoughts from running, if you do use solely on one task there was no way your mind could wander away from you.

You were on the last dish when you heard your son screaming for you. His screams of your name were incessant, you dropped the plate into the sink shutting off the water hurriedly as you ran through the living room, and out the door onto the porch. You looked over to your son who was still by the swings, then you saw the unknown car pulling up from a distance.

“James sweetheart run to mommy,” you called worried, “hurry!”

James looked at you with wide eyes and ran for you the fastest his little legs could carry him. The closer the car got the closer you pushed you and James to the door of the house. Your heart was thrumming away in your chest, “mommy I’m scared,” James called from behind your legs.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay mommy’s here,” you hushed.

You watched with baited breath as the car pulled to a stop, the black tint making it hard to see who was inside. You took another step back as the door was swung open, a foot peeked out first. You watched and waited, your heart raced eyes going wide as the person pulled themselves from the car.

“Daddy!” Your son squealed as he bolted past his hiding spot behind the back of your legs racing down the steps and into his fathers awaiting arms. Your legs wanted to give out on you, you held onto the doorway as you looked on at the sign in front of you, your eyes watering. You watched as Bucky lifted James into his arms, shutting the car door with his foot as he made his way over to you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away the closer he drew, until he was inches away from you. “Hey sweetheart,” he murmured a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

You didn’t think twice as you closed the distance between the two of you, your lips crashing into his, “ewwww,” your son squealed, “that’s gross!”

You smiled into the kiss before you were pulling away slightly, you hands came up to cup Bucky’s face in your hands, your fingers roamed the skin there, “you came home,” you whispered through a smile a tear falling from your eye.

Bucky’s finger reached up to wipe it away, “I made a promise doll,”

“Is everyone okay, is he-“ you sucked in a breath, “is he taken care of?”

“Everyone’s okay, no one got hurt,” he reassured, “yeah he was taken care of, we won’t be seeing him ever again.”

“So what’s going to happen now?” You questioned, “what about our home?”

Another smile pulled at Bucky’s lips as his arm wove around your back, pulling you and James closer to him, he placed a kiss to his sons head before he was looking down at you.

“We are home,”he stated, “home for me is wherever the two of your are.”

Another tear fell from your eyes as you leaned up to press your lips to his once more, “I love you,” you whispered into his lips.

“I love you too.”

Wish You Were Here Tag-list: @lovely-geek @scuzmunkie @amanda-the-fangirl @unlistedpond

#wish you were here #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #daddy!bucky barnes #biker!bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel oneshot

833 notes · View notes

waywardfangirl · 3 years

Text

I was incredibly fortunate to get to write for the wonderful @fight-surrender in the Carry On Secret Snowflake exchange, and she gave some of the best prompts I've seen. I ended up choosing to write a meet-cute (a meet-ugly, really) that takes place on the beach and centers around Simon's new fixation on the supposed dangers lurking below the waves.

I have to give a giant thank you to @foolofabookwyrm and @caitybuglove23 for being excellent betas, cheerleaders, and for helping me get the fic formatted and posted when my computer stopped working - you guys are the best! 💜💜💜

You can read the fic below, or on AO3!

Simon

I've always wanted to go to the beach. Growing up in care, I never had the opportunity to, but now that Penny and I are done with university and enjoying weekends without the threat of homework hanging over our heads, I finally can. Of course, we don't live close to the beach, so our day trip took some planning, but it gave me time to look up all the best places to eat, and it gave Penny time to watch every possible documentary about the ocean. I watched a lot of them with her, and while I know I probably won't see all of the tropical fish that swam across our TV screen, I'm still really excited to see the ocean.

Unfortunately, I also happened to be in the room while Penny watched some show called “Predators from the Deep”, or something along those lines, so my excitement is also tinged with trepidation (or outright fear) of some of the things lurking under the waves.

“Sharks aren’t anything to worry about, Simon! They don’t want to attack you, and the likelihood of even seeing a shark here is extremely low.”

“It’s not the sharks I’m worried about, Pen! It’s all of the other stuff, all those little parasites, and the poisonous things, and the spiny ones.” The documentary was filled with shadowy shots of spiked balls and spotted tentacles just waiting to attack some unsuspecting wader.

“Don’t eat any of it then,” she replies, hardly even paying attention to me as she smooths out her blanket and sets up the umbrella.

“What?”

“You said you were worried about the poisonous things, so just don’t eat anything you find in the ocean.”

“They can hurt me even if I don’t eat them! What about that one octopus?”

“That was venomous, not poisonous, there’s a difference.” She squirts sunscreen into her palms and then slaps them lightly onto my cheeks, not allowing me time to squirm away.

“Whatever, venomous then, there are still things to be scared of in there!”

Penny ducks under the arm I have flung out to point at the ocean with, and grabs two waters from our cooler.

“You’ll be fine Simon, I promise.” She shoves a bottle into my hands. “Rub in your sun cream, and let’s walk by the edge of the water, alright? You’ll like it, we can find shells!” She starts off, picking her way through the sand and looking back only once to make sure that I’m following her.

It turns out that the water feels quite nice, even soothing. The sounds of the waves and the feel of cool water splashing my ankles combine to make me feel safe. They make me forget about the horrors lurking off-shore.

Penny has a handful of shells and has started handing me others to put in the pocket of my swim shorts. I’ve found a few shells of my own too, but I stopped paying such close attention to the ground about ten minutes ago, when I noticed a man about our own age playing in the waves with his younger siblings.

He has dark hair, originally falling around his face but now wet with seawater and slicked back to emphasize his widow’s peak. He’s still too far away for me to tell what color his eyes are, but as Penny and I walk closer I’m able to make out more of his facial expressions. He seems to be putting on sneers for show and occasionally gives bright smiles for the younger kids swarming him. He’s wearing one of those long-sleeved swim shirts, but it’s clinging tight to his body. He looks like he could be a footballer with all of the muscles I can see, even at this distance.

I’ve been trying not to stare too openly at him, but I can’t really help it - there’s just something about him that keeps drawing me in.It’s almost as if I’m under some sort of spell or thrall. Right now though, I’m extremely glad I’ve been so captivated by him, because I seem to be the only person on the beach who realizes the danger we’re all in.

Curling around the man’s left ankle are the tentacles of an octopus, surely about to stick its fangs into him and inject him with its venom (or whatever it is octopuses do to kill people).

"Octopus!" I yell. I’m at a loss for any other words, but I’m desperately trying to warn Penny as I sprint off to rescue him.

"Ooh, where?" She doesn't sound nearly concerned enough for the looming threat of death hanging over us all, but I'll talk to her about taking proper safety precautions later. Right now, I have to go save the life of the prettiest person I've ever seen.

"Octopus! Octopus!" I can't seem to make any other phrases come out of my mouth, but eventually the man looks up to see me barreling towards him, flailing my arms and yelling at the top of my lungs. He raises an eyebrow at me, staying far too calm considering the mortal peril he's in, and glances behind him to see who else I could possibly be talking to.

Unfortunately, that means he's not paying attention enough to sidestep me when the combination of my momentum and adrenalin send me toppling into him. We both splash down into the small waves lapping at the sand and I scramble to extricate myself from his long limbs as quickly as possible, crawling down to examine his ankles and prepared to risk my own life if I have to pull the octopus off of him.

"What are you doing? " His voice is lovely and posh, the vowels round and smooth and expensive.

"Saving your life, mate, you're welcome by the way," I grunt as I make another unsuccessful grab for the tentacles.

"From what? All you've done so far is endanger me, pushing me down and holding me in the water." He pauses. "If this is your attempt at murder by drowning, I think I pity you. First, you caused a scene by yelling the whole way down the beach before you assaulted me, and now you're not even bothering to hold my head under this truly pathetic amount of water. You're an absolute disaster."

"I told you—" (why are these tentacles so hard to grab,) "I'm not trying to kill you, I'm trying to save you."

"Save me from what, exactly?"

Ha! I've got you now, evil cephalopod!

"This!"

I hold the octopus up in triumph, feeling the water drip onto my sodden hair.

"From… a clump of seaweed?"

"What? No. No, it's an octopus."

Slowly, I lower the mass in my hand down to eye level, and immediately I feel my cheeks flame in embarrassment.

"Oh. Right. Sorry, then."

I try to push back from him and stand up, but my hand won't release the seaweed (it really did look like an octopus!). When I try to move a wave hits me, washing the sand out from under my foot and making me flounder for a few moments, only compounding my embarrassment. When I finally look up at the man I accidentally assaulted, he seems entirely unbothered by anything. He's lounging back on his elbows, somehow managing to look down his nose at me even though I'm sitting up fully now, and it's simply unfair how defined his abs are, even under his shirt.

"Do you make a habit of doing things like this?"

His eyes are too intense for me to look at any longer, they're a grey color that seems to be shifting to reflect the ocean behind me, and I have to busy myself with peeling the green fronds of seaweed away from my fingers.

"Like what?"

"Attacking strangers or playing the hero, take your pick."

"Sorry. I thought it was an octopus and I didn't want you to die," I mumble. This prick should be grateful, where does he get off being so smug anyway?

"Why on earth would I have died from an octopus touching me?"

"Because they're one of the most deadly creatures on earth!"

"What? No they're not. Not the ones around here, anyway. The blue ringed octopus is incredibly deadly, but it lives in the Pacific Ocean."

"But, couldn't they-"

He levels me with a look that could probably set me on fire.

"Mordelia!" One of the children comes running over from where they fled when I tackled their brother. She looks to be about twelve or thirteen, and while she isn't quite as dark and villainous looking as her brother she still has his same air of superiority. "Does this gentleman need to be worried about being attacked, maimed, or killed by any octopuses while swimming today?"

This kid - Mordelia, I guess - levels me with the most condescending look I have ever seen, and just scoffs . Actually scoffs at me, like I'm an imbecile. (Although, I still have seaweed stuck to me, so she may be onto something there.)

"No. Most accounts of cephalopod attacks can't be proven, and the few that have been entirely substantiated occurred in vastly different habitats or under circumstances that this beach couldn't support."

With that, she turns and runs back to the rest of her family, leaving me with only a parting eye roll.

"She's going through a marine biology phase."

It's the first thing the dark haired man has said to me in a casual manner, and I startle a bit.

"Did you also have a marine biology phase?"

I think my question catches him off-guard, and I smirk.

"Perhaps," he answers after a beat. "But Mordelia's has been going on for three years now, so we think it may actually stick. Mine dried up after only a few months."

He smiles at me for the first time since I knocked him over, and it's almost painful how handsome he is, sprawled out elegantly on the beach like he's in an ad for expensive watches or cologne or something, and I can't believe I tackled him because of some stupid seaweed.

"I had a dinosaur phase," I confess, smiling back at him.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I reach down to help him up, and I'm shocked at how cold his fingers are, and how much I want to warm them up in my own. It's too bad I made such a horrible first impression, I would otherwise be sorely tempted to ask him out on a date. "What's your name, by the way? You've already attacked me, had we been in cars we would have exchanged names and proofs of insurance by now."

I’m such a mess. I didn't even think to ask what his name was.

"Simon. I'm Simon."

I go to shake his hand, and then realize that we're still holding hands, and I feel my cheeks grow redder still.

"Hello Simon, I'm Baz. It's nice to meet you, although the next time we meet I sincerely hope you can refrain from throwing yourself quite so bodily at me before we've even said hello."

"Yeah, umm, I'm sorry, really, I-" My brain catches up with my mouth. "Wait, did you say next time? "

His mouth curls up into a grin, and he gives my hand a squeeze as I try to figure out how I messed up so badly and things still worked out so well.

"Of course. For our first date, perhaps we can go to the aquarium and you can see what an octopus really looks like."

#my fic #snowbaz #Down By The Sea #Secret Snowflake 2020 #fluff and silliness 😊

25 notes · View notes

cowandcalf · 4 years

Text

Writer’s Month 2020 - To Find A Way

Prompt No. 21 Family

Chapter 1 - 12

Chapter 13 - Family Part III

Danny is hyper-aware of how Steve watches him when he closes the door to the Lanai. He stands in the middle of the living room with Grace still tucked to his chest. As if he has lost all confidence while kneeling at the home shore, panic-stricken, and unable to undo what has clenched aggressive to his mind. Steve looks worn out and Grace seems to rest her head on his shoulder as if she wants to camp there for the next hours or so.

"Okay, that's how it's gonna be," Danny searches for Steve's eyes. He wants to hug him so badly but the least Steve needs now is pity and a weak command. Danny's voice is steady and warm when he speaks. "You babe, you go upstairs and take a shower. A long one. A warm, relaxing shower. If you aren't back in fifteen minutes I'll come and check on you." He squeezes Steve's elbow and gestures to hand over Grace. "Hand me over this little monkey," he teases.

Also on AO3

Steve gifts him with a shy, small smile and hooks his thumbs under Grace's armpits. "Time to move, little princess," he whispers next to her ear.

"God, she's tired from the sun and the excitement. We had quite the adventure." Danny plucks her from Steve's chest. She's half-asleep, totally exhausted from too many emotions, and a tidal wave of adrenalin. "She's going to be fine, babe," Danny assures Steve. He knows it will take a while until they have their equilibrium back.

Steve sighs. He's still folded into himself. He hangs his head and his shoulders slouch uncharacteristically over. "Grace," he calls gently, "Hey, you okay?" He cups the back of her head with his hand. Grace nestles her face into Steve's palm and nods tiredly.

"Steve," Danny puts a hand onto his arm, "let's talk later. Now, we need to get cleaned up, get refreshed. I'll lay her down on the couch for a nap. She's too far gone to eat. She needs some sleep and you need your shower." Danny knows Steve wants to fix everything, wants to make sure he hasn't lost Grace's trust. But it's not the time for that now. "Go, I'll have a shower too," Danny makes a 'duh' face and shakes his head at the way Steve stares at him with a hint of outrage about the suggestion. "Not together, you doofus, after you because you take watch down here to make sure Grace is okay while I shower."

"Okay," Steve nods shortly with a creased forehead. "I'll head upstairs." He turns and walks up to the bathroom. Danny reads all the bottled-up emotions in the way Steve drags his tired body up to the first floor.

Danny closes his eyes for a moment and just listens to Steve's soft footfall, to how the bathroom door clicks shut gently. Grace falls asleep in his arms. Everything hurts. His neck is in tight cords and his eyes burn. Steve's desolateness about what he did out there stays like a cloud in the room. Danny doesn't know if Steve can cope well with the aftermath. He has no idea if incidents like this have happened before or if they gonna happen again. But Danny needs to believe that they'll find a way. Somehow, he's gonna find a way to make Steve leave the place in his mind where he's hiding at the moment. Steve doesn't trust himself and Danny can't do wanders but he has to try at least.

The determined pads of Steve's bare feet fifteen minutes later have Danny look up from where he sits next to Grace. She's fast asleep on the comfortable leather couch, wrapped in blankets. She breathes steadily.

"She's asleep?" Steve asks and comes closer. He wears a soft blue t-shirt with a 'NAVY' print on it, grey sweatpants and his hair is still damp from the shower. He smells clean and the soft pink on his cheeks makes him look a bit more adjusted.

"Yes," Danny gets up. "Lunch is ready in ten minutes. I quickly rinse off to get rid of the sand and that sticky feeling. You okay down here, big guy?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," Steve inches closer. "Danny," he puts his hand to Danny's cheek. His tongue darts over the bottom lip, licking one tiny spot absentmindedly.

"I'm right here, babe," Danny steps closer and covers Steve's hand with his.

"I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know – " Steve makes sure Danny sees his eyes. He hides nothing. "I know I have issues. I don't talk about them. I don't want to face them but today showed me," a low breath stutters from his lungs, "I have to deal with them. I can't put your little girl in any danger. And I can't put you in the position where you think about if you can trust me or not." Steve's eyes are honest and big. "I scared the shit out of you and your daughter. And –"

"What do you want to ask?" Danny has an idea of what Steve's trying to voice.

"Do you still trust me?" Steve whispers. "Do you still want to be with me?" His hand falls away. "I get that I'm a liability. The world is full of triggers and normally… I can control it but not today. If you think I'm a danger to you or your daughter – "

Danny grabs Steve by his shirt and makes him step closer. "Listen very carefully now, Steve," Danny almost hisses. He's churned up from the last half hour. He hates that Steve questions the love and all the rest that ties them together like nothing else Danny has ever experienced in any former relationship. He leans in and kisses Steve with closed lips, soft and long until Steve relaxes against his mouth and kisses Danny back.

Steve is still stiff and reserved but Danny senses his longing to just let go, to make someone his partner so Steve doesn't have to stand in the darkness alone. Danny fists Steve's shirt with force and kisses him again, hard and a bit painful.

Danny whispers against his lips. "Don't talk about yourself as if you're an armed bomb. Yes, I still trust you, and yes, I still want to be with you." Danny shoves him a bit. "Don't ever doubt that. We're in this together. I have issues, too. And yes, you don't talk about it and it sucks that I have to find out how mentally wounded you are." Danny clenches his teeth to suck in a deep breath, to calm his wildly beating heart. He whispers when he speaks again. "How could you even think that I might love you less because of your issues? You're such an asshole! What haven't you understood when I've told you that I love you? Huh? I know how hard it is to get through a trauma that fucks with your mind. But for the sake of your mental health and for the sake of my daughter's safety you have to go and talk to someone. Get treatment, work through the problem. Face the inevitable and admit that you came back with PTSD. It's not a shame and it's not a stigma. You're only human, Steve, for crying out loud."

Danny hears the steady dull thud of his pulse in his ear. Other than that – silence. Steve's soft puff of air brushes over Danny's lips.

It's out. He said it all regardless of the consequences. If they want to build a future, they have to put all cards on the table. No hiding anymore.

Danny watches with a stomach tied in hard knots how Steve's face morphs into an even mask before he gives in and let desperation show. There's disgust too. "I hate to be like this, to be unable to keep control. I hate it." Steve whispers. "I'm trained to safe people not to put them in danger because I can't hold my shit together." He grinds out.

"It doesn't make life easier if you always look the other way the moment the pressure rises and you sense the signs. It makes it worse. I can't ask you to fix it. You have to want it yourself." Danny sighs and spreads his fingers wide over Steve's chest. "Let's eat. We can't fix it right now. Just – don't turn your back on me because you can't accept your own behavior. I can't deal with you crawling back into your shell, locking me out. Don't go all quiet on me. Please." Danny hasn't planned to sound this needy. The fallout is bigger than he has thought. It hits him hard, too.

"I won't, Danny. I promise." Steve leans in to kiss him softly and with aching sweetness. "I could eat." He breathes the words against Danny's lips.

Danny sags against Steve's chest and for a moment the world is okay again. Steve wraps him in his arms and the sway on the spot, shortly indulged in the knowledge that they still have each other, that nothing is lost. Danny knows they're going to make it.

They watch some documentary about an octopus and a man. It's a touching movie and it fits their mood. It explains the balance between mankind and nature and everything is soothing and helps both to calm down. There's no tension in the movie at all. Danny couldn't cope with the smallest amount of excitement. He follows only with half the concentration. The tone is low not to wake up Grace. They eat in comfortable silence. The moment they have finished lunch Steve's leg starts to bounce. His excessive energy is tangible.

Danny can't sit still either and the muse to watch TV just doesn't appear. "What's your plan? What you're up to?"

Steve pulls his leg up and shoves a foot under his thigh. He turns to look at Danny. "I want this afternoon to end well for Grace. I'll put up the children's pool I've bought for her. It's totally safe, not deep and I want to haul a few wheelbarrows of sand up to the lawn. I wanna build a sandbox for Grace right outside the Lanai. We can build a sandcastle there. It's just as good as at the beach. I want her to have a good time after this horror she went through. What do you think?"

Danny rolls his head on the backrest of the couch to meet Steve's gaze. "That sounds great to me." He lifts his head and strokes with one hand over Steve's hairy, strong thigh. "What do you normally do after such an incident? You're brimming with unused strength and unused adrenaline." Danny asks sincerely.

"I would go swimming. Sometimes for hours. I need to exhaust myself. Physical exercises help me to wear me down and to get me away from that edge in my mind." Steve plays with Danny's finger. "Disassemble and assemble a weapon wouldn't be enough anymore."

Danny kisses Steve. "I'll clean the kitchen and then I'll help you, meaning I'll bring the beer and I'll watch you burn your energy."

Steve rests his forehead to Danny's and they just stay like this for a moment. It's almost peaceful.

The day ends just as Steve has planned it for Grace. Danny sits on one of the wooden chairs and watches the brilliant Hawaiian sunset. He drinks a beer and listens to the animated chatter in the close by sandbox. He has no idea how Steve has hauled up all the sand on his own. He must have jogged up and down with the wheelbarrow full of heavy sand. But it has kept him busy. Soaked in sweat again due to a different reason and panting Danny gratefully answered the honest, relaxed smile Steve has shot him when he stepped out on the Lanai with Grace in tow.

They chill out in a relaxed atmosphere and enjoy the end of the evening with ice cream and the movie 'Frozen'. Grace talks excitedly and tells Steve the whole movie and her favorite parts. Danny can tell Steve is so relieved she's still with him and doesn't act strange or anxious he leaps happily into an intense discussion with his daughter about the princess' dress and the color blue and pink.

"Time to go to bed, Monkey." Danny collects the spoons and the empty containers to carry it to the kitchen.

"Danny, let me clean the kitchen. Go and get Grace ready for bed, okay?" Steve gets up from the couch. "Come, little princess, time to go to sleep."

Danny goes through all the evening rituals with Grace. They clean the teeth together. He makes her wash her face twice after she still has some chocolate ice cream around her mouth. He creams her skin with moisturizing lotion and makes her put on her pajamas with the glitter and the colorful fish-print. All the while they chat along and Grace talks and seems to be back to her old self.

Danny tucks her in and pulls the bedcover up to her small chest. "Hey, monkey, would you like to talk to Steve?"

She watches him with big eyes.

"He scared you today. I know, Monkey. And you have all the right to be scared but maybe he could come up and talk to you? Explain what happened? And you could ask him questions?"

She only watches him with her big eyes not understanding what he's asking. They just had a great, chilled movie night. Danny could slap himself for asking adult questions. A child's world doesn't work that way. "It's okay, Gracie. That was a stupid thing to ask. But what would you say if Steve read to you from your favorite book? Would you like that?"

"Yeah. Does he read as good as you, Danno?"

Danny smiles. "I have no idea but I'm sure he's doing a great job. Shall I call him?"

"Okay."

Danny kisses Grace's forehead and wishes her a Good night. He looks around in the fancy, turquoise room Steve painted for his girl. They haven't had time to admire Steve's great artwork in Gracie's room. Danny sighs and smooths his hair back with both hands. He makes sure he smiles at Grace who seems delighted that Steve will read her a bedtime story. Danny finds Steve sitting on the edge of the big bed in the bedroom across the corridor, hands clasp together, lost in thoughts.

"Hey, Steve, you okay?" Danny walks up to him and steps between his legs.

Steve shoves his face into his stomach and places his hands at the back of Danny's thighs. Danny rests his hands in Steve's hair. He gains strength from the way Steve works hard to be there, to put so much effort into the sweet, young but strong love they have found in each other.

"I, uh, I have this address of a support group for veterans. For guys like me, with troubled minds, dealing with PTSD. I never wanted to go. I thought I could handle it myself but it's too much at stake for me. I'll join the group next week, okay?"

Danny gently scrapes Steve's scalp with his fingers, scratching him like a cat. Steve rubs his face over Danny's shirt and his hot breath warms his skin underneath. "Thank you," Danny answers with a tense voice. It means to world to him that Steve wants this just as much as he does. Danny's bone-tired and longs for a good sleep. "Grace wants you to read to her." He tells with a soft voice before he cups Steve's face to kiss him deeply.

Steve looks at him with wonder. "She said that?"

"Yes, she's waiting for you."

"What do I need to do? Just read?" Steve pushes up from the bed and wraps Danny in a full-body hug.

"Yeah, just read, talk a bit and let Grace lead. If she needs to ask something about today, she will. Don't pressure her. You will do fine." Danny leans against Steve's bulk and inhales the strength this incredible man emanates from every cell of his body. "And tomorrow we admire the stunning artwork you created in Grace's new room. You're one of a kind, Steve McGarrett."

Danny senses the smile on Steve's lips in the way he presses his face into the curve of his neck.

Danny dozes off to the low, wonderful voice of Steve reading to his little girl. He wakes up when the mattresses dips and a warm, strong body curls around him. "Hey, babe," he greets Steve with a sleep-rough voice, "how'd go?"

Steve kisses his neck and nuzzles the hair with his nose. "I never thought that it could be so deeply satisfying to read to a child. I watched her fall asleep, Danny. And it's – it's beautiful. I didn't know what to do with all the feelings. Thank you for this. Thank you."

Danny pushes into the curve of Steve's body and snuggles into the warmth and the shelter, he provides. He pulls Steve's hand to his mouth and brushes over the knuckles with his lips. "You're good? Both of you?" He murmurs.

"Yeah, we are. And we agreed to make breakfast pancakes for you tomorrow morning." Steve presses an open mouth kiss to Danny's shoulder. "Sleep, babe."

Danny would have wanted to turn around to kiss Steve like he's yearning since this afternoon, eagerly and raunchy. But he's almost out when the soft-spoken words reach his ear.

"I love you so much, Danny. I love you both so much."

Danny wakes to clatter from the kitchen. The sun is up and he's alone in bed. His heartbeat shoots up and he turns onto the back. He listens carefully and a bit anxiously to the rhythm of the clatter. It's joyful and in sync. It's fluent and smooth. He hears Grace's voice and Steve's low rumble. It's a good sound. It's a perfect sound. Danny sinks deeper into the mattress and breathes out.

God, what a weekend. But whatever it takes. That's a promise he has given himself and Steve. And the way the clatter sounds from the kitchen below says they are doing freaking great concerning what they have gone through yesterday. He smells pancakes and coffee wafting up the stairs and into the bedroom. It's a good morning.

The doorbell rings and makes Danny almost jump out of his skin. A sudden commotion and a hasty exchange of words with another person follow. All of that has Danny sit up straight in bed. There's the other quite familiar voice again and the barking of a dog. Steve talks but Danny can't hear what he's saying. Grace's delighted squeal is followed by another bark. Something wild is going down on the lower floor.

Danny's already up and wants to head down when he hears the front door closing and footsteps running up the stairs.

"Danno! Look who's here!" Grace shouts from the hallway.

Danny clearly hears claws on wood running up the stairs too. Grace burst into the room with the brightest smile on her face and jumps right up on the bed. She beams at him and pats on the spot right beside her.

"Come, Jeanne, come up." She coos.

Danny watches befuddled how a black furry something hops onto the bed and rolls right onto the back, belly up and with a long pink tongue hanging out of its mouth. "Okayyy, Monkey? Who's that and where did you get it from?"

"That's Jeanne. Isn't she cute?" Grace rubs her belly and giggles. "She stays with us for a while."

"Uh-hu?" Danny can't put anything together. How does getting pancakes ready for breakfast fits with a dog sitting on his bed now?

His head shoots up when he sees Steve walking into the bedroom with a tired, cute infant on his arms. A boy with dark hair and bronze skin. He's still sleepy and clutches a worn stuffy to his chest with his head on Steve's shoulder.

Danny barks a laugh and leans back into the pillow. His heart beats a bit too fast. "Whoa, you said you wanted to make breakfast! What happened down there? Since when does the mailman deliver dogs and cute little, tired boys?" Danny's eyebrows arch upwards. Steve's looks adorable. Cheeks flushed and he glows with a tender smile shy on his lips. Danny can't help it. "I realize now you've always wanted a family but it would have been nice if you had asked me too before you ordered."

"Don't be stupid, Danno," Steve chides him with a sweet shyness.

"I'm sorry. That was a bad joke. I'm not a morning person and I'm not really awake yet. So, who wants to solve this riddle for me?" Danny leans over to scratch the dog's fluffy ears.

"Mary's in labor," Steve says and swallows. "This… god, Danny, my sister is about to have a baby!" He sits on the edge of the bed and makes sure the little boy in his arms feels comfortable. He looks down on him and presses his cheek to the boy's crown.

Danny sits bolt upright. "Mary's in labor! Whoa! That's, wow, Steve, that's wonderful, great news but scary, too, I know. You're going to be an uncle soon, babe." He wants to leap over to hug Steve to give him any sign of reassurance that everything will be fine. But Grace and Jeanne roll around in the sheets between them. He's content with circling his hand around Steve's arm. He hesitates a second and runs the back of his fingers over the quiet boy's leg. " Is she alright? Is Mary alright? Does she need our help?"

"No, yes, I mean she's fine, and no they don't need our help to drive her but they need our help to look after them." He nods in the direction of the dog and the little boy. "That was Kawika at the door. He was in a rush to drive Mary to the hospital. She's still early but her water broke and the contractions have started." Steve scoots higher up and stretches his legs in front of him on the bedcovers. "And that black fur-ball, that's Mary's dog. Her name is Jeanne D'Arc, named after the powerful woman because this little girl is from a shelter and she's a fighter. And this here, this is Nahele. He's five and a bit anxious, too much noise and haste for him in the morning."

Danny blinks at Steve and just listens. "You know him and he knows you." He could tell from the way the boy snuggles into Steve's arms, feeling completely safe and protected.

"Yes, Kawika kind of looks after him when his father has to do time." Steve speaks light-heartedly to cover up the severe topic of why Nahele stays at Kawika's and Mary's. He rushes through the next words, "his mom ran off when he was two and since then he stays often with Uncle Kawika and Aunt Mary. His father is an old friend and it's a point of honor for Kawika to look after his son. We've known each other for three years, right Nahele?" Steve bumps his nose gently against the boy's head.

Grace is completely immersed in giving Jeanne the world's best belly rubs.

Danny's eyes sting and he blows out a silent exhale through the nose. He purses his lips. "So, it's pancakes for all of us then?" He smiles over at Steve and can't help but close his fingers tenderly around Nahele's ankle. "Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Nahele hides his face in Steve's shoulder. Danny swallows more. "Do we need to buy dog food?"

"No, Kawika left the key and we'll go by his house later. We need some clothes for Nahele and there's enough dog food for Jeanne."

Danny reaches over and caresses the boy's back with soothing strokes. "Hi, Nahele. I'm Danny and this is Grace and I'm sure, we're going to have a good time. Who's anyway hungry for pancakes?"

Grace leaps off the bed followed by a bundle of joy with black fur. "I've made special ones for us, with chocolate chips and whipped cream. Nahele likes them, too. I'm sure!" She shouts before she runs down the stairs followed by a black shadow.

Steve hesitates and stays. "Look, I'm sorry. I haven't planned this. This weekend just seems to – "

"Shut up, babe. What are you even talking about? It's a great weekend! And would you look at us? We're doing great. Let's make it a wonderful day for the kids and let's get some update on Mary's and Kawika's baby. A baby, Steve, your niece. That's – that's such a gift."

Steve sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and grins. "You're the best and I fucking love you, Danny." He whispers with flushed skin.

Danny just pulls him into a kiss, a gentle, short one not to scare Nahele who seems not to mind a bit.

Sixteen hours later an exhausted but overwhelmed and thrilled Kawika calls to tell them Mary has given birth to a healthy girl. Mother and child are doing well. Steve wipes away tears and Danny tackles him down and presses him onto the couch to finally get that kiss he has wanted since the beginning of Saturday.

TBC

#writersmonth2020 #h50 #fic rec #mcdanno #mcdanno fic rec #cowandcalf writes #ongoing story #prompt fill #one more chapter to go #thanks so much for reading #thanks so much for waiting #WIPs are tough to handle in the wild of everyday life #but i'm almost done #and I can tell you i'm so proud #achieving goals #long chapter

16 notes · View notes

mageicalwishes · 4 years

Text

Read on AO3: here

Summary: Baz takes Simon to see the stars, but they end up doing a lot more speaking than stargazing. "Simon Snow’s schoolboy fixation has finally found some real-world truth - I’m plotting. Although, this time I’m not focused on bringing about the Chosen One’s destruction. I just want to make him smile." Inspired by Carry On Sparks, Week 4 - Plot @carryonsparks (Even though this is literally 3 weeks late. I write so slowly!)

TW - There is a brief mention of what happened in the forest in Carry On, so suicidal intentions are mentioned. It's nothing graphic or anything like that, but I thought it would be best to mention it!

Words: 9,221

Baz

Simon Snow’s schoolboy fixation has finally found some real-world truth - I’m plotting. Although, this time I’m not focused on bringing about the Chosen One’s destruction. I just want to make him smile.

Two years ago today, back at Watford, Simon showed me the stars. It’s a day neither of us will ever forget. In all of our, admittedly, limited conversations about our relationship, he’s always maintained that, that was the day he felt something shift (Even if he didn’t fully realise it at the time). There, somewhere between our stiff beds and the infinity of space, something happened that changed us. That remade us. And I think it’s finally time that I repay the favour.

Unfortunately, though, I’m unable to just conjure up the universe with a flick of my wrist like he did (I’ve tried numerous times, to no avail), so I’ve had to concede to taking a more normal approach to replicating the magic of that night. I'm taking him on a date. Somewhere where the stars can shine down on him.

In all our time together, we’ve never actually managed a traditional date (What with all the mess at Watford, the absolute catastrophe that was our “Great American road trip”, and all of our recent avoidance), so really, it’s long overdue.

Only ... I'm not entirely sure that he'll actually be willing to go with me; given our current situation. But I suppose there’s little harm in asking - Things can’t really get much worse than they already are, and as they say … ‘Fortune favours the bold’.

“Snow,” I call, prodding at his thigh. “I need you to get up.”

He’s flopped, utterly lifeless, on the sofa again - His threadbare pyjamas stained and crumpled, and a ghastly stack of unwashed glasses and plates littering the floor around him, where his tail lays, limply.

It hurts to look at him like this; so far from himself. But that’s how it is most days. Simon Snow: the boy who was promised the world - promised glory and gold - and left with nothing, lying vacant and depressed in his living room. Some days are better, of course; but most aren’t.

After America, I had hoped that things may be a little easier for him. That maybe some of his regained zest would stay with him. But nothing substantial changed. Without the sun, and the space, and the danger, he fell right back into it, all too easily.

Bunce and I do our best to help him, of course - Offering our companionship, or dragging him outside with us for some fresh air (I’d even considered spelling him with a ‘Cheer up, buttercup’ a few times). But realistically, there is little that we can do. He’s traumatised. He’s hurting. And all the magic and good intentions in the world can’t soothe his pain (As much as I wish they could).

I try not to beat myself up over it, but it’s hard sometimes. I know I do all that I can, but my best efforts just aren’t good enough. They don’t make him happy. They don’t take away his hurt. I don’t know how to help him. So … I’m as good as useless to him now.

Hauling himself over, he scowls at me. His eyes flat and ringed with red - The light behind them having dimmed, long ago.

“For fuck’s sakes, Baz!” He gruffs. “Can’t you just leave me alone? I’m trying to sleep.”

He gets snappy like this, sometimes - When he's let himself stew in his feelings for too long. But it's alright. He always apologises afterwards, when the haze has cleared. And I’m not exactly above losing my temper, either - So I have no real reason to complain.

“I know, and I’m sorry but … I wanted to do something with you. Something time dependent. It’s already nine PM, and I really can't wait much longer, love."

“Yeah well, you’re the one who woke me up at seven AM, to go and buy you blood from the fucking New Forest, when there’s a perfectly good butcher down the road! You know don’t mind getting you what you need, but that was seriously taking the piss! So forgive me for being a little sleepy!"

I gulp, guilt prickling in my stomach.

I knew he was mad about that, but I’d hoped that he’d have forgiven me by now - Considering that I'd already let him take my car, and supplied him with a, frankly, outrageous amount of chocolate, as a sorry. Because while it is true that I sent him on a three and a half hour round trip back to Hampshire (under the false pretense that the blood there tastes better because it’s ‘free range’), I really didn’t do it to be a prat. I only did it to get him out of the house for a while, so that I could whip up a batch of his beloved sour cherry scones, without causing suspicion. And while there were probably less infuriating methods of Simon Snow removal, I really couldn’t think of any at the time - So I had to make do.

I just hope that when all is revealed he can find it in himself to forgive me.

“I know,” I sigh. “And I do appreciate it. I didn’t mean to take advantage, it just … really is better.”

Dropping his shoulders, his face twists with remorse as he reaches upwards, pawing at his neck roughly. For Crowley’s sakes, now I’ve gone and made him feel worse! Just brilliant.

“Okay,” he mumbles. “I’m just … tired. Sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s alright, I understand. I’m sorry too - For waking you up. But … if it’s alright with you, I’d still like to take you out tonight. I've got somewhere special in mind.”

“Why?” he asks, suspicious. “What’s so special about tonight?”

"You don't get any clues, Snow," I chide. "That'll only spoil the surprise. But, if you come with me, then I can show you. It'll be just us two, so you don't have to worry about getting dressed up, or anything like that. And ... you don't have to come at all, if you're not feeling up to it. But you may end up liking it, if you do.”

Gnawing at his lip, he tugs at the hem of his shirt, awkwardly.

“No. I just - I haven’t - I need to, like … get ready. I haven’t … showered. Or done my teeth."

As painful as it is to admit, that doesn’t really surprise me. He struggles to take care of himself, sometimes. I don’t know if it’s just because he forgets, or the effort feels too insurmountable, or … what? All I know is that he does. (I’m convinced that if Bunce and I didn’t keep him so well loaded with takeaways that he'd forget to eat half of the time). So, with a wordless shrug of agreement, I slide myself down onto the sofa besides him to wait (Clearly he’s rubbing off on me).

————————————————————————————

“Is this it?” he asks, as we pull into the carpark.

He’s been jittery the whole ride here - His leg bouncing nervously, and his bottom lip ruddied where he’s been chewing at it. Like he thinks that this is all some elaborate ruse.

“Well no,” I say, smirking over at him, as I undo my seatbelt. “This is a carpark, Snow. I had something a little nicer than this in mind, don’t you worry. I just need to go and set it up, first.”

“Set it up?”

“Don’t fret, you numpty. You can trust me. It’s nothing sinister.”

Chuckling quietly, I reach forwards - Pressing my hand against his knee, in what I hope is a reassuring gesture.

“Alright,” he murmurs, wriggling out of my touch, curtly (He still isn’t sure about me touching him sometimes - Says it makes him feel trapped). “Be quick then”.

I’m as quickly as I can manage (Although I definitely spend slightly too long fussing with my decorations). And soon enough, I’m pulling a blindfolded Snow behind me, our hands slotted together, loosely, as we stumble across the grass. The rough warmth of his skin against mine sending my heart aflutter.

“Baz,” he coughs, his voice creeping with uncertainty. “Seriously, where are you taking me?”

“We’re in St James Park, Snow. We’ve been here before. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

“But … It’s late. What if we get mugged or something?”

“If someone tries to mug us, then I’m sure you’ll scare them off with a cocktail stick sword, or something. And if worst comes to worst, you pack a mean punch. Either way, you’ll save us,” I shrug.

Puffing out a slight laugh, he presses our palms a little closer together.

“So … cocktail sticks. We’re having a picnic then?”

“Hush, you,” I scold, miffed. “No more guessing. We’re almost there, so just wait and see, you impatient brute."

Pulling us to a stop, I falter. Looking at it with fresh eyes, it’s a lot. It’s an awful lot.

Besides a large willow on the edge of the lake, I’ve created a wonderful spread for us - All of his favourite foods sat in a wicker basket, in the centre of Bunce’s picnic blanket.

For aesthetic appeal, I’ve surrounded our space with an assortment of candles, held firmly in place with a ‘Stay Put’ (Since I imagine that setting ourselves alight would probably kill the mood). And I’ve spelled the raindrops, still clinging to the damp grass reeds, iridescent with a ‘Twinkle in their eye’. The glow of the flames dancing, ethereally, in their newly mirrored surface, so that the ground comes alive with a million watery fireflies.

But I want this. I want us to have this. So there’s really no benefit to backing down now.

“Alright,” I drawl, reluctantly dropping his hand, and taking a few steps away from him. “You can look now.”

Urgently, he reaches upwards, tugging the makeshift blindfold from his eyes, and taking it all in. His face transforming into some shade of panicked horror, immediately. Merlin and Morgana. Curse my flare for the dramatics! It’s definitely too much.

“Baz. Wh - What is all of this?” he stammers.

Tense, I twirl a lock of hair between my fingers, in a hopeless attempt to focus on anything other than what a massive cock up this whole evening has been.

“Well … I wanted to show you the stars.”

“The stars?”

“Yes, Snow,” I bite. “The stars. You know, the little twinkly things in the sky.”

I shouldn’t do that - The being rude to him. But for some reason it still seems to be my default defense setting.

“I know - I know what a star is. I mean … why?”

“Two years ago, today. Back at Watford. 'Twinkle, twinkle little star' … Ring any bells?”

“Oh,” he breathes.

“Yes. ‘Oh’,” I copy, my voice softening significantly. “I just - I wanted to repay the favour. I know that we had the truck in America. And, I know that this isn’t quite the same as the original. But … it’s the best I could do. We aren’t all supernovas, you know.”

“Yeah … No. I mean … it’s nice. I just - I don’t know.”

It isn’t at all convincing, but I do my best to let his slither of praise ground me.

Hesitantly, I step forwards, holding out my hand to him, in offering. He doesn’t take it this time, so I let it flop, grimly, to my side.

“Simon, we can go home if you’d prefer,” I try. “It was just an idea. Nothing an 'As you were' can’t fix.”

He gawks at me like I’ve sprouted another head (Which is ironic considering that he’s the one with the dragon appendages).

“No. I want to look at the stars,” he rejects, jutting his jaw out, determinedly. “I just don’t really … deserve it. I didn’t even, like … realise. I mean, how do you even know the date of that?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. “If you seriously don’t think you’re worthy of cheap finger foods and Fanta, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to revive some of my more creative Watford insults, because that is idiotic. You do deserve it. This and more.”

Staring down at the ground, as if ashamed, he tugs his lips upwards into a weak smile.

“And I only remembered the date because, at the time, I thought that, that was all we would ever get. That it was the closest we’d ever be to what I really wanted. So … I clung to every detail. It’s horrifically embarrassing, really. And painfully sappy. But … there we are. I didn’t expect you to remember, though. So please don't worry that you didn’t,” I reassure.

We’re slightly better at this now - The talking.

We had a huge fight in the toilets at Heathrow after America (Since there really was no point in pretending that I didn’t know what he was trying to do on that beach), that basically boiled down to ‘You never tell me things’ ‘Well, you never tell me, either’. So, we’ve been working on being a little more open with our communication, since then. I try to be honest and tell him how I feel (However humiliating it may be), and he does the same.

It’s clunky and unnatural, and it doesn’t always work (Obviously). But we’re trying. So it’s a start.

We haven’t gotten onto any of the more ‘heavy’ stuff just yet - The state of our relationship, the Mage, how afraid I am, how sad he is. Mostly we’ve just started fessing up to small things from our past - Like how lovelorn I was at Watford, or why he ditched his therapist. But, it’s only been a month. We stick to the past, right now, because the present is too painful (And I don’t really want to hear him say we have no future). But there’s hope. There’s a spark. There’s effort. So maybe one day we’ll get there.

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice noticeably strained. “Then … let’s do it. I want to stay.”

I grin, despite myself, and gesture towards the blanket.

“After you, Snow.”

————————————————————————————

“Holy shit,” he laughs, holding a hand out in front of his smile in an attempt to hide the mush of scone in his mouth. It doesn’t work, but I don’t really care (I’m disturbed). “They taste just like Watford’s. How the hell did you make these? Or did you steal them from Prichard?”

Biting down a smile, I arch my eyebrow up at him. Bright and smiling, he tries to copy me - Both of his eyebrows jumping upwards, clumsily. And I wish that I could tell him how amazing it is to hear him laugh again, but I don’t want to risk upsetting him. He’d probably just take it to mean that I only like him when he’s happier, which is just objectively untrue. I’d like him however he is.

“Oh please, petty theft is below a Pitch,” I breeze.

“Then how?”

“I bribed her with enough Champagne to bring down a Dragon, and she gave me the recipe. It was really very simple, Snow. I’m surprised you didn’t manage it yourself”

“What? Seriously?” he beams, the corners of his eyes crinkling, charmingly. “How much did it take? I offered her, like, half of my Goblin Gold for it, and she still wouldn’t budge!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. My bank probably thinks that I have a severe drinking problem now, but no matter. It’s worth it to see you smile.”

Darting his eyes downwards, his face flushes with heat.

“Penny would spell you silent if she heard you saying such sickly things, you know,” he complains, scrunching up his nose in disgust.

It’s all fake, though. I know he doesn't really mean it. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he loves it when I’m soft with him. One whispered 'Love' or 'Simon' is enough to make him melt, even now. It used to be enough to get him to kiss me too, but not anymore (Practically nothing is). Although I don’t really care - It’s still incredibly endearing.

“Oh I don’t doubt it. But, look … Bunce isn’t here. I’ve managed to lure you up here all alone, so I’m free to be as saccharine as I please, I'm afraid."

“Whatever,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Ah yes - Being nice to my boyfriend. Truly, I am a freak,” I tease. “Just … lay down, you nightmare.”

“Lay down?”

“Yes. It’s a very simple instruction, Snow” I deadpan, flopping myself back down onto the blanket, with a puff of laughter.

“Yeah but … why?”

“Because ... unless everything has gone loopy, the stars that I brought you out here to see are above you. So lie down and look. I’m not going to jump you, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” he says, carefully resting himself down on the blanket. “If you say so.”

————————————————————————————

He’s tucked up against me now, staring up at the stars, happily - His head resting, heavily, against my outstretched arm, and his right leg draped over mine. It’s a little uncomfortable, to be honest, but I daren’t tell him. He’d only move away, and I so desperately want him to stay.

Pointing up at a the sky above us, I draw his attention to a particular cluster of stars, and can't help but wonder whether they're the same ones that filled our room, or hung above us in America - Or if even they have changed, too.

“That one is Aries,” I explain. “The Ram constellation.”

“I don’t see anything,” he whines, pouting out his lips, childishly.

Rolling my eyes, I grab a hold of his hand and pull out his ring finger, directing it’s point to trace the stars’ outline.

“That’s just a random line.”

“Nope. It’s a Ram ... Although, I will admit that the resemblance is a little tenuous.”

He turns to me, smiling brightly, and my heart clenches at the sight of him, so close and carefree.

“It’s a line, and you know it,” he chuckles. “How do you even know so much about stars, anyway? They all look the same to me.”

“We have a couple of astronomy books back in our home library. My mother liked to stargaze,” I say, waving dismissively. “And … they remind me of you, so I like learning about them.”

“They remind you of me?”

“Yes. All of your moles are like constellations. I’ve always thought so. And, obviously, that night with the stars only reinforced the link.” God, I’m disgustingly sappy. How can he bear it?

“I see,” he sings, snuggling his head down against my chest. “Well … thank you for showing me.”

We lay together for a while, like that - His head moving with each rise and fall of my chest, and my shirt scrunched up in his fists. We don’t talk about all that much - just chatter about university and the new Nordic bakery Simon found just off of the Golden Square - but it’s nice. It’s normal. It’s us.

Smoothing a hand down his waist, I take a deep breath, readying myself for what’s next.

“Simon -” I start, my voice barely a whisper (Talking at full volume amongst the fragile calm that has settled between us feels far too disruptive).

“Hmm,” he hums, the vibration of his voice tickling against my skin.

“I need to tell you something. Something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

Instantly, I feel his body stiffen, every muscle pulled taut with tension.

“It’s nothing bad,” I reassure. “Or … I don’t think so, anyway.”

“What then?” he asks, looking up at me, his brow knotted with nerves.

“I just … I Love you.”

And with those three words, he pulls himself away from me, once again. Yanking his arms backwards, and wrapping them around himself in a defensive self-hug, as he shifts away.

“Simon?” I call, uncertain. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer; just yanks at his curls and shakes his head no. Fucking Hell. I’ve really messed up now.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … ruin things. I just wanted you to know. Please don’t - it’s alright.”

“No, Baz,” he trembles.

“No, what?”

“It’s not - I just - I don’t -”

Stumbling over his words, he jabs the heels of his palm into his eye sockets, in frustration. And I cringe, involuntarily, at the sight of it. It must hurt.

“Just … take your time, love,” I ease.

He sniffs, pitifully, then, and I think he may be crying. I’m on the verge, too - My throat thick with regret, and my eyes stinging, warningly - but I hold it in. Just. Crying would only make this worse, and it really doesn’t need to get any worse. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have forced my love upon him.

Hanging his head forwards, he gives himself a moment to recollect his faculties - His breath thick and shaking.

I wait, silently - Counting the stars above me in an attempt to ease my mind. Knowing that he’ll speak when he can - When he finds the words.

And sure enough, picking at the grass beneath him, he finally does - Sobbing and broken though they may be: “I just … don’t understand how you can anymore?”

“Understand how I can what?”

“How you can, like … love me.”

My heart clenches at the sound of him, so earnest and afraid. Of course. Even after everything we’ve been through - Even after all I’ve told him - he still can’t see that I do. Still can’t believe that I do. And it’s my fault, I know. I haven’t managed to tell him properly before now. Not in a way that he believed. Not in a way that he could let in and hold onto. I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve just dropped my pride and told him outright and simple, rather than messing about with poetics. I should’ve told him months ago. Years ago! I’ve known for long enough. All I needed to do was let him hear it. But I didn’t. And now it’s too late.

Helplessly, I reach out, cupping the softness of his jaw with my hand, and turning him to face me. He resists, slightly, but lets me do it. He refuses to meet my eyes, though - Staring down at the floor, blankly, a teardrop hanging from the tip of his nose.

“Simon, listen to me. I’ve loved you for years. There’s plenty of reasons why I can, and do … I love your kindness. I love your morality. I love your bravery. I love your stubbornness. I love your fierceness. I love your smile. I love your heart. I love your mind. I love getting to spend time with you. I love how when we sleep, you always leave a light on for me because you know, even though I’m too proud to admit it, that I don’t like the dark. Or how … you always leave me a bit of your food for me to try -”

He’s staring at me intensely now, his eyes squinted and scanning across my face.

“- I could wax poetic about all the parts of you that I cherish forever, if need be. But, to keep it simple, I love everything about you. Even if you don’t … necessarily understand it, it’s the truth. You just need to believe me. You need to trust me. I loved you then, and I love you now. Nothing has changed, in that respect.”

“I’m a disaster,” he mumbles, looking away, his brow furrowed, and deep, frowning creases forming besides his mouth.

“I’ll give you that,” I smile, hoping to lift the mood. “But I love disasters.”

“Baz,” he huffs, planting his head in his hands. “I’m being serious.”

“Hey, look at me -” He doesn’t. “- So am I. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

“But, I - I mean, I can’t even do it back, properly. It’s not that I don’t - Don’t, like, you know. I just … I can’t do this properly. I thought, at the start, that maybe I could. But I can’t. We’ve been together for ages now, and all I’ve done in that time is be an absolutely terrible boyfriend to you! Even by my standards.”

“Well, you did try to warn me,” I joke, shuffling slightly closer to him. “But … you’re not a terrible boyfriend, Simon. Don’t be unfair to yourself. This is good. You are good. And … after all, I’m the one who sent you on a pointless trip to the New Forest this morning. So, I reckon, if anyone is a terrible boyfriend right now, it’s me.”

“But you - I mean, you deserve better,” he whispers. “I’m not enough for you, anymore. I don’t think I ever was, really. You’re … you, and I’m just me.”

“You’re more than good enough for me, you halfwit,” I scold, softening my tone “Simon, you’re everything I want.”

“No, but … look around us. You did all of this, and I … I haven’t done anything.”

“Oh, hush! You’ve done plenty. You’ve given me more than I ever could’ve hoped for. Even if you don’t see it.”

“But that’s the point!” he groans, yanking at his curls. “You should want more than that! What little I do, isn’t good enough. You’re just clinging onto when things were alright! But they’re not anymore, don’t you see?!”

I stare at him blankly, trying to figure him out. Why he can’t just accept what I’m saying, I’ll never know.

“Look … I’ll admit that things between us have been a little difficult, as of late. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, or that somehow you’re not ‘good enough’ for me. I want you however you are. And sure, I'd love if things were a little easier - For you, and for me. But there’s no rush.”

“Things have been 'difficult' for months now, Baz!” he cries, his voice bitter and defeated. “I’m so sick of lying to myself, and pretending that I’m going to get my happy ending. My head went wrong long ago! At this point it’s best if we just cut our losses, and accept that I’m unfixable.”

I clench my eyes shut, pained. The utter hopelessness in his voice, a bitter pill to swallow.

“You’re not 'unfixable', Simon. You don’t even need to be 'fixed'. Just … Listen to me,” I plead. “I understand why we are where we are, and I don’t mind. We just need to … work through it. What happened to you - I mean, Merlin, it’s your whole life! The Mage was despicable. He used you. He abused you. He stole your entire childhood, without even a second of thought over what it might do to you! But … what happened at White Chapel was awful. You shouldn't have had to watch that. But, it's so much more than that - Than him. It's everything. All the instability of your early years. The Humdrum. All the killing and the fighting. Whatever happened to you and Bunce at the end of term. How the Coven just … ditched you. Christ, even me, Snow! I mean, I wasn’t exactly compassionate towards you at Watford, was I? I tormented you. I just … everything that happened - That kind of trauma doesn’t just vanish overnight. It takes time. And I know that you’ve been told that a million times before, and you’re probably fed up of hearing it, but it’s true. It’s fine that you’re not … fine, right now. I don’t expect you to be. I don’t need you to be.”

Turning away, he shakes his head.

“But it's not,” he protests, his voice whining. “I’m no good to you like this. I’m no good to anyone, anymore. I’m not some superhero. I’m not some supernova. I’m just … nothing. I’m a burden - To you and Penny. All you do is go to uni and babysit me! And, we still haven’t … I mean, I can hardly ever even be kissed without getting all weird! What kind of fucked up boyfriend am I?”

“There’s more to life than snogging, Snow,” I chastise. “I enjoy your company, whether we’re doing … those sorts of things, or not. I’m not babysitting you, I’m spending time with you. And you’re not a burden. Needing help doesn’t make you some kind of problem. You’re our friend. You’re my - We want to help you.”

“Yeah, but … I just want to be normal again. I just want it to all be simple. This is - I’ve ruined this.”

“Not true,” I argue. “This isn’t ruined. You just … keep focussing on what we don’t have, rather than what we do.”

Reaching across the blanket, I grab a hold of his hand - Tracing my fingertips over the rough calluses there.

“This-” I enunciate, squeezing his palm for emphasis. “Is a lot more than we had two years ago. Nothing is ruined, it’s just, perhaps, not exactly what we’d expected.”

“Yeah but … it’s a lot less than we had when we first left Watford. I used to be able to … do it all properly. I don’t know what happened. I thought - I mean, it’s not your fault. I don’t know why I can’t just … do it.”

“I know -” I sigh.

Because he does have a point. Simon never really liked to be touched first - To feel pressured. But it used to be manageable. We could hug. We could kiss. Sometimes we’d even end up snogging on the sofa, for the better part of an hour. And as long as he was in control for the majority of the time, he could surrender himself to luxuriating in my affections, occasionally.

Nowadays though, even a chaste kiss on the cheek feels incredibly risky, so I rarely try to initiate anything. It’s better to let him decide when we can or can’t. There’s no need for me to be greedy about it.

And while I cannot deny that I miss it - being able to be close to him, in that way - I don’t mind. Not really. My whole life has been a practise in maintaining control over ‘powerful’ urges (Both Snow and non-Snow related), so I’ve had plenty of of experience in holding myself back. Screw the erotic gropefest that teenage me had always envisioned! As long as he’s comfortable, and he still wants this, then I’m happy to give or withhold whatever he needs. Being a little touch starved won’t kill me, but losing him probably would.

“- I understand that it’s frustrating, really I do. But … sometimes you have to take five steps backwards for each step forwards. And I appreciate that it hurts, but as long as you keep on walking, you’ll get where you need to be, eventually. If we carry on trying (And I mean really, actively trying), then I’m sure things will get a little easier for us soon, love. But you need to give it time. You need to give yourself time … That’s just the arduous nature of progress, I’m afraid.”

Sticking out his tongue in a fake vomiting gesture, he laughs - A little hushed and wet, but genuinely amused, nonetheless.

“Fucking hell! Don’t be so grim, Baz. You sound like a therapist!”

“Yes, well … there is a reason people pay to go and see therapists, you know.”

Rolling his eyes, he shoves his hands into my chest, jokingly.

“Yeah, and there’s a reason I stopped going to mine, smart-arse. Too much of that sort of crap!”

“I know, I know,” I laugh, wearily - Not trusting this brief flickering of emotional relief. “I don’t mean to be all preachy - God knows you probably won’t listen, anyway! But, as disgustingly cliche as it may be, it’s true.”

He pauses, sucking in a shaking breath.

“I know, but - I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t everything, Baz!” he explains, utterly exhausted. “I mean you just - And I didn't … you know, do it back. I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin it, it’s fine. You don’t have to say it back, Simon. That wasn’t the point. I just wanted you to know. I wasn’t counting on reciprocation. I don’t need that from you, it’s alright.”

“It’s not ‘alright’, Baz!” he snaps. “None of this is alright! Just … stop saying that! You always say that!

“But it is alright,” I assert, leaning towards him slightly. “I’m only saying it because I mean it! I didn’t intend to make you feel … obligated. I seriously didn’t expect you to say it back, or for it to be some huge ‘thing’. I’ve just … never managed to tell you, properly, and after America -” After seeing him lying there on the ground, lifeless and beaten, his wings twisted and covered in blood. As good as dead. “- I just needed for you to know. Everything is perfectly fine, I promise. I don’t care that you didn’t - I’m not upset by how you responded, Snow.”

“Well you bloody well should expect me to say it back! You should care! That’s the whole point! You’re supposed to want things from me. You’re supposed to expect things from me. You’re not just supposed to sit there and take whatever bullshit I give you, and keep on telling me that everything is fine and dandy, Baz!”

“I do ‘want’ things from you, Snow,” I sigh. “I just want them to be on your terms, when you’re ready. There’s nothing wrong with being accommodating. And … I’m only telling you it’s fine because it is! Just because something is somewhat positive, doesn’t make it a lie - You only think that it does. And, I’m sorry but … you’re wrong. I don’t mind that you aren’t ready to say it back - Whether it’s because you’re unsure of how you feel, or you don’t want to, or you just can’t. I want you to say it when you want to - Not before. I wanted to say it now, so I did. If you don’t, then don’t. Simple!”

He growls at that, just like he used to do when I’d insult him. Except this time I really don’t understand that objection.

“But - even if that’s true, it isn’t just that!”

“Then what?” I ask, exasperated.

I don’t mean to lose my temper with him, and I don’t really think I am (Not quite yet), but … I’m tired of arguing with him over even the smallest things. Everything I do is wrong. If I’m kind, he doesn’t believe me or accuses me of ‘babying’ him. If I snap, he takes whatever cruel thing that comes out of my mouth as my ‘true’ thoughts. If I hide my wants away, he has a problem with it. If I tell him, I’m pressuring him. All I do is lose. And while I know that I’m the one to blame, for being unable to figure out how to best be what he needs, I just wish that it would stop. I just wish that we could fix it. But we can’t. We don’t know how.

“Well, like … I see the look in your eyes when I pull away, or I shove you off, or I snap at you, or when I just … lay there. It’s like - You’re so sad, but you never say! And … I know that it’s my fault, but I can’t seem to stop myself from doing it, and I don’t know why! I don’t want to do it. I just - I just want to be normal again. And I want you to stop lying and saying everything is fine, when it clearly isn’t.”

“Snow, I’m not lying to you! I’m telling you that it’s fine because it genuinely is! How many times do I have to go over this? I don’t understand the problem.”

“The problem is that I just - I don’t believe you,” he huffs.

“But why not? I wouldn’t lie to you. I just … wouldn’t.”

“Because … it just - it means nothing to me, anymore, Baz! You got beaten down so many times in America, and all you did was keep on telling me that everything was fine, and reassuring me, and swearing that you were happy, when anybody who was paying attention could tell that you weren’t! So … how am I supposed to believe you when you tell me it’s alright now? How do I know you’re not just telling me what you think I want to hear, because you’re too afraid of me to tell me the truth?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Snow,” I drone. “I could drain you dry in a half a second, if I wanted to.”

And of course my insistence on being a petulant little git doesn’t help the situation at all - Only adding fuel to the, already, engorged fire. But it’s too late to take it back, now - So I let my little dig steep in the space between us. Rotten and unnecessary.

“Not like that,” he groans. “You know I don’t mean it like that! Don’t be such a dick! I just mean, like … it’s like you’re afraid of hurting me. You think that I can’t take the truth, so you keep on hiding it away from me, but you’re wrong. I can take the truth! I want the truth! I’m not - I’m not made of butterfly wings, and it pisses me off when you treat me like I am!”

“I don’t mean to … treat you differently,” I explain, taken aback. “I just don’t want to … pressure you, or make some idiotic mistake that’ll mess things up. But when I tell you things are fine, I’m not doing it to spare your feelings, I’m doing it because I mean it! All I’m doing is telling you the truth. I mean, what would you rather me do, Simon? You haven’t done anything wrong, and I’m perfectly fine, so what else is there? What, I mean - Do you want me to get mad at you over nothing? Because I'm telling you right now, I won't do it."

We’re both heated now - jaws clenched and words spat. And it’s just like old times, but it aches. It aches so bad. There’s no rivalry here, no facade, and no game. It’s just us - Fighting because we don’t know what else to do. And it’s so painfully real - so painfully vulnerable - that it near shatters my heart.

Tonight was supposed to be a relief, not a rematch. But here we are, once again - Right where neither of us wants to be.

“At least then I’d know you’re not being fake, just to protect me, or whatever it is you think you’re doing!”

And with that, he jumps up, and stomps over to the edge of the lake - Sitting himself down in the mud, away from me. End of conversation. End of argument. But there's no point backing down now. If we're going to do this, then we may as well do it properly, and get this whole catastrophe over with ASAP. So I trail after him, helplessly.

Dropping myself down besides him, the words come tumbling out before I can stop them - So desperate and broken. My mask well and truly dissolved.

“Simon, I’m not like that, anymore. You know that. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“No, Baz,” he whines. “I shouldn’t have - I know that you don’t want that. Neither do I. I just mean that … you’re allowed to, like, complain. You’re allowed to fight back. You’re allowed to tell me when I’m being a prat - Or when I’ve hurt you. None of that would make you a bad person. None of that would put us back where we were. All it would mean is that I know what you’re feeling. What you’re really feeling. I want to know. Even if you think I don’t.”

“You know what I’m feeling,” I plead. “I keep on telling you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, apparently unconvinced.

“Only sometimes. And half the time you ‘telling me’ is just you saying you’re fine when you’re not. I know it is. You’re hard to read, but even you slip sometimes,, and I can tell that I’ve hurt you, or that something is bothering you, but you just … don’t say.”

“No, but … even if things aren’t necessarily great, I’m still fine. I’m still okay. I’m still happy. I’m not lying to you, Simon. What would be the point?”

“I don’t - I mean, I don’t think you are ‘lying’, exactly. I just - I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m calling you a liar. I know you wouldn’t … do that. But I think, maybe, you honestly do think you’re fine (Which is why you say that you are), when you’re not really.”

“What?” I ask, glancing over at him. “I’m not sure that I understand what you mean. Can you - Can you explain?”

“I don’t know, Baz,” he winces. “I just - I’ve been speaking to Penny … about you.”

Shifting himself forwards, slightly, he stares, expressionless, in front of him - His gaze a thousand miles from where we are. And I wait for him to elaborate, but it doesn’t come.

“Okay,” I drawl. “And what did Bunce have to say exactly?”

“Um, well … I, like, tried to explain to her what I think you’re doing - You know, when she pulled me out for one of her ‘chats’. And I mean, don’t worry - I didn’t tell her any detail about your personal business, or anything. I just wanted her to help me understand. And … she said that you sound like you’re in … denial.”

“‘Denial’,” I repeat, confused (And, perhaps, a little defensive). “In denial about what?”

“How you are,” he explains. “I just mean … I think she has a point. I don’t think you’re, like … normal.”

Finally, he looks over at me, and I raise an eyebrow in question - Unsure of what to say.

“Shit. Not like that,” he moans. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. I’m just - I’m not good with my words. I just mean that ... while, you may be better on the outside, I think that inside, you’re just as bad as me.”

I pause for a moment, unsteady, trying to find my words. But, unhelpfully, the only one that my brain seems to be capable of supplying right now is ‘Fine’. Maybe they do have a point, after all.

“Snow,” I huff. “You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t want you to. I’m perfectly normal … mentally.”

“But you would say that! I really don’t think that you are, though. You’ve never been fine. Not the whole time I’ve known you, Baz.”

“That’s not true,” I insist. “I. Am. Fine.”

He looks at me like it’s a lie; but it’s not. I mean it. And while I will concede that perhaps I’ve had a few moments of … concern, compared to him I’m golden. He’s the priority right now, not me. Because despite whatever may have happened in the past, I’m fine now. I can cope. Whereas he … well, I’m not sure that he can.

“Then what was that night in the forest about? Hm?” He challenges.

I steel, suddenly - His words suffocating my body.

We both know what was happening in the forest that night, but we’ve never actually spoken about it properly (There was no need to - I coped). I was overwhelmed and I acted a little … rashly. A moment of weakness - Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not like I’d ever try to do it again.

“That was a blip,” I dismiss.

He scoffs - Dull and unamused. “You can hardly call that a ‘blip’, Baz. I mean ... what if I wasn’t there. What would you have done? -”

I don’t answer him, because I can’t. I don’t know for sure what I would have done. Maybe I would’ve … gone through with it. But maybe I would’ve snapped out of it - I always had before.

Mercifully, though, he spares me the discomfort of having to reply.

“- And even if it was a ‘blip’ (Which it isn’t), what about the night I found you in the catacombs? Or all the nightmares? Or all your family stuff? Or how stressed you get about school - How hard you push yourself? Or the whole vampire thing? Or everything that happened with … Lamb?”

I cut him off before he can continue (Since I really don’t need a list of all things I’ve been weak enough to let my hurt show over). “I’ve told you there was nothing with Lamb. He convinced me that he could help. And I was playing a part, just like I was supposed to - I didn’t mean to make it sound like …”

“I know,” he sighs. “I didn’t mean like that. I know that. I just meant - I mean, I could tell that you were beating yourself up over it - over what he’d done - but … you were only trying to help us find Agatha. You couldn’t have known.”

“Okay.”

“But … that wasn’t my point. Specifics don’t really matter. My point was that … you’re not ‘fine’. And I know that … I’m not either. But, I just wish that you didn’t feel like you have to pretend to be perfect and unbothered all the time, because of me. You should be able to get help, too. You should be able to … feel whatever it is that you’re feeling, without panicking about someone else seeing.”

“So … you’re saying that, really, we’re just as bad as one another?”

“Sort of. I mean … it’s not, like, a contest, or something. I just meant that, maybe, we’re both not exactly one hundred percent.”

I laugh, bitterly. “We match.”

“We match,” he echoes, nodding his head.

“But even if what you’re saying has some merit -”

“Which it does!” he interrupts.

Glaring over at him, I roll my eyes, but don’t object.

“- Which maybe it does. I don’t understand why you’re bringing it up now. How I am is irrelevant to my little ... confession. And it doesn’t affect my ability to be honest with you?”

“Okay,” he breathes. “Just … let me try to explain, then.”

“Okay,” I nod. “Go ahead, Snow. I’m listening.”

“I’m bringing it up now because … I don’t want you to hide yourself away from me, anymore. It’s getting us nowhere. I just want - I mean, I want you to try and … not to do that. If you want something, ask. If I’ve upset you, say. If I’m being unreasonable, let me know. Don’t just … sit there and take it because you think it’s the noble thing to do, Baz. Please. I know that I … do the same sort of thing sometimes, but I don’t want you to, as well. I just - I don’t know how to tell what’s real or what’s just something you’re doing to try and be kind - Or to, like, protect yourself, I guess?”

I gawp over at him, chest heaving unsteadily.

He definitely has a point. I’ve been walking on eggshells around him for months. Carefully skirting around all that I want - all that I feel - in an attempt to stop it from consuming me. From consuming us. Convinced that it would destroy us both - Everything inside of me far too large, and hungry, and frightening, to handle.

“I just think that, if I know that you’re being … open with me, then it will be easier for me to believe you. To … believe all the nice things that you say or do, rather than questioning why you’re doing them. Whether it’s ‘cause you want to, or ‘cause you think it’s because that’s what I need from you in the moment, or ‘cause now’s the only ‘safe’ time to do it. I know … you’re not lying when you say you’re okay, but I think maybe you’re oversimplifying things, or, like, hiding the bad bits of how you feel. I just … if you say instead, it might help us. You won’t have to be so … frightened. And I might find it easier to accept what you say at face value, you know? I don’t know … maybe it’s stupid.”

Exhaling, he stares down at the floor, gnawing at his bottom lip, anxiously - His words heavy on my mind.

And, swallowing my pride, I speak - My voice crackling with emotion: “It’s not stupid. It makes sense, I - understand where you’re coming from. And, given that, I promise that I’ll ... try to be a little more forthcoming about how I’m feeling - More accurately descriptive. Even if it isn’t, necessarily, what I think you might want to hear.”

“Really?” he asks, disbelieving.

“Really.”

“Good,” he says, lips sparking upwards into a faint smile at my offer.

“But … I’m somewhat apprehensive about it?” I break.

“‘Apprehensive’? Why?”

“Because I don’t want to end up accidentally pushing you further away from me. You’re already so … far, sometimes. Talking about how I feel really isn’t essential for me. I’ve always managed perfectly well without doing it, before -” He scrunches up his face, clearly objecting, but he let’s me continue uninterrupted, this time. “- I don’t mind being … cautious. I like being cautious. If I just blurt out every single thing I’m thinking or feeling, you may … get the wrong idea. And it’s not that everything I think about us is negative, or anything like that, it’s just … occasionally a little bleak. You already doubt that I’m committed to this - that I still want this - and I'm do everything I can to prove it to you, but I’m not sure that the message has gotten through to you. I want to stay. I want you to stay. I want us to be … together. And, I’m afraid that, if I’m entirely open, I may scare you away. That you’ll mistake my … desperation, for dissatisfaction or unhappiness, and think that I don’t want you. When I do."

He nods, understanding.

“The absolute last thing that I want to do, is to mess this up,” I continue. “And, I’m not entirely sure that what you’re asking for won’t end up doing that. I just … want you to be sure that this is really what you want, before we go ahead and commit to it.”

“I know,” he whispers, sliding closer to me and grabbing hold of my hands. “I don’t want any of that bad stuff to happen, either, but I’m sure that this is what I want. I want to try it. Avoiding how you feel isn’t helping either of us, but ... maybe this will.”

“You avoid things, too,” I argue. “I understand that you don’t want to seek professional help at this point, and that’s your prerogative - But you still refuse to talk to Bunce and I about how you’re feeling. How is that any different to what I’m doing? Surely that isn’t helping us, either?”

As the words pour out of my mouth, my stomach pangs with shame. I don’t know why I’m, seemingly, so keen on shifting the blame over to him. We were working towards a resolution, and none of this is his fault (I’ve never thought that it was his fault). But maybe I’m just too cowardly to admit that my attempts to help have only hindered us. Maybe I just don’t want to bear the viscous twisting of guilt alone. Or maybe I’m just an arsehole (It wouldn’t surprise me. As much as I try to be a ‘good’ person, I so frequently miss the mark. It’s a wonder somebody as righteous as Simon can even tolerate my presence, to be honest, yet alone enjoy it).

He doesn’t rise to the bait, though - Just sighs tiredly, and thunks his head down onto the edge of my shoulder.

“I know I do. And you’re right … that doesn’t help us, either. But - I promise to try and stop, if you do. I want to get better, Baz,” he chokes. “I want us to get better.”

Lulling my head over, I look at him - His Adam’s Apple bobbing, showily, and his boring blue eyes brimmed with tears. And, utterly overcome, I press a quick kiss to his hairline - Chaste and feather-light.

“I want that too,” I admit, mumbling against him. “So we can do it together. I’ll do my best to be open with you about the more … difficult things, and you do your best to reciprocate. Sounds simple enough.”

It really doesn’t, if I’m honest. It sounds about as much fun as pulling teeth. But if this is what he wants - if this is what he needs - then who am I to argue? Trying something is better than trying nothing, after all.

“With our track record, probably not,” he chuckles. “We really aren’t very good at this.”

“True,” I breath. “But I’ve always loved a challenge, Snow. Why’d you think I went after the one guy I couldn’t have?”

“Because you couldn’t help it,” he softens, pressing closer - The heat of his face against my chest, welcome in the dwindling temperature of night. “You’ve told me that much.”

“I know. But, Snow… if we’re going to do this, then I need you understand that whatever I say - whatever I think - I still like you as you are, right now. I still like us as we are, right now. I’d rather work with you through a rough patch, than lose you all together. I wouldn’t - I really wouldn’t be happy anywhere else. I choose you, Simon - However ‘you’ may be. Good or bad. Through thick and thin. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll … try to remember. And - I’m sorry … about today. I didn’t mean to mess it all up. I wanted to say it back, I just … panicked. I didn’t mean to - I never mean to ruin things. To ruin us. I really do want to be able to, like, love you properly … ‘Cause I do … love you. I - I love you, Baz.”

Endlessly pleased, I take his face into my fands, and turn him around gently - Meeting his eyes face-to-face. My heart soaring gleefully within my chest at the sight of him - His cheeks flushed and a sweetly shy smile spread across his face. Because there it is - Finally. It’s all out in the open now.

I love him and he loves me.

“You see that is more than ‘proper’ enough for me, Snow,” I beam, impossibly light. “So don’t go giving up on us yet. There will be plenty of time for us to figure out all of our … mess, later. But, I think that we’ve done more than enough talking for one day. So just … forget about all of that right now, and stay with me here. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees, his voice wobbling, slightly. “You - Do you wanna’ show me the stars again, then? I’ve forgotten which constellation is which, already.”

“Of course you have,” I laugh. “You’re a hopeless study, I’ve always said so. But yes - It would be my pleasure to reeducate you.”

And so, taking his shoulders in my hands, I roll us over so that he’s flat on his back - Holding myself up above him, and resting our foreheads together. Simon breaking into a smile, beneath me - Wide and bright and shining. And he’s a little bit of a mess - fat streaks of tears still staining his face, and his hair pulled into a wild matte - but it’s everything that I’d wanted. Everything that I’d hoped.

Simon Snow is beautiful when he’s happy.

“Just … one more thing.”

“Anything,” I smile, smoothing his hair backwards.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“Basil ... you know what,” he coos.

And I do, so I give it to him without hesitation (We’ve already had more than enough of that):

“I love you, Simon Snow. Now and always.”

And he smiles … and smiles … and smiles.

#carry on #wayward son #snowbaz #snowbaz fic #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #my fic

19 notes · View notes

altarflame · 4 years

Text

Let me give you this real country music breakdown.

Keeping in mind that 2019 involved lots of gut wrenching transition, including divorce and selling my home of 11 years (the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere). Moving away from the tropics, to a place where the ocean is usually too far and my plants can’t live outside through the winter. I had a kid move out and away, for the first time. My oldest friend also died last August, after a scant 3 month long battle with cancer. It was a real plague upon my proverbial dog, wife, and pickup truck. And, of course, I’m living through a pandemic, and a long overdue but very emotional racial justice uprising, with the rest of you, now. Anyway. OTHER than those things, my 2020 has been like...My sister’s gradually, gut wrenchingly cut off all contact with me over the past couple of years, culminating in the last couple of months, whenst we no longer speaketh at all. I’ve fought hard for this to be different and it’s still very sharp. I don’t think I’ll ever give up hope, or stop making a fool of myself about it. A new friend I was starting to really care about hung herself in April. I’ve tried to be there for her husband and 5 year old daughter when and how I can, which is honestly not much. I’ve taken several people who were scared to go alone, to her grave. I felt forced to break up with the person I thought was my soul mate, these past 3 years, and wanted to be with forever, and I have grieved it hard over the last couple of months. I’m still processing this. I’m gonna be processing this for awhile. My threshold for being anywhere near him without overwhelming sobbing is apparently approximately 45 seconds. In the beginning we were scrambled together, mixed in a celestial bowl and hand fluffed with a feather. And the tears of bliss were not amiss - it was a good day. But the story nears the present time Of restlessness and wake up calls Wake up! Years have flown fast but then who's counting The wars have been won but there's few left standing between us And the shadows of Christmas past... Critically acclaimed but sadly underrated - Fortune definitely favored us, but no one celebrated. Our wits were splitting at their ends... We gazed upon the city lights We each laughed aloud one final time and agreed: This is one thing we'll miss... On his way out, he sabotaged my part time foster child’s mom’s tenuous, fragile relationship with me, so I no longer have the ability to connect with or help that child who he brought into my life. Who I love and wonder about and periodically hear horror stories about via mutual friends. I bent over backwards, I burned calories straining for that trust between the mom and myself.

It’s so terrible sometimes. It hurts so bad. Jean-Paul. LAURA. *MILLS* . Coralye. FUCK. This post brought to you with plenty of hard crying, and no shortage of echoing painful music. I’m physically sick about this shit semi often. I don’t normally let go of anybody, guys. But certainly not my fucking nearest and dearest. I have a lot. I have SO MUCH. I know this. I feel good a lot of the time. I have all 5 of my kids under this roof while the pandemic rages on, and they’re all healthy and beautiful and they all love me and talk with me. It’s mostly all cake these days with them, Elise telling me where she is in her own solitary reading for pleasure, Ananda cracking me up, Jake biking to the grocery store for treats to share, Aaron showing me something amazing in the yard, Isaac washing dishes and giving me weirdly helpful and totally unanticipated advice. They’re almost no work now, it’s all return on investment and I have tons of privacy and I use the fuck out of it. I’m deeply in love with somebody these past 7 months. Being deeply in new love AND devastated-heartbroken about lost love at the same time is honestly dizzying, I spent a first destitute day thinking maybe I can’t do polyamory anymore, period. Maybe this is too fucking much and I’m gonna be alone and focus on my career and my goddamned plants. (<--not fucking really, obv I am not gonna let the pain win and go full hermit. Brief compelling temptation, though.) My career and my plants are great, btw, thanks for asking. I’ve got basically my dream job, it’s flexible and lackadaisical AND meaningful and challenging, it’s salaried with bonuses and hella benefits and amazing job security. It’s the whole thing, the culmination of 6 years in school and unpaid internships and volunteering. I even have a spare PRN position elsewhere that I mostly hang on to because it’s fun when they want me to come make $200 for a shift, to mix it up a little. And I have solo projects, writing and web and mental health, all in the works, and they’re good. I have seedlings sprouting. I have a yard that is pure magic, revealing new secrets each day. I’ve got some of my oldest people, like Jess. I’ve got some exciting new people, like Jill. The love, did I mention it? Holy shit. I’ve got Sterling, and that is a whole other story. That it’s been this good while things are this bad is pretty astounding. His own drama quotient has been off the charts, too. I almost can’t imagine how wonderful it would be if we weren’t constantly adrift in a sea of bullshit, though I also strongly suspect we both need a certain staggering minimum quota of bullshit. It’s no accident that we met mutually chasing along after the wake of the same madman’s chaos. We’re nursing some deep wounds in each other, waking up some old old hurts and soothing them back down smaller and smaller. Anytime we’re touching it’s either syrupy soma sweet, blazing inferno hot, or a staggering blend of the two - and then we pull apart to try to actually speak with whole brains, and inevitably take turns being baffled, just hilariously relieved, at how easy it is to communicate. We alternate coming at each other on tiptoe, braced, and then feeling confused and just.... amused? Skeptical? that the other is totally able to empathize with what was just said and is accepting it gently. We don’t have a ton of objective stuff in common, on paper. We’re both very wordy and linguistic, we’re analyzers, we draw unusual people who will feel safe telling us insane things. We’re both hypersexual perverts, chronic pickers, we both wear too much black. It doesn’t go a lot further than that at a glance. We both have PTSD and ironclad outward facing coping skills, nostalgia for the Florida Keys, scientific skepticism mixed with some faith in magic.... we were both brilliant children who felt pretty isolated. But I haven’t ever really felt like anyone is loving me the way I love people, before. I’ve never even felt like anyone else received my love, the same way I intended it, or at least not all of it. It’s like the intensity of what I’m conveying and meaning when I kiss somebody’s cheek, I dunno man, he experiences it. The goofy flowing sense I have, of holding hands, he comments on it all the time. I’m not just like.... alone, in my overwhelm with being touched, or my enthusiasm for sensations, and that is honestly pretty new to me. Sterling is not tolerating my affection for my sake, and I’m still gradually adapting to that with periodic backsliding into hesitance, and unneeded apologies. It’s like we’re totally fluent in the precise same love language, so nothing gets lost, and the feedback loop is instantaneous. He’s dark inside, but dark like Nine Inch Nail’s A Warm Place. Dark like the womb. So as I was saying. I have so much. Including a candle that’s about Mills, and is burning behind me, giving me this slipping sense that I need to blow it out, I need to reserve it, it’s gonna be gone soon. This one spans so many feelings, it’s been positive, some new candle would be what, voodoo? Meddling? I don’t know. This one’s been in a drawer, with our ring buried in it (my dragon). What will I do with that ring? What will I do with all this love? How can I contain so much, anyway? Why can’t anything ever replace anything else? It’s like infinite space, and the empty places just keep throbbing, and it’s like I sprout new spots for new fullness and the cavities pulse on. I’m deeply grateful for a certain self-completeness I’ve come to understand that I have, and that not everyone does. I am resiliant A-motherfucking-F (<--meta vulgar!). AND YET. OW OW OW. I’m sitting here trying to exposure therapy my way through my Mills playlist, as I write this, so Spotify can’t surprise me into sads anymore. I’ve gotten already to a place where sometimes i remember positive things purely positively, and laugh and tell a story and it’s ok. I’m bitter as all hell that I can’t even talk to my sister about this breakup, after she had so many stupid goddamned feelings about the relationship itself, about polyamory in general, about ever knowing him (which might have allowed her to help me grieve at all). Sigh. I love the internet, maybe feel free to send me a message if you’re still reading, whoever the fuck you are <3

#personal #long text posts #polyamory #Mills #loss #Sterling #motherhood #MSW

17 notes · View notes

percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

About a boy (Part-8)

Word count: 4.7K

Warning: Suspense, feels, physical abuse, child-trafficking and bullying

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: I’m sorry this part is so delayed. Life got to me in a not so nice way. I will try my best to be better from now on <3

All my love to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing and @deanssweetheart23 for beta reading this story <3

About a boy masterlist

“Sometimes I think that some of these kids dye their hair,” Will muttered, kicking a stone out of the way. “There can’t possibly be that many brown haired boys.”

“You have brown hair,” Cas pointed out mildly, feeling sympathetic towards the boy.

“But my name isn’t Sam!” Will exhaled, attacking another stone.

The two of them were walking back from school. Dean had waited back for some extra class, and on the way out Cas had bumped into Will, who had been in a dark, brooding mood. Only now did he know that it was because of an abundance of dark haired boys.

“I feel like I’m disappointing Dean,” Will admitted. “But I swear there isn’t another Sam on the floor, unless some kid is hiding his real name for whatever reason. The only other thing Dean gave me to go by, was that Sam has brown hair. But that is most boys.” His voice was full of despair.

“You’re being harsh on yourself, Will,” Cas soothed, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. “There isn’t much to go on here and Dean knows that. He isn’t going to be disappointed.”

“I had to do this one thing, and I’m wretched at it,” Will moaned, seemingly not having accepted a word of what Cas had said.

He is used to always having a solution, Cas thought. Will attempted math Olympiads for fun. He was smart enough to fuse out the fire alarm system. He was the sort of boy who was used to getting solutions for his problems, answers for mysteries, and now that he couldn’t figure this one out, it was bothering him. But there was also one other thing. Will was probably used to being self sufficient. He had always made his own bed and clapped his own back. Now, there was Dean.

Cas realised, Will looked upto Dean. The way he hung on to Dean’s every word like it was a gospel. How he glowed when Dean lightly made fun of him, teased him or even called him a dumb-ass. Behind Will’s disappointment was his inherent desire for praise, and not any praise, but Dean’s praise.

Cas felt a deep pang in his stomach, a swell of empathy. He had seen so many kids yearn for attention, for a drop of love in this place where everyone was lonely together. Will was no different. He’d never had anyone to appreciate his intellect. Lots of parents would have sold their souls for a prodigal child like Will. But here he was looking for acceptance from a boy who was looking for something else, someone else.

With a heavy heart, he said, “We’ll keep looking, Will. We’ll find Sam.”

The boy looked up, hazel eyes round, the question in them clear as the day. Who is Sam? But he didn’t ask. Maybe something about Cas’s expression made it clear that he wouldn’t answer. It wasn’t his secret to tell anyway. Besides, he had no business dragging a kid into this. Especially a kid residing on the 4th floor. Cas shuddered.

Will cast another look, but didn’t talk for the rest of the way back.

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

“Damn it!” Dean cursed as he stumbled over a rough patch of land. It had been three days since the fire alarm incidence and he could only barely manage to walk by himself. Of course today had to be the day when the calculus teacher extended the class. Ordinarily, Dean would have ditched in favor of having a steady support in Cas to walk back, but he paid attention in calculus. After all, he had promised to help Will out with it. So much for that crazy kid’s expedition to champion math! Which was why Dean took meticulous notes and for that, he had to wait back.

Apart from having to stumble all the way back, Dean didn’t really mind walking alone. Cas had been hovering over protectively over Dean at all times, worrying that if he was left alone, Michael’s goons might ambush him and finish what they started that night. As it turned out, Cas needn’t have worried at all. All his fears had been put to rest when the Principal had called Dean and Cas and asked about their bruises. Apparently, the nurse had made a formal request to the principal to look into the matter. Dean hadn’t given names, but the word got out and the said gang of goons started skirting him. It had still taken a quarter hours reassurance to get Cas to leave without him.

Now his legs ached, his lungs screamed in protest. I’m experiencing old age at fifteen, Dean thought wryly as he pushed the gate of bell stone open. He heard the voices before the scene around the corner met his eyes.

A woman’s voice was echoing in the yard, high and poignant and authoritative. The familiarity and hope of just seeing someone he knew had Dean running despite the pain shooting up his foot. He wasn’t wrong.

There she was standing tall and thin, with short brown hair, and the sheriffs uniform crisply cutting a formidable figure before him. Even though her back was to him, Dean knew it was her.

Jody.

He started rushing towards her, then abruptly stopped, the realisation hitting him like a block of ice. No one knew that he knew Jody. He couldn’t just barge in like that and blow his cover and their plan. The sight of her induced such homesickness, Dean staggered to the tree next to him, falling back against it for support. He felt like his legs might give out anytime.

Even if he did meet her, what was he going to tell her? He’d made no progress when it came to the Stynes. Jody had put all her trust in him, risked arguments with authoritative people to get him in and he had nothing for her. He had no clue about where all the kids were disappearing off to. Shame and guilt flared up inside him and he lowered himself on the ground, disappearing completely from her line of vision.

He had disappointed her.

“Officer,” someone cleared his throat. Dean recognised Andy. He sounded uncomfortable and scared. “It wasn’t really my fault, you see.”

“Not your fault?” Jody thundered. “Locking up kids like that on floors? And don’t you lie to me, I saw the grills myself.”

“They’re old, rusted and just there, doesn’t mean we use them,” Andy stuttered. He was much taller than Jody, but right now she seemed to tower over him.

“Do you take me for an idiot? I rolled one of those down, and for iron so rusted, it sure slid down smoothly.”

Despite the reeling shame, Dean wanted to whoop out loud. Jody was one of the smartest people he knew, and badass. Andy was in for it.

“We searched the whole place thoroughly, and those kids live in horrible conditions,” she said. “This place is a living hazard. You call it a boys home?” And what of the left wing?” she pressed, disgusted.

Dean dared to raise his head above the shrubbery just a little bit to peer into the opening. Jody was standing along with two other police officers, all of them in uniform. Andy was just a few feet away, visibly displaced, and Garth was hovering in the background, for apparently no other reason than to provide staff support to Andy. Garth seemed disinterested in the exchange and was fiddling with the dials on his walkman.

“The left wing is not in my jurisdiction. It’s always locked up. It doesn’t belong to the orphanage.” Andy’s voice was reedy.

Jody put her hands on her hips. “Really?” There was a dangerous edge to her tone. “And you don’t have the keys.”

“No,” Andy lied through his teeth. That asshole.

If Dean had had any reservations about whether or not Andy knew what was up in this place, they were shattered right then and there. He was in this with the Stynes.

Jody turned to the police officer next to her. “Alright, Andrew, we’re breaking in.”

“Do you have a warrant to search the place?” Andy questioned. Dean swore under his breath. This man actually had the audacity to act superior. Dean tried to raise his head further to get a better view, to see the expression on Jody’s face. His foot slipped and fell back on the ground with a crash.

“Who’s there?” Andy said sharply.

“Shit!”

“Get up,” Jody ordered, and Dean, after muttering a few more choice words, staggered to his feet and raised his hands. “It’s me.”

Andy’s face turned red, the suppressed anger making its appearance. “Winchester!” he bellowed, “What the f-... hell are you doing there?”

“I-I fell down,” he said hurriedly. “Was coming back from school.”

“From behind the bush?” It was Jody. “Higgs, what’s this boy doing here?”

Dean noted with detachment that he’d actually never known what Andy’s last name was. He avoided meeting Jody’s gaze.

“Look up!” Jody ordered, and Dean did so; slowly.

It was there for a split second, but Dean saw it in her brown eyes as they widened. A complex emotion; a mixture of relief, tenderness, pain… and then horror… anger.

“Higgs.” Jody’s voice was low, but it was so full of anger, loathing, that Dean backpedalled. “What the hell,” she said, seething, “happened to his face?”

Andy looked at Dean properly for the first time and paled. The angry red patches on his cheeks disappeared quickly. “I-I don’t know,” he said, running a hand across his face nervously. “You know how they get sometimes. Boys will be boys.”

But Jody was having none of Andy’s shit. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled his face to her level. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t drag your ass back to the station for allowing child abuse.” She looked dangerous, and Dean truly understood why everyone with ill-intent back home ran in the opposite direction when they saw her car.

Dean knew she couldn’t actually haul Andy to the station. This wasn’t her area of jurisdiction. This was just part of her case. And even if she could get the local PD to do this, it threatened their whole operation. Sniffing police interference, the Stynes might completely move their base. Children would keep disappearing and Dean would lose his only chance of finding Sam.

Andy stammered a mumbled explanation as Jody pushed him roughly. Dean didn’t hear a word of what Andy was saying, for Jody had turned to look at him, and Dean braced himself for the disappointment in them. Not only had he failed her so far in the operation, he’d managed to get his ass kicked spectacularly, too. In fact, his bruises were better now, light purple to yellow in some parts and the swelling almost gone in others.

When Dean looked up, Jody had squared her shoulders to face only him. Her eyes were blazing, though not with dismay or any hint of let down. There was only regret and pain there and so much worry that Dean felt he would drown in it.

He was reeling. Suddenly he was standing in the front space of Bobby’s house, Jody looking down at him not with anger but worry when he’d first rigged a car. The day when he’d caught Bobby and her sitting on the porch steps and how hastily she had withdrawn her hand from Bobby’s when she’d seen Dean walk towards. He remembered the sun light squinting off the wooden table and how she had been nervously running her fingers along the edge of the table when Bobby told him they were seeing each other. Jody who was never nervous, only scary, had cared about what Dean, who wasn’t even Bobby’s son, had to say about their relationship.

Dean remembered all the times she had driven by early so she could drop Dean off at school when Bobby was out of town. he had hated being driven around in the sheriff’s car. It was like announcing ‘don’t be friends with me, I know the sheriff.’ He’d barely ever spoken a word to her then. Suddenly there had been casseroles on holidays and real food on the table on Sunday mornings, instead of whatever mix Bobby put on the table in his hungover state.

All the sneaking around, whispers that were quieted too quickly so it wouldn’t make Dean awkward. The hope in her eyes when he sipped the coffee that she had made on mornings that she’d stayed over. She would almost always get it wrong by adding sugar, when Dean liked his black. Only now, after he had lived in this hell hole, did he realise the sort of luxury he’d had. He was no different from all the boys living in the orphanage. His parents were as dead and cold in their graves as the others’. But unlike them, he’d always had a room of his own, no worry where his next meal came from. He’d had gruff ‘good mornings’ from Bobby and shenanigans in his garage. And unexpectedly, softness from a woman who made her living by being firm.

Tears burned at the back of Dean’s throat and he blinked rapidly, still unable to take his eyes off of hers. Of course there would be no disappointment in those eyes… only care and… love. Jody’s eyes shone with unshed tears of her own, and he could see her desperately trying to get a grip.

“I got punched at school,” Dean said through a thick throat. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault.” He fervently hoped that behind his words, she heard what he truly wanted to say. It wasn’t your fault, Jody. None of this is. Please don’t pull me out of here. For the both of us.

She had wanted this one win in that male dominated department where she was better by ten times than any idiot. And he wanted… no, he needed to find Sam. He stared intently back at her, willing her to understand. At long last, she nodded. A quick jerk of her chin.

“Alright,” she said hoarsely. Dean hoped that the others interpreted it as anger. “Get going then. Next time I hear of you breaking into fights, I’ll admit you to a juvie myself. You get that?”

Dean nodded.

“Off you go,” she ordered in what was supposed to be a stern voice. Then, she very deliberately raised her hand, as if to shoo him off, and pointed it to the side of the orphanage. Even though the main door was right in front. Something glinted off her finger as it caught the Sun, and Dean caught his breath. It was a thin gold band, plain but solid, resting on the second finger.

He had to bite his lips so as to not betray a reaction.

She widened her eyes. GO.

Dean turned on his heel and headed towards the side she had pointed towards, completely bypassing the main door. In the distance he could hear Jody ordering Andy and the others off towards the left wing, even if just for the heck of it. Leading them away, he realised, away from him.

He increased his pace and turned around the corner. Dean rarely visited this part of the ground. Mostly because there was an old barnhouse there that totally creeped him out. Once upon a time, when the orphanage hadn’t actually been an orphanage but a handsome, inhabited manor, the barhouse used to house actual animals- poultry, horses and pigs. Now it was just as dilapidated as the manor house if not more. The timber girders were sagging under the dead load of the disrupted roof. The planks that made up the walls had been eaten into by termites, and cobwebs adorned the facade extensively. Of course it gave Dean the creepers. Of course he’d never even been slightly tempted to go in. But as he inspected the barren building, he noticed, to his surprise, that the door was ajar.

Dean knew the barn-house was used as a storage for things so old that even the Orphanage didn’t want it inside, which was saying something. Dean and Cas often joked that the only use it would be would be if they used it as kindling and set it on fire. At least one night wouldn’t be so cold anymore. The trepidation he felt as he stepped inside the threshold now, was very real.

Inside, everything was at least five times dustier than what he thought it would be. And so much darker. Silhouetted against the broken furniture and wardrobes was a man. He was wearing plaid underneath a thick flannel jacket and a baseball cap. Scruffy beard covered his face. A face with all too many frown lines, but laugh lines around his eyes. A face that was more familiar to Dean than any other.

Before he knew it, Dean was bounding forwards till his face was pressed against the soft cotton of the man’s shirt.

“Bobby!” Dean let out a strangled dry sob.

It was too much. The weeks and weeks of living in this hell house, the constant fear for Sam, of not finding Sam, all came crashing down. Then there was that other feeling, one that almost made him feel ashamed. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say it was a feeling of… belonging. But how could he belong to this place? He hated every brick of the orphanage. A place that caged children. His Sam... Cas and Will. Maybe the belonging wasn’t with the place… but with the people.

“Hush,” Bobby said gruffly, patting Dean’s shoulder. Dean noticed that his voice was thicker than usual. Bobby cleared his throat. “It’s alright, my boy.”

Dean didn’t want to let go of Bobby. Not just because he had missed Bobby terribly, but because he’d never actually ever hugged Bobby like this. He didn’t know what to expect when he pulled back.

When he did, there was only fierceness in Bobby’s eyes. Fierceness and fear. Not unlike Dean’s own fear for his brother and friends. A disjointed part of his mind wondered if love and fear were always this connected. And how it had taken him a trip to this goddamn place to feel both of those emotions so viscerally.

Bobby was still looking down at him, his lashes were wet. Dean had to look away.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.

Bobby shrugged. “I heard about the fire from Jody. I-I was worried.” he hesitated, then added. “I needed to know that you were fine. I know you’re… well, you’re scared of fire.”

Dean had never said it, but Bobby was there in the early days when Dean even flinched from the stove fire.

That still didn’t answer the question.

“I mean, what’re you doing here?” Dean gestured to the out house.

Bobby cleared his throat once more. “Sneaked in. Had to see you. I had to beg with Jody so I could tag along. Her only condition- no one could see me.”

“Jody!” Dean suddenly remembered, then threw a finger towards Bobby. “You’re getting married?”

Bobby shuffled from one foot to another, almost looking nervous. “Yeah. I had that ring made for a while now, since before you left. And I meant to ask you before asking her… but she found it in the back pocket of my pants and well, the damn cat was out of the bag.”

Dean stared.

Romantic proposal was one thing. He hadn’t really expected Bobby to put on fairy lights around the house and fill the front yard with rose petals, but the proposal could have been more than her accidentally stumbling upon the ring. Dean wanted to shake his head indulgently at Bobby’s complete and utter lack of romantic timing. Maybe Jody liked that sort of spontaneous thing. Who knew?

There was something in Bobby’s words that stopped Dean from acting upon his amusement.

“You said you wanted to ask me?” Dean asked flatly.

Bobby looked even more nervous if that was possible. “It is your home, Dean. I wanted to ask you if it was alright with you.” He looked at Dean with a worried expression.

This time Dean really did shake his head. “Bobby, you crazy old man,” Dean laughed. “Of course I’m happy for you. Jody is a badass.”

Bobby’s eyes softened, and his shoulders relaxed. “She wanted you to know, too. Said it didn’t count as engagement if you weren’t in on it.”

The tears had just subsided, but Dean’s throat burned with them again.

“Bobby,” he said, his voice rough. “You getting married to Jody would be the best damn thing to happen to our home.”

Bobby beamed. His whole face lit up, and for a second Dean could almost feel the homely warmth of Bobby’s kitchen in the cold, dusty barnhouse. Then Bobby’s smile slid.

“What’re you doing here, kid?” Bobby asked, his face screwing up in his classic frown. He always tried to look annoyed when he was feeling something, Dean remembered fondly. “Come home. The place feels just like an empty car dump without you annoying my gourd,” he said pointing to his head.

Dean wanted to smile at Bobby’s attempt to lighten the tone, though it didn’t take a keen eye to see the wetness of his lashes, hear the gruffness of his voice.

“Sam…” Dean started.

“Sam’s… Sam’s a ghost story, Dean!” Bobby almost gasped, as if he’d tried too hard to not say those words, but they had escaped him anyway. Dean’s heart seemed to crack just a bit. He could see that Bobby loved him. Like his own son. But for Bobby, Sam was still his friend’s son, who was lost. He had no connection to Sam whatsoever.

All these years, through hot grizzly afternoons and through cold shivery winter nights, that blood bond was what had kept Dean awake, picturing horrors that might have been happening to his brother who was still out there somewhere. Who knew? Maybe waiting for his older brother. Dean had held on to it, steadfast, never giving up. But somewhere through the years, Bobby had.

Dean didn’t begrudge Bobby the non-attachment, but if only he understood that finding Sam was the purpose of life for Dean, especially now that there was a ray of hope, now that he was so close to discovering the truth.

Perhaps Bobby understood too well, because he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t have said that,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you.” His eyes roved over Dean’s face. “Look at all of his,” he gestured vaguely at the bruises.

“It’s nothing, Bobby,”

“Exactly!” Bobby pointed out. “It could get so much worse.” But something about Dean’s look made Bobby’s shoulders slump. It was clear that Dean wasn’t going to give up on this.

With a resigned gesture of his arms, Bobby turned around and produced a wooden box from behind. The box wasn’t ornate but, the rosewood exterior had a pristine quality to it, as if the box had been in existence since a long, long time.

“Here.” Bobby’s voice was heavy, and his eyes had that look… the one that made him look older than he was. “Take it.”

“What is it?” Dean asked, running his fingers over the rough exterior of the dark wood.

Bobby didn’t answer, and Dean clicked the lock on it. The lid opened easily enough. Inside was a collection of mismatched things. There was a small knife, a little charm bracelet, a figurine of a peaceful looking baby angel and among other things a bundle of photos. Images after images of his family… of faces that he was afraid he was beginning to forget. Photographs from his parents' wedding, in front of their lawn, from his childhood, dad hugging mom in front of a sleek black car.

“Your dad loved that thing,” Bobby murmured, but Dean barely paid attention. He was hungrily flipping through the bundle, his hands shaking. At the very end, there were pictures of a small baby, clicked in a series. Small chubby hands held out, rosy cheeks, light brown hair and a laugh that seemed to reach out of the picture itself.

Dean didn’t know whether to simply keep looking at the picture- because at this point his eyes were simply devouring it- or shut the box, just so he could control his feelings, get a grip on his wildly failing heart.

“Where?” he stammered, shutting the box as the later instinct won. “Where did you find these?” Even to his own ears, Dean’s voice sounded strangled.

“I’ve always had them,” Bobby said, then gauging Dean’s outrage quickly added, “I wanted you to move on, Dean. When you first came to live with me, you didn’t talk for half a year. It was like living with a shadow. I didn’t want you to get lost in the past and never resurface from whatever goddamned dark depth you had fallen into. And then when you started talking, and it looked like you were finally going to get a childhood, I didn’t want you to lose yourself in a false hope.”

“So you never gave these to me?” Dean glared. He could feel the blood rising to his face, his fingers balling into fists.

Bobby squared his shoulders. “Damn right I never gave you those. And I won’t feel sorry for hoping that you’d give up on the crazy mission to find Sam. You were just a kid, Dean. You still are, and from what I knew, I truly believed Sam was lost.” His voice cracked.

Just like that Dean felt all the anger leave him, his body deflating. Suddenly he felt tired, bone weary. His legs gave out from under him and he collapsed onto a dusty trunk. What was the point of being mad? It was not like Bobby had kept his childhood from him. Dean still had his mother’s picture by the side of his bed. His dad’s first sawed off and baseball glove on the wall. He’d always had mementos to remember his parents by. The only things new were Sam’s pictures. And what was even the point in blaming Bobby. All he wanted was to help Dean. Besides, Bobby had left no stone unturned in his time to find Sam.

“Why are you giving this to me now?” Dean asked, head bent low, all energy simply draining out of him.

Bobby lowered himself to Dean’s level, hand back on his shoulders, “Because now it might actually help you.”

Dean couldn’t help himself. He flung his arms around Bobby once more. This was more hugging than maybe all of their time together, but Dean simply didn’t care. “I can’t wait to be back,” he admitted, his voice muffled against Bobby’s shoulder.

Bobby chuckled dryly. “Can’t wait to have you back either, kid.”

After a moment he let go, patting Dean’s back in quick succession. “You still remember about the pager, right?”

Dean nodded, now slightly awkward. “I’ll send out a flare if there is ever an emergency.” Secretly Dean knew he wasn’t going to do it until he found Sam because that would mean an immediate rescue and permanent goodbye to this place.

Bobby gave him one more hard look, then nodded and walked out of the barnhouse. Goodbyes weren’t really his thing.

Dean knew that they couldn’t have left together, too much risk, so he waited for a few minutes, then slipped out, too, the box clutched tightly in his hands. He felt both lighthearted and also awfully homesick at the same time. So lost was he in his own feelings that he never noticed the shadow move from the side of the barnhouse where it had been lodged for a while now, and come face to face with him.

Dean ran headfirst into the wall of black, then staggered backwards.

“Benny!” he said, surprised as he looked into the shadowed face.

Benny’s face looked impassive, his eyes however were narrowed. “That police woman looked like she wanted to smother you in hugs.Your old man looks pretty solid and caring and alive. Care to tell me who is this Sam you’re looking for, Winchester?”

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

A/N 2: Please do tell me what you thought of the chapter? I live for comments!

If you wanna be tagged, please send me an ask

About a Boy taglist:

@sdavid09 @deanssweetheart23 @blacktithe7 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @cosicas-cuquis @chalicia @anathewierdo @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectteamfreewill @firefly124-writing @spnbaby-67 @hoboal87 @rizlow1 @donnaintx @starmission @gh0stgurl @tftumblin @emily-a-c11 @ericaprice2008 @jotink78 @charliebradbury1104 @ohgodwhybloggg @i-dont-get-cold @bobbie3939 @samsexualdeancurious @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @cookiechipdough @wildfirewinchester

#dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural au #dean winchester #weechesters #aab part 8 #anawrites #anawritesspn #Ana writes Dean #Ana writes aab #q

43 notes · View notes

baconsoupforthesoul · 5 years

Text

Popping the Question

A/N: Happy one year anniversary to the Bioshock au!!! I was originally planning on writing something COMPLETELY different for today but this idea hit me out of nowhere yesterday and I just had to write it. I want to say thanks again to everyone involved with the bioshockau, for bringing us such a lovely story with so much creativity and passion thrown into it. I hope you guys enjoy~

Henry and Lyra belong to @inkspottie

Ross belongs to @doberart

And Delta belongs to @trashboatprince

Henry thought that after facing the horror that was Rapture Studies that nothing would scare him anymore. After all, what could possibly be more frightening than an underwater studio filled with INK crazed splicers out for your blood, being led by the biggest monster of them all, Joey Drew. Apparently, Henry couldn’t have been more wrong though, because as he sat across from his girlfriend Lyra at the fanciest restaurant in the city, he had never felt more scared in his life. The weight of the ring he had bought for her felt heavy in his pocket as he nervously looked up at Lyra from over his menu. Gosh, she was so beautiful, her auburn hair framing her lovely face, her deep green eyes shining in the light from the chandelier overhead. She looked up at Henry and gave him a sly smile as his eyes darted back to his menu, feeling the blood rising to his checks. It was like their first date all over again. Henry tapped his foot nervously as he tugged at his collar. He… he just needed to calm down. Lyra wouldn’t turn him down… would she?

“You doing alright over there Henry?” Lyra asked her tone light but mischievous as if she was trying to keep herself from laughing. Crap, with that knowing smile Henry knew she could tell he was nervous. Had she figured him out? This date wasn’t their usual thing, as while they would often go out for dinner it was almost never anywhere this fancy. Henry could feel his hands start to become sweaty and his heart beat faster in his chest.

“Uh, earth to Henry?” Lyra couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit as she waved a hand in front of Henry’s face.

“Right! Sorry, I was uh… lost in thought there,” Henry said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

“I could see that,” Lyra told him as she rested her head on her hand, smiling sweetly at him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Uh… well… you see I…” Henry fidgeted with his hands and his gaze dropped to the floor. Gosh, what was wrong with him, just spit it out alread-

“Hello! I’m Susan and I’ll be your server for this evening! Could I offer either of you two something to drink?” A young friendly waitress greeted them as she approached their table. The words died on Henry’s tongue as Lyra started ordering. He… he just needed to calm down. No need to rush into this, he had all evening to pop the question.

How was he gonna pop the question anyway? Henry had tried to plan the perfect way to ask Lyra but he always found himself drawing a blank. He had heard that some people would put the ring on a breadstick or something, but Henry wasn’t so sure that it was a good idea. Should he just go classic and just get down on one knee? What if he fumbled with the ring and he dropped it and it rolled away or something? His hands were so sweaty and jittery that he had a feeling that it was a stong possibly he would do something that stupid. Should he even be asking her in a restaurant like this? Maybe he should have picked something more private, he didn’t want to pressure Lyra into saying yes or anything.

“Henry? Henry? Have you figured out what you want to order?”

Henry’s head jerked up when he realized Lyra had been talking to him. Damnit, he had to stop spacing out like this!

“Uhhh,” Henry looked back at the menu, realizing that he had spent so much time worrying that he hadn’t even read any of his options yet. “Ummmm, I’m not sure yet. Everything just looks so fancy…”

“It really does,” Lyra agreed, glancing back at her own menu. “Maybe some pasta would be nice? I’m not used to eating out at places as fancy as this, did you pick it out for any reason in particular Henry?”

“Ummm, yeah actually,” Henry’s cheeks flushed again as he reached down for the ring in his pocket. “You see… Lyra…” It felt like his heart was beating a mile a minute as he squeezed the ring box. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… uhh…”

“Are you two all set to order~!” Their cheerful waitress had returned with a bright smile on her face to rain on Henry’s parade. Henry managed not to sigh in frustration as he and Lyra ordered their food. It was just his luck that right when he found an opening to ask her that he was interrupted. It was probably for the best though, he was getting so worked up that he knew he would screw up the proposal unless he calmed down.

Calming down was easier said than done though. As he and Lyra idly chatted while awaiting their food, he could feel his thoughts begin to spiral and drown in doubt. Was this too soon to be asking her to marry him? Maybe he was rushing into this? Maybe one day Lyra would get fed up with dealing with his less than stellar mental health and leave him? He honestly wouldn’t even blame her if she did, he knew he had a lot of trauma to deal with, and that could wear anyone down over time. The last thing Henry wanted was to be a burden on her. These thoughts continued to swirl around in his mind and whisper in his ears as the food was finally brought out. Henry’s appetite was nonexistent thanks to his nerves but he tried his best to eat as much as he could so he wouldn’t worry Lyra.

By the time the waiter had brought them their check; Henry had made no more attempts to pop the question. The more Henry thought about it, the more this all seemed like some big mistake. Why in the world would Lyra want to marry him? She was so lovely, she could have anyone she wanted, what possible reason did she have to be with Henry? He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this, he needed help-

“Henry? Are you feeling alright?” Lyra looked up at him with concerned eyes after he was quiet for too long. He was making her worry again. Why couldn’t he just keep it together?

“I-I’m fine.” Henry attempted to reassure her but his voice came out shaky.

“If you say so,” Lyra doesn’t sound convinced. “There was something you wanted to ask me earlier, wasn’t there?

Ah crap, Henry gulped, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under her gaze. He wasn’t ready for this. He couldn’t- “I-I gotta go use the bathroom!” Henry stammered as he jumped up from his chair. “I’ll be right back!” Henry almost tripped over his own chair as he fled from the table, leaving a confused Lyra behind. Instead of heading to the restroom though, Henry dashed out of the restaurant. The cool evening air hit his face as Henry took in a deep breath. This was a mistake… it was all a big mistake. Henry tried to keep his emotions under control as he spotted a nearby payphone. Henry ran over to it, throwing open the glass door and digging in his coat pocket for quarters. “Come one, come on…” He whispered to himself, his hands shaking as he inserted the coins into the phone. He hurriedly punched in the number of the only person he could think of that may help. Henry tapped his foot nervously as the phone rang. Please pick up, please pick up, please pick-

“Hello? Henry Ross speaking,” Ross’s familiar voice washed over him and Henry breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh god, Ross, I can’t do this!” Henry cried into the phone, leaning heavily against the side of the payphone box.

“Henry? I thought you were out with Lyra? You okay? What’s going on?” Ross asked, his voice laced with concern

“Rosssssss, I need help!” Henry wailed, panicked tears leaking from his eyes. “I’m gonna mess it up, I just know it!” Henry could feel his breathing sped up as the panic he had tried to keep at bay started to set in.

“Hey, Henry, take a deep breath, okay?” Ross tried to calm Henry down but his breathing was starting to come in short gasps. “What happened? You were going to pop the question to her tonight, right?”

“I was!” He exclaimed. “But I was I was just so nervous, and I kept getting interrupted, and I didn’t know how to bring it up and oh god I’m so dumb why can’t I just ask her?”

“Alright, alright, you’re just working yourself up now Henry,” Ross told him, but his soothing voice wasn’t easing Henry’s panic.

“I mean, at first I thought about that whole cliche putting the ring on a breadstick but what if Lyra doesn’t notice it and swallows it? WHAT IF I SWALLOW IT! WHAT IF I CHOKE AND DIE ON THE RING BEFORE I CAN EVEN MARRY HER!!!”

“Henry, that seems very unlikely,” Ross deadpanned. “Okay, ring on the breadstick is out. If you’re this nervous just do it the old fashioned way? Just get down on one knee and ask her, that’s simple enough right?”

“But-but-but I’m so nervous I know I’m gonna mess it up! I’m gonna drop the ring, or loss it, or maybe I didn’t even bring it with me, oh god is it even IN THE BOX?!” Henry yelped as he quickly fished around in his jacket and pulled out the box. He opened it and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was there but his panic was still at a fever pitch.

“Henry, you gotta calm down. I know it’s scary, I remember I was a bundle of nerves myself when I asked Linda to marry me.” Ross attempted to soothe his brother. “You just gotta remember that Lyra loves you. It doesn’t matter if you fumble a bit on the question, that won’t matter to her, alright?”

“So you think I’m gonna mess this up?!” Henry asked, completely missing the point of Ross’s words.

“What?! No! That’s not what I meant!” Ross sputtered. “I just mean that-”

Ross didn’t get to finish that thought as there was the sound of the phone being fumbled around and a distant “Hey!” from Ross before someone else took over the call.

“Henry? Is that you?” Delta’s voice came out of the receiver. “Are you freaking out about Lyra again?”

“I-I just can’t ask her. Dinner is already over and I never asked her…”

“Henry,” Delta tried to cut him off but Henry kept going.

“…and I’ve totally screwed this up…

“Henry.”

“And why would she want to marry me! This was all a mistake I should just-”.

“HENRY!” Delta yelled to get Henry to stop his self-destructive tirade. “Take a deep breath for me, ya got that?” Henry took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. “Okay? Feel a little better?”

“A bit but-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Delta cut Henry off again. “Listen, just stop being a baby and ask her to marry you. Simple as that.”

Click!

Henry stood there in silence for a moment, his eyes widening as he realized that Delta just hung upon him. “Deltaaaaa!” Henry yelled in frustration as he slammed the phone down. “Why would you just… WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEEEE?”

Knock Knock

Henry nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard someone knocking on the glass door of the phone booth. He spun around to see Lyra standing there, her hand over her mouth as if she was trying to keep from laughing. Ah shit…

“Lyra!” Henry yelped, quickly opening the door and stepping out of the phone booth. “H-h-how long have you been standing there?”

“For a little bit, “ She admitted. “You were taking a while and I happened to notice that you ran out of the restaurant, not towards the bathrooms.”

“Oh…. ummmm… well, the thing is….” Henry felt a pit form at the bottom of his stomach. He… he had completely messed this up, hadn’t he? He had wanted this to be a nice romantic evening and here he was a disheveled mess, tear tracks down his face, with his girlfriend having just witnessed him sobbing on the phone to his brothers. “I’ve… I’ve really screwed this up, haven’t I?”

“Of course not,” Lyra smiled warmly at him. “I was just concerned, Henry. You’ve been sweating bullets all evening.”

“I know,” Henry rubbed the back of his head, looking anywhere but at Lyra. “You see… I wanted to ask you something tonight… something important… and I wasn’t sure if… if you even wanted… I didn’t know if…” Henry’s voice petered out as he felt like he had a rock lodged in his throat.

Suddenly, Lyra placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder and tilted his head up to look at her. Henry’s face became bright red and she leaned down and kissed him sweetly. She pulled away and looked deep into Henry’s eyes. “Yes.” She said, smiling warmly at him.

“W-what?” Henry asked, confusion written all over his face.

“I have a feeling I know what you want to ask me,” Lyra confessed, her smile becoming more playful. “So if it eases your nerves, my answer is yes.”

Henry felt rooted to the spot as he stared at Lyra. Yes? She had said yes? But, he hadn’t even gotten a chance to ask her! “But Lyra… I… I…”

“You can still ask me if you want,” Lyra chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to steal your thunder.”

“No! No, it’s okay,” Henry finally cracked a smile. While he was still shaky, Henry managed to get down on one knee and pull out the ring. He took a deep breath as he popped open the box and presented the ring to the beautiful woman standing before him. “Lyra, would you do me the honor of marrying me?” He asked, without even a stutter or hitch in his voice, staring up at Lyra with starstruck eyes.

“Yes,” Lyra told him again, her voice dripping with affection. Henry reached for the ring to pull it out of the box, and he almost dropped it thanks to his shaking hands. But Lyra leaned forward and helped him slip it onto her finger. “Wow,” Lyra’s eyes widened as she turned her hand this way and that, admiring the ring. “It’s gorgeous, Henry.”

Looking up at Lyra, admiring the ring he had bought her, knowing that she had said yes, that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her, Henry couldn’t stop the tears of joy running down his face.

“Oh, Henry,” Lyra’s voice softened as she helped Henry to his feet and pulled him into her arms. “You going to be okay?”

“Yes,” Henry answered immediately. “More than okay. Thank you so much, Lyra.”

“You don’t have to thank me silly,” Lyra laughed, holding onto Henry tightly as he squeezed her in return. “Nothing would make me happier than to be your wife.”

The two of them stood there for some time, basking in each other’s presence. That was until they realized they forgot to pay for their meal and rushed back inside. As Henry furiously apologized for almost walking out without paying, he felt that nothing could scare him anymore, not if he had Lyra by his side.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #henry stein #linda stein #henry x linda #bioshock au #spacy writes #this was so much fun to write #also I imagine lyra just standing there outside the phone booth through that whole conversation #that's just a funny image to me #lyra just watching henry freaking out thinking #yep I;m gonna marry this man #XD

79 notes · View notes

the--sad--hatter · 5 years

Text

Name Calling (42)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, DEADPOOL & X-MEN

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -

Vernichtung - Destruction, Annhialation.

It was what you were named and what you were supposed to be but the only thing you wanted to destroy was Bucky Barnes.

The ongoing and bloody war of words between you and Bucky turns in your favor when a disgruntled one night stand of his lets slip a secret when you run into her in the elevator… Now you have all the ammunition you need to destroy your enemy but you don’t plan on killing him quickly. Oh no, Bucky Barnes was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy every second. You just didn’t count on enjoying it quite so much.

But when your past catches up to you in the form of the mad scientist who made you, Bucky might be one of the only things that can save you from yourself. You can’t run from what you are but with his help, you can fight back.

Current Word Count - 118,143

MASTERLIST or Read on Ao3

Moodboard by @talesofakindredspirit

Chapter Forty-Two - The Truth Hurts

“You got truth cookies from the God of lies?”Clint whined.

“It’s called poetic irony.” You sniggered.

“I am terrified right now but I’m also kind of proud and impressed.” Sam admitted.

“Here are the rules of the game, you tell me something you don’t wanna tell me and you get the andtidote.” You informed them.

Clint, Natasha, Bucky, Steve, Sam, Thor, Wanda and Vision all looked very very nervous as you watched them through the screen and it was incredibly satisfying.

“So, anyone want to tell me anything?” You asked sinisterly.

Wanda slapped her hands over her mouth and you laughed.

“I’m afraid that will not save you.” Loki informed her.

“How about you Sam? How about you tell me how you really feel about me dating Bucky?” You probed.

“I think you’re good for each other and I like that Barnes knows how I feel now that he has to compete with me for your time the way I do with him for Steve’s. I know I’m your best friend you’ll always have time for me but I like teasing him and I know he’ll always look after you because he’s a good man.” Sam blurted.

“Awwwww” You cooed.

“I’m furious that I just admitted that.” Sam bemoaned.

“Ok, Sam passed.” You smirked.

“I am not afraid, I have nothing to hide. I am grateful to have Loki back in my life and grateful you all have given him a second chance.” Thor said with a happy grin.

“Sentimental oaf.” Loki muttered but you did notice the slight pink tinge on his cheeks.

“I would like to point out that as I am a synthetic being I do not believe this potion has had any effect on me.” Vision informed everybody.

“Try telling a lie.” Wanda suggested.

“I am bright pink right now.” He said and everybody sulked at his successful lie.

“Whatever, Vision wouldn’t have had anything juicy to admit anyway.” You said with a small pout.

“Vision and I both know who your biological father is.” Wand said and covered her mouth again in horror.

You gulped nervously.

“I’m incredibly annoyed that you know that and I don’t.” Natasha snapped.

“Wanda’s out. Someone else go!” You said quickly.

“I’m very disappointed in you.” Steve said.

“Well nobody needed to give you truth serum to figure that out.” Sam snapped.

“I’m not disappointed, I’m mad but her devious side is really hot.” Bucky said.

“Not at all a shocking announcement Barnes.” Natasha quipped.

“Yeah this is coming from the guy who fucked her on the gym mats after she headbutted him.” Clint snorted.

“What?!�� Sam shrieked.

“Wait, I don’t think I thought this through.” You admitted to Loki, covering the mic.

“What a surprise. Don’t worry, this will hurt them more than it hurts you.” Loki assured you with a very unreassuring smirk.

“Oh please, she drugged him and he practically wanted to propose.” Steve added.

“Getting off track here folks.” You told them.

“Oh are we Kotoynok? Because I think there are a few truths you don’t want to be spoken. Like how you ran into Barnes one night stand in the elevator and found out he’d said your name instead of hers and decided to use it against him.” Natasha said with a savage grin.

“You what?” Bucky huffed, looking hurt.

“Barnes did what now?” Sam asked looking amused as hell.

“Is that why you suddenly started flirting with me, dating Steve and wearing all that tight clothing?” Bucky asked.

“No sweetie, of course not.” You soothed him.

“OK good because I still wonder if you really love me or if deep down you know I’m not good enough for you but I’m too in love with you to let it stop me. I know this is too good to be true and I’m going to get my heart broken but I’d rather have my heart broken by you than turn away from you.” He said.

His confession was met with silence. His face was burning in embarrassment as he waited for you to say something but you didn’t.

“Doll?”

Nothing. You didn’t answer and his stomach twisted.

The doors opened and you stepped through them. You refused to meet his eye or anyone else’s as you walked past them all and picked up a cookie and steeled yourself. Biting the bullet, or the cookie in this case you shoved it into your mouth and swallowed it before you turned back to them.

“James Buchanan Barnes I love you more than I have ever loved anyone and sometimes I think that if I could go back and change the awful things that happened to me I wouldn’t risk it in case it meant I never got to meet you. I’m awful and I don’t deserve you but I want you so much it actually hurts and being with you is more important than anything else. I would rather die than break your heart.”

All the sadness and apprehension in Bucky’s face was wiped away in a single instant and it was like he was lit up from within as he strode across the room towards you.

“I’ve been lying to you to all of you though and I don’t deserve your love. I don’t deserve any of you.” You blurted out before he could reach you and he faltered.

“Kotoynok there’s nothing you could do I wouldn’t forgive.” Natasha said immediately.

“You’re overly dramatic so whatever it is I don’t think it’s going to be that bad.” Steve said.

“I’m with Steve, you’re a damn Drama Queen and an adorable idiot but you couldn’t hurt anybody here with anything you have to say.” Clint agreed.

“You’re my best friend and I would do anything for my friends, plus I trust that you’re a good person.” Sam added.

“I have forgiven for Loki for so much, I am inclined to forgive those I care about for terrible transgressions.” Thor announced.

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad by telling you I knew but I figured it out when you did and I never thought any less of you.” Wanda admitted.

You tried to stop yourself but as soon as you’d bit into the cookie you’d given up control of your mouth and the words poured out of you.

“Vernichtung isn’t a malevolent force trying to take over me, I created it because deep down I want to give into the darkness and do what I was born to do. I want to destroy the world and I hated myself for that so much that I buried it and created a second personality, a shadow self to absolve myself of the guilt.”

You hung your head in shame but you didn’t have to look to see the shift in the room. You felt Bucky take a step back from you. You peered up at him and saw the shock on his face.

“I was afraid you’d reject me but I desperately hoped you wouldn’t.” You chocked out through a sob and covered your mouth, fleeing from the room without looking back.

You ran all the way to Tony’s lab and burst in. He looked up in alarm that didn’t fade when he took in your state. You flung yourself at him and he caught you, wrapping his arms around you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked frantically.

“I told everyone the truth about Vernichtung and Bucky rejected me.” You sobbed.

You felt him stiffen under you and he wrenched you off of him.

“Where is he?” Tony asked.

“Don’t hurt him, I love him so much and if you do it’ll destroy me.” You told him.

Tony clenched his jaw and forced himself to calm down, pulling you into his embrace again.

“I love you but I lied when I told you I didn’t want to know who my father was. I want to know but I’m so scared of what I might find when you tell me.” You said through your tears.

“Kit Kat it doesn’t matter, you don’t have to do anything.” He soothed.

“I want to know, I want to you just tell me but I’m afraid to ask out loud.”

Tony sighed heavily and crushed you in his hug before he told you what the truth serum had forced you to admit you wanted to know.

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

“Where is she?” Bucky asked frantically as he burst into the lab.

“Gone.” Tony told him flatly.

“I didn’t mean to reject her, I was just shocked. I don’t care that it’s her. I don’t care about any of it. I know who she is and I love her.”

“Too little too late.” Tony snarled.

“She and Loki doused us all with a truth potion and it backfired so she took it as well. I was taken aback by what she said Stark because I know I’m a mess and I was scared I would be the worst thing for her. But I love her and I would do anything for her.” Bucky pleaded.

“Fuck. A fucking truth potion?” Tony said, shooting to his feet.

“Yes.”

“Oh shit.”

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

“Logan I believe you should go outside. Miss Stark is currently driving up the driveway.” The Professor said with urgency.

Logan hurried to the front door in time to see you pull up, screeching to a halt and practically falling out of the car.

Your eyes were bloodshot and wet and your looked frantic as you rushed towards him, stopping a few feet away.

“How could you?” You demanded.

“So you know then.”

“You knew all along! Why the hell didn’t you tell me? How could you not?” You practically screamed.

“Wasn’t my place princess.” He said gruffly.

“No, no you don’t get to put that on Tony you fucking coward!”

“He’s your father, I’m just some guy who knew your mother a long time ago.” He reasoned.

“She died in my arms and I didn’t even have a name for her grave you bastard.” You shouted through the tears.

“I didn’t know I was your father then I just knew I didn’t want to be the one to tell you that your mother was the daughter of the man who killed her.” He snarled.

You reeled back as if he’d struck you.

“The daughter of... Docherty is...” You started to hyperventilate.

“You didn’t know that?” He frowned.

“Shit.” He added as you sunk to your knees.

The tears were pouring now as you tried to breathe. Your stomach twisted as it sunk in and you heaved.

Docherty was your Grandfather.

He kept his own daughter locked up for so long she’d lost her mind.

He killed her just to send you a message.

He kept you in a cage your whole life and tortured you.

And he was your Grandfather.

“It’s alright kid, it’s gonna be alright.” Logan tried to say soothingly as he approached you.

You screamed in horror as the rage and disgust consumed you and Logan was blasted back by the power surging out of you.

You could feel Vernichtung at the edge of your consciousness, you could feel her rage and it was even more intense than your own.

“Let me out, I’ll make it all go away.” She whispered to you.

“DON’T” Xaviers voice screamed at you inside your mind.

You tried to push her back down but you couldn’t. Your careful control had been shattered because truthfully you didn’t want to lock her back up. You wanted to retreat and hide away from this and let her do her worst.

The world didn’t make sense anymore and as black veins rippled across your arms you tried to tell yourself that this was a school, there were innocents here but it wasn’t enough.

The knowledge of who you were had broken you.

Somebody wrapped their arm around you and forced you to look at them.

“Ma petite you are stronger than this.” Remy promised you.

“You can’t be here. Run.” You urged him.

“I ran once and left you behind. Not today. Remy will not leave you.”

You shuddered as you battled inside your mind with your darker side.

“This is who you are, who you truly are. The only way to make this pain you feel stop is with blood.” Vernichtung whispered.

“I can’t fight anymore.” You whispered weakly and closed your eyes, surrendering to the inevitable.

You were a monster, descended from a monster. This was who you were and you couldn’t deny it any longer. Vernichtung could have your body and you would take the cage because you couldn’t do anything else.

“You just need a reason to fight.” Remy whispered.

And then he kissed you. And in desperation, in need of something to cling to, you kissed him back.

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

Please don’t hurt me. Please.

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first@thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes @fairislesheets@angieptt @meganjonezzzz @dugan365 @fluffeh-kitty@memanda17 @krystallynx @theonelittleone @piscesbarnes@free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot @captainamericasbeard@dropthepizza346 @jaynnanadrews @likes-to-smell-books@drdorkus @life-wanderer @metalarmlover @animegirlgeeky@jsmith509

#hattersmarvelverse #bucky x reader

239 notes · View notes

sunshinehighway · 5 years

Text

for @aarondingel who requested a scene filler of the phone call between robert and aaron discussing the jacob/maya/liv situation <33

Aaron’s thoughts are travelling at a hundred miles an hour, his eyes are damp and there’s a thud echoing in his ears, heavy and unnatural. He’s not entirely sure where the feeling has come from; Liv’s been stupid, she knows that, he knows that. But he’s confident she’ll get off lightly this time - she’s not the one who’s been doing the majority of the manipulation here; no the manipulating has come at the hands of Maya.

Then, reality crashes back into him, a tidal wave that washes away the initial worry for his sister and is replaced by thoughts of Jacob. Of a young boy facing abuse at the hands of someone he should be able to trust; someone he still believes he can trust.

It feels as if his chest is cracking, peeling apart at the mere thought.

Aaron takes a deep breath in and holds it for a moment, before releasing it slowly. He repeats this a few times until his heart rate normalises and he doesn’t feel like he’s going to crack in half.

He makes this futile attempt to abandons his thoughts and leans back in his seat, trying to put all this focus on breathing. Just breathing and nothing else. Naturally, that’s easier said than done.

There’s only one way, one person, that can calm Aaron when he gets like this. Robert. He fishes out his phone from where it had slipped down the side of the sofa and scans through his contacts, until he finds the one with a blue heart beside it.

And so he phones him. It’s not unusual, considering they’ve shared at least two phone calls a day since Robert’s been away.

The call connects within seconds, as if Robert was expecting him. This funny static sound takes over the line for a while, a result of calling across the water, before he hears Robert’s familiar greeting.

Aaron opens his mouth, to say whatever will come out of him, but he can't make his mouth work. All he can hear is the echo of his own erratic breathing and Robert’s worried tone calling his name.

The anxious coil in Aaron’s chest tightens a little. He’s not sure he wants to tell Robert anymore - it’s heavy on Aaron’s chest, the weight of it almost crushing him and he doesn’t want Robert to feel an ounce of it. Not when he’s already carrying so much.

He closes his eyes momentarily. "Rob," he says weakly. “Hi.”

He rests his head against the back of the sofa, suddenly exhausted.

“Hey, you scared me for a second,” Robert says, but it’s more of a question than a statement.

“Sorry,” he replies, trying his best to keep his voice from cracking, but there’s no point - he’s hopeless at hiding things from his husband.

“What’s the matter? Aaron?” Robert waits; one, two, three. “Has something happened? Are you alright?”

The burning in his throat subsides a fraction, soothed by the calmness that’s slowly inflating inside Aaron’s chest as Robert’s voice fills his ears.

“I’m alright, I…” he trails off, staring at a spot on the wall. “It’s not me - it’s - it’s Liv - and - and Jacob,” he says, not really doing a good job of explaining the situation - but he can’t find the words to do so.

On the other end of the line, Aaron can hear Robert draw a shaky breath, as if he’s part relieved; part horrified.

“Jacob? What’s he done now? Honestly Aaron, I’ll kill the little shit.” Robert says, in that tone of voice which scream protective big brother. “Liv doesn’t deserve this.”

“Don’t Robert -“ Aaron interrupts, blinking back tears, “just - don’t.”

Silence.

“Aaron?”

Silence.

“Aaron, what’s going on?” He hears Robert plead, and immediately Aaron recognises the panic seeping through his voice. “Please?”

“Liv, she’s um - well she - she’s been blackmailing Maya.”

“What? Why on earth would she do that?”

“To give us money for the surrogacy.”

“Ok? You’re going to have to backtrack a bit Aaron - whats Maya got to do with anything? She’s not put Liv in sententious, has she?” Robert attempts with a laugh.

But Aaron can hear the underlying tone of something creeping into his voice, something that sounds a lot like concern, worry, panic.

And how do you put something like this into words? There’s isn’t a way - Aaron knows that all too well. “She’s been abusing Jacob, Rob - she’s - she’s brainwashed him.”

It doesn't bear thinking about.

He tells Robert what he knows, which admittedly isn’t much. He tells him about Liv catching them, blackmailing them. About Maya and Jacob running away together, held up in some grotty hotel room. About how she’s exploited his trust, manipulated and indoctrinated him like the monster she is. It all comes tumbling out of him, as if he can’t keep it in any longer.

He takes a deep breath, shifts his phone from one ear to the other, his arm aching from holding it up so long.

And then Robert’s voice is filtering through his speaker again, telling him that everything will be fine; that Liv will be fine, and Jacob too. Aaron wishes, desperately, that that were true. He even tries to convince himself of it, but he knows all too well that something like this is never just fine.

Something like this. Something he’s all too familiar with.

“Aaron, are you still there?” Robert interrupts him, just as the painful memories start to rear their ugly head, and pulls him back to the surface. “Listen to me, it’s going alright. It might not be right now - not for anyone involved, but in the end, it will be. I promise.”

Robert, even all these thousands of miles away, can be so gentle, so thoughtful and knowing - so aware of Aaron and his needs. It should scare him, how well Robert can read him - like his favourite book - but it doesn’t, in fact, it only serves to remind Aaron how amazing Robert is.

And to Aaron’s own horror, he finds himself tearing up.

“I wish you were here,” Aaron states, glancing over at the empty space on the sofa Robert usually occupies.

“So do I Aaron - I really do. But Vic - she’s -”

“I know, I know - she - she needs you. But you’re so much better at this stuff than me - you always know what to say - and when to say it.”

“Only to you Aaron. I only know how to help you because I know you.” And Aaron’s never really looked at it from that perspective before, it makes something inside him collapse. Or burst. “And Liv - well there’s no one she trusts and adores more than you, Aaron. You’re doing a brilliant job.”

“Really?” Aaron questions, unconvinced.

“Really,” Robert replies, and adds: “really really,” just to hammer it home.

And that's enough to get Aaron believing again, for the first time all day. He still feels raw, like he’s taken off a bandage after too long and every touch of air hurts, but talking to Robert - his supportive words and his calming tone - makes it all that bit easier.

“And how are you, really?” Roberts asks, that concern for Aaron ever present.

“This isn’t about me,” Aaron states, because it isn’t. This is about Jacob. And Liv. And David. And everyone else caught up in the manipulation of that woman.

“That’s not to say it can’t affect you also, Aaron,” Robert countered, “and it has, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah - yeah I guess you’re right,” Aaron said quietly down the line, trying to hide the shake in his voice as he finally said it aloud, admitted that all of this had affected it, dredge memories up from the soil.

“I’m always right,” Robert said lightly, Aaron knew it was his attempt to lighten the mood - and it worked, it always does.

“Alright, Mr Cocky”

“I was thinking of going round to see David later,” Aaron continues, “offer him a shoulder or whatever - I dunno. Do you think I’d just make it worse?”

“Aaron, I don’t think it can get any worse for David.”

"I just - mean - maybe not" he sighs, switching the phone to his other ear.

“You know what I think?” Robert questions.

Aaron doesn’t answer, only hums, contemplating.

“That you’re so - so caring and brace and David will respect that. If anyone can offer him some words of comfort now Aaron, it’s you.”

Aarons about to respond, but he’s stopped by a voice distance, summoning Robert into the kitchen.

“Sorry that’s Gran - I said I’d help with tea - I’ll just pop down and tell her I’m busy.”

“No don’t be daft, you go - go show them your magic, Gordon Ramsey.”

“Are you sure? Gran is more than capable of boiling some pasta on her own.”

Aaron squeezes his eyes shut, balancing the phone on his shoulder. “I’m positive.”

“I’ll call you later,” Robert promises.

There’s a pause, silence on the other end of the line before Robert says quietly, “I love you so much.” And Aaron’s heart stutters, as if it’s the first time he’s heard it, and not something he hears multiple times a day. Played on repeat, over and over; like his favourite song.

“Right then - I best got show them the magic, hey?” Robert says, referring back to Aaron’s earlier comment. “Although I fancy myself as more of a Gino D'acampo.”

And Aaron can’t help but laugh at him, all worries melted away for a mere second.

“That’s my favourite sound in the world.” Robert states, so casually.

“What?” Aaron asks, foreign indifference.

“Your laugh, you idiot”

Aaron can almost here smile in Robert’s voice - it’s like a sudden like a flash of lightning, there one minute but gone the next, electrifying Aaron to the tips of his fingers. His fingers which clench tightly around the phone - if he squeezes hard enough maybe Robert will feel it.

They’d been on the phone for 40 minutes already, but to Aaron, it felt like 40 seconds. No time with Robert, talking to him, sleeping next to him, kissing him; was enough.

But he really needed to go now; they were both needed elsewhere, Robert in the kitchen, Aaron at the shop.

“Right I best go,” Robert says, sounding hesitant. “Are you gonna be alright?”

I’m not sure, Aaron thinks, “I’ll be fine,” is what he says instead.

“I love you so much.”

“Love you millions m,” Aaron replies, can’t quite put into words just how much he means it.

And then he puts the phone down with a sigh, wishing his husband was here more than anything.

It’s only seconds later when his phones flashed to light once again, the low battery altering him of just how long he and Robert spent talking.

He tentatively unlocks his phone and reads the text from his husband.

Call me if you need, whatever time, day or night. Love you loads. Xxx*

#i've had to write and edit this on my phone so there's deffo #loads of mistakes #sorrrrrryyyy #(it's also pretty shit and took way too long to write)#anyway #robron #robron fic #my words

55 notes · View notes