#first read along with me NO SPOILERS PLEASE

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

"I think I liked you better before you decided that feelings were something we need to discuss."

"Sorry to inconvenience you, but this year the role of Violet Sorrengail"—he points to me—"will be played by Xaden Riorson"—he taps his chest—"who will drag her, kicking and screaming if he has to, into a real relationship with real discussions, because he refuses to lose her again. If I have to evolve, you do, too." He folds his arms across his chest.

"Is he done talking in third person?"

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapters 46-47

He didn't see Lysandra. Aelin made no appearances, either.

The queen had abandoned them, the soldiers muttered Aedion made sure to shut down the talk. Had snarled that the queen had her own mission to save their asses, and if she wanted Erawan to know about it, she would have announced it to them all, since they were so inclined to gossip. It eased the discontent-barely.

Aelin had not defended them with her fire, had left them to be butchered.

The Bane began striking their swords against their shields. A steady heartbeat to override the vibrations of the Morath soldiers marching toward them.

He had not prepared a speech to rally them. A speech would not keep these men from dying today.

So Aedion drew the Sword of Orynth, hefted his shield, and joined the Bane's steady beat. Conveying all the defiance and rage in his heart, he clashed the ancient sword against the dented, round metal. Rhoe's shield. Aedion had never told Aelin. Had wanted to wait until they returned to Orynth to reveal that the shield he'd carried, had never lost, had belonged to her father. And so many others before that. It had no name. Even Rhoe had not known its age. And when Aedion had spirited it away from Rhoe's room, the only thing he grabbed when the news came that his family had been butchered, he had let the others forget about it, too. Even Darrow had not recognized it. Worn and simple, the shield had gone unnoticed at Aedion's side, a reminder of what he'd lost. What he'd defend to his final breath.

Chaos reigned.

Aedion roared from somewhere, from the heart of hell, "Re-form the lines!" The order went ignored.

The Bane tried and failed to hold the line.

Ansel of Briarcliff bellowed to her fleeing men to get back to the front, Galan Ashryver echoing her commands to his own soldiers. Ren shouted to his archers to remain, but they too abandoned their posts.

Lysandra slashed through the shins of one Morath soldier, then ripped the throat from another. None of Terrasen's warriors remained a step behind her to decapitate the fallen bodies.

No one at all.

Over. It was over.

Useless, Aedion had called her.

Lysandra gazed toward the ilken feasting on the right flank and knew what she had to do.

The queen has come. The queen is at the front line.

For a foolish heartbeat, he scanned the sky for a blast of flame.

None came.

Dread settled into his heart, fear deeper than any he'd known.

The queen is at the front line—at the right flank.

Lysandra.

Lysandra had taken on Aelin's skin.

He whirled toward the nonexistent right flank.

Just as the golden-haired queen in borrowed armor faced two ilken, a sword and shield in her hands.

No.

The word was a punch through his body, greater than any blow he'd felt.

Aedion began running, shoving through his own men. Toward the too-distant right flank. Toward the shape-shifter facing those ilken, no claws or fangs or anything to defend her beyond that sword and shield.

No.

He pushed men out of the way, the snow and mud hindering each step as the two ilken pressed closer to the shifter-queen.

Savoring the kill.

But the soldiers slowed their fleeing. Some even re-formed the lines when the call went out again. The queen is here. The queen fights at the front line.

Exactly why she had done it. Why she had donned the defenseless, human form.

No.

The ilken towered over her, grinning with their horrible, mangled faces.

Too far. He was still too damn far to do anything—One of the ilken slashed with a long, clawed arm.

Her scream as poisoned talons ripped through her thigh sounded above the din of battle.

She went down, shield rising to cover herself.

He took it back.

He took back everything he had said to her, every moment of anger in his heart.

Aedion shoved through his own men, unable to breathe, to think.

He took it back; he hadn't meant a word of it, not really.

Lysandra tried to rise on her injured leg. The ilken laughed.

"Please," Aedion bellowed. The word was devoured by the screams of the dying. "Please!" He'd make any bargain, he'd sell his soul to the dark god, if they spared her.

He hadn't meant it. He took it back, all those words.

Useless. He'd called her useless. Had thrown her into the snow naked.

He took it back.

Aedion sobbed, flinging himself toward her as Lysandra tried again to rise, using her shield to balance her weight.

Men rallied behind her, waiting to see what the Fire-Bringer would do. How she'd burn the ilken. There was nothing to see, nothing to witness. Nothing at all, but her death.

Yet Lysandra rose, Aelin's golden hair falling in her face as she hefted her shield and pointed the sword between her and the ilken. The queen has come; the queen fights alone. Men ran back to the front line. Turned on their heels and raced for her.

Lysandra held her sword steady, kept it pointed at the ilken in defiance and rage. Ready for the death soon to come.

She had been willing to give it up from the start. Had agreed to Aelin's plans, knowing it might come to this. One shift, one change into a wyvern's form, and she'd destroy the ilken. But she remained in Aelin's body. Held that sword, her only weapon, upraised. Terrasen was her home. And Aelin her queen. She'd die to keep this army together. To keep the lines from breaking. To rally their soldiers one last time.

Her leg leaked blood onto the snow, and the two ilken sniffed, laughing again. They knew— what lurked under her skin. That it was not the queen they faced. She held her ground. Did not yield one inch to the ilken, who advanced another step.

For Terrasen, she would do this. For Aelin.

He took it back. He took it all back.

Aedion was barely a hundred feet away when the ilken struck. He screamed as the one on the left swept with its claws, the other on the right lunging for her, as if it would tackle her to the snow.

Lysandra deflected the blow to the left with her shield, sending the ilken sprawling, and with a roar, slashed upward with her sword on the right. Ripping open the lunging ilken from navel to sternum. Black blood gushed, and the ilken shrieked, loud enough to set Aedion's ears ringing. But it stumbled, falling into the snow, scrambling back as it clutched its opened belly. Aedion ran harder, now thirty feet away, the space between them clear. The ilken who'd gone sprawling on the left was not done. Lysandra's eye on the one retreating, it lashed for her legs again.

Aedion threw the Sword of Orynth with everything left in him as Lysandra twisted toward the attacking ilken. She began falling back, shield lifting in her only defense, still too slow to escape those reaching claws. The poison-slick tips brushed her legs just as his sword went through the beast's skull. Lysandra hit the snow, shouting in pain, and Aedion was there, heaving her up, yanking his sword from the ilken's head and bringing it down upon the sinewy neck. Once. Twice.

The ilken's head tumbled into the snow and mud, the other beast instantly swallowed by the Morath soldiers who had paused to watch. Who now looked upon the queen and her general and charged.

Only to be met by a surge of Terrasen soldiers racing past Aedion and Lysandra, battle cries shattering from their throats.

Aedion half-dragged the shifter deeper behind the re-formed lines, through the soldiers who had rallied to their queen. He had to get the poison out, had to find a healer who could extract it immediately. Only a few minutes remained until it reached her heart. Perhaps the gods had listened. Perhaps it was their idea of mercy: that the ilken's poison had worn off on other victims before it'd gotten to her.

Aedion scanned the regrouping army for any hint of the healers' white banners over their helmets. None. He whirled toward the front lines. Perhaps there was a Fae warrior skilled enough at healing, with enough magic left—Aedion halted. Beheld what broke over the horizon.

Ironteeth witches.

A witch tower.

Oh gods.

"Fall back!" Aedion screamed, even while his men continued to rally. "FALL BACK." Aedion whirled and began running, carrying the shifter with him. "FALL BACK!"

The army beheld what approached. Whether they realized it was no siege tower, they understood his order clearly enough. Saw him sprinting, Aelin over his shoulder.

There was nowhere to hide on the field. No dips in the earth where he might throw himself and Lysandra, praying the blast went over them. Nothing but open snow and frantic soldiers.

"RETREAT!" Aedion's throat strained.

The Yielding.

The world shuddered.

Aedion threw Lysandra into the mud and snow and hurled himself over her, as if it would somehow spare her from the roaring force that erupted from the tower, right at their army.

One heartbeat, their left flank was fighting as they retreated once more.

The next, a wave of black-tinted light slammed into four thousand soldiers.

When it receded, there was only ash and dented metal.

[lavendarneverlands]

10 Chapters in and officially obsessed with One Dark Window from the Shepherd King series by Rachel Gillis

[shortnspidey]

JUNO

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Stark!reader || WC: 6.3K

SUMMARY: Everyone’s drawn to you, it’s part of what makes you so special, and one of the first things Bucky fell in love with. He admires the way you light up every room, the way people naturally gravitate toward you. But it also means he's constantly sharing you with the world. So one weekend, he decides to take you away from it all, just you, him, and the time he's been craving.

WARNINGS: INCLUDES SMUT (18+) Literally all fluff, clingy Bucky, platonic everyone x reader, set after Thunderbolts* but there are NO spoilers, lots of sexual tension & kissing, unprotected p in v, body worship, oral (female receiving), breeding/praise kink, possessive!Bucky

A/N: Based on my Collateral Hearts series but can be read as a standalone! This is my first time ever writing smut so please proceed with caution! Miss Sabrina has corrupted me with her sensual songs! Who else is excited for Man’s Best Friend?! 🙋🏻‍♀️

➩ main masterlist

➩ series masterlist

➩ bucky barnes masterlist

Bucky loved that you were well-liked, adored, even, especially by his new teammates. People naturally gravitated toward you. You had a natural charisma that allowed everyone to feel comfortable around you in a short period of time. Hell it was on of the many reasons as to why Bucky fell in love with you. But right now? He all but hated it.

Ever since moving into the Watchtower, it felt like he barely saw you anymore. Mornings used to start with you curled up beside him, the soft rhythm of your breathing syncing with his, your fingers finding his even in sleep. Sunlight would filter in through the curtains, casting lazy patterns across your tangled limbs and the bare stretch of your shoulder where the blanket had slipped.

Now, half the time, he woke up alone, your side of the bed already cold. The bed always felt too big without you in it. Sometimes it was Yelena who stole you away before dawn, coaxing you into early-morning workouts with the promise of post-training pancakes. Other times, it was Ava, needing a 'worthy' sparring partner. You took the hits, gave them back twice as hard, and came home with bruises you waved off.

Then there were the weekends you spent away, Pepper and Morgan. No matter how much he wanted to go, it always seemed like last minute missions dragged him away. You’d always call him, voice chirping through the phone promising to be back soon. But “soon” never felt soon enough. Sometimes Kate or Peter whisked you off into the city, for coffee, errands, or just something spontaneous and chaotic.

You always said yes, always too sweet to turn them down, even when he could see the exhaustion in your shoulders. Even when he wished you’d stay. Then there was Alexei, roping you into helping with one of his latest “experimental” kitchen masterpieces. You played along, though Bucky was pretty sure your true motivation was making sure the kitchen didn’t spontaneously combust. He’d watch you from the hallway, laughing through the chaos as you tried to wrestle a spatula from Alexei’s hand.

Bob was quieter, more subtle, inviting you out to bookstores or record shops with that shy smile of his, slipping you away for hours without anyone noticing. Bucky noticed. He always noticed. Even Alpine, your spoiled, smug little cat, got more time with you than he did. She curled into your lap like she owned you, purring contentedly as you worked or read, giving him that self-satisfied feline stare that somehow made him feel like the third wheel in his own relationship.

He didn’t blame them. Not really.

He knew what it was like to want to be near you. You were the kind of person people clung to without realizing they needed to. He understood that better than anyone. But still... call him spoiled, call him selfish, but he had grown used to having you all to himself. The soft silences. The late-night whispers. The quiet reassurances no one else got to hear. Which is why he had a plan to keep you all to himself. Bucky had been awake long before the first hint of dawn began to warm the skyline outside the Watchtower’s windows.

For once, he wasn’t watching the clock tick down to your departure, he was preparing to stop it altogether. About an hour before your alarm was set to buzz, he reached across the nightstand in the dark, silencing it with a flick of his thumb. Then, with a quiet exhale, he shifted toward you, strong arms sliding around your waist and pulling you back against the solid heat of his chest. Your skin was warm and soft beneath the covers, your breathing still deep and even.

For a few precious seconds, he simply held you, burying his face in the curve of your neck, breathing you in. The faint scent of your shampoo clung to your hair, sweet and familiar, something he swore he could never get enough of. He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, then another to the space just below your ear, scruff brushing against your skin as he did. You stirred, just barely. Your body tensed for a split second, instinctively aware it was time to start your day.

Your internal clock, honed by routine, nudged at you to slip out of bed and head down to the gym to meet Yelena and Ava. But of course, your super-soldier fiancé had other plans. Plans that involved making it incredibly difficult for you to leave. Before you could so much as stretch, Bucky tightened his grip, strong arms flexing around your waist to pull you back flush against him. The warmth of his bare chest pressed to your spine, the beat of his heart slow and steady against your back.

His nose nudged into the crook of your neck, scruff tickling the sensitive skin there as he mouthed lazy kisses along your pulse point, soft, lingering, possessive. A soft sigh escaped your lips, your head instinctively tilting to the side, offering him more skin, more of you. His metal hand found yours under the blankets, cool fingers intertwining with your warmer ones. You didn’t resist. You never did when he touched you like this, slow, intentional, like every movement was a vow.

His legs tangled with yours beneath the sheets, thigh sliding between yours in a way that made it near impossible to move. Not that you wanted to, not when his body heat seeped into every inch of you, not when he was anchoring you so completely to this moment, to him. “You’re not going anywhere,” He murmured into your skin, voice rough with sleep, lips brushing against the spot that always made you shiver. “Not today, doll.” A small, sleepy smile curved your lips as your fingers tightened around his.

You could feel the way his breath hitched just slightly when your hips shifted back, nestling closer. Maybe Yelena and Ava could manage without you this morning. Just this once. You lips curled with amusement and affection, loving just how clingy Bucky was in the mornings, how much he needed to wrap himself around you like a super-soldier sized blanket, as if keeping your body close could somehow shut out the rest of the world. Oh, how far the two of you had come. “Big, bad, brooding super soldier…”

Your voice was soft, still heavy with sleep, but laced with teasing warmth as you turned in his arms to face him. Your legs shifted against his under the covers, tangling tighter. Your arms slid up around his neck, fingers brushing over the edge of his jaw as you pulled him in until your noses nearly touched. The heat of his breath mingled with yours, slow and heavy, like neither of you was in any hurry. "You’ve grown soft, Barnes.” You whispered, voice dripping with playful smugness.

Bucky’s eyes flickered down to your lips, his gaze hooded and hungry. “Mmm,” He rumbled, head tipping slightly into your touch as your fingers raked through his messy, sleep-tousled hair. He let out a low groan, that deep, gravelly kind that always made your skin prickle, especially when you scratched at his scalp just the way he liked, nails grazing along his roots with just enough pressure to make him shiver. You arched a brow, smirking. Point proven.

“Can’t help it, doll,” He murmured, voice dipping even lower, his mouth already dangerously close to your jaw. “You’ve got me all spoiled.” Your laugh came out as a soft, breathy exhale, a little too breathless to be innocent. And before you could fire back with something cheeky, Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips to the curve of your neck, slow, open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers cascading down your spine. You tilted your head instinctively, giving him room, your grip around his neck tightening slightly.

He took full advantage, grazing his teeth against your pulse point before sinking them in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Bucky,” You whispered, half warning, half plea. He chuckled against your skin, low and satisfied, before soothing the bite with a slow, deliberate sweep of his tongue. The heat between your bodies thickened, the space beneath the covers was suddenly too warm. You shifted again, hips brushing against his, the tiniest movement, but enough to feel the way his breath caught.

“As much as I love where this is going…” You murmured between soft, uneven breaths, your voice catching slightly as Bucky’s teeth gently tugged at your earlobe, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. His tongue flicked over the spot to soothe it, and you let out a soft moan, fingers curling instinctively into the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ve gotta go downstairs before Yelena breaks down the door.” You whispered, trying to sound authoritative.

Yet, the conviction in your voice faltered when he pressed himself closer, all muscle and heat, pinning you beneath the weight of his affection. Bucky shook his head slowly, deliberately, his stubble scraping against the sensitive skin of your neck as he exhaled a warm, lazy breath. “Not today,” His voice didn’t leave room for argument. “You’re mine for the weekend.” You tilted your head, brows raising in amused disbelief, though your body betrayed you, arching subtly, craving more contact, more of him.

“Oh?” You teased, breathless, your fingers dancing down his spine under the sheets, feeling the way his muscles flexed in response to your touch. “And what exactly does that mean, Sergeant?” He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes smoldering with a look that made your stomach flip. His gaze flicked down to your lips, then dragged slowly back up to meet your eyes with a lazy, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I already packed our bags,” He brushed his nose against yours, voice dipped in that slow, rough drawl that always turned your knees to jelly.

“You and me. Hotel suite. Privacy. Room service. A giant bed with no interruptions. And a whole lot more of this.” His hand slid from your waist to your thigh, fingers gripping and pulling until your leg was hitched over his hip. The shift brought your bodies impossibly close, so that you could feel a very prominent bulge, between you both. His metal hand cradled the back of your neck, the coolness contrasting deliciously with the heat building between you. Then he kissed you, not soft, not teasing.

His mouth claimed yours with a hunger that had simmered beneath the surface all week. Lips parted, breath mingling, and then his tongue slid against yours in a slow, deliberate sweep that made your toes curl under the sheets. He tasted like sleep and warmth, like something familiar and utterly addictive. You responded just as eagerly, pulling him closer with a quiet, breathless whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair again, nails dragging against his scalp to coax out another low groan from deep in his chest.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, catching it just enough to make you gasp, and then he soothed the sting with a lazy flick of his tongue, sensual, unhurried, like he was savoring every inch of you. The kiss deepened, grew slower and heavier, full of unspoken promises and heat that made your thighs clench around him. By the time he finally pulled away, his lips were swollen, his chest rising and falling just a bit faster, matching your own ragged breath.

His forehead rested against yours, and when he looked at you, there was nothing but lust and devotion burning in those storm-blue eyes. “Privacy, huh?” You whispered, grinning against his lips. “That sounds dangerously tempting.” He grinned back, eyes flickering with a flash of lust and mischief. “Good. Because I’m not sharing you this weekend. Not even with Alpine.” You let out a laugh, breathless and light, your fingers brushing over the stubble along his jaw. “She’s going to be deeply offended.”

“She’ll live,” He shrugged, kissing your cheek, then your jaw, then down your neck with renewed purpose. “But me? I might not. I need you, doll. All of you.” And from the way his hands roamed, slow and possessive, from the way his mouth claimed your skin like he was memorizing it all over again, you believed him. You lay together in a haze of half-lidded glances and lingering fingertips, your thigh draped over his hip, his hand splayed low on your back, as if letting go of you might break the spell.

The silence was soft, intimate. A kind of quiet only earned by two people who knew each other completely. Every now and then, his mouth would brush your shoulder, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat, not with urgency, but reverence. Like he was reminding himself that you were really here. That he didn’t have to share you yet. Eventually, as much as neither of you wanted to move, the idea of privacy, true privacy, pulled you both from the comfort of the sheets.

You slipped out of bed first, bare legs brushing cool hardwood as you padded to the dresser, and Bucky’s gaze followed you like a shadow. His Henley, the one you’d stolen off his side of the floor, hung loosely over your frame as you gathered what you needed, catching his smirk in the mirror when your shoulder peeked out from the stretched collar. He moved slower, watching you beneath hooded lids as he tugged on a dark t-shirt, one that clung just right to the lines of his chest.

His fingers brushed yours more than necessary while you finished packing, every accidental touch lingering too long, every stolen glance speaking volumes neither of you said out loud. Before leaving, Bucky moved to the nightstand and, with deliberate ease, turned both of your phones off. Then he tossed them into the drawer and shut it with a soft click, a clear, quiet declaration. This weekend wasn’t for notifications. For distractions. For anyone else.

With that, the two of you slipped down the hallway like a secret, hands brushing, steps slow and careful. The tower was quiet for once, the buzz of conversation strangely absent. You passed the main floor where the sunlight pooled in warm patches across the tile, and just as you reached the elevator, a quiet rustle of pages caught your attention. Bob sat in one of the oversized armchairs by the couch, a book in one hand, the other cradling a half-empty mug, brows raising as he looked up.

He didn't say anything, just gave the two of you a knowing look over the rim of his cup and turned the page, eyes dropping back to his book. Bucky didn’t even glance over. He just reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours and pulling you gently into the elevator. The doors slid closed with a quiet chime. The car ride was calm, quiet. You rested your head on Bucky’s shoulder, fingers still twined as they rested on your thigh, the city slowly unfolding outside the tinted windows. The farther away you got from the Watchtower, the more your shoulders dropped.

Maybe you really did need this.

The hotel was tucked away in the quieter part of Manhattan, tall, sleek, with understated elegance. Marble floors, tall windows with sheer curtains that caught the light, staff that didn’t ask questions when Bucky checked in under an alias and insisted on the penthouse. He kept you close at his side, his hand firm at your waist as you walked through the lobby, brushing against you just enough to keep your body warm with anticipation. The elevator to the top floor was silent, save for the soft chime as you rose higher.

You could feel his eyes on you the entire way up, as if he was counting down the seconds. The suite itself was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around the room, bathing everything in soft, ambient light of the heart-shaped candles. The bed was enormous, dressed in layers of cloud-like linens and plush pillows. A fireplace flickered in the corner, and beyond a set of French doors, was a balcony, offering the hush of the city far below. Bucky didn’t say a word as he dropped the bags to the floor.

He simply walked past you to the windows, drawing the curtains slowly, blocking out the world in measured movements. The light dimmed, shadows deepened. And you could feel it again, that weight between you. The heavy, unresolved tension that had followed you all morning. The quiet wasn’t awkward. It was thick, charged, humming with the ache of everything you hadn’t done yet. You stood there, still, your pulse tapping just under your skin, watching the way Bucky’s broad shoulders moved as he stepped back toward you.

His eyes locked onto yours like you were the only thing in the room that mattered. He stopped just close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him, his hands hovering, not quite touching, as if waiting for permission. You gave it, without a word. He stood there, quiet and still, but his eyes said everything, dark, slow-burning, full of hunger. His hands lifted, finally closing that small space between you, one brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear while the other rested at your waist, thumb pressing gently into the dip of your hipbone.

He kissed you like the world had stopped. Like there was nothing else, no time, no place, just the two of you, and this quiet room. It started slow. His lips moved against yours with aching patience, savoring you. You found yourself clutching his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. You could feel the restraint in the way he held you, the quiet tension in his shoulders, in his hands, like he was trying not to overwhelm you, not to take too much too fast. But you didn’t want restraint, not today.

You wanted all of him.

As if reading your mind, he lifted you into his arms without breaking the kiss, carrying you to the bed like you were something priceless. He laid you down gently, settling in between your thighs like you were sacred. His eyes never left yours as he hovered above you, thumb stroking over your cheek as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips. You could feel the restraint in the way he held you, the quiet tension in his shoulders, in his hands, like he was trying not to overwhelm you, not to take too much too fast.

"Bucky," You gasped against his mouth, your voice thick with need. “Stop being so damn careful. I need you, all of you.” You nipped at his lower lip, a sharp spark of impatience. A low growl vibrated in his chest, a sound both feral and tender. Your plea finally snapped the last fragile thread of his restraint. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze blazing with sudden intensity. The tenderness didn't vanish; it transformed, becoming possessive, hungry.

His hands slid down your sides, palms rasping deliciously against the thin fabric of his your shirt before finding the hem and pulling it up and over your head in one smooth motion. Then, with a quiet exhale, he leaned back on his heels just enough to reach for the collar of his own shirt. You sat there, breath caught, watching with parted lips as his fingers gripped the hem. And then he lifted. It was deliberate, the kind of slow that made your mouth go dry. The fabric peeled upward, revealing inch by delicious inch of golden skin and muscle.

Every flex and ripple beneath smooth scars catching in the soft light. His abs tensed with the motion, the deep ridges carved with perfect symmetry. His metal arm gleamed with subtle reflections, a stark, beautiful contrast to the warmth of the rest of him. When the shirt finally cleared his head, he tossed it aside without looking, his eyes never leaving yours. You stared. Blatantly. Breathless. You’d seen him shirtless hundreds of times. After training, after missions, in bed beside you in the quiet haze of morning light. But somehow, this felt different.

Intimate. Like every inch of him was bared just for you, not just in body, but in trust. He didn’t smirk. Didn’t tease. He just stood there, letting you look, chest rising and falling as if he felt your gaze like a touch. And you were in awe. Of the sheer strength written into every line of his body. Of the scars he didn’t hide. Of the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. Your fingers twitched, aching to touch him.

He took a step forward, quiet and slow, and as he knelt onto the bed in front of you again. Your hands rose on instinct, palms flattening against his chest. The heat of his skin radiated beneath your touch, his heart thudding strong beneath your fingertips. Cool air kissed your skin, but it was instantly replaced by the searing heat of his stare as he drank in the sight of your bared torso, clad in a blue lace bra. His flesh hand spanned your ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of your breast.

While his vibranium fingers traced the delicate line of your collarbone with astonishing sensitivity. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He breathed out dipping his head, not to your mouth this time, but instead to the pulse fluttering wildly at the base of your throat. His lips pressed there, hot, wet, and open-mouthed, then traced a slow, searing path downward. He worshipped the slope of your shoulder, the valley between your breasts with lingering kisses that made you writhe in pure pleasure.

He took one of your peaked nipple into his mouth through the lace of your bra, sucking gently at first, then harder. The wet heat and the scrape of his teeth sending jolts of pure lightning straight to your core. You cried out, fingers tangling in his dark hair, holding him there as he lavished attention on first one breast, then the other, peeling the bra aside with infinite care to expose flushed skin to his hungry mouth and tongue. "Every freckle," He murmured, his voice a low rasp that vibrated in your bones.

"Every curve, I have memorized." His lips followed his hands, kissing a slow, burning trail down your sternum, his tongue swirling around your navel before dipping lower still. He made quick work of your jeans and underwear, stripping them down your legs with efficient grace. “Soaked for me already, and I’ve barely even touched you,” He rasped against your damp skin, his breath ghosting over your sensitized nipple. “Just like I knew you would be.” And then he was kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, broad shoulders parting your thighs with gentle insistence.

He paused for a long moment, just looking at you spread bare before him in the dim light. His gaze was dark, possessive, tracing every curve and fold with agonizing slowness. “Mine.” He stated softly, the word a vow that resonated deep in your bones. Then he lowered his head. The first touch of his tongue was a revelation. Not tentative, not teasing, but a broad, flat stroke from the very base of your core up to your clit, gathering your slickness with a low groan of appreciation that vibrated through your entire body.

You arched off the bed with a sharp cry. Bucky Barnes didn’t just go down on you; he worshipped you. His mouth was relentless. He lapped at your entrance, savoring your taste, his tongue delving inside in shallow thrusts before swirling back up to circle your clit with exquisite pressure. His vibranium thumb joined in, rubbing firm, knowing circles just beside that aching nub while his tongue focused its attentions lower, fucking into you with slow, deep strokes that made you see stars.

He alternated, broad licks that covered your entire core, focused suction on your clit that had your hips bucking wildly, deep penetrations with his tongue that mimicked the thrusts you desperately craved from another part of him. His metal hand slid beneath you, gripping your ass, lifting you slightly, angling you perfectly for his mouth. His flesh hand joined the mix, two fingers sliding deep inside you with effortless ease.

They curled upwards in that devastatingly perfect come hither motion that hit just the spot. He hummed against you, the vibration traveling straight to your core, intensifying the coil tightening unbearably low in your belly. "Taste so fuckin' sweet," He growled, his voice muffled against your flesh. "Gonna make you come all over my face. Gonna drink every drop you give me." His eyes, blown with lust, flicked up to yours, holding your gaze as he intensified the pressure, his tongue pressing hard, rapid circles directly on your clit while his fingers pumped deep and fast.

“B-Bucky, I-I’m close.” You moaned out, hands fisting the sheets, knuckles white. “Come for me.” As if his words were a direct order, the orgasm crashed over you like a slow-building wave finally breaking shore, utterly consuming. Your back arched, a choked cry tearing from your throat as your inner walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers. Bucky moaned against you, lapping eagerly, drinking down your release, his tongue gentling to soft, soothing strokes as the tremors subsided, prolonging the aftershocks until you were breathless beneath him. 

Before you could even catch your breath, Bucky surged up over you, his eyes wild with need, lips glistening with your arousal. He shoved his own jeans and briefs down just enough to free his cock, thick, flushed red, veins standing proud, and already weeping at the tip. The sight alone sent a fresh surge of desperate heat through your spent body. He rose above you, his chest heaving, his cock thick and flushed, veins standing proud, glistening with pre-come.

The candlelight caught the silver of his dog tags where they lay against your sweat-slicked chest, shifting slightly with each breath. His gaze fixed on them, then slid to the diamond ring on your finger. A possessive, primal satisfaction settled over his features. His metal hand reached out, not to touch you, but to gently lift the chain of his dog tags, letting the cool metal slide through his fingers before letting them fall back against your skin. "Right where they belong," His thumb then brushed over your ring finger, tracing the band.

"This too." He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, claiming kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. "My future wife." He positioned himself at your entrance, the broad head nudging against slick, swollen flesh. “Need to be inside you,” He growled, his voice ragged. “Need it like air. It's been far too long and I’ve waited long enough, baby.” There was no question of protection; the raw need in his eyes, the possessive set of his jaw spoke of something deeper, primal.

He pushed forward with excruciating slowness, his eyes never leaving yours, watching every flicker of sensation across your face. You felt every ridge, every inch of his impressive girth stretching you, filling you impossibly full. He paused when fully sheathed, buried to the hilt, his hips flush against yours. The feeling was profound, a deep, aching fullness, a sense of being utterly claimed. He paused there for a heartbeat, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged. “So damn perfect,” He choked out. “Like you were fuckin’ made for me.” 

He began to move then, withdrawing slowly, almost completely, before sliding back in with that same deep, deliberate glide. His thrusts were long and slow, a powerful, rolling motion of his hips that ground his pelvis against your sensitive clit with every deep penetration. His metal hand braced beside your head, his flesh hand slid down to grip your hip, fingers digging in possessively, pulling you onto him with each thrust, ensuring he reached impossibly deep.

He kept his eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure cross your face. "Look at you," He groaned, his gaze raking over your face, down your body to where you were joined. "Taking me so deep, so fuckin' perfect." His rhythm remained measured, but each thrust carried undeniable power, a claim. He shifted slightly, angling his hips, and the next deep glide brushed directly against that sweet spot inside, drawing a sharp cry from you. “B-Bucky!” You gasped, reaching to place your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh, needing something to ground you. 

"There?" He rasped, a feral grin touching his lips. He repeated the angle, hitting that spot with unerring accuracy on every deep stroke now. Each powerful stroke sent a shockwave through your core, forcing a ragged gasp from your lips. "Yes! Bucky, yes! Right there!" You cried out, the words dissolving into a high, desperate whine as the sensation intensified, stealing your breath. "Gonna make you come again, right on my cock, gonna feel you milkin' me."

The pressure built again, coiling tighter, fueled by the relentless friction against your clit, the deep stimulation inside, and the raw possessiveness in his voice and gaze. His thrusts grew fractionally harder, deeper, the bedframe groaning softly in protest His big hand slid from the curve of your hip, fingers digging possessively into the soft flesh of your ass, lifting you higher. He angled you perfectly, driving himself impossibly deeper, stretching you wider.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his sweat-slicked hips, heels digging into the small of his back, anchoring yourself as your head thrashed back against the pillows, a sob tearing from your throat. "Please, Bucky! Need it!" His breath scorched the shell of your ear, his growl a possessive rumble deep in his chest. "Wanna fill you up," He promised, punctuating each word with a brutal shove of his hips that made you see stars. "Wanna pump you full, mark you deep. Make everyone know you’re mine. Only mine."

You felt the primal truth of it in the desperate clench of your own muscles, in the slick gush of arousal coating his cock with every withdrawal. He grunted, a harsh sound of pure lust, his rhythm becoming a frantic piston, slamming into that glorious spot relentlessly. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, mingling with your choked cries and his guttural groans. You could feel the tell-tale tightening in your belly, the flutter becoming a frantic pulse triggered by his words, and the exquisite torture of his cock stretching and stroking your inner walls.

"G-Gonna c-come ag-gain." You sobbed, your words barely intelligible. “Oh God, fuck! I'm coming!" The coil snapped. Pleasure detonated, white-hot and shattering, radiating out from your core in violent waves. Your body seized around him, milking him frantically. Feeling your release, his thrusts became frantic, powerful pistons driving deep. He buried himself to the root with a final, guttural groan, his body locking tight as he pulsed hotly inside you. You felt the distinct, thick spurts of his release, flooding your walls, impossibly hot.

He held himself there, buried impossibly deep, grinding his hips against yours as the last pulses left him, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged gasps against your lips. "Mine." He whispered, a satisfied rumble vibrating through his chest and into yours. His metal hand drifted up, his fingers gently tracing the chain of his dog tags resting on your sweat-slicked skin, right over your pounding heart. His thumb found your wedding ring again, rubbing it slowly. "All mine. Filled with me. Marked by me."

He stayed buried inside you, his weight a comforting, possessive anchor, his release a warm, claiming presence deep within, sealing the promise whispered against your skin. A low hum vibrated deep in his chest as he pressed a feather-light kiss to your temple. "Easy," He murmured, the rasp in his voice gentled but still undeniably him. His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone, wiping away the dampness there, sweat or tears, it didn't matter.

"Just breathe with me, alright? Deep and slow." He demonstrated, drawing in a long, shuddering breath, encouraging you to follow. The overwhelming intensity of release still shimmered through your limbs, leaving you boneless and trembling. With infinite care, he finally slid out of you, a soft, wet sound accompanying the withdrawal that made you whimper softly at the sudden emptiness. You felt the slick warmth he'd pumped into you trickle free onto the already soaked sheets. "Shhh, I got you." He soothed instantly, his big hands moving with surprising tenderness.

One arm hooked beneath your shoulders, the other beneath your knees, and he gathered you close against his chest as he carefully rolled onto his side. The movement brought you flush against the hard planes of his body, skin sticking where sweat hadn't yet dried. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting out a slow exhale as Bucky reached blindly towards the nightstand, fumbling for the soft cotton washcloth. He’d always come prepared. With meticulous care, he began to wipe the sticky evidence of your shared pleasure from your inner thighs and the swollen flesh between them.

The cloth was a shock at first, then soothing against your overheated, sensitive skin. He paid gentle attention to every curve, every fold, his touch reverent now instead of demanding. The sight of his seed mingled with your own slickness on the cloth sent a fresh wave of possessive satisfaction through him, visible in the slight tightening of his jaw before his expression softened again. A slow, utterly sated smile touched his lips as he tossed the cloth aside and pulled the sheet up over both of you, tucking it around your shoulders.

You subconsciously molded into his side as he kissed your forehead, lingering this time. "My good girl.” Nestled against him, surrounded by the scent of sex, sweat, and him, you felt utterly safe. The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the city beyond the windows and the steady rhythm of your breathing as you lay tangled in each other under the soft weight of the duvet. Bucky’s arm was wrapped snugly around your waist, holding you to his chest like he was afraid you might slip away again.

Like if he let go, someone else might steal you back. Your fingers traced lazy, aimless patterns along the metal plates of his left arm, marveling at how gentle something so cold and strong could feel. After a long stretch of silence, you finally broke it, your voice low and hoarse, still coated in the haze of what had just passed between you. “You really went all out, huh?” You teased, tipping your chin up to look around the suite, your lips curving with soft disbelief.

It was breathtaking. The kind of romantic gesture that felt pulled from a dream, except it was real, and it was him. The sprawling king-size bed behind you was draped in white linens, now rumpled from your bodies. Champagne rested in an ice bucket on the nearby table, condensation dripping slowly down the glass. Heart-shaped candles flickered across the space. Bucky looked down at you, his expression softened with something that looked like pride, but not the cocky kind. Something quieter. Earnest.

A hint of bashfulness pulled at the corners of his mouth, crinkling the skin at the edges of his eyes in that way you loved. "You deserve the world," He declared quietly, voice rough. “I figured… if I had a whole weekend, I’d make it count.” You bit your lip, emotion swelling in your chest. That was the thing about him, underneath all the muscle and metal and history, he was tender. Thoughtful. So hopelessly, endlessly in love with you. You nestled closer, letting your forehead rest against his collarbone.

Your breath ghosted against the hollow of his throat as you exhaled, pressing a featherlight kiss to the sensitive skin there. Your hand rested over his heart, fingers splayed, feeling the strong, steady thump beneath your palm. His heart. Your home. “You know I’m already marrying you, Bucky.” You whispered against his skin, as the diamond on your ring finger caught the candlelight. You felt it instantly, the subtle stutter of his heartbeat, the breath he inhaled just a little too sharply. His grip around you tightened.

His hand slid up your back, slow and deliberate, fingers spreading wide between your shoulder blades, anchoring you to him like he needed the contact to stay grounded. He held you there, close, like he was trying to memorize the feeling of your body against his. “I know, but I just… wanted to remind you how much I love you.” You lifted your head then, meeting his eyes, eyes that had seen too much and still looked at you like you were something precious.

You kissed him slowly, lips brushing his with quiet gratitude and a love too big for words. “You do,” You whispered when you pulled back. “Every single day. And I'll spend the rest of our lives expressing how much I love you too.” He smiled, that small, rare smile only you ever got to see. Then, without another word, he pulled you into his arms again, pressing his lips to your temple, content to hold you in that quiet, candlelit room where for once, the world had nothing else to ask of you. No missions, no alarms, no interruptions.

Just Bucky and you, exactly where you were meant to be.

Thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Feeling generous? Leave a tip!

[paintedonmyteeth]

Life w/ Mr Crawling!

A QUICK WARNING BEFORE YOU READ: This is following after the Blissful Love Life ending, if you don’t want spoilers I suggest scrolling! — Anyways moving on from that, I FINALLY got the fucking motivation to put something out after how many months, (yay!) Starting off with my new horror game fixation :)))) Finally got my brain juices going, and I thank Homicipher for this. This is probably going to be me posting abt it for a while. BUT it gave me the motivation to write stuff at least. If you also noticed I changed the formatting a little with my hcs and I think I like it better this way w/o the bulleted list, so Imma def keep this.

⭑.ᐟ — Ever since you’ve escaped the other world with Mr. Crawling, you had some small difficulties in getting back in the swing of things. You no longer had to worry about your safety, check over the shoulders for any monsters, you had your normal life back now.

⭑.ᐟ — And this time you had Mr Crawling to share it with! :D

⭑.ᐟ — When you first brought Mr Crawling home with you, man was absolutely ecstatic and he immediately went exploring around the house while you fixed him some food to eat.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling really liked your place, it felt cozy and warm, it had you too of course, and it was so much more welcoming and nicer in appearance compared to his world. Plus there was a lot of new stuff he hasn’t seen before.

⭑.ᐟ — It was a nice change not having the house to yourself anymore, Mr Crawling made the place a little more lively with his presence, following you around the house like a lost puppy, occasionally asking a few questions.

⭑.ᐟ — You showed him many things, movies, books, and lots of other things. He even had his first shower too!

⭑.ᐟ — You even tried teaching him basic words in your language such as “hello”, “goodbye”, “thank you”, or “please”. While Mr Crawling was having a hard time getting a gist of them, he still tried his best. <3

⭑.ᐟ — With your old life back it also meant you had to pick up your job/college again too.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling was never fond when you left the house for this long, so he mostly sat around at the front door waiting for your return.

⭑.ᐟ — Then upon your arrival it’s extra cuddles tonight to make up for loss time. He’s sad that you left him alone for this long :((

⭑.ᐟ — On the bright side however he likes going on grocery runs with you! Since nobody else could see him, it wouldn’t bring any unwanted attention. Of course with Mr Crawling’s babbling as he followed you into the aisles, you brought headphones/airpods with you so people didn’t think you were insane for talking to yourself.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling in general is very happy you let him tag along with you leaving his world, he couldn’t be any happier getting to stay by your side. And his love for you grew as well! :)

⭑.ᐟ — The first time he tried saying something in your language was “I love you” to show his gratitude. Though it sounded a bit butchered for a first attempt, the sentiment still meant a lot to you and it was a step towards somewhere to say the least.

[firingstars]

runaway [one-shot]

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky comes face to face with his last living relative from his family tree, and it's an eight year old little girl running away from her adopted mom.

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, fingering, the kid is a fucking brat for like two seconds but she's cute i promise, language, alcohol, alternating pov's, thunderbolts timeline (semi movie spoilers), bucky doesn't know how to be a parental figure, you are a tired parental figure, mentions of relationship abuse (DV) not between character x reader if you or someone you know is in danger/in need of assistance please call this hotline: 800-799-7233 or text BEGIN to 88788

word count: 19.5k (????????)

a/n: this was meant to be posted on father's day but then i completely dropped the ball and then didn't finish it in time but... happy late father's day to bucky who didn't even mean to be a father in this fic LOL

masterlist

Bucky is staring at the little girl in front of him, who is missing one of her front teeth. Her hair was in two braids, though the braids were loose and falling apart with red bows at the end. She is defiant, arms crossed at her chest. On the seat beside hers is a Hello Kitty backpack– one that he only recognizes as Hello Kitty because the girl in front of him just finished a twenty minute lecture on the animated character along with all of her friends and how Hello Kitty is only three apples tall– whatever the hell that means.

“Listen, kid, where are your parents?” Bucky asked, swiping a hand over his mouth. 

“I’m staring at him,” she responded. Once again, the same fucking answer that she has been telling him since she arrived an hour ago. 

Bucky glanced over at the clock on the oven. It’s nearing four in the morning now, and he can only think that the little girl is lucky that he was home tonight, and passed over his mission to Walker who was begging to get out of Watchtower.

Bucky still isn’t sure how this girl was able to find his apartment.

“I think I would remember if I did the thing to have a child, kid. How old are you?” 

“What thing?” she asked, frowning at him.

No. Bucky is not having this conversation right now.

“How old are you?” he repeated.

“I’m eight.”

“Okay,” he nodded slowly. Eight years ago, he definitely did not have sex with anyone. He was still in Wakanda with Shuri, getting the brainwashing pulled out of his head. 

Normally he wouldn’t be hesitating like this, but staring at this little girl was giving him doubts. Bucky couldn’t help but feel some kind of uncanny resemblance to her. She looked familiar to him. Her deep brown hair, the stormy blue eyes. The chubby little cheeks that haven’t completely lost all her baby fat– she looked like his little sister.

“I’m not your dad, you know that right?” Bucky finally asked with a sigh. 

“Yes,” she nodded. 

“Alright. Then where are your–”

“You’re my great granduncle,” she cut him off, turning to her backpack. Bucky froze as she unzipped her Hello Kitty bag, pulling out both her tablet that was also cased in another Sanrio character that he wasn’t sure of the name, and a binder that he recognized.

A family tree that he helped organize.

The little girl opened up the binder, going onto her knees, flipping right to the first page and pointed at the small portrait of him. The last picture of himself– a picture that he had taken right before he went off to war. 

“That’s you, isn’t it? James Buchanan Barnes,” she said stubbornly. 

Bucky couldn’t speak. The little girl flipped forward a few pages, the portraits becoming clearer and made of color now until it landed on her page. Then, she pointed at her own picture. A chubby little infant that had just gotten out of the womb. Under her portrait read the name Rebecca Winnifred Lee. 

“My mom named me after my great grandma,” she said, as if she saw his eyes land on the words. 

“And our ma, apparently,” Bucky muttered. 

He kept staring at the book– eyes following the tree. He noticed that there wasn’t a spot where Rebecca’s father should be. Her mom’s name was Tabitha. 

“Where’s your mom, Rebecca?” Bucky finally asked, looking at the little girl. Rebecca shrugged a little then turned the binder towards herself, looking at the little portrait of her mom. 

“Dunno,” she said, her voice small and weak. “Have no clue. I don’t have a family anymore.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed at this. “Are you an orphan?”

“I’m hungry, grandpa,” she said, closing the book. She stared at him with wide eyes, and a pout. “Do you have any chicken nuggets?”

“First off– don’t call me that. Second off– you can’t just ignore the question.”

“I’m hungry. I can’t think when I’m hungry,” she defended herself, frowning at him.

Bucky could only stare in disbelief. This little girl had the same fire as Becky did. He let out a deep breath before getting up to go to the kitchen. He didn’t have fucking chicken nuggets, but he could cook her an omelet or something. 

“Just stay put,” he muttered.

Even after Rebecca ate, she did not answer any questions. Maybe it was due to the fact that she was only eight years old, but she was exhausted. He still had no idea how she got to his apartment in New York all by herself, or where the fuck she came from. She gave him no answers. She was a better spy than his own teammates. In fact, it was easier interrogating enemies than it was interrogating an eight year old.

After she fell asleep on his couch, he tried going through her backpack. He turned on her tablet, which was locked, so he couldn’t find much information there. The only thing he did see was a picture of Tabitha and Rebecca from when Rebecca was a baby– Tabitha holding her close to her chest. Other contents in the backpack included a crumbled up bus pass, an alarming amount of money for a child, a couple of squished granola bars, and wrappers. 

While she slept, Bucky ran his own research. 

He needed to make sure this child wasn’t some sort of spy that was sent as a decoy for a mission to keep his guard down for whatever reason. He wouldn’t hurt her, of course, but it wouldn’t be the first time a child was sent to him to disarm him. 

Rebecca Winnifred Lee was definitely not an orphan, but she did not have any existing biological parents in the picture. In fact, Tabitha was dead. She had died when Rebecca was a baby– barely even two years old. The dad wasn’t even on the birth certificate, so Bucky could only assume that he was a deadbeat father.

Tabitha passed away from a car accident. It was sudden, and it was fatal on impact. There was no will that was left. There were no last words. Only a body bag and a call that went to her friend’s phone as her only emergency contact, and her friend immediately adopted Rebecca without hesitation. 

It wasn’t difficult to grab all of this information from the database, especially with the level of clearance that Bucky had.

From looking up Rebecca’s information– she came all the way from Newport. A five hour bus ride if there were no delays. It would take about three hours by car if you were lucky. 

Bucky dragged his vibranium hand down his face, feeling an ache beginning to form behind his eyes. He really shouldn’t be feeling this annoyed, not when Rebecca’s guardian must have torn apart the entire city looking for the little girl. He couldn’t imagine how she would feel knowing that Rebecca was actually two states away. 

Bucky tried calling Rebecca’s guardian, only for the call to go immediately straight to voicemail. He tried again, only for the same thing to happen. He let out a sigh before deciding to leave a message.

You were going to kill Rebecca. Truly. You really were. 

Well, you were going to strangle her in your arms with hugs and kisses after you found her. Then you were going to kill her for making you worry like this.

She had been giving you hell for the past six months of your life, and you really were doing your best to raise her with all your strength. You understood her, you really did. Rebecca knew that you weren’t her mother, but that you were doing everything that you could to help fill that void that was left behind. 

She used to call you Momma when she was younger. You corrected her each time, telling her that you were Auntie. She was confused, but relented and changed up her way of speaking to you. 

When she was old enough, she told you that she wanted to call you Momma even though she knew that her biological mother had passed away. From that point onwards, you allowed her to do so.

You don’t know what switched in Rebecca. You don’t know why she stopped running up to you with a big grin and a hug during pick ups after school. You aren’t sure why she stopped looking at you with happiness and love, and it hurt. You think it has something to do with the kids at school teasing her. You’re certain it has to.

During the last parent teacher conference, you sat down with her teacher and she made an offhand comment about how it must be so difficult raising a child that wasn’t yours.

Rebecca was yours. 

And when Tabitha met her untimely, unfair death, it wasn’t any question for you to take Rebecca in as your own. Because she was. You were there for every late night and early morning colicky cry. You helped change blown out diapers. You warmed up bottles, rocked her to sleep, sang her lullabies. 

And when you were alone, you did it all by yourself. You didn’t complain once because it was no longer Tabitha who needed your help. Rebecca needed you now, and you would do anything for her. 

She was your daughter as much as she was Tabitha’s.

Even if Tabitha was here, she would be your child. 

And Rebecca hated you for replacing Tabitha.

She told it to you, to your face not too long ago. She said that she wished that you were the one that died, and not her real mom. You knew that she didn’t mean it, of course. That it was words from a child that didn’t know how to express her grief– that didn’t understand that words hurt. You still loved her all the same, even though you were upset with her. 

Now, you got a call from the school in the middle of your work day. She never got on the bus that morning, never made it to school. You spent all day driving around the city, looking for her while the police were doing the same. You called your neighbors, her friend’s parents, the school again– anyone and everyone that you could possibly think of.

You went back home to search to find that some of her things were taken. Her shoes were gone. Her backpack was missing, along with her tablet, and wallet that she normally only keeps in her little crossbody purse that she wears when you two go out together. 

To your utter disappointment, her tablet was off. You can’t use the Find My feature to track her, and you check every single chance. You’re constantly looking just in case it turns on. 

There’s a million things running through your mind at this moment. Did she run away? Did she really hate you that much? 

Then, a deeper, unsettling feeling– she was taken while you were at work. Someone slipped in while she was eating breakfast and took her in your own home. The place where she was supposed to be safe– the child that you promised your best friend that you would protect.

You were terrified.

You didn’t even care if she ran away at this point. You wanted her home. You wanted to hold her in your arms and cry. 

The police had already sent you home, said they had sent a call to all surrounding stations in the area for a search, but there wasn’t much that you could do at this time. You sat alone in your dark living room, phone on the coffee table with the location of her tablet still showing up as Location Not Found. Your eyes were tired, growing bleary–

Becky Baby last seen in Manhattan. Just now.

You grabbed your car keys, purse, and rushed out the door. 

The roads were clear, which made the ride faster– but you were certain that it also had something to do with the fact that you were going twenty five miles over the speed limit. You were thankful there weren’t any cops that were out and about this early in the morning. 

You stopped momentarily for gas, and to text your boss that you wouldn’t be able to make it into the office tomorrow for the same family emergency that made you leave work early today– and found a text with an address. A Manhattan address with an apartment unit number. 

Then, you found a voicemail waiting for you.

“Hi,” the man said before clearing his throat. “I’m not too certain how to say this, but I have Rebecca in my apartment– Uh. She’s safe. Fed. Sleeping right now. I’ll text you my address to come pick her up. Thanks. Oh- My name is Bucky, by the way.”

What the fuck.

You got back in your car and drove another ten miles over the speed limit. 

You pushed past the man who let you in, your eyes zeroing in on the little girl. She wore the same clothes that she wore yesterday morning when you saw her get ready– the same clothes that she was supposed to wear onto the bus and to school. 

And she was indeed sleeping peacefully, some drool sliding down her face, hair sticking to her cheek. Your heart was thumping in your chest, tears brimming in your eyes as the weight of everything came crashing down onto you. 

You dropped onto your knees in front of the couch- burying your face in your hands. You hit the couch slightly, rustling her awake.

“Mm.. Momma..?” she murmured sleepily. Just for a moment, your heart felt full. You felt like you were looking at that small toddler who would run up to you with legos and a mission. 

“Becky– you little brat!” you sobbed through tears. “What were you thinking?!” 

You watched as sleep quickly disappeared from her face as she scrambled to sit up, eyes wide on her little face. Her eyes darted from you and the man– Bucky, you guess from the voicemail– and she looked betrayed.

“You called her?!” she shrieked.

“You can’t just run away from your mom, kid,” he sighed deeply from behind you.

“I told you!” she whined at him. “She’s not my mom!”

Your heart broke all over again, but you forced it back into place. You wiped your tears away angrily, and let out a breath. You grabbed her by her tiny shoulders, forcing her to look you in the eyes. 

“Rebecca, I don’t care who you think I am. I am your legal guardian. Until you are eighteen years old, I have legal responsibility over you. That means you can’t just run past state lines whenever you want and go into strangers' houses!”

“He’s not a stranger! He’s my great granduncle!” she complained to you, pointing at him.

“What?” you gaped at her, eyebrows furrowing. “Becks, your great granduncle would be like, a 110 years old.”

“Yes,” he said from behind you. “I am.”

You finally turned around to take a good look at the man that you had blown past earlier. He had a box of tissues in his hands, presumably for you. His hair was dark brown, long, pretty, and curly. Just like Becky’s. His eyes were a stormy grey blue that you could get lost in, one that you were certain was an unnatural color. He was a muscular man, tall, handsome. Tanned skin. There was a well kept beard on his face. Another defining feature was the metal fucking arm that peeked out of his t-shirt.

“I’m Bucky,” he said, breaking the silence again.

You blinked, releasing a breath that you weren’t aware that you were holding. You stood, clearing your throat, and introduced yourself to him. 

“Are you— You’re all over the news,” you said slowly. “Right? Or am I losing my mind here?”

“Um. No. I am, unfortunately.”

“That’s how I found him!” Rebecca chimed in proudly from the couch. You turned to look at her again. “I was going through Mommy’s old things and found the family book tree and saw his name there– and then I saw the news about him in New York, and I thought he looked really familiar so I searched it up. He’s the same person!”

If you weren’t so pissed about the circumstances you were in, you would have praised her for being so smart, and having such great skills for being so young. However, you are still in New York when you live in Rhode Island. Your head is still pounding, and Rebecca still doesn’t seem to understand the weight of her actions.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you lower yourself to be eye level with her again.

“Do you understand how dangerous this was, Becky?” you ask, your voice lowered. You’re not condescending her. You’re not yelling at her. 

Rebecca pauses, and she curls in on herself. No matter how much she dislikes you these past few months, she still has the muscle memory of a little girl being scolded by her parent. She looks down at her hands, fidgeting. 

“What if something happened to you?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing. “You are extremely lucky that you got to Bucky safely. There are thousands of bad people in the world that would love to take little girls off the street and do horrible things to them, do you understand?”

“But it didn’t happen,” she argued weakly. 

“Just because it didn’t happen, doesn’t mean that it can’t,” you replied, shaking your head. “How did you get here? Bus?”

Rebecca nods after a few moments. You sighed deeply, running a hand through your hair as you tried to calm yourself down.

“How did you get the ticket for the bus?” you asked next.

“Used your card… and your computer. Booked it online when you were sleeping,” she admitted softly. “Printed out the ticket at home, then walked to the station after you left for work yesterday.”

You close your eyes tight to reign in the anger that you feel festering in your chest. You want to scream. You didn’t check your bank statement– it didn’t cross your mind when she ran off to look. Rebecca had never done such a thing before. You didn’t think she was capable of doing something like that. 

“Why, Becky? Do you hate me that much?” you asked finally. “Do I make you that unhappy?”

“I don’t like you,” she said stubbornly. “You’re nobody to me.”

“Do you know how hurtful that is?” you whispered to her.

“I don’t care!” she screamed at you. “You’re not my mom! Stop trying to be!”

Rebecca pushed past you, rushing deeper into the apartment. A door slams shut, and you’re left stunned. You’re helpless for a few moments before a tissue box is placed in front of you.

“She went into the bathroom,” Bucky murmured. “Can I get you anything? Water? Beer?”

You let out a dry laugh. “A daughter that doesn’t hate me.”

“Sorry. I don’t know anything about kids,” he chuckled in response.

You let out a deep sigh, shifting to sit down on the couch. Bucky moved, too. He sat beside you, the two of you silent. You let the last few moments wash over you as you replayed your conversation with Rebecca in your mind. Then, you took a deep breath.

“I’m really sorry about this,” you finally said, looking at him. Bucky turned to face you. You clarified, “About bringing our family drama into your apartment. I’m sure you’re tired… and busy.”

“It’s no worries, really,” he promised, giving you a small smile. “It was a surprise, truly. Finding out that I have living relatives.”

“Well– I’m pretty sure she’s the only one. Even though she doesn’t have your last name,” you said with a small laugh. “She kinda looks like you.”

“She looks like my little sister,” Bucky corrected. “And has my sister’s name.”

“Tabitha named her after her grandma– your sister,” you recalled. Bucky nodded. “So it was on purpose then. Maybe the two of you were meant to meet at some point.”

“I’m sure she’s a sweet girl,” Bucky said, locking eyes with you. “You’ve done a really good job raising her.”

“Don’t say that to me right now. I just stopped crying,” you scoffed, though your voice broke as the words escaped your lips.

“I’m shit at comforting people, but I mean it,” he said, sliding the tissue box closer to you. “She’s smart– I’ll give her that. I’m not around a lot of eight year olds, but I sure as hell don’t think that I could’ve gone across state lines at eight years old with the amount of confidence that she has. One of my coworkers– he’s a dad. Well, two of them are. They say that children’s confidence and pride starts at home. So you must be doing something right.”

“She gets it from her mom,” you muttered, pulling a few tissues from the box to bring to your eyes.

“As far as I’m concerned, that’s you,” he said, his voice soft. 

It was quiet for another few moments between the two of you. You weren’t sure what to say, not with tears streaming down your face. Bucky doesn’t judge you though. He waits patiently as you wipe your tears away and blow your nose, trying to calm yourself down.

It was nice to hear those words.

The sun was already starting to fully show itself, and you could hear the streets of New York begin to wake. You were certain that this man also had places to be. You couldn’t be in his hair the entire day.

“I’m really sorry for imposing again,” you whispered, finally getting a hold of yourself once more. “Would you– Can you try coaxing her out of the bathroom? I’m sure if she hears me, she won’t come out.”

“Really– no worries. I got it.”

You watch Bucky get up from the couch and make his way down the hall. You hear him knock on the door. While he takes care of that, you decide to pick up Rebecca’s things. 

You put the binder back in her backpack, along with her tablet. You find her snacks and printed bus pass as well on the table, and put that away as well. You take out the wrappers and trash from inside her bag and find the trash can under Bucky’s kitchen sink to toss the mess away.

You sat at the kitchen table, nodding off slightly. You’re really not sure how much time has passed before Rebecca is coaxed out of the bathroom. However, you jump to your feet when you hear the bathroom door open.

A few moments later, you see her walking out the hall. Her eyes are red just like her nose. She’s sniffling, one hand gripping her shirt like she’s just been scolded. The other hand is holding onto Bucky’s flesh hand. 

You let out a breath of relief as you pick up her backpack and your purse, slinging both bags over your shoulder.

“Come on, Becks. Let’s go home now.”

Panic flashes across her face, and she turns to rush to the bathroom again. Thankfully, Bucky is still holding her hand, and he keeps a firm grip on her.

“Nope,” he sighed, pulling her back. “You gotta go, Rebecca.”

“You can’t make me!” she cried, tugging on her arm. “I don’t want to leave!”

“I don’t have the facilities to raise a kid, kid,” Bucky sighed deeply before leaning down, picking her up in his arms. He gives you a nod. “Lead the way.”

You move towards the door while she squirms in his arms, whining all the same. 

You make it down the apartment building towards the street where you parked. You unlock your car and place Rebecca’s backpack beside her booster seat. Then, you turn to Bucky, who’s ready to transfer Rebecca into your arms. The second that he does, she’s screaming her head off.

“KIDNAPPER! THIS WOMAN IS KIDNAPPING ME!”

You both freeze in your spots as people on the street begin to stop and stare. Some are taking their phones out, taking pictures of you– some are calling who you assume is 911.

Rebecca manages to wiggle her way out of your arms and slams herself back into Bucky’s body.

“Daddy, don’t let her take me away!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his torso. 

Bucky is staring at her, shock and confusion all over his face. Then, he’s looking at you. He lets out a slow, deep breath before reaching behind you, shutting the door of the car. Then, Bucky reaches for your hand as he bends down to pick up Rebecca at the same time. Wordlessly, he pulls both of you back into the apartment building before more bypassers can take more photos of you or before the cops can come.

For whatever reason or purpose, Bucky gives the two of you his apartment to stay at for the foreseeable future. You want to say it’s out of the kindness of his heart, but you know it’s because your daughter cannot be trusted, and you will most likely be arrested the next time you attempt to bring her outside to your car again. 

Thankfully, Rebecca chose the last day of third grade to run away on, so she’s in the middle of summer right now. You don’t have to worry about her missing any academics. However, you have to put in an emergency request for PTO with your company for about a month since you’re not sure how long her tantrum is going to last you. 

You’re more than certain that you’ll have to run to the nearest Best Buy and purchase a new laptop within the next few days to remotely troubleshoot anything that your boss from hell's needs you to. She had two other assistants that you personally trained, but it seemed like every single time you were away from the office, the entire building would come crashing down.

One last text was sent out to your neighbor, who often took care of Rebecca when you had to work long nights preparing for presentations. She had a spare key to your house. You asked her to go around the entire house and unplug every electronic and appliance that she could find, and let her know that you found Rebecca.

Texts and emails were flooding your phone, adding to the headache that was already thundering behind your forehead. You put your phone on do not disturb, and put it face down on the coffee table before burying your face in your hands.

You allowed yourself one brief moment of silence before lifting your head. Rebecca was asleep on the couch again. After her tantrum outside, she tired herself out once more. 

You didn’t understand it.

She wasn’t like this before. She was a good, well-mannered little girl. She followed the rules, never caused you any trouble. Rebecca was more than eager to do everything right. She hated to be the issue for anyone. You never had any problems raising her. You consider yourself lucky these past eight years.

This was the first time since Tabitha passed away that you felt overwhelmed with her. You could feel tears beginning to well up in your eyes again. You couldn’t abandon her, as much as she claimed to hate you. You needed to take her back with you, and you needed to somehow get her to understand that doing all of this wasn’t right.

The door in the hallway opened, and you quickly wiped away your tears as you sat up straight. Bucky came into view a few moments later, shoving his arms through a leather jacket before fastening his gloves over his hands. You paused at the sight– gloves in the middle of summer? You didn’t ask as he pulled out a key and something else from his jean pocket. 

“Spare key,” Bucky said, handing it to you along with a black card– a business credit card.

“What is this for?”

“Groceries. I don’t know what Rebecca eats. She asked me for chicken nuggets last night, but I don’t eat any of that. Go shopping. I don’t think either of you have clothes, so buy clothes, too.”

“What– Bucky, I can afford groceries and clothes,” you said, shoving the card back in his hands. “You’re already letting the two of us stay in your New York penthouse for free. You won’t let me help pay the rent here while we stay.”

Bucky pushed the card back into your hands, “Then help me cook dinner while you’re here. I’m living off take out and shitty convenience store food, and I’m sick of it. Is that a fair trade?”

“You don’t even know if my cooking is good,” you said wearily.

“Rebecca’s been alive for eight years, so that counts for something,” he said with a small shrug. “I’ll be back later tonight.” 

“Is there anything you want then? Anything you prefer? Any allergies?” you asked, looking back up at his face. He was already looking at you. Your breath caught slightly in your throat.

“I can eat anything,” he told you, giving you a small smile. “You have my phone number– if you need anything, just call me. I’ll come back right away.”

“I’m sure the two of us will be fine for a day, Bucky,” you said, returning his smile. “Have a good day at… work?”

Bucky laughed at your words– the fact that you weren’t certain at what to call his job. He nodded. “Thank you. I’ll see you two later tonight.”

“Don’t be late. I’ll have dinner waiting,” you told him, your smile widening just a bit more at the sound of his laughter.

Bucky left you with Rebecca in his apartment. Vaguely, you wonder if he’s being a little too trusting of allowing a random adult woman in his home along with a child, but then again– he had your phone number within moments of meeting said child. The scary realization that he had the rest of your information at the tip of his fingertips made a shiver run down your spine. You were happy that Rebecca’s last living relative was an ex-Congressman-unretired-superhero.

Rebecca refused to go shopping with you, so you went by yourself. She cried that you would try to take her back home if she stepped outside the apartment with you. You relented. You didn’t need another meltdown.

You went for clothes first, and you didn’t use Bucky’s card for that. Part of you felt mildly offended that he even offered. You were certain that he knew your job, and he could definitely look into the amount of money you made if he really wanted to. Another part of you told yourself to just let it go. He was trying to be nice even though he really didn’t have to be.

You bought enough clothes for you and Rebecca to last for two weeks. You remembered seeing a washer and dryer in Bucky’s apartment– so you would be able to wash clothes when you needed to. 

However, Rebecca was a fucking brat and she liked variety in her outfits. That was your fault. You always made sure her closet was stocked and full of different things because you never had that as a child. Yet, here you were– enabling her once again. 

You grocery shopped for the two of you– enough for the week and then some. If you needed to get more, then you would come back out. You were hoping that you would be able to settle whatever you needed to with her child brain within the week, and move on with your life. A nagging feeling made you realize that it was highly unlikely.

You used Bucky’s card for the groceries. You were more than certain that he would have said something if he didn’t see the charge on his card and saw the amount of things you bought today. You got all of Rebecca’s regular staples of foods and snacks, along with some more healthy things. You weren’t sure what a superhero ate, but you would be damned if you fed some overly processed foods to someone that was meant to be saving the world.

Then again, he did mention that he was living off of shitty food. 

It takes you four trips to bring up several bags of clothes and groceries up to Bucky’s apartment from the parking garage. You’re thankful that Bucky lives in a very nice place in Manhattan– you've heard horror stories of New Yorkers living in places with only stairs with no central air conditioning in the hallways.

Rebecca is playing away at her tablet when you finally bring everything inside. 

“Alright,” you said, catching her attention. “I know you hate me, but you’re going to help me organize everything. Get up.”

To your surprise, she does. She puts her tablet down and trudges over to you, opening the first bag of groceries as you open the fridge. You’re shocked to find the thing damn near empty, save for a Brita filter, a case of beer, and a plum. A singular plum.

Bucky was a single man, you realized. 

“Hey,” Rebecca said from beside you.

“I told you not to address me like that,” you replied, turning towards the bag of frozen items. You got her ice cream sandwiches, and you were more than certain they would melt soon if you didn’t shove them in the freezer.

“I don’t hate you,” she murmured, her voice quiet. 

Your hands paused, and you let out a deep breath. You turned around to look at her. She was sheepish, looking down at the floor. She had a box of pasta in her tiny hands. 

“But you don’t want to go home with me?” you guessed. Rebecca nodded. “That’s fine for now, Becks. But let’s put everything away, and then we can figure out what we wanna make for dinner for your… grandpa?”

“He told me not to call him that,” Rebecca said, brightening up immediately.

“What are you gonna call him then?” you asked, chuckling at her. She really did have mood swings.

“He said to just call him Bucky for now,” she replied, smiling as she pulled out lettuce from the bag. “Can you make pizza tonight?”

After putting the groceries away, you pulled out all the toiletries you bought as well and set them up in the bathroom. Toothbrushes for both you and Rebecca, as well as some mouthwash and toothpaste. You got other shower essentials as well, putting them on the rack– and you let out a breath of relief to find that Bucky wasn’t a 3-in-1 kinda single man living in New York.

You cursed to yourself when you realized you had none of your regular makeup or essentials of your own. You forgot to buy deodorant, too.

After putting your new clothes in the washer, you set Rebecca up in the living room with a movie and pulled your phone out. You were going to online shop for absolutely everything else that you could possibly need.

A laptop, makeup to look presentable because you were certain that you would be called for an online meeting at some point, deodorant, perfume, and chargers for your phone and Rebecca’s tablet. Thankfully, everything would be coming in to Bucky’s address by the morning. 

With some free time, you even searched up Bucky. You wanted to know about what he did in the government. You recognized his face from brief headlines, but you never really knew what kinds of bills he passed or supported. Maybe you could use heinous actions to your advantage and get Rebecca to go home with you.

His status as an ex-Congressman and a member of the New Avengers were all over the news.  You read how he served in the second world war, and the valiant efforts that he made with Captain America. You briefly recalled that lesson in your history class. You skimmed through that section, pausing at the controversies of the Winter Soldier.

You could only read so much before you got angry.

There wasn’t much online about the details that he performed when he was under the jurisdiction of that crazy group that controlled him, but from what you could gather– Bucky wasn’t Bucky. The fact people were still using that to discredit all the good he was doing in the world was pissing you off.

You sighed deeply, looking over at Rebecca, feeling guilt build up in your stomach. Here you were, thinking that you would find dirt on a Congressman as a reason to tell Rebecca that her only living relative was a bad man. 

He was literally the opposite of a bad man. A misunderstood man, maybe– but not a bad one.

By the time you finished laundry, it was already six. You weren’t sure what time Bucky was coming home, but you would start making dinner now. You sent Rebecca off to go take a shower since she hadn’t showered all day and she was starting to stink from her long bus adventure while you went into the freshly stocked kitchen.

Rebecca asked for pizza, so you would make pizza. Bucky said he didn’t have any allergies, so you would just make it as you usually did. You usually only made one pizza for you and your kid to share, but you decided to double the batch. Bucky could probably eat an entire pizza by himself and still be hungry for more, you think. 

As you mixed the dough and spread it out on the counter, your mind wandered. You didn’t pay too much attention to the man that owned this place, but Bucky was tall. If you had to estimate, he was over six feet tall. Moreover, he was a muscular man. He looks to be a very well built– strong, sturdy man.  You struggle these days to pick up Rebecca in your arms, but he picked her up like she was nothing. She probably weighed nothing to him. She looked tiny in his arms.

He could probably pick you up like nothing, if he really wanted to. He looked more than capable of it. Plus, he had a decent amount of money to just be giving you a black card and telling you to spend it on clothes and groceries. Handsome, too. Spoke to you kindly and gently. 

“Fuck,” you curse, eyes widening at the mess in front of you. You poured too much sauce on the dough. You immediately shift to rectify the situation at hand, and you’re lucky that you didn’t ruin the pizza. 

You need to stop thinking.

He’s Rebecca’s great granduncle. A 110 years old. 

“Doesn’t look a 110 though,” you mutter to yourself as you shove the pizzas into the oven.

“You’re going home again tonight?” Yelena asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I pay for my place. Am I supposed to keep it vacant? There’s no point in having an apartment if I never spend time there,” Bucky grunted, removing his tactical vest from his body. 

“Aren’t you the guy that’s all about efficiency? What’s so efficient about having an apartment when you already have a room at the tower?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

Bucky let out a deep sigh. He knew that she was right, and that she was just throwing words that he said right back in his face. However, once they started this New Avengers bullshit, he couldn’t bring it in himself to get rid of the apartment that he got when he was just a Congressman. 

When missions got too hard, or the team were a bunch of pricks, there was somewhere that he could retreat to that didn’t include them. It was his own personal sanctuary of peace and quiet. None of them knew where his apartment was located, and he made sure to keep it that way. He didn’t need anyone or anything to encroach on his personal space. 

Right now, he wasn’t searching for peace or quiet. You asked him to be home on time for dinner. He didn’t know what time dinner started for you and Rebecca– he forgot to fucking ask, and it was nearing eight. Even if the food was cold, he would eat it. Either way, he promised that he would be home for dinner. He knew you bought groceries, too. He saw the charge on his card go through. 

“We don’t have anything scheduled for tomorrow,” Bucky finally said. “I am going to sleep in a room where Ava can’t ghost through whenever she feels like.”

“Woah– so our leader is just running off to let us deal with that?!” Walker complained, removing his helmet.

“If you hate it so much, then you get your own place, too,” Bucky sighed.

“With what money, Congressman?” Yelena rolled her eyes at him.

“Fontaine pays each of us a decent salary for these bullshit missions and to attend those stupid galas, if you forget. Stop wasting your stipends on stupid gadgets, and maybe put it towards a down payment,” Bucky deadpanned. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmured. 

They all filtered out of the locker rooms. They had all unloaded their gear and weapons, and were off to go do whatever they wanted to now that they were free from the mission.

Bucky made a quick pit stop towards his room to shower and change out of the under layer of his mission clothes– into something more harmless. Something that wouldn’t freak out Rebecca when she saw him. He took extra time in looking at himself in the mirror to make sure that there weren’t any visible cuts and scrapes on his face and arms that you would be able to notice. He scrubbed extra hard between the grooves of his metal arm to ensure there was no blood between the gears that either you or Rebecca would be able to smell when he crossed the threshold of his apartment.

He didn’t realize that he was doing all of that until he was done.

“Barnes. Wanna eat before you leave? Bob made food,” Yelena called out to him as he left his room.

“Not hungry,” he grunted, heading for the elevator with his keys in hand.

He ignored the looks from his teammates as he went straight for the elevator, hitting the button to go down to the garage. Bucky moved faster than he did when he was on the mission. He got on his bike, and raced down the street to get home. 

He could smell the food from the hallway before he even opened the door. 

Usually, when he opened his apartment up– it was dark. The lights were turned off, and it was cold. There wasn’t anything or anyone to greet him. Today was different.

The kitchen lights were on, along with the living room floor lamp. The TV was on to some cartoon that he had never seen before, playing softly in the background. He could hear the faint sound of the washer and dryer being used as well. Then, he heard the sounds of little feet scurrying across the floor followed by voices.

It sounded like he had just entered a home.

He was quiet as he moved down the hallway entrance.

“Careful, Becky. Don’t want you to get burned,” you warned her, and the little girl took two steps back as cautioned. She was wearing pajamas now, her hair no longer in the braids that he remembered seeing when he left this morning. They were fluffy and curly. 

“The smaller pizza is ours?” she asked you as you shifted to put the pizza on the cooling rack.

“Mmhm. The bigger one is for Bucky. If he can’t finish it, he can take it to work tomorrow for lunch,” you told her. “I think I saw some tupperware in a cabinet somewhere… If not, then I can just wrap it in foil for him.”

“Do superheroes eat lunch?” she asked, making a face at you.

“Everyone eats lunch, silly,” you scoffed, shaking your head as you close the oven. “Even my boss.”

“I thought you said she’s a villain,” she giggled as you ruffled her hair with your free hand.

“Well. She kinda is,” you shrugged, turning towards the sink to put the baking sheet in cool water. “But I have to feed the villain, so it’s a nice change to feed a superhero instead. Grab some plates from the dishwasher. They’re clean– set up the table, please.”

Rebecca moved right away, doing as you asked her to. She pulled out three plates carefully from the dishwasher, bringing them to the table as you grabbed the cooling rack with the pizzas to bring over as well. 

“Do you think Bucky likes pizza?” Rebecca asked you, climbing onto one of the seats as she waited for you to serve her some food.

“He was born and raised in New York. I think it’s criminal if he doesn’t,” you replied.

Bucky let out a soft laugh at your answer before shaking his head. He straightens his back and rounds his shoulders before entering the room.

“I’m back,” he called out, dropping his keys on the island counter. Both you and Rebecca perk up at his announcement, turning to look at him.

“Welcome home,” you greeted, a warm smile on your face. 

Bucky has gone through several wars in his life. He has been through countless life threatening missions and never batted an eye. He has been through hell and back. Had his mind wiped and thrown through a blender. He fought his best friend with his own two fists, fought by his best friend’s side at what seemed to be the end of the world, and was then snapped out of existence for five years and he didn’t even know it. Yet, two words and a smile is all that takes for his heart to race.

The man cleared his throat, and forced a smile on his face, giving you a nod.

“Are you hungry? Mo– Auntie made dinner!” Rebecca said, tripping over her words. Your face faltered slightly, but Rebecca didn’t catch it. Bucky did. 

“Starved. Smells great,” Bucky replied, coming closer. He took a seat at the table across from you, looking at the pizzas. 

Definitely handmade– but he was certain that he had never seen food look better in his entire life. When he took the first bite, he was sure that he had never had real food in his entire life until this point, too.

“Is it okay?” you asked him, looking a bit worried.

“It’s amazing,” he told you. “Honestly. You’re great.”

“It’s my favorite,” Rebecca piped up from her seat. She had already polished off two small slices herself, and had some tomato sauce on the edges of her mouth. Bucky watched as you reached over with a napkin to wordlessly wipe her face before she kept talking. “She works a lot these days, but she’s the best cook ever. I told her that she should’ve been a chef!”

You let out a small laugh at her words, shaking your head. “My mom taught me how to cook when I was younger,” you tell Bucky. “Just home recipes. I learned some more stuff on my own when I got older.”

“Can you teach me how to cook, too?” Rebecca asked you, excited.

“Sure. If you come home with me,” you replied, taking a bite of your own slice. Bucky watched as Rebecca paused, then sunk in her seat, grumbling to herself– she was clearly torn. 

Dinner was completed without any other incident. Both you and Rebecca finished your pizza together, and Bucky finished his pizza by himself. He definitely could have saved some for tomorrow, but he couldn’t help himself. It was nice to come home to a meal, and share it with other people. 

It wasn’t to say that his teammates and himself didn’t have meals together, either. It was the fact that neither you or Rebecca were part of that life. The two of you were normal. You were untouched by danger, and your biggest issue was trying to get your kid back home to Newport. 

Once Rebecca excused herself from the table, you began to pick up all the plates when Bucky stopped you.

“I got it,” he said, pulling the plates from your hands.

“What? You paid for the ingredients, Bucky. You’re making me feel bad here. I don’t think this is a fair living situation,” you frowned at him. Bucky won’t admit it out loud, but he thinks you look adorable like this.

He thought you were cute this morning, too. Truthfully, he thought you were a very beautiful woman when he first saw you. You came in, pushed him to the side with strength that he didn’t know a regular civilian woman could have, and stormed into his apartment with a pantsuit and a thin trench coat and heels. You looked like you had just gotten off a business meeting. 

Right now, you were no longer wearing the heels so you were missing the height he saw earlier before he left for his mission today, but you were still wearing the blouse from earlier. It was untucked now, a couple buttons undone at the top for comfort, and the sleeves were cuffed at your elbows. Your hair was tied back, possibly to keep out of your way while you were cooking.

“You cook, I clean up the mess,” he told you, gently pushing your hands away. “Besides, weren’t you grocery shopping before all of this? Running errands? You’ve been doing laundry, too. You’ve been busy all day, so go relax or something. Take a shower.”

“I’m a grown woman raising a child on my own,” you remind him. “This is my normal.”

“And right now, I’m here. So don’t worry about it. She’s watching… What the hell is that?” Bucky asked, eyes on the TV. 

“You’ve never watched Avatar before?” you asked, eyebrows raising at him. You didn’t even look back at the TV. You didn’t even need to look at it to know what Rebecca was watching. “It’s a classic.”

“You watch cartoons?”

“That cartoon aired when I was a kid, okay?”

“The cartoon that aired when I was a kid was Mickey Mouse’s Steamboat Willie,” Bucky shot back at you. “And it was played in the theatre, not in 4K HD.”

“Do all old men have this much sass in their bodies?” you ask, disbelief all over your face. “How do you find the energy to be like this?”

Bucky can’t help but crack a smile. “When you get as old as I am, you find it difficult to hold your tongue. Now go do whatever. I’ll clean up here.”

When you get out of the shower, you’re feeling refreshed. You’re more than ready to knock the hell out and sleep for four days, but you know that isn’t a possibility. If you think back on it, you haven’t slept in over thirty six hours– the thought makes you want to cry.

You hang your towel up beside Rebecca’s before exiting the bathroom. You find that the TV is off already, and you hear the hum of the dishwasher going off. The kitchen lights are off, and only the floor lamp is on now. You’re searching for the little girl, eyes scanning the living room.

“I put her to bed in my room,” Bucky said, catching your attention. He’s sitting at the table– also changed into more comfortable clothes. Sweatpants and a tank top. He also has some documents laid out on the table, along with his laptop. “You and her can take the bed while you’re here.”

“What?” You’re more than certain that you sound like a broken recording at this point. 

“I’ll take the couch,” he said, nodding towards it.

You’re still in shock before you cross the floorspace, pulling out the chair to sit beside him. He watches you for a few moments, allowing you to let your mind catch up before you speak.

“I don’t understand why you’re going this far for us. We are strangers to you. You should have kicked both me and Rebecca to the curb the second I came for her,” you said, meeting his eyes. “Is it because you’re related to her?”

“I can’t deny that it’s part of the reason,” he said, letting out a breath as he ran a hand down his face. “She just… she looks like my sister. My little sister. And I don’t know how much you know about the history of me, but I lost everyone and everything I cared about in an instant. It might make zero sense to you, but it’s nice. Coming home and there’s people waiting.”

“Is that the other part of the reason? You’re lonely?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing at him. 

Bucky let out a small laugh before nodding. “Yes. I’m lonely. And as long as Rebecca wants to throw her tantrum and say that she wants to stay here, then that’s fine with me as long as you’re fine with it. I’ll let you do a background check on me, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

“You’ll let me do a background check on a superhero?” Your mind wandered back on the articles that you read on him. He would let you see the dirt on him that the tabloids didn’t even have?

“You’re her mom,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “I know you would do anything for her. My status in this world does not compare to what she is to you.” 

You stare at him for a few moments before sighing, placing your elbows on the table, burying your face in your hands. “I need a drink,” you muttered.

“Beer?” he offered, standing. You nod wordlessly as he goes to the fridge. 

He cracks open the can before setting it down in front of you, and you lean back in your seat, murmuring a soft thank you before you take your first drink. Your eyes wander over the various files over the table and frown.

“Should you really have classified information scattered about where two civilians can see it?” you joke softly.

Bucky shrugs, and takes a drink himself. “Are you going to spill secret information anywhere?”

“No, but I think you should be worried about the little girl that tracked you down to your apartment and still won’t tell either of us how she did it,” you pointed out.

“She’s asleep, so I think I’m safe for now,” he chuckled. You smile at that, shaking your head as you take another drink. Bucky watches you for a few moments before he speaks again, “Has it always just been you and her?”

“Since her mom passed? Yeah. Just the two of us. Our neighbor– Mrs. Mendoza– helps out on nights when I work late. Otherwise it’s just me and her,” you nodded, taking a deep breath as you say it out loud. 

“Isn’t that hard?” he asked.

“I’m sure it’s not more difficult than keeping the world safe every other week,” you smiled at him. 

“You’re keeping her world safe. That has to count for something, too,” he dismissed. 

“Well… It’s easier now that she’s older. Though this phase she’s in definitely sucks,” you admitted before smiling at the flashback of memories of her as a small baby in your arms. “But I’ve had my moments of crying in the bathroom when she was a toddler because I was overwhelmed and alone.” 

“No one special to keep you company though?” he asked. 

You paused mid-drink, eyes flickering over to him. You raised your eyebrows, watching him for a moment. His face was calm as he took a sip of his own can, waiting for your response. Usually, you would have skimmed right over the question, but there was a certain tilt in his voice that made you stop and weigh his words over in your mind.

“Are you hitting on me right now?” you asked before you could stop yourself. 

“Depends. Do you think I am?”

“There’s a strong suggestion that you are.”

“I’m asking if Rebecca has a strong father figure in her life.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile behind the can. “You think she would have ran off to find you if she had a strong father figure?”

“You tell me,” Bucky said with a shrug, nonchalant. He can’t seem to hide the smile on his face either.

You shake your head, placing the can on the table. You move over the papers so that the condensation doesn’t ruin his files as you take in a breath.

“I don’t have time to date,” you revealed to him. “Becky is my top priority. And most guys don’t want to date someone that has a young kid. They see it as baggage. She comes before anything in my life. I closed the chapter of romance when I adopted her. I don’t remember the last time I went on a date, if I’m being honest.”

“You’re still young,” he said. “At some point, Rebecca will be old enough. She won’t be a kid forever.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, looking down at the can. Your smile turns slightly sad, somewhat melancholic before you meet his eyes again. “But she’s still a kid right now. And as much as I would like to have somebody special in my life like that… I don’t have the ability to be selfish when she relies on me. It’s not just my heart that the other person will break if they decide to walk away from me, you know?”

“I get it. Kinda.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Kinda?”

“With my job,” he explained. “It’s selfish. Sometimes, I’m away for weeks at a time, and I would be radio silent for the entire time. It would be hard on them, not knowing if I was okay. So, in a way.. I get it.”

“Is that why this apartment reeks of bachelor in New York?” you asked, tilting your head at him.

“Is it really that bad?” he chuckled.

“Bucky. Your fridge was empty. Your bathroom is barely stocked. You don't even have decorations in here,” you pointed out at him, watching him hold his hands up in defense.

“You still have my card. Go ahead and decorate the place to your liking.”

“Pardon?”

“You work as a personal assistant, right? Let me use your skills. Make my place look more homey. That way, when you’re gone, it still feels warm,” he said, giving you a small smile.

His words made your chest squeeze. When you’re gone. 

You’ve barely known the man for over twenty four hours, but it still made you feel sad in a way that you can’t explain. Maybe it was the fact he already admitted to you that he was lonely– that he enjoyed coming home to people in his house. That he liked seeing Rebecca’s face because it reminded him of the sister that he was ripped apart from when he was taken as a prisoner of war all those years ago. Maybe it was because in this moment, he didn’t look like a superhero or a congressman like in those pictures of the articles you read. He looked like a man. Just a tired man, who wanted to rest. 

“You really don’t mind it if we stay for a bit?” you asked, worry lacing your voice. “What if I turn out to be a serial killer or something?”

Bucky barked out a laugh that made your stomach flip. “Then guard my house while I’m gone, sweetheart. Consider it your work for me allowing you to stay here for free.”

Over the two weeks, your routine with Bucky continued.

You and Rebecca would wake up early to make Bucky lunch before he went off for work. You woke up at five the first day, unsure of what time he would leave– thankful it was the time he woke up himself to get in the shower. The two of you rushed to make him something. Each day was something different, and it would also be your lunch for the day as well. 

The first day, he was surprised when Rebecca handed him the bag at the door.

“Bring home the container so we can run it through the dishwasher tonight. And come home for dinner. I’ll make salmon, if you like that?” you asked him with a smile. 

Bucky’s eyes flitted over to you and Rebecca, who was about to fall over from sleepiness, still holding out the tupperware of food to him. 

“Love it,” he responded, snapping out of whatever haze he seemed to be in, taking the bag from your kid. He let out a shaky breath, and ruffled her hair. “Thank you for this. Bye–”

“It’s not bye!” Rebecca cut him off, angry. “It’s see you later! Bye is too final. Mo– Auntie said so. You have to say see you later.”

You stifled a laugh at Bucky’s face. His mouth was agape, eyes wide as he was scolded by an eight year old with tangled hair and morning breath. She was also dead serious with her words, hands on her hips. 

“See you later, Becks,” he corrected himself. She smiled, satisfied.

“See you later, Bucky!” she grinned at him.

“Have a good day at work,” you told him when his eyes went over to you, still smiling. “I’ll start decorating your place today.”

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Yes– thank you. I’ll see you later tonight.”

Over the week, you ordered decoration and different furniture for Bucky’s apartment (using his card), and Rebecca helped you build everything throughout the day as packages began to arrive. In between all of it, you worked remotely as your boss had you troubleshoot items that your incompetent coworkers couldn’t seem to figure out on their own. You were damn near about to lose your mind. After all, you were on emergency PTO. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with any of this right now.

Though, it was still less work than if you were in the office on a regular day. 

All in the meantime, you were still doing your best to reconnect with Rebecca. She seemed to be warming up with you little by little again. The small child that you knew was still in there. You could see that everything she was doing was definitely a front– that there was something here that you were so close to cracking what was in her tiny little mind. 

Bucky would come home every night around eight. You would have dinner ready for him around that time as well. Sometimes, he would come home with a new bruise on his face or a cut on his lip. You told Rebecca that if she saw it, not to mention it. That he was a hero fighting bad guys, and home was a place for him to rest. She understood, and was a good girl. She allowed him the peace within these walls. Bucky seemed to appreciate it.

You would watch Bucky interact with Rebecca, too. He began to wipe her mouth when sauce or crumbs would find its way on the edges of her mouth, and she would let her. If she wanted more food, he would move before you would to give her some. When her glass of juice ran low, he would stand from the table to fill it up– but not before adding some water to it like he saw you did once before. 

After dinner, Bucky would do the dishes while you went to shower, and he would put her to bed. When you got out of the shower, he would be doing paperwork at the kitchen table that he couldn’t do at his office or whatever building that he worked at, and you two would drink a can of beer or two together while you talked. 

He would tell you about his day, and you would tell him about the copious amounts of money that you just spent on his card. He would laugh, and shake his head, but he would never get mad at you. Of course, the numbers were always exaggerated. You just wanted to see him laugh. 

Bucky’s smile was pretty. His laughter was genuine, and you enjoyed watching the way that his whole body rumbled when he laughed. The sound was low, and reverberated throughout your body when the noise hit you. You enjoyed listening to it.

“Is this your first time in New York?” Bucky asked you one night. 

This time was different. You weren’t at the table. There wasn’t any paperwork. You two were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, the TV turned on to some random movie that neither of you were watching. He had his right arm draped over the back of the couch, legs spread a bit wide as he relaxed comfortably against the back of the couch. Your back was pressed against the armrest of the other end, your feet barely brushing his thigh, your left arm on the back of the couch with your fist propping up your head as you looked at him.

“Is it obvious?” you asked, making a face.

“You sound like you’re from California.”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “I hear that all the time. Valley accent? I thought I got rid of it by now. I’ve been living on the East Coast since before Becky was born.”

“Why’d you move all the way out here?” he chuckled, taking a drink.

“It’s kinda a shit story. I haven’t even told Becky. You sure you wanna hear it?” you asked, cringing a little. 

“I’ve been through hell. I’m sure I can handle it,” he promised. 

You were silent for a few moments, trying to figure out where to start this story. After all– you’ve never said it out loud before. You figured the very first person you would ever tell it to was Rebecca. You sucked in a breath.

“Becky’s dad was a drunk… who used to beat Tabitha,” you finally start. You watched as Bucky sits up a bit straighter. He turns the TV off, and shifts to face you completely. His attention is on you, fully. “I knew, and I told her to leave him– but she would tell me she loved him, and it was hard for her to leave him. I… still don’t get it, but I’ve never been in one of those situations. Anyway– she’s my friend, so I stayed beside her regardless. 

“Then, she got pregnant, and she had a wake up call. She realized that… she didn’t want any baby of hers to be beaten the same way that she was being beaten so we finally went to the police. Unfortunately, his dad is a cop. So, they didn’t do anything… and her asshole boyfriend threatened to kill both her and her unborn baby.

“We were both twenty one years old, in our last year of college. She had no job, I was working at a mall in LA, and we had absolutely zero assets, but I suggested to her that we run to the other side of the country and start over. So we did. I transferred to a university over here to finish school. She dropped out to work full time while she still could and saved every single penny. I worked when I didn’t have school to help save money, then got a job as soon as I graduated to help out Tabitha with Rebecca. I would work during the day, and she would take care of Rebecca, then she would work night shifts. Then, Tabitha… passed away in a car accident on her way home one early morning.”

Bucky didn’t say anything when you finished. You looked down at your lap, feeling a bit nervous as you chewed the inside of your cheek. 

“That answered a bit more than what you asked, but uh– I was born and raised in California,” you added with a nervous laugh, clearing your throat. “Went to UCLA and everything.”

“Is that bastard still alive?” Bucky asked you, gritting his teeth.

“Rebecca’s dad? I have no clue,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t have social media anymore. Tabitha and I went completely off grid when we ran so that we couldn’t be found. No Facebook or anything like that. He shouldn’t even be able to find Rebecca– she has Tabitha’s maiden name, not his last name.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, letting out a deep breath through his nostrils before nodding once. He closed his eyes tight, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Jesus. That’s really– I’m sorry,” he whispered your name. “That’s horrible.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered back. “Becky’s a blessing, even though there were so many things that went wrong before I managed to have her in my life.”

He stared at you for a few moments, eyes roaming your face. You didn’t cry over this story anymore. You had cried over it by yourself many years ago. You came to terms with it a long, long time ago. You were certain the next and last time you would cry is when you would tell Rebecca– and you would only cry if she ended up crying, too.

“It must have been lonely,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Your lips parted as you struggled to find the words to respond to him. You wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell him that it wasn’t lonely because Rebecca was there by your side, but you knew that wasn’t the truth. You were still lonely– there was a void that Rebecca couldn’t fill, just like there was a hole that she was trying to fill by running away from you. Instead, you nodded, and gave him a sad smile. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’m pretty damn lonely.”

“Cheers to that?” he offered, holding his can out to you. You chuckled, hitting the edge of your can against his. 

“Cheers.”

You both took a long drink. 

“Admittedly, I am not as lonely with the two of you around though,” he said, looking around his apartment. “My house looks… lived in.”

“That’s another word for messy, Bucky,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. 

You note the coffee table with drawings made by Rebecca. She drew Bucky and his metal arm. She drew another portrait of him flexing. There were some drawings of flowers. That wasn’t even all of the drawings– Rebecca taped a good amount of her art to the wall. You apologized to Bucky when he came home and saw them, but he told you to leave them there. He liked seeing them haphazardly taped up, even though they weren’t leveled properly. 

You also take in the stray lego blocks that are on the floor near the hall. Bucky brought them home on the fifth night, saying that he went to the store and bought them since he didn’t want her to be completely bored in his house. She did play with them, but didn’t even finish it before she got side tracked by her tablet. 

He also bought her some board games that you played with her while Bucky was gone at work– that you also didn’t manage to clean up while he was away. The games were unfinished, and Rebecca refused to let you tidy up the area until she won. 

“I like it though,” he said, giving you a smile that was contagious. 

“So you’ll miss her when she’s gone?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

“I’m saying that I might need to take a trip to Newport every once in a while. Or maybe convince you to come visit me here so I can see my great grandniece.” 

“Because you’ll miss her,” you repeated, chuckling to yourself.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll miss both of you. Not just her. It’s not just Rebecca that I look forward to seeing every night when I come home.”

You stare at him for a few moments before bringing the can of beer to your lips, taking a drink to busy yourself with something. You’re hoping the liquid will be able to cool down the burning in your cheeks, but it’s unlikely that it’s doing anything for you.

“We can come back for holidays,” you said after a few moments, unable to meet his eyes. “And you’re welcome to visit us whenever. I… also enjoy greeting you when you come home, too. And talking to you every night. It’s nice.”

Bucky let out a breath of what sounded like relief. Your eyes shifted over to him once more, finding that he was smiling again. “I’m glad we’re in agreement, sweetheart.”

If you weren’t blushing before, you know that you are now.

It’s on the third week when you finish your shower earlier than usual to find that Bucky isn’t at the kitchen table like he normally is. Instead, you find that he’s in the bedroom with Rebecca. The door is slightly open, and you can see him sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, stroking her hair as she lays there, tucked in and ready to sleep. 

“You’re fighting bedtime a lot longer tonight, Becks,” he whispered to her, stroking her hair slowly.

“I’m not tired,” she grumbles, but you can hear the sleepiness lacing her words. Bucky must be able to as well, from the way he chuckles.

“Sure, kiddo. What did you do today?”

“Nothing interesting.. Momma took me to Central Park today. We walked around. Never been there before,” she told him.

“And that’s not interesting?” he asked softly. 

Rebecca shrugged slightly. “It’s hot outside. We got ice cream. I saw you in the newspaper. What did you do today?”

“Just boring stuff,” he said with a sigh, still lulling her to sleep with gentle strokes to her head. 

“Can you tell me about your superhero friends again?” she asked with a yawn.

“Which one?”

“Your favorite one.”

“I think your mom is my favorite superhero, Rebecca,” Bucky whispered to her.

“My Momma isn’t a superhero,” she frowned at him.

“Hm… I think she is,” he shrugged. “To me, at least. She wakes up early every day to make lunch for me and you. I’m sure if I stayed, I would be able to eat the breakfast that she makes, too, but I just don’t have time for that. I know you eat it. She doesn’t have to do it. Then, she makes dinner every night as well. She takes care of you, does all the chores without complaining. Don’t you notice that my apartment looks really nice all of a sudden? Your mom decorated it all by herself.”

“Don’t all moms do that?” Rebecca asked.

Bucky smiled sadly at her. “Some of my friends have really bad moms, kiddo. Some of my friends don’t have moms at all. They would have loved to have a mom like you do. So it really breaks my heart to see you treat her the way you do when all she does is love you.”

Rebecca was quiet for a few moments before she turned on her side. “I don’t hate her,” she muttered into the pillow. “I really love her.”

“I know you do. She knows that, too,” Bucky promised her, patting her back rhythmically. 

“Is she really a superhero?” she asked, peeking out of the pillow to look at him.

“Sure she is. She can be a superhero to me and you,” he told her, and she gave him a small nod. “However, a superhero needs somebody to protect– which is you. So you need to go to bed.”

“Okay,” she sighed dramatically, closing her eyes. “Good night, Bucky.”

“Good night, Rebecca,” he chuckled, rubbing her back gently. 

You step away from the door slowly, making your way to the kitchen. The dishwasher is already going, the table has already been wiped down. You decide to beat Bucky by a step and take out the beers from the fridge and put them on the table and wait for him there. 

He doesn’t keep you sitting there for too long, as you hear the door to the bedroom shut a few moments later. 

“You showered fast today,” Bucky said, opening your can before picking up his own.

“Happens every once in a while,” you shrugged as you watched him grab his backpack to pull out his files and laptop to start working. You watch in silence for a few moments, drinking as you do before a question comes to mind. “Are your teammates so loud that you can’t do your reports in the tower?”

“I can,” he said. “You get used to it. I just come home every night now, so I spend less time in the tower. Have to make up for it by doing the reports here.”

“Wait– you didn’t come home every night before?” you asked.

“No,” he shook his head. “There was no reason for me to come here all the time. No one to come home to.”

“So you lived and worked in the same place that you call your base?” 

“Pretty much. I just used this place as a space to… unwind, I guess. When things got too hectic,” he said, shrugging a bit. “This is the first time that I’ve consistently come home since I started the Avengers job.”

“Oh,” you said, and you feel a little dumb. You feel a little sad, too. You stare at him, but he’s looking at his computer. He’s typing away at things that you don’t understand. “But your team… You get along with them?”

His hands stop over his keyboard. There is a small, teasing smile on his face.

“Are you worried about me?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately, locking eyes with him. It makes the smile falter on his lips. “You said you were lonely. Your lives are in their hands right? Do you not trust them?”

Bucky pauses, running his metal hand through his hair– you learned last week that the metal was called vibranium. He contemplates your words for a few moments before nodding.

“I trust them,” he said, his voice steady. “I trust them to do the job, and to do it right. Do I trust them emotionally? That is a different level that I am not sure I will be able to reach with them. The team is still fairly new, and I’m still learning different parts of them that they’re hiding from me, too. I’m their leader. I can’t just… be vulnerable straight off the bat, you know?”

“Do you have any friends?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed. 

“I did,” he said, looking back at his keyboard. “He’s kinda suing me right now for the rights to the name of the Avengers, so there’s a bit of a rift between us.”

“The new Captain America– Sam Wilson?” You recalled the name from an article you read when you searched up Bucky on the first day you were here.

“Yeah. That guy. We’re not really on speaking terms right now,” Bucky sighed deeply. “After the previous Captain America passed on the mantle… Sam’s pretty much the only friend I have left.”

“You have me,” you offered. 

His eyes went back to you, a small smile finding its way to his face.

“And you,” he added, nodding. “Thank you. You have me, too.”

“You’ll have to put your world saving on pause during Christmas,” you said, smiling back. “Rebecca will be heartbroken if you don’t come over to celebrate with us.”

Bucky let out a laugh. “I’ll mark it on the calendar.”

You’re about to make another joke, something else to make him laugh so you can hear the sound that makes your heart soar through the roof when you hear your phone start buzzing on the couch. It’s already past eleven– you shouldn’t have anyone calling you. You and Bucky share a look before you go towards it, picking it up.

To your utter horror, the familiar caller ID of your boss is staring at you. Part of you wants to let it go to voicemail, but you know that her next plan of action is to just start spam texting you through the entire night until you answer her.

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked, seeing the look on your face.

“Yeah. Just my boss,” you sigh. “Sorry. I have to take this.”

Bucky nods at you, and looks back down at his computer as you sit down on the couch and tap on the green button on your screen before bringing the phone to your ear.

“It's so good to hear from you, Sil!” you greet with a fake cheery voice. You can hear Bucky choke on his beer behind you. You turn around, glaring at him as he coughs, trying to stifle his laughter. “How can I help you toni-”

“I need your ass back in Newport as soon as possible,” your boss, Silva, demands.

“Um, Sil, I’m still on emergency leave,” you remind her, trying to keep your tone light.

“You think I don’t know that?!” she hissed at you. “Hannah fucked up the presentation for the Morgan Corporation, and Denise somehow messed up both the catering and the hotel venue for the presentation. I need you to get back here and fix this mess otherwise you won’t have a job to get back to!”

“The Morgan presentation? The one that’s happening in two days?” you repeated, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You mean the one that I completed last week and sent back to you– the one that I finished for Hannah remotely?”

“You worry about the details too much,” Silva dismissed. “I need you here now. I’m not giving you an option.”

The line hung up, and you stared at your phone. Thousands of thoughts are racing through your mind as your cortisol levels are increasing. Then, you stood up.

“I have to go back to Newport,” you said, turning around to look at Bucky. “Can I ask you to look after Rebecca for like, two days? I’ll be back, I promise, right after the presentation is over. She’s self sufficient. She knows how to use a microwave and the toaster, I just need you to come back home after work to make sure she’s not dead or choking on anything–”

“Hey, hey. Slow down,” Bucky cut you off, voice soft and soothing. You didn’t even realize you were rambling. Bucky stood quickly, crossing over to you to place his hands on your shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“I’m going to lose my job and my only source of income that supports me and Rebecca if I don’t go home to do this fucked up presentation,” you whispered, heart pounding in your ears as you look at him. “My coworkers are incompetent and my boss fucking sucks. I’m so sorry Bucky, I know your job is so much more demanding than mine is and I would try dragging her with me, but I’m scared she’s gonna make a scene again–”

Bucky cuts you off once more by saying your name so gently your breath catches in your throat. 

“Don’t worry. I can watch an eight year old for a day or two,” he promised. “And I can take a break, too. Are you going to leave right now?”

“I should,” you said, letting out a breath. “Less traffic. And I’ll have to get in the office right away so I can fix whatever dumpster fire is waiting for me.”

“Okay,” he nodded, his hands sliding down your arms. “Go get ready. I’ll make you some food to bring with you on the road so you have something to snack on while you drive.”

“Okay,” you echoed back at him.

The second Bucky lets go of you, you’re immediately rushing to change your clothes and put shoes on.

“Where’s Momma?” Rebecca asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she walked out into the living room.

“She had to go back home. Her boss called her into the office for an emergency presentation,” Bucky answered, flipping the pancakes on the pan. “It’s just gonna be me and you for the next couple of days, if that’s okay with you, kiddo.”

“Oh,” she murmured before clambering onto one of the kitchen island’s bar chairs. “I was just asking… since she always wakes me up to help make you lunch. You’re not working today?”

“Took the day off to hang out with you,” Bucky shook his head, then plated the pancake, right next to the eggs and bacon that he had already cooked earlier. He turned off the stove, then put the plate in front of the little girl. 

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he nodded at her, picking up his coffee mug. 

The day is fairly quiet, all things considered. Too quiet, actually. Rebecca normally isn’t like this. Bucky knows that he can’t really speak since he’s gone most of the day, but even during the brief moments of time when he sees her before he goes to work and when he eats dinner with her– she’s much more animated.

She picks at her food during lunch, even though it’s chicken nuggets. He doesn’t think that she’s playing with her food, but Bucky watches as she skins the poor nuggets of its crust before she decides to slowly eat them. Bucky even gives her an ice cream sandwich that she looks solemnly at as she eats. 

Rebecca doesn’t even pay attention to the cartoon that he puts on for her. Avatar. He even watches it with her. He hates to admit it, but it is pretty damn entertaining. He’ll have to tell you when you get home that you were right. He asked Rebecca what element she would like to have as a superpower and she just shrugged at him as she picked at her nails.

Bucky tried playing a board game with her. She didn’t argue with him, but she wasn’t paying attention to him or the game. She wasn’t into it or anything at all. There wasn’t any fire in her eyes. 

Rebecca was sad, and he didn’t understand why.

When dinner rolled around, Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. She was poking at her chow mein that he ordered because she mentioned that she wanted noodles ,and he was a shit cook that couldn’t compare to you. He didn’t want to feed Rebecca inedible food.

“Becks,” he said, putting down his chopsticks. “What’s going on?”

His eyes widened when her eyes began to well up with tears. He immediately reached for the napkins on the table– square napkins that were in a napkin holder that you bought for him. In fact, there were even tablemats and coasters on the table that weren’t there before you came into his life.

“I miss my Momma,” she wailed.

Bucky got out of his seat, pulling Rebecca’s chair out of the table so he could properly look at her. He kneeled beside her, wiping her tears as she cried. He held the napkin to her nose as she blew into it, hiccuping and sobbing. 

An idea popped into his head.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Bucky asked. “For your Momma to be gone?”

“No– NO!” she cried loudly, shaking her head. Then, she looked conflicted. “I… I mean… I thought I did…”

“Rebecca. What did you really want?” Bucky asked, taking her little hands in his. 

“My teacher… and my classmates told me that family meant blood. And that my Momma can’t be my family because she’s– she’s not blood. So.. So I came to look for you… And I really… really like you… but I love my Momma more,” Rebecca managed to stammer out between sobs and sniffles, her little body violently shaking between each hiccup.

Bucky let out a small laugh, rubbing her back as he grabbed another napkin off the table to help wipe her tears again.

“I really like you, too, Becks,” he promised. “And I know your mom loves you so much. I’m really glad that you found me. Thank you.”

“Really?” she whispered, looking at him. “I… I wasn’t annoying?”

“'Course not,” he chuckled. “I really enjoyed having you around. I’ll miss you when you’re gone. Both you and your mom. But right now– you wanna go home, don’t you?”

She didn’t hesitate to nod, “Yeah… I wanna go home, Bucky. Can you take me?”

Bucky smiled at her, even though something in his chest broke a little bit. He wiped away the last bit of her tears as he let out a breath.

“Alright, kiddo. Let’s finish dinner. I’ll take you back home.”

Rebecca’s mood instantly skyrocketed from there, as Bucky’s mood plummeted. He did his best to hide it. He put Rebecca to bed, and sat in the living room with his face buried between his hands, shrouded by darkness. 

He tried to go to sleep, but his body wouldn’t let him. Then again, he knew that sleep would only make the inevitable come by faster– that he would be alone so much quicker. Either way, the sun came up, and Rebecca got up early on her own. 

Rebecca showered, got dressed, and packed the Hello Kitty backpack that she came with.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile when he saw her with it. 

He got her situated in his car, then input the address to your house that he pulled from the background check that he did on you almost a full month ago. He found a radio station that played some kid friendly songs that Rebecca seemed to know, the little girl singing along happily to each word. She even teased him for not knowing any of the words. When she got tired and fell asleep, Bucky ended up in his own head.

The three hour drive soon passed by him quickly, and he was pulling into your driveway. Your house was cute. It was one story, with a front and backyard. White picket fence with a mailbox. Your car was parked in the driveway, and you were coming out of the front door. Your eyes fell on Bucky’s car, then on Rebecca, who was already unbuckling herself and throwing herself at you as quickly as she could.

“Momma!” she cried, running to you.

You caught her as she jumped on you, stumbling backwards slightly. Bucky got out of the car, seeing your bewildered look.

“Hi, baby,” you said, holding her head to your chest. “What– what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry for being mean to you,” she whined, tears in her eyes. “I want to stay here. With you– I really do love you. I’m sorry!”

You blinked at her, still confused, but hugged her tight to your body. You looked over at Bucky, who gave you a smile and a nod.

“She missed you,” Bucky said. “She asked me to take her home.” 

You let out a breath, still trying to process everything. You stood up, ruffling Rebecca’s hair as you unlocked the front door to let the kid inside. She ran inside as you turned to Bucky, who grabbed her little backpack to deliver to you.

“Thank you,” you said, still a little breathless. 

“Of course,” he chuckled. “How’d your presentation go?”

“I’m actually on my way to it. I’ll have to drop her off at my neighbors– anyway. Um… Come visit for Christmas?”

Bucky stared at you for a little bit longer, taking in your appearance. You were in work attire right now. It was different from how he was used to seeing you in his apartment– he decided he enjoyed the oversized t-shirts and the cotton shorts much more than the pantsuits, but you were still pretty like this, too.

“I’ll text you,” he nodded, giving you a smile.

“Yeah. Text me,” you smiled back. “Stay safe, Bucky.”

“Yeah… Bye,” he said.

You didn’t correct his parting words as he turned around towards his car.

Bucky didn’t let himself linger on your street. He refused to. He didn’t have a place here, as much as his heart wanted him to stay here. You were only in his life for twenty-three days. That’s all it was. He told himself that he was silly for growing attached to you, to Rebecca.

He kept telling himself that as he cleaned up the board game pieces in his apartment, and as he carefully sorted the lego blocks in a way that Rebecca would be able to still be able to build the puzzle she was making according to the directions. 

Bucky continued to tell himself that he would get over the darkness of his apartment as he moved all of your toiletries to the cabinet under his sink where he couldn’t see it. He lied to himself that you didn’t make a lasting impression on his brain as he rolled over on his bed to where you slept– to where he could still smell your perfume on his pillow.

“What the fuck is wrong with you these days?” Yelena demanded as they got off the loading dock. “You look like some kind of abused puppy.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as he began to remove his gear. “The fuck are you talking about?” he grunted.

“You don’t go home early anymore. Sometimes you don’t go home period. Did your secret girlfriend break up with you?” John guessed.

Bucky frowned. “I didn’t and don’t have a girlfriend. Who came up with that?” 

“We just made up theories,” Ava said.

“And your theory was that I had a girlfriend?” Bucky sighed.

“You left the tower early, came to work everyday in a good mood, and you brought a home packed lunch everyday,” Yelena deadpanned. “So yeah. Girlfriend.”

“We thought you were getting laid!” Alexei boomed with laughter.

Bucky’s scowl deepened, and he rubbed his fingers over his eyes. He was getting a headache. Bucky was trying and failing at attempting to drown out the boisterous talk around him as his teammates attempt to come up with conspiracies on why he’s been going home earlier this past month.

“Do you think he’s been broken up with?” John asked Ava.

“Within a month? No way,” Ava scoffed. “I mean, he’s Barnes, but he’s still a handsome man.”

“Bob, what do you think?” John asked, turning to him.

“Um… Maybe they got into a fight?” the man added in nervously. “Maybe Bucky’s tryna let her cool off?”

“A fight for this long though? He hasn’t gone home early in like, a week!” John exclaimed.

“Not manly,” Alexei clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “A man should own up to his mistakes and face his woman accordingly!”

Bucky wanted to go home. 

Home to what though? 

There were no board games to play with Rebecca if dinner wasn’t done in time. He wouldn’t be able to listen to Rebecca’s nonstop tirade on what Hello Kitty character of the week is her favorite since her little eight year old mind can’t decide on a single one to keep. 

Bucky would have to stare at the lopsidedly taped drawings on the wall that Rebecca taped up– drawings of the three of them that she proudly showed him when he came home. Art that was all over his walls, the main decoration of his place. 

He wouldn’t be able to put Rebecca to bed tonight.

You wouldn’t greet him when he came through the door either. You wouldn’t smile at him with the same warmth you always do. You wouldn’t be there to sit with him after dinner and chat with him until the late hours of the night and keep him company to talk about nothing and everything at the same time. You weren’t there to giggle with him as you drank maybe a little too much, your thigh brushing against his as you sat next to him on the couch as you both pretended to watch something on the TV together.

You wouldn’t be there in the early hours of the morning, hair slightly messy as you make him lunch– lunch that the team teases him about because they once saw the sticky note that had an encouraging message written on it in your handwriting that you include with every single lunch you pack for him. At some point, you started drawing a single heart with each note, too.

There was no point in going home to an empty apartment after he knows how good it can be to return home to a warm one.

“Barnes.”

“What?” he snapped, looking at Yelena.

“Go on a vacation.”

“What?” he repeated, eyebrows furrowing at her.

“I’m not gonna ask you for any details,” she started, “Whatever is going on isn’t messing with the job right now, but it sure as hell might do it soon– so figure out your life before you start fucking up on missions. I’ll make sure Val doesn’t ask about you.”

Bucky knew Yelena– this was a nice way of her telling him to fix whatever went wrong. He let out a breath. Without another word, he turned away.

The doorbell ringing throughout your house makes you look up from your laptop. You check the time– it’s only seven. Rebecca’s at a sleepover at her friend’s house tonight, and you’re not expecting any guests. 

You make your way to the front of the house, checking the camera. Your heartbeat quickens as the screen lights up with a familiar face. You rip the door open immediately. 

“Bucky?” you asked, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” he greeted you, albeit a little awkwardly. “Nice to see you, too.”

“I mean– yeah. Nice to see you. Come in.”

You step aside to let him in, watching him take in the surroundings of your house briefly. Then, he clears his throat, eyes settling on you again. Suddenly, you feel bare even though you’ve worn similar clothes in front of him before.

“Where’s Rebecca?” he asked, shifting on his feet.

“She’s at a friend’s house tonight. Sleepover,” you answered. “Sorry to disappoint. She would’ve been happy to see you.”

“No, no. It’s okay. I–uh… I came to see you, actually,” he confessed.

Your lips parted, eyes searching all over his face again. He’s not lying. He’s staring right at you, and you’re getting lost in his eyes. You quickly pull yourself away to turn towards the kitchen.

“Want something to drink? Water? Beer?” you asked, opening the fridge and pulling out two bottles of beer prematurely. “I haven’t cooked anything yet, but are you hungry for anything?”

“Just you,” he answered.

You paused for a moment, wondering if you heard him correctly. Then, you straighten. The silence is heavy as you feel his eyes on your back. It’s burning you, but not in a bad way. It’s not desire, not lust. You can’t describe the feeling that he’s emanating right now.

You take in a deep breath before you turn around, placing the bottles on the table.

“Can you open these with your metal hand or do I need to get the bottle opener?” you asked, looking at him again.

“I got it,” he murmured, reaching for them. Both of the bottles were opened with ease, and he handed you the first one, your fingertips brushing against each other as the drink passed between you two. 

You watch as he brings the rim to his lips at the same time you do, both of you taking a long, slow drink together. It goes down your throat in a burn that you’ve never felt before. 

“What did you mean by that?” you finally asked, wetting your lips nervously. “What do you mean.. me?”

“Exactly what I said,” he replied, eyes never leaving your face. “You. I want you.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a breath. “Bucky, I told you that I don’t do–”

“And I will be here for you and Rebecca. That is not a problem for me,” he cut you off immediately, putting the bottle down on the table to place his hands on your shoulders. “You don’t understand. The last week and a half have been absolute hell for me. You showed me what a home is, and it’s gone. I miss it. I miss you, and I miss Rebecca. I know that you are a package deal. I know where you are, Rebecca is.”

“Do you miss me, or do you miss the home that I gave you?” you asked wearily.

“Sweetheart, you are home,” he whispered, stressing the words. Your chest squeezed at his confession. “I thought I was going crazy. I thought– I tried to envision somebody else. I couldn’t. It had to be you. I don’t think it can be anyone else. I need it to be you greeting me. Am I– was I the only one who thought there was something between us?”

You want to run away. You want to lie to him and tell him that he made it all up in his head. But you’ve been thinking about him, too.

You made too much food the past week and a half. You’ve accidentally made his serving without thinking about it. You’ve been waking up earlier than you need to because you still think about making him lunch, and you go to work wondering if he ate a substantial dinner. 

Other than food– you wonder if he’s lonely. He told you that he was. He told you that you and Rebecca made him less lonely. And he made you less lonely the days that you spent with him, too. 

“It’s not just my heart that you would break,” you whispered, repeating the same words that you said to him before.

“I would never,” he promised.

“You said that it would be selfish of you to be in a relationship with someone because of your job,” you told him.

“This past month showed me that I could manage,” he said, shaking his head. “I came home to you every night, didn’t I?”

He had a point.

You bit your lip, still hesitating. You were scared. Terrified. Bucky could see it in your eyes. His hands slid from your shoulders down your arms and to your hands, squeezing them comfortingly. 

“We don’t have to tell Rebecca right away, if that makes you feel better. We can feel it out. See if this works. And if it doesn’t– then she’ll never know. I know that’s your main worry,” he said, brushing his hands over your knuckles. “But please believe me when I say I would never do anything to hurt either of you.”

You know that wouldn’t be fair to Rebecca. Hell, that wouldn’t be fair to Bucky.

The two of them have bonded so well over the short time that they’ve known each other that it’s almost scary. Bucky mentioned that he didn’t have the facilities to raise a kid, but he did pretty damn well with running after her.

She hung off his vibranium arm more times than you could count. You watched as he did push-ups and she sat on his back giggling. There were times where she helped him load the dishwasher. They watched cartoons together, and she would explain the plot of the episode, and he would sit there and genuinely listen to every single word that came from her mouth.

“I don’t want to hide anything from her,” you said, sighing softly, squeezing his hands back. “Besides, I was planning on quitting my job. Do you want to hire me as your actual personal assistant? Do you think me and Becks could just move into your apartment for real this time?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“I fucking hate my boss, Bucky,” you said, smiling at him. “I was your pseudo-assistant and all you had me do was buy pillows and spend your money on groceries. It was a pretty good gig. I mean, of course, if you need my resume, it’s pretty good. I can print it out for you.”

“I mean– us. You’re giving us a chance?” he asked, still in shock.

You smile wider at him. “Should I add my feelings for you on the resume?”

Bucky stared at you for a few moments before his hands cradled your face, his lips pressing against yours before you even realized it. You let out a small laugh against him, feeling him smile against you as your arms wrapped around him.

Soon, you were pressed between the counter and the solid muscle that was Bucky. His hands were on your waist, holding you close to him as you held onto his jacket, pulling him into you as you angled your head to make him kiss you deeper. 

It was almost effortless, the way your tongue met his. You’re not even sure who’s mouth opened first, but you didn’t really care. The first moan that came out was his, though. You were hungry to hear more. You rose on your toes, pressing harder into him as a hand splayed against your back. You briefly let go of his jacket to start shoving it down his arms. He let you.

“Shit,” he grunted as you broke the kiss trail kiss down his neck, a second hand moving to cradle the back of your head against him. “Sweetheart, where’s your bedroom?”

“Down the hall, last door to the left,” you whispered into his skin right before he hooked his hands under your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips. 

Just like you thought, he picked you up like you were nothing. 

He carried you over to your room as you continued to pepper kisses against his neck, nipping and biting at his skin as he hummed in enjoyment. Once he got to your bed, he laid you down in the middle of it, kneeled between your legs.

“One of my pillows still smells like you,” he muttered, hands finding your waist again. “Your entire room smells like you.”

“Is that bad?” you whispered back.

“No. Drove me crazy. I missed you so much,” he sighed, his hands dipping under your shirt. “Is this okay?”

“I haven’t done anything like this in a really long time, Bucky,” you confessed, meeting his eyes. “Might be a little awkward.”

He smiled a bit, bending down over you to press a kiss to your forehead, your nose, then a sweet kiss to your lips. Bucky pulled away to look you in the eyes.

“It’s okay,” he promised. “It’s been a long time for me, too.”

Your stomach flipped with anticipation as he pulled your shirt off your body, eyes beginning to trail all over your bare torso. He cursed under his breath, and you felt goosebumps raise where his hands ghosted over your skin. He wasn’t touching you fully, not yet.

Then, Bucky descended, catching you in an open mouthed kiss as his hands finally closed over your breasts, kneading them. You let out a soft moan against his lips as his fingertips rolled a stiff nipple with one hand while his tongue licked into your mouth.

“It’s already hard,” he muttered, pulling away from your lips. 

“Because you’re touching me!” you complained, your chest rising and falling unevenly. Bucky chuckles above you, kissing your jaw. 

“You’re cute when you’re needy,” he said. “Are you wet, too?”

You can’t answer him– he’s already searching for the answer himself. His flesh hand is dipped under your shorts and underwear, parting your folds and humming in delight at his discovery. You, on the other hand, are at his disposal.

“Bucky,” you whispered, hands grabbing onto his shoulders.

“I got you,” he murmured, biting at your neck gently before soothing the wound with his tongue. 

You’re deliciously overwhelmed within moments. He still has his face in your neck, his metal hand teasing your breast and nipple, and the other hand between your legs, fingers just barely poking at your entrance where you want him most. He’s messing with you, you realize. He can feel your pulse from where his lips are. 

“Please, Bucky,” you moaned– only to feel his fingers press into you a moment later.

“All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he chuckled into your ear. 

“You’re such an asshole,” you gasp, fingernails digging into his shoulders as he finds a lazy pace to fuck you with his fingers. 

“And you look so pretty like this,” he said, eyes scanning over your figure beneath him. You could only imagine what you looked like right now. Flustered, with his hand in your shorts, one breast being grabbed by his metal hand. You must look like a work of art to him.

Another moan escapes your throat as his finger crooks just slightly, eyes falling shut. 

“Oh my God– more–” your words come out broken as he fulfills your request without another word, a second finger joining in to press in and out of you faster. Your hips buck up slightly to meet his hand, a shiver rushing through your body as you feel pressure building up in your stomach. 

“There you go,” he whispered, and you take a moment to look at him. His eyes are blown out– dark. You almost can’t see the stormy grey blue eyes with how he’s looking at you right now. Your eyes trail down his body, and you can see him straining against his jeans. “Feels good?”

“Fuck– yes. Feels really good,” you forced out, a moan following your words.

He smiles in delight at your response, fingers curling ever so slightly and hitting that slightly spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars behind your eyes. Your back arches and he takes note– and his fingers quickens. 

You can’t moan. No noises escape you as your walls clamp down on his fingers, eyes closing tight as you cum all over his fingers. Bucky lets out a moan above you, getting off at you getting off. His fingers never stop, continuing to massage you through your high.

Your body trembles slightly as he finally pulls out, and you watch him lick his fingers clean. You have never seen a hotter, more sensual sight in your entire life. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, breathing a bit heavier. “Take your pants off already.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, swallowing thickly. “If we start–”

“Oh my God, fuck me already,” you cut him off, reaching for his belt. 

A laugh escapes his lips as he moves to help your shaking hands, tossing the belt to the side of your bed. He removes his shirt next. As he throws his pants and underwear off, you do the same, and he’s above you within the next few moments. 

You don’t give him a chance to breathe before your arms are wrapped around his neck, pulling his body down against yours. You like the feel of his bare body against yours. It’s warm in a way that you’ve never felt before. Comfortable and hard– safe. 

His lips are on yours in an instant as he situates himself between your legs once more. You feel the tip of him press against you, spreading your folds just slightly. He’s hesitating. 

You grind your hips against him as you continue to kiss him, humming softly. You want him. You want this. 

Bucky lets out a small sigh against you, and finally slides home. 

Both of you let out a moan into each other’s mouths. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Bucky groaned, breaking the kiss. His forehead is pressed against yours. “You’re just swallowing me up– you’re so tight. Thought I stretched you out.”

“Told you– I haven’t done this in a long time,” you whispered back, a broken moan falling from your lips as he pushed in more of his length. 

The stretch doesn’t hurt. In fact, you’re loving every moment of it. You feel every inch of him, every groove and every vein of his cock entering you. It’s addicting. He’s addicting. When his hips are finally flush against yours, you feel impossibly full. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this feeling. 

“Nice and slow,” he grunted, and you nod deliriously in agreement as he takes the first thrust.

It’s heaven. 

You’re falling apart, and Bucky is putting you back together just as fast with each slow roll of his hips against yours. He’s whispering praises to you as you hold onto him, but you can’t focus on his words right now. All you can focus on is the steady movement of his hips hitting yours, the sound of your own heartbeat, the feel of his heartbeat against your chest, and the way he looks at you with so much affection in your eyes that it makes you melt into the sheets beneath you.

“God, you’re so pretty,” you slur out the words, a bit breathless.

Bucky lets out a small laugh, smiling down at you in a way that makes your heart stutter. He does look so pretty. There’s a light sheen of sweat that’s covering his body right now. His muscles are rippling with each thrust into your body, and his arms are flexed as he holds onto your waist to keep you in place. 

“You don’t even know what you look like right now. It’s taking everything in me not to go wild,” he whispered back. “Wanna savour the moment.”

He pulls out until just the tip of his cock is left inside of you before thrusting back deep into you in one fluid motion, your eyes fluttering shut as your lips part in a noiseless moan. 

“God– you liked that?” he grunted, and you nodded, opening your eyes to look at him. “I could tell– you clenched around me so hard I almost came right then and there.”

“Again,” you whimpered, grabbing onto his wrists for stability. “Do it again.”

“I don’t think I can last very long if I keep doing that, sweetheart,” he admitted.

“Neither can I– please?” you begged. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, biting his lip as he tried collecting himself. “Where? Baby, where?”

“In me, on me– I don’t care,” you babbled, shaking your head. “Please, please, just hurry–”

He cut you off with another deep roll of his hips, capturing your lips once again. You couldn’t even kiss him back with the way he was fucking into you. It was slow, deep– but he was hitting everywhere that you could’ve ever needed. You were tightening around him, and you knew he was feeling it, the way his hips stuttered slightly, and hands tightened at your waist.

Bucky’s head dropped to your neck, your arms wrapping around his shoulders once more as his thrusts got sloppier, his hands moving to grab your thighs and fold them against your body. You gasped beneath him, clenching around him.

“Bucky– shit–”

“Yes, yes, I know. I got you,” he moaned into your neck,  one hand moving between you to rub tight circles into your clit– and you were done for.

You were a mess beneath him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his fingers and hips never stopped. You felt his body shiver above you a few moments later as he groaned in your ear, and you felt an irreplaceable warmth fill your body as his hips came to a slow, cock twitching inside of you.

Bucky collapsed above you, though he kept most of his weight off of you as he tried catching his breath. Both of you were entirely spent. Eventually, he rolled over on his side, and pulled you into his chest with a satisfied sigh. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Then, you felt him tilt your head up to meet his lips once more. You feel his hands rest against your back, pulling you closer to him. You find that you don’t want to be anywhere else.

“I promise I’ll make you and Rebecca happy,” he murmured, lips barely pulled away from yours. “I’ll find a new apartment so Becky can have her own room.”

“You wanna cuddle with me at night, Bucky?” you ask, smiling against his lips. “Don’t wanna sleep on the couch anymore?”

“Hell no,” he snorted. “Why would I?”

You let out a laugh, pressing another quick kiss to his lips as you settle your head onto his arm. He watches you, brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. There really is no mistaking the amount of affection that he has for you in his eyes.

“She’ll probably call you dad in a few months,” you whispered, watching his face to see how he’ll take it.

“She can call me whatever the hell she wants as long as it’s not grandpa,” he grunts, rolling his eyes. Despite the sass, there’s a smile on his face that he doesn’t bother to hide.

masterlist

taglist: @duacruel @natsomens @decthaxhrcv @shortandb1tchy @iyskgd @ifuckwithyouanyday @miss-chuchu @bighappypiels @snnoopyy @messrkarmaismygf13 @thebuckybarnesvault @aekzla let me know if you would like to be added/removed to a general bucky taglist :)

[custody-if]

CUSTODY is a slice-of-life IF rated 17+ for explicit language, child abuse, substance abuse, self-destructive behavior, sexism, sexuality and more. Inspired by the movie Thirteen. Please avoid if you don’t enjoy reading these themes.

Note: I’m new to all of this so please bear with me!😭 Also know that I don’t condone to any of this, if you see or know a child is being abused please say something or call the authorities!

⟡ DEMO (TBA) ⟢ FORUM (TBA) ⟡ INTROS (TBA)

Step into a life of a teenager, trying to survive along with their three siblings, and with the court system trying to pull you all apart—you must not let them.

You always felt that you’ve been cursed since birth.

You and your siblings being taken away from your parents when you were twelve by child services due to child abuse and domestic violence really put a traumatic impact on your innocence and child like imagination. And thanks to the court systems and such you and your siblings weren’t split apart—imagine what could have happened if they did…

Moving from place to place and home to home has really put a weight on you, but that’s not the real issue. The real issue is them, your foster “parents” and they are something you can’t really get rid of either. Finally settling in your new home, California Los Angeles, you really thought everything would get better. I mean you just started becoming a teenager lucky number thirteen, by now life should be better right?

No.

In fact it got much worse.

Your older brother stopped coming home more, your sister started bringing a new boyfriend home every week because something obviously went wrong and she won’t tell you, and then there’s your younger brother who doesn’t even know what’s truly going on.

The world along with your body is changing every second.

Your now in the 8th grade where there is significant physical changes and emotions all over the place, your starting to notice things that weren’t as important then they were as before and the main focus is to fit in.

Completely shut down and make your own decisions because you feel like you’re old enough.

Make your foster parents life a living hell, and deal with your siblings.

Deal with running away, drama, fights, teen heartbreak, late-night parties, peer pressure, self-discovery, court systems, small teen romance, and parental relations along with family dysfunction…yea it’s a lot.

Will you be able to keep yourself from breaking?

✦ CUSTODY is highly inspired by the movie Thirteen but will have no spoilers! ✦

Full character customization (with wide-ranging effects on story and gameplay): pick your gender, height, build, personality, and sexuality.

Choose your background such as race and backstory.

Choose your aesthetic and how your bedroom looks.

Choose how you react with your older siblings (such as being clingy, avoidant, dependent, innocent, quiet and more).

Be a parent figure for your younger sibling or let the older ones do the work.

The choices you make affect how others around you look at you.

Customize your foster parents by choosing them to be FM, FF, or MM.

Choose to trust your foster parents or don’t it’s your choice. (You don’t have a choice)

Make your foster parents frustrated by being a rebellious teen or obedient.

Choose the family pet (Cat, dog, parrot, or bunny).

Try to fit in with the other kids in the neighborhood by choosing to do drugs, skip school, or dress more “revealing”. (That’s if you fall into the peer pressure)

Create friendships or be a loner.

Have a small crush, full time relationship (by choosing between 3 love interests)

Create a reputation for yourself in the 8th grade.

Avoid being split apart from your family by behaving or misbehave.

Child services checks in every time once a month (choose how to react when you see them).

⟡ MAIN CHARACTERS ⟢

The Older Brother: Sylas ⟡ he/him, 18 ⟢ The ordinary rebellious teenage boy who literally doesn’t give a shit about you or anyone else in that matter. Sylas who was born first already knows how it all goes, he told you many times how child services had almost taken him away before you was even born, and to be honest it almost sounds like he brags about it. Highly reserved and keeps to himself in his room or is either never home. You wondered why he never tried to save himself and run away. Maybe it’s because you and the rest of his siblings are his last hope in this hell hole.

Personality: confident, rebellious, short tempered, and charismatic. He likes dark humor and is not afraid to tell you how stupid you look.

Appearance: 6’3 in height with chin length dyed black messy wavy hair dyed with black streaks that he somehow makes looks good, with tanned like skin which is weird since he never leaves his room, and dark brown eyes along with his angel bite piercing, tongue piercing, eyebrow piercing on the left, and ear piercings. He wears a black band t-shirt from the 90’s that he stole from a thrift store and wears baggy grey ripped jeans with a black belt that has silver rhinestones with a skull along with black sneakers. He also has a full tattoo of angel wings on his back, rumor says it’s because it was his nickname back at his old “job” when he was 17.

Your Only Sister: Darcelle ⟡ she/her, 16 ⟢ Darcelle always gotten the spiteful looks from mom every time she was either getting ready for school or just to go hang out with her friends. It was obvious that she was jealous of her, even dad would give her unusual stares. Darcelle was one of the prettiest girls in her whole school and neighborhood, and I mean everyone loved her but that didn’t take her time away from you and the rest of her siblings. She would always take you out along with your younger brother when things in the house got really bad. Now..she doesn’t do that anymore. Maybe there’s something more going on than you realize.

Personality: sharp and quick-witted, she holds confidence on the outside but in the inside she’s emotionally unstable. She treats you and your siblings entirely different than she treats everyone else.

Appearance: 5’5 in height with long length brown wavy hair with dyed blonde highlights and amber eyes along with pierced ears that holds gold hoop earrings. She wears makeup which you don’t understand why since she looks beautiful with or without it. She has tanned skin just like your older brother but with moles all over her body. She wears a red lace crop top and jean shorts with long white socks with red stripes at the top along with red adidas. She likes the color red which is obvious, her nails are also painted red with gold highlights.

Naive Younger Brother: Ollie or Oliver ⟡ he/him, 7 ⟢ You can’t blame him from being naive, I mean he’s only seven but even you knew what was really going on by the age of five. You guess that happens when neglecting parents choose to live through their youngest child. Your older brother always told you that Ollie wouldn’t survive in a world like this and should just hurry up and put him down before something worst gets to him first, he was quickly put to silence by your sister. What ever happens you will make sure nothing ever happens to Ollie, not while you’re still here.

Personality: shy, quiet, dependent, he has a hard time looking at people in the eyes and always hovers around you when he doesn’t have his toys to play with.

Appearance: 3’9 in height with short messy dark blonde wavy hair with brown eyes and tanned skin with freckles all over. He has a small scar near his eyebrow ever since he fell from climbing a tree, you can trust that he never climbed a tree ever again. He wears a normal dark green hoodie with a picture of a dinosaur on the front and long jean shorts with brown sneakers and white socks. He carries his stuffed bear that’s nearly falling apart every wear he goes.

⟡ ROMANCES ⟢

The Handsome Stoner: Scott or Smokey ⟡ he/him, 13 ⟢

He’s known all around town as the stoner kid. He is usually seen behind stores or with his group of friends near the abandoned mall. He’s popular with the girls and rumors say with the boys as well, but when it comes to teachers and police officers not so much. He was the first to talk to you on the first day of school, he gave you some pointers of what you should and shouldn’t do, which was no help at all but you didn’t tell him that. You will always know if he’s near when you smell that huge aroma of marijuana.

Personality: easygoing, creative, openminded, and empathetic. Smokey will always have your back and even more if you offer him a blunt, if you smoke ofc! He once told you that his first blunt was when he was 8, it was offered to him by his older brother which he talks about all the time. When that stupid redhead tried beating you up along with his friends, Smokey came to the rescue earning himself a purple eye and a free new Pokémon card deck which is his second favorite thing besides weed. He said he never had a fear of death since everyone dies, but his true fear was never being able to be high again.

Appearance: 5’3 in height with shoulder length dirty blonde hair, fair skin with light freckles, and hazel eyes with a silver eyebrow piercing on his right and a single silver peace piercing on his left ear. He has a secret tattoo of a weed plant on his shoulder. He wears a brown hoodie with a white peace logo on the front and dark grey sweatpants with floral patterns, green converses, and a grey beanie. He also wears a sliver ring on his middle finger that he got from a corner store near the bowling alley.

(TBA)

[vettelsvee]

Hi love! For your tortured poets department, can I request endgame from the reputation album, lando being the driver please please 🙏

END GAME | Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Friend with benefits Piastri!Reader

SUMMARY: You were used to have random hookups just for fun, including with Lando Norris himself. It's not until he decides to lock both of you up on his driver room and talk about your weird relationship that you don't realize that, deep down, you're willing to settle down your mind and start a dating him ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT

WORD COUNT: 2745

WARNINGS: Slightly +18 at the end (sorry for leaving it there ☺️), mentions of friends with benefits, spelling with multiple people, angst, curse words

VEE'S NOTES: Haven't written Lando in a very, very long time, so hope you like this one! University and my mental health are killing me but you know what? Writing is what keeps me going (and specially your comments have been a boost of serotonin for me lately). Also... the 2k special is already living rent free in my mind and I can't wait to achieve the goal to post it 😭 I wanna give spoilers now so... you know 🤓 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

"You finally decided to show up at a race. I was starting to think you only liked having me naked in your bed behind your brother’s back."

You smiled at the screen, playing with your fingers as you thought how could you answer Lando. Your relationship was based purely on sex, moreover sexting, with barely any real conversations whenever you met, moans and orgasms speaking for you both instead.

You had never felt the need to go beyond that, to involve feelings in your relationship, or at least that’s what you had made clear to Lando before sleeping with him the very first time. You also let him know that, besides him, there were other guys with whom you had no commitments whatsoever.

However, it was with Lando that you spent most of your time. The others were nothing more than a safe escape, an easy way out when the Brit wasn’t around.

"Be grateful that I even came," you finally replied. "And don’t flatter yourself. I came to see my brother, not to make you come before a race."

You hesitated, wondering if your reply was harsh enough to keep him from getting any ideas and, more importantly, to stop him from insisting on meeting up. You weren’t sure how, but you wanted to end that strange relationship before it spiraled out of control because, whether you wanted to admit it or not, you had started to feel something for him.

Yes, just a few weeks ago, you had one of your usual encounters with a friend of one of your best friends. But everything fell apart when, right before reaching your climax, you couldn’t help it: you moaned Lando’s name instead.

That was what made you question what exactly you felt for Norris and why the label of friends with benefits seemed to be fading away.

"Don’t play dumb, Piastri. See you at the motorhome. You know exactly where."

You huffed. Of course, you knew exactly where you’d be meeting. After all, ever since your brother became a Formula 1 driver, you had visited his teammate’s personal room more than Oscar’s.

With a sigh, making sure neither your mother nor your sisters were nearby, you got up, grabbed the plastic cup that still had a bit of coffee left, and walked with as much determination as you could muster toward McLaren’s motorhome, finishing your drink along the way.

As you walked, mentally preparing a script in case things got tense with Lando, you greeted the people you knew, or at least those who knew you as Y/N Piastri. Lewis was genuinely happy to see you and even stopped to chat, but you excused yourself, saying you had already made plans. Fernando gave you a knowing look, as if trying to figure out what exactly you were about to do with a certain driver.

Even your brother crossed paths with you at the entrance to McLaren’s motorhome. You managed to lie to him, partially, saying Lando had asked you to take a few pictures of him before the race.

Oscar gave you a strange look, then rolled his eyes, offered a small smile and told you to enjoy whatever it was you both were about to do.

You said nothing, but you knew your twin brother well enough to realize he already had a pretty good idea of what you were up to with Norris. Not that you tried too hard to hide it.

When you reached Lando’s room, you didn’t even have to knock. The door opened instantly, revealing a slightly tired-looking Lando with a cup in his hand. His race suit was already on but zipped only to his waist, leaving the top half hanging loose. His team cap was still on, though it didn’t last long since he took it off and tossed it aside within seconds.

He grinned from ear to ear, like he had been waiting for you with far too much anticipation.

"Come in. Make yourself at home," he said with that mischievous tone you were so used to hearing, though something about it felt slightly different this time.

You walked inside without hesitation, crossing your arms and ignoring him, except for the occasional sideways glance to see if he would do or say something before you did. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

"If you wanted a quick fuck before the race you could’ve just said so, you know?"

"I don’t think today’s the best day to fuck you and let everyone hear," he replied. "At least, not yet. Today, we’re going to talk."

"We don’t talk, Lando," you shot back, feeling an internal alarm go off. "And when we do, it’s just to ask about the safe word of the day, what we want to do to each other, and how close we are to coming."

"Well, maybe it’s time we started talking, don’t you think so?"

His answer took you completely by surprise. Your gazes remained locked on each other, and you felt the atmosphere grow tense.

For the first time in a long while, there was no excuse you could use to avoid that conversation with Lando. Maybe the fact that you had been ignoring him for the past few weeks was enough to make him realize that there was a chance—however small—that things had changed between you two.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the growing sense of unease settling in your chest. Lando kept looking at you with that same intensity he always did, except this time… it was different. It wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in a situation like this, where there were a thousand unsaid things hanging between you, waiting to be voiced. But it was the first time, at least on your part, where feelings were involved beyond pure physical desire.

"I don’t think there’s anything to talk about," you said as nonchalantly as possible, but your tense posture betrayed you.

Lando set his cup down on the table beside him. Then, he sat on the edge, crossing his arms again, and reached for your hands only for you to pull away and take a step back.

"I think you know exactly what we need to talk about," he replied calmly. His voice was lower than usual, and you felt the heat grow between your legs. You shook your head, feeling guilty and doing your best to push away that sudden, but familiar, awakening in your body.

"You’ve been avoiding me, Y/N. And don’t tell me you haven’t, because you were in Monaco and never called me to meet up… to see each other," he added, his voice laced with something unreadable. "In fact, we usually sext almost every day, and you didn’t even bother to tell me what  new lingerie set you bought for when you came over."

"I didn’t tell you I was coming to Miami either."

Your reply, rather than making you sound indifferent, exposed you completely. Lando raised an eyebrow, as if he had caught you red-handed. That was when you realized you had seriously screwed up.

"I haven’t been avoiding you, Lando. I’ve just been busy," you insisted.

"Busy? You mean busy by ignoring me?" He scoffed, ironic. His expression turned much more serious now, and you started to worry about where this might lead. "Tell me the truth, Y/N. What’s going on? What’s happening with you?" he emphasized.

You averted your gaze, pretending to take interest in the room’s decoration, a room you already knew by heart. You knew you couldn’t keep dodging the topic, but you also had no idea how to confront it without changing everything you had so far. It was impossible to put into words what you felt for Lando, not when your relationship had always been purely physical. And especially not when there was a real chance you were just confused… and, well, you couldn’t forget the possibility that he might only see you as his hookup.

"Nothing’s wrong," you finally responded.

"I thought we were always honest with each other," Lando sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

You felt your throat tighten. It was hard to breathe. You had been honest, at least when it came to the unrestricted desire between you, to touching each other without attachments, to seeking comfort in one another without questions that went beyond your wildest fantasies. You had avoided anything personal.

But now, you were slowly breaking the unspoken rules that had kept you in perfect balance until this moment.

"I’ve been busy, Lando, and the last thing I wanted was to deal with you, alright?" you insisted, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "Things should have stayed the way they were until, according to you, I started ignoring you."

"No, Y/N, things aren’t like that," the Brit denied, shaking his head. He stepped closer, cornering you against the wall. "If you don’t want to face something because you’re afraid of rejection, just tell me. But, for fuck’s sake, don’t act like I did something wrong, because you’re killing me."

"Lando…"

"Stop insisting that nothing is happening between us, when that’s exactly what makes me think the opposite."

His confession caught you completely off guard. His words—clear, direct, and without a hint of sarcasm, threw you off… especially because you knew he was right.

You felt the urge to run, to disappear, to pretend none of this had ever happened. Most of all, you wanted to deny yourself any romantic thought you had ever had about Oscar’s teammate.

When you lowered your gaze, Lando moved back slightly, giving you space and making sure he didn’t overwhelm you more than you already seemed to be. You sighed, trying to relax once again, but before you could say anything, he spoke first.

"Tell me nothing’s wrong between us, Y/N Piastri," he said softly. "If nothing has really changed, if everything is the same between us… dare to look at  me in the eyes and say it."

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t run away, not when Lando had you emotionally cornered, teetering on the edge of an explosion. Your breathing was unsteady, heavy. Your mind screamed at you to find an excuse, anything that would let you stay true to yourself regardless of what happened next.

Lando waited, unmoving, his blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you tremble for the first time in your life—without him even touching you. It was the first time he had shown himself to you like this: so vulnerable and yet so determined at the same time.

"Nothing is wrong between us, Lando Norris," you finally whispered, forcing the words out, ignoring both your heart and the boy standing in front of you.

"Say it again, but this time, look me in the eyes."

He didn’t move an inch. He knew you were lying; your posture gave you away—the way you avoided his gaze, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt and your accreditation pass…

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly. You had no choice… at least, not entirely.

Lifting your gaze, you met his blue eyes once again. Your lips parted slightly, ready to try and let out a lie convincing enough for both him and yourself.

But it was impossible. You couldn’t keep doing this, not when, deep down, and no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you felt something more than just pleasure for Lando Norris. The fear of rejection… it terrified you. The thought of him turning you away, of losing what you had with him, was unbearable.

"Lando…"

"You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready," he interrupted. "But please… stop pushing me away. Stop making this to us."

"It’s just…"

Nothing. No matter how much you tried to explain yourself, to find a logical enough reason for your sudden ghosting, you couldn’t.

"It’s just what, Y/N?" the Brit pressed. "Are you afraid to take a risk? To admit something because you’re scared of what might happen next? Because you don’t want to change the life you’ve had until now? Because you want to…?"

Lando forced himself to stop. He ran his hands through his hair, exasperated, turning his back to you. Guilt hit you immediately, your body trembling as the storm inside you began to break free. The driver rubbed his face, frustration radiating from him. This was exhausting him. You were exhausting him, to the point where he was starting to doubt his own feelings. Feelings that had started to grow the moment he realized it hurt when you ignored him, when you didn’t even send him a simple "Hey."

"I wish this were different, Y/N," he finally murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he turned to face you again. "I wish you didn’t make me feel like this. I wish I could just be content with what we had before and pretend none of this was happening…"

Your stomach twisted painfully. That was exactly what you had been thinking, the very reason you had pulled away from him and from whatever this was. You had ignored the fact that your feelings for Lando Norris had become something much stronger—maybe they had been there for far longer than you were willing to admit.

"Lando, listen" You tried to step closer, but he pulled away.

"No, Y/N, no," he said bitterly. "I tried convincing myself there was a reason you were ignoring me, acting like I was nothing to you, and then it hit me that I really want you as more than just someone to fuck."

"That…" you struggled to say, stepping toward him. This time, Lando didn’t stop you. The sincerity in your eyes, the way you looked both calm and nervous at the same time, made him realize he had to trust his instincts. And that was exactly what they were telling him.

"That’s what I wanted to tell you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, but Lando still heard you. "That’s why I kept you on standby for two weeks… I knew this would change everything, that you’d react badly, that we’d end up fighting, and I… I didn’t know how to face the possibility of you rejecting… this."

Lando stared at you in surprise before a sad smile crept onto his lips.

"Y/N… I’ve always been good at reading signals, but this has been driving me fucking crazy."

"And you think it’s not been making me feel the same?" you shot back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his. You didn’t resist, feeling how the both of you tensed at the contact. His lips inched toward yours, and when they finally met, the kiss was so fierce, so full of passion, that you ended up straddling him on the couch, moving against him, desperate to feel him. Even though you both knew there was still a race in two hours.

"I don’t want to touch you like this, Y/N," Norris whispered against your ear as you left small bites along his neck. "Y/N, stop it babe…"

"I don’t wanna be just another ex-love to you, Lando…" you murmured between kisses, still searching for friction between your bodies.

"And I don’t wanna miss you like your other lovers do, babe…"

This time, Lando gripped your waist firmly, flipping you onto the couch beneath him. His eyes never left yours as he carefully lifted your shirt and started massaging your breasts over your bra.

"I wanna be your end game, Y/N," Lando breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

Your breath came out in shallow pants, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge. Your hands gripped the unfastened gear around his waist, tugging lightly to keep him close.

"Then prove it."

"I have a race in two hours, love…" he murmured, his voice rough as he pressed his forehead to yours, his arousal growing.

"Then you better be quick," you teased, running your hands over his abs beneath the fireproof. "Especially if you don’t want Osc to hear us…"

"You’re gonna be the death of me one day, Y/N Piastri," Lando groaned as he trailed his fingers up your thighs, lowering himself before you. "Now, open your legs for me... You deserve a punishment after being such a bad, bad girl these past few days…"

[zabchan]

Big Moana 2 Spoilers ahead. Beyond the cut is the Samoan to english translation of maui's 2nd song for moana. (And the context it appears in)

ladies and gents of the moana fandom, thanks to the effort of samoan speaker @yuki685 on youtube, and my buddy @rykierykerman for hooking me up with the text and screenshots

what i'd like to discuss with yall today is not only sharing the translation for this song, but some of the character implication this has for maui, especially when you look at how his OG legends depict him.

LYRICS:

(Maui singing in Samoan):

Aue, aue, le faigata / Aue, aue, how difficult it is

Ua pa'ū fa'anoanoa / Falling into sadness

Aue, aue, fa'ataga ola / Aue, aue, please allow this life to continue

Lenā La'u talosaga / This is my prayer

---

(E manu malo) / May there be blessings

(Opataia Foa'i and Te Vaka singing in Tokelauan)

Tele tele mana e o te vavau (Vavau) / Great, great power of mana

Tau ke tu ke Manumalo / Fight, stand tall and be victorious

Ke Manumalo / Be victorious

---

(Grandma Tala)

Aue, aue, mana e o te vavau / Aue, aue, the power of mana

Tau ke tu ke Manumalo / Fight, stand tall and be victorious

Ke Manumalo / Be victorious

Ke Manumalo / Be victorious

Ke Manumalo / Be victorious

_____

The piece that made me flip my shit when I read it was the confirmation that this song is a PRAYER

when I first heard this song before the movie I assumed it was a funeral rite. a dirge, followed by a choral revival. during the film, when maui and then the ancestors sang it over moana's lifeless body and I had no subtitles to go on, I thought perhaps it was a spell, or maybe a lullaby from Maui's far distant past, then taken up by the ancestors as a comfort to the grieving Maui- then back to the spell theory as Moana awoke to the powerful music and emotion channeled by tala and her crew.

even my first google translate search of the lyrics missed the word prayer, which goes to show that AI translation is no match for native human insight.

Maui's song being a prayer is a friggin big deal.

Maui's stories span the width & breadth of the pacific islands, and each culture arising from those island tells variations on that legend. some emphasize his rebellious side, others his inventiveness, still others his drive, his humor, his ingenuity, his pride. But a common theme in most is that this man, this demigod- he does NOT get along with the majority of his ancestors or the gods. Even when he's not outright malevolent to them, he's tricking them or undermining their effort. He's usually stubbornly self-sufficient, if he gets help from someone divine, its usually because he tricked them into doing it. Maui does not beg, he does not plead. (at least, not with any lasting sincerity). he's a charmer, a schemer.

But here he is, his tattoos stripped away, his hook gone, his beloved Moana growing colder and colder- he's out of tricks. he's out of time, out of power. he's as helpless as the day he was thrown into the ocean to save her. rock bottom, figuratively and literally.

he does the absolute last thing he can, born of pure desperation. pure grief, pure need. He prays.

he prays not expecting an answer. he prays, knowing that the gods and all his family would relish the chance to tell him to fuck all the way off. he prays, even if to no one but moana's lifeless body.

i often joke that maui is bad at feelings. but really what i mean is that maui is bad at regulating his feelings. he represses them as hard as he can, denies them, wraps them in humor and when that fails he straight up tries to out run them. its a maladaptive coping skill he's had to pick up over his immortal 3000 year lifespan because otherwise, he'd be wallowing in endless grief as friend after friend either dies or lives long enough to become his antagonist. boy has some serious trauma built up and no good examples of how to handle it in a healthy way.

until moana.

moana provided an example of how to be vulnerable without being weak. a safe space where he could share his heart and be met with understanding and validation. we see him mature, even fractionally, and in the sequel he's not nearly so closed off. he worries openly about moana, admits his concerns about the mission, even returns moana's favor from the first film and gives her a sincere, supportive pep talk.

but all his progress in processing his emotions seems to backfire in this moment. the first time he'd opened his heart to a fragile mortal friend and here he is, exactly as he feared, devastated at her passing. He had invested real time and care and attachment into this human and he's utterly shattered that its all coming to an end so fast. that he'll never experience her voice or her smile or her wit ever again.

she's precious to him. he cant bear to lose her. his sadness in more crushing than the ocean he's surrounded by, denser than the rock he kneels upon. even if he got his powers back, even if he pulled up a million islands, if Moana isn't there to land on them...there's no point.

less than 10 minutes ago he was ready to die for her.

3 minutes ago in movie time, maui faced his own mortality. powers stripped bare, down to his last ounce of strength, frying in impossible lightning heat, he kept struggling. the first look he gives moana is fear, raw and unfamiliar on that handsome face. but in this penultimate moment, his eyes meet moana's. his grimace gentles, eyebrows lift, gaze softens into a regretful, heart melting smile. he finds small comfort in seeing moana for one last time, seeing her unhurt, hearing her call his name. the rope slips from his grip, and somewhere in the milliseconds between lightning flashes, he relaxes, relief skitters across his features. perhaps he thinks "ahh, at least she's ok." "at least she'll outlive me". perhaps he has a moment of acceptance for his fate, knowing she's proud of him, knowing he did his very best. maybe he thinks ,"this way ill be sure to meet her again, in the afterlife. its for the best."

or maybe, just maybe, he thinks

"see you out there, moana."

but now, 3 minutes later, its once again the worst case scenario. any relief he had in that last smile at her is obliterated in the wake of his grief. its once again the worst case scenario. he's not thinking now of the curse being broken or his hook or his tattoos. a world that she's not in, whether he be human or demigod, is not a world he can stand to exist in. he cant do this without her. he needs her.

so he digs deep inside himself, through the pain or losing her, through his own family trauma and antagonism towards authority, and pride, to beg, on his knees for help from a higher power. its unclear to us if he's intending to pray to the gods or to his own ancestors or both or neither. to anyone who can help. to anyone who will listen.

and its neither of those sources who answer, at least, not as directly as matai vasa or tala do. its moana's kin, her loved ones, (eventually including the ocean), who answer from the great beyond. he looks them in the eyes and they weep with him. they sing power over moana and the impossible happens.

(salacious handholding occurs)

the stars are put back in maui's eyes, the sun back into his sky.

does this mean...

yes.

his tattoos are still cooler than hers.

even when theyre mad at him. (same, little guy, same.)

bruh.

now kiss

[littlejuicebox]

You'll stay still, won't you, little love?

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: Sometime in the beginning of Act 3; you and Astarion are exploring intimacy/sex

Rating/Warnings: M+ / 18+ only please/ Smut with little to no plot / Light BDSM / Soft Dom Astarion vibes / Some mild in game spoilers / PiV / CW / fingering / teasing and overstim if you squint / not beta read or edited too much

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: I'm a degenerate, idk what else to tell you guys. I’m shocked this came out of my brain, but here we are. Enjoy or be totally flabbergasted or avoid it entirely I don’t know about you all but I simultaneously want to do all three. 💀

-----

You suspected Astarion enjoyed exploring intimacy with you, perhaps more than he thought he would. The first few weeks after his confession at Moonrise Towers resulted in a rather chaste arrangement between the two of you. Days were filled with stolen pecks and occasional hand holding between missions; nights were spent mostly cuddling half-naked or sometimes simply making out.

When a situation became particularly heated, he would always break away, panting. The flush on his face and the thrumming of his undead heart told you he enjoyed these moments, and his erection pressing into you always became quite the distraction. 

Gods, how badly you wanted more. But you had to force yourself to pull back and allow him to take the lead, never pushing further than he was willing to give. 

For a few weeks, a bit of grinding and caressing above the waist was as far as Astarion would advance. But shortly after leaving the Shadowlands, something within the silver-haired elf changed. He’d become quite intent on exploring your body almost every night, putting his masterful fingers and tongue to work, almost desperate to watch you come undone.

“You don’t have to, Astarion,” You pant one evening, after a few weeks of nearly daily interactions quite similar to this one. The rogue was working his nimble fingers inside the edge of your small clothes, aiming to delve into your already soaking folds. The bulge of his cock, barely covered by his own underwear, pressed against your rear as he slowly rocked his hips into you.

“I know, my love,” He murmurs, removing his mouth from where it had been tenderly suckling your neck. The vampire licks along the fresh love bite, eliciting a little whimper of pleasure from you. And then he smirks as his fingers find the already engorged bundle of nerves between your legs, causing you to instinctively buck toward him with a whine, “But I want to. I quite like the pretty little sounds you make for me, you know.” 

He continues his ministrations for a few moments, reveling in your desperate keens. Nothing else stroked Astarion’s ego quite like this. 

“Darling, I’d like to try something different tonight, if you don’t mind.” He purrs as his fingers change their rhythm from the languid circles over your clit to gentle, teasing strokes between your folds. The rogue’s hand dips just enough to tease your entrance with two digits before he retracts again, leaving you mewling in frustration.

You need more. He knows it. And he aimed to give you more tonight, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to toy with you for a moment or two.

“What is it, Astarion?” You ask breathlessly, as he pauses his movements entirely. You whine again and then turn your head to look at the rogue, where he is smirking down at you, clearly enjoying the desperation he’s elicited from his lover. You are caught between his cock and his hand, slowly rolling your hips back and forth, practically begging the silver-haired elf to fuck you with his fingers. 

“I want you to come on my cock tonight.” He responds, arching his eyebrow just slightly, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “If that’s what you want, my sweet.” 

Your eyes widen in shock, and you swear you feel yourself grow more slick at the mere suggestion. You lick your lips, attempting to moderate your own excitement, trying to avoid making him feel obligated in any way. Astarion’s fingers have resumed their teasing movements, and the newly found wetness causes the vampire to chuckle in delight. 

“Judging by the slickness of your perfect little cunt, that certainly is what you want. Am I correct, love?” He purrs into your ear, fangs grazing against your lobe as he rolls his growing erection toward your ass once again.

“Y-yes,” You gasp, and as soon as you do, Astarion rips your underwear from your body before tossing the ruined undergarment across the tent. 

“Then you will get what you want on one condition, darling.” He continues, and you feel the engorged head of his cock stroking between your folds from behind. The sensation makes you shiver in delight; you desire nothing more than to have him buried inside you.

“What is it?” You ask, instinctively rolling your hips back against him again, moaning when his length rubs against your clit.

Astarion grabs your hip firmly, digging his nails into the side of your ass and ceasing your movements entirely. You whine and then he’s practically laughing in your ear, you can feel how entertained he is by your predicament. He places a tender kiss on your neck before he purrs, “You aren’t allowed to move one bit, sweet girl, or else I will pull out and leave you with nothing.”

You groan in dismay at this stipulation, “Astarion! I don’t- I don’t know if I can hold still.” 

“Oh but my love, the choices are simple,” He continues, his voice playfully condescending as his other hand wanders up to lightly tease a nipple, ripping another little moan from you, “You can either be filled by my cock or by my fingers. So which will it be?”

You whine as the male elf uses one hand to stimulate your breast and the other to barely plunge into your sex again.

“Your cock!” You cry, unable to contain yourself any further, “I want your cock.”

Astarion chuckles, quite content with this response. He slides his erection between your folds again, using your arousal to lubricate his length, “And you’ll stay still, won’t you, little love?”

“Yes, I won’t move,” You agree, and this earns you a delighted groan from the vampire. He reveled in the power dynamics of your coupling, and your willingness to surrender control in the bedroom.

“Good girl,” He coos, and then he’s pressing himself into the entrance of your sex. You moan as the head of his rock-hard cock stretches your cunt; there is a bit of resistance at first; it’s been several weeks since more than two fingers have been inside you, after all.

He takes you inch by inch, slowly dragging himself along your velvet walls. Before long, Astarion’s length has filled you completely, and you’re basking in the sensation of being stretched by your lover.

His breath is ragged behind you as he struggles to remain in control, almost entirely overcome with the desire to simply have his way with you. But that’s not the game tonight, he reminds himself. 

In one swift motion he’s rolled you both so that you are straddled over him, your back pressed to his chest. He uses his knees to spread your legs wide, fully opening you up for his seasoned hands to explore. His long fingers drag over your stomach and then travel down between your legs, where they easily find that sensitive nub.

“How does it feel to be sitting atop my cock, darling?” Astarion asks as he slowly, teasingly strokes his slender fingers up and down on your drenched folds. You are seeping arousal at this point, coating him with his well-deserved reward. His cock throbs at the thought.

“Wonderful,” You respond, honestly but breathlessly as you struggle to keep yourself from rolling your hips at all. Your legs are positively shaking with the effort to exert such control, and the little tremors running along your spine are urging the vampire on.

Astarion guides your own hand up to your breasts, where he urges you to tease your own nipple. He palms the flesh of the other breast in one hand as he continues to drag his nimble fingers around your throbbing bud.

You are instinctively clenching around him now, your body desperate to milk every ounce of seed from the vampire. Astarion himself is shaking with the amount of restraint it’s taking him to not lift his hips and fuck up into your warmth. 

You cannot restrain yourself any longer, your hips buck and you’re instantly rewarded with the delicious sensation of Astarion’s length running against your walls. But then a sharp, stinging smack singes the side of your ass, and a shocked gasp escapes your lips.

“What did I say, darling? Be a good girl and hold still. Try that again and I will pull out.” The rogue warns while speeding up his efforts on your clit.

You sharply pinch your own nipple, trying desperately to keep yourself from moving any more. But gods, how badly you want to. You’re so close. Your walls are clenching tighter and tighter, and the sensation is causing Astarion to grunt in response. He’s trying just as desperately to hold back as you quiver around him, tempting him to do the exact opposite.

His hips buck just once before he regains control and stills himself, but gods the walls of your tight pussy wrapped around him felt divine. The sharp thrust made you moan loudly in delight, and your entire body was shivering from the self-control you were using to hold still. He felt you standing on the precipice of pleasure, so close to the edge. You just needed a little push to fall into a world of ecstasy, and that, he could provide.

“Let go, little love. Come for me,” He whispers hoarsely, and the command sends you tumbling over the edge. You feel the wave crashing over you, rippling through your sex and up to your spine. You clasp your hand over your mouth as you whine, signaling your release.

You are mid-orgasm when Astarion roughly grabs both sides of your hips and hisses, “Fuck it.” 

And then he’s thrusting upwards, repeatedly burying himself inside you, intent on fucking you through the second half of your orgasm. You cry out in pleasure as the vampire moans into the side of your neck, continuing to piston himself into you as he chases his own release.

Once again, his fingers find their way to your over-sensitive clit and he’s working at it frantically, in the practiced motion he knows to be your favorite. You keen and try to clamp your legs shut; the sensation is almost too much. But Astarion growls and forces your legs open with his knees as he quickly brings you to the edge of another orgasm.

Your lover is panting with exertion as he holds back his own release. Through gritted teeth he urges you on, using the hand not playing with your clit to grab your hip and slam you down to meet his thrusts.

“One more, darling. You can do one more, can’t you? Let go, I’ve got you.” He coaxes, his voice near breathless but filled with gravel.

“Oh, fuck!” Is all you can respond as the second orgasm rips through you, stronger than the first. You’re seeing stars as your pussy throbs around Astarion’s shaft, rewarding his efforts with a deliciously tight grip and another gush of your delectable juices. The high-pitched, uninhibited whine that escapes you while you’re drowning in ecstasy is music to the rogue’s ears.

As your greedy cunt clenches around him again during that second wave of pleasure, Astarion emits a strangled moan of his own.

He buries his face in your neck as he soon struggles to buck forward, shakily dragging his sensitive, swollen length in and out of your walls just a few more times before he buries himself balls-deep. Thick ropes of his spend shoot up into your warmth as he groans, consumed by his own euphoria behind you. His cock continues to pulse for a few moments longer, urged on by the relentless spasming of your sex around him.

Both of you are heaving and shaking slightly once he finally relaxes his legs. You’re still laying atop him as he slowly roams his hands over your body, idly stroking your curves in soft, soothing motions.

“I thought you said we couldn’t move,” You finally say, voice completely hoarse from the cries of ecstasy you uttered moments ago.

“I said you couldn’t move, darling. I didn’t say anything about me.” The vampire responds with a self-satisfied smirk as he playfully nips at your earlobe, “Are you truly complaining that I did all the work?”

“No,” You respond, finally pulling yourself off of the vampire, releasing the slick combination of your respective arousals as it drips between the two of you. “But at some point I’d like it to be me making all that effort to bring pleasure to you.” 

He pulls you down beside him with a little hum. You pull the blanket over the two of you. No other words are exchanged as you drift to sleep, thoroughly exhausted by the events of the day and this satisfying but unexpected evening. Astarion watches you sleep, and for the first time he allows himself to acknowledge that he might also like to let you have a bit of control in the bedroom… perhaps next time.

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

His head tilts as he watches me. "As I recall, you didn't exactly like me the first time—"

"Do not finish that sentence." I jab my finger in his direction.

"On the other hand, I was already in love with you." My posture softens. That right there is why I'm hopelessly in love with him. Because no one else gets to see him like this. Just me.

"Hardly seems fair, now that I think about it." He drums his fingers on the table. "And I wanted you too badly to care that you didn't feel the same way about me, not that l'd given you any reason to."

[acourtofquestions]

Aelin.

He had no voice here, but he spoke her name. Threw it across the gulf between them.

Slowly, she turned to him.

It was her face—or it would be in a few years. When she Settled.

But it wasn't the slightly older features that knocked the breath from him.

It was the hand on her rounded belly.

She stared toward him, hair still flowing.

Behind her, four small figures emerged.

Rowan fell to his knees.

The tallest: a girl with golden hair and pine-green eyes, solemn-faced and as proud as her mother. The boy beside her, nearly her height, smiled at him, warm and bright, his Ashryver eyes near-glowing beneath his cap of silver hair.

The boy next to him, silver-haired and green-eyed, might as well have been Rowan's twin.

And the smallest girl, clinging to her mother's legs ... A fine-boned, silver-haired child, little more than a babe, her blue eyes harking back to a lineage he did not know.

Children. His children. Their children.

With another mere weeks from being born.

His family.

The family he might have, the future he might have. The most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Aelin.

[munnmolads]

What Rafayel hid in Chapter 2 and what does it mean? Analysis & Theory

Someone pointed out in Reddit that Rafayel hid something from MC during chapter 2 when he was trying to look for his "collection log".

Spoilers for the Chapter 2, brief mention to chapter 8, Addictive Pain anecdote and some later mentions about Ebb and Flow and other memories.

The original post in Reddit, thank you OP for pointing this out!

During chapter 2, MC investigates Rafayel's involvement in Raymond's behavior and deducts that his paints might have part in his erradic mental state. When Rafayel offers to show his collection log, he seems to notice something, hide it with his body bit more, glance at MC and show the log in his hands.

Why did he do that?

His body language screams "OH SHI-" when he notices the lime green note. It's just a note, and it's not like MC would be able to read it from where she is standing. I think it is a small hint towards how Rafayel has planned the entire meeting with MC beforehand - which in my mind, this chapter does allude to many times.

I already wrote a theory on their "first meeting" about how Rafayel didn't intend taking Reddie home. I didn't mention explicitly that I believe that he has planned all their meetings in the main story quite meticulously, aside a few details that don't go his way - for example with Reddie.

I think this note was supposed to make "the collection log" easily findable for Rafayel, so he can play along in his plan. He just didn't account for MC being so close, and possibly seeing the note herself, so he panicked to cover it up. Then he realised MC probably won't even notice the note, but tries to tuck it subtly out of view.

Did he really plan all this?

I really want to point out all the ways how Rafayel is manouvering MC along his plans during the main story so far, but I'll focus on this particular chapter for now. He is really good at manipulation - but in this chapter and many other moments, his facial expressions do reveal a lot. Unfrotunately Tumblr lets me post only one video per post, but if you go look the main story, you will be able to notice these things from these few chapters.

At first, he looks bit stern, like he is ready to tell someone off from barging in the studio without a call. After once he realises it's MC, he smiles quite widely considering someone came to his home uninvited. Not to mention that I don't believe a second him knocking the ladder was an accident...

Rafayel looks surprisingly happy about the fact that Thomas let MC have the coral stones from his office. I don't know if Thomas is in with his plans or not, but for now for the sake of not going into another rabbit hole, I'll just say it's possible, but probably not.

If you have read Addictive Pain anecdote, you know that Rafayel used his blood to experiment on paint pigments to get some kind of desired effect from them. The coral stones seem to be reacting to his blood, and he's smirking here because he's demonstrating to MC that he has valuable connections in this case. He already knew the effect his blood would have with the coral stone.

After the battle, before he makes the offer to MC to be his bodyguard, he smirks after MC agrees to listen what he has to say.

Something I want to point out too - notice the "collection log" he had? It's actually an invite to the nest. He doesn't have an actual collection log. Technically he is not lying when he said "I'll happily give you what I have in my hand right now" - he did give an invite to the nest for MC in chapter 8. He just showed it way before hand the actual Hunting Day took place.

One last detail about how he managed to play MC like a fiddle during this chapter - he smirks in the end once he says "the door's over there". He's very pleased with himself. He managed to lead MC to believe that the only way to continue this investigation is to play along with his demands and become his bodyguard.

What a smug b....

... He is a siren, after all.

A lot of his memories and other moments highlight how masterfully he manages to make MC believe she is in control, but eventually he flips it completely around. During Ebb and Flow, after MC inspects his scales, it seems like she is in top of things with her little "You have to call me master" play - but then Rafayel turns it completely around, making her fall into his trap and takes control of the situation. In Gem affection, he lets MC to play around with him until he flips her over. This same theme repeats in several memories like Tipsy Invitation, Omnipotent Perception and Extreme Dose as well.

This exact story moment is probably the first moment we see this in action in a more convoluded way - he peaks her curiousity, controls the conversation and makes MC feel like she doesn't have any other option than play along with his game. It's also visible in the main story later, if I manage to make posts of the other chapters as well.

What if the note was something else?

Another thing that I'm thinking about is that it could be hint that the book the note is sticked to is some kind of marker for his notes about her from the times when he stalked her. I don't really have much to go on with that, but it's a possibility. All we can really deduct from how he reacted is that he probably didn't want MC to see whatever he was hiding.

On a more humorous note, it also could be the sketchbook every artist has and wants no one to see... Not that I have a such sketchbook or would know anything about that *cough cough*

[tryingonametaphor]

Why Will Byers?

An analysis and theory on why Henry/Vecna targeted Will first in season 1 and his plans for Will in season 5

‼️Contains The First Shadow (TFS) spoilers so please proceed with caution.‼️

This is going to be a little long but I’ve tried to give as much context as I can without actually being able to show snippets from the stage play. This is my interpretation of everything that went down as a member of the audience and not as someone who has read up any theories about TFS before. To understand why Henry took Will first in 1983, we have to start with -

Henry and Joyce

From all the times I’ve watched TFS, the one thing that has stuck with me is the final conversation Henry has with Joyce. It’s just before his last confrontation with Patty Newby and before he joins Brenner for good. Joyce is the last person (who doesn’t know about Henry’s powers) that he canonically talks to.

Throughout the entire play Joyce, Hopper, and Bob are investigating the animals dying at the hands of Henry and come to the conclusion that Victor Creel has been the one doing the killing. They get so close to solving the case. In her last conversation with Henry, Joyce tries to comfort him by saying that Victor will pay for his crimes - which makes Henry laugh because she’s so close yet so far from the truth. He gets a little frustrated and says something along the lines of “You don’t get it. But someday you will.” (edit 28/9: the exact dialogue is [Henry: you’re too nice. that is how they’ll get you. you have to learn to do anything you can to protect the ones you love] [Joyce: I don’t understand.] [Henry: You will.]) The next time we see Henry make a reappearance in Joyce’s life is during -

The Vanishing of Will Byers

Will is taken into the Upside Down (UD) by Henry. It’s not even a question anymore. All of the context clues from 1x1 lead us to believe that Will’s kidnapping was not by a demogorgon. Will - a 12 year old - miraculously survives a week in the upside down with no food or water. Will is even around the demogorgon a few times in the Upside Down. (Joyce communicating with Will through the lights and then the demogorgon coming after her immediately).

Barb dies the night she is taken but Will stays alive and also somehow manages to talk to Joyce through the wall. Joyce is led exactly to where Will was held at the end of s1 and he makes it out alive. It’s almost as if Henry knew all along that Joyce was the most capable of never giving up on finding her son. Like Henry took Will Byers because he was Joyce’s son. And like he was giving her just enough to know that Will was alive. Even when Joyce and Hopper find him at the end in a state of near death, he’s not injured by a creature. He was being prepared for the next stage of Vecna’s plan -

The Possession of Will Byers

The origins of Henry’s powers happen as such - As a kid, he is transported into the UD (originally coined Dimension X by the government) for a few hours because he touched something he wasn’t meant to touch. During his time in there, he came in contact with the Mind Flayer (MF). According to TFS this is the point in his life when he started getting “corrupted”. Brenner’s dad - who was one of the first people to enter dimension X - had mutated blood after but no powers. Henry was the first person to come in contact with the MF and it’s highly likely he got his powers because of this (This would also track considering how most of the party has been in the UD now but show no signs of having powers). The MF controls Henry for the rest of TFS and Henry grows more power hungry the more he kills.

In S2, Henry presumably sends the MF after Will - who has now had a year to heal from the events of 1983. Will is the only other person in all of ST to have had direct contact with the MF and survived it. Henry didn’t hesitate to kill Billy in S3, but he always gives everyone just enough to keep Will safe. Will himself tells Owens in S2 that the MF wants to kill everyone except him. Will once again survives the entire ordeal and is given a “break” for the next 2 seasons. Except I don’t believe he’s been just given a break. I think Will is -

Henry’s Sleeper Agent.

Ready to awaken in s5. I undoubtedly think that Will is going to have powers. And I don’t think they’re going to be the same as Henry and El. El and the other lab kids get their powers directly from Henry. Will’s powers will be directly from the MF like Henry. I believe this has been Henry’s plan all along and it’s further affirmed by what he tells Will in the recent VR game. That Will will be the key to Henry being able to infiltrate his friends’ minds. Jamie Campbell-Bower also mentioned during the S4 press that to get in character, he set up a display with all of Henry’s victims and targets’ faces on his wall(?), and Will was in the center.

Henry is going to use his connection with Will sneakily and midway through S5 he’s going to awaken Will’s powers (maybe in ep4 - which is said to be titled ‘Sorcerer’ and has young Will in it). Henry is going to try and manipulate his way into making an ally out of Will, and it’s not going to work because -

Will is the Perfect Character Foil.

Will is everything Henry could have been if he had a better support system. He is the perfect character foil. Unlike Henry, Will has a mother who loves him unconditionally and more importantly, believes him. Unlike Henry, the person who Will loves the most (the Patty to Will’s Henry: Mike) is going to love him back and stay by his side all season. No one is going to force them to be apart the way Henry was told to stay away from Patty. Will is not going to be easily swayed even though Henry has spent years crafting him into the perfect soldier. Sure, Henry has seen him heartbroken and sad, but that comes nowhere near to the amount of love and support Will is going to get from his people next season. And they’re going to quite literally defeat Vecna with the power of love and friendship. After that, Will Byers is getting the happy ending that Henry could have gotten.

[nyxanarchy]

SOTR SPOILERS

anyway. Back to my obsession.

-Thinking about Tam Amber and Carmine Clerk "not again". All the covey singers are dead (THEIR SONGBIRDS). Maude Ivory, Lucy Gray, Lenore Dove. All of them are dead, and the coveys don't sing anymore. That is why Katniss knows only two of their song. The only survivors are musicians (and probably just the men. I feel like this has to mean something, but maybe I'm just crazy.)

-Thinking about Clerk Carmine, that we know is the fiddler in the Odair's wedding, playing alone. (thinking also about Haymitch seeing him play. Did he talk to him? Did they ever talk about Lenore Dove? Did Carmine Clerk forgive him? Maybe he never blamed him at all.)

-I wonder if at the end of the war Carmine Clerk was able to talk with others coveys, maybe from other districts (because they were travelers, maybe they were separated before the war)

-Barb Azure. We don't know anything about her. She vanished from the narrative. Is she Burdock's mother? That would explain his connection to Lenore Dove and why Burdock knows the covey's song (ofc he could also have learned it from Lenore Dove, even tho I would argue it's weird that Katniss seems to have Maude Ivory's exact skill for remembering music). But what happened to her? She is not dead, because if she was, she would have been probably buried next to the other girls. (MY SHAYLAS) [Also I feel like it's significant that the singers are the first to die.] If she is Burdock's mother I wonder what happened to the girl she was seeing. Was she forced to marry, to keep her secret? Or maybe she was bi and she fell in love with a man? But then why doesn't Burdock have a covey name? (even tho it's not lost on me the fact that Everdeen is really similar to Evergreen) Maybe because she thought it was starting to be dangerous? I also read a theory that Burdock is the niece of her girlfriend. That would make her his aunt, and would explain why he hasn't a covey name. I need more lore, I'm going insane.

-Snow is definitely the culprit of their music getting banned. He really wanted to destroy them, all because of Lucy Gray. She really did a number on him, he is still obsessed after all this time. Pathetic little man.

-Also can we talk about the fact that in 40 years he was able to make Panem homophobic again?

-Beete wife and second son?? They are dead right? I don't remember them, I will reread the series soon, but I feel like I would remember if they were alive. So Snow kept his wife and his second son alive, to keep him doing what he wanted, just to kill them after some time?

-Wyatt makes my heart bleed. I love him so much, every time he talks I feel like I'm gonna cry. Imagine knowing your father will accept bets on you. Also during the reaping some of his family said something along the lines of "you brought him bad luck" (I read it in Italian so I don't know the exact sentence) Does that mean someone already bet he was going to be reaped? That honestly kills me.

-I also kinda like WyattxMaysilee. I feel like I'm alone in this. But also I think she could also be a lipstick lesbian. I'm conflicted. This is not really important, just some thoughts.

-Thinking about all the tries it must have taken the rebels to finally win. How many mockinjays died in their arenas, because it was just not the right time? They tried, but they couldn't. And no one knows what happened. I hope that in the future schools of Panem they will talk about all of them.

-The boy who created sparks waiting for the girl on fire. Inconsolable.

-Please Suzanne give us Annie's game because after this book I believe wholeheartedly that she tried to destroy her arena and went mad because they tortured her.

-Haymitch having to hit Asterid with a stone. UGH. This book makes me sick to my stomach to a concerning degree.

-Also haymitch being closed in a bird cage?????? This will haunt me.

-Merrilee. In the original series she is always in bed. She has the drugs to sleep. I feel like her illness is just depression. I always thought about it but I think this is confirmation.

[alicesivory]

I was all over her.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female! reader

warnings: angst, sad Aemond, minor spoilers from hotd s2 ep 2, 3, and 4, not much smut but MDNI!!

WC: 4517

summary: when the world turned their back on him, she didn’t.

Don't know what I wanted, I have a memory

Throughout Aemond’s life, he remembers how much he wanted to be seen. 

By his father,

by his mother,

by his brother,

by the whole world.

He wasn’t the heir to the throne, he didn’t have a dragon like his brothers or sister. He was weak and nothing. He spend his days being teased and bullied relentlessly by his brother and nephews. They had venomous tongues and big sharp teeth. He hated the way he is.

But when the world turned their back on him, one person remained. 

She was a Tyrell, born not long after his mother gave birth to his youngest brother Daeron. His grandsire and mother are close to her parents since the Tyrells and Hightowers are two houses that are closely related. 

When he first met her back in oldtown, he saw her as a meek and shy young girl. He hated it. Because it reminded him of himself. But his hatred grew when he saw how well she gets along with Aegon, Daeron, even Helaena. Maybe he doesn’t hate her, maybe he just hates how he’s nothing like her. 

Likeable. 

Then it all changed in one summer evening. 

He was reading at the great library of oldtown, away from the world as he read about his great ancestors of old valyria and dragons. Dragons he longed to have. Like Aegon with sunfyre, Helaena with Dreamfyre, even Daeron with Tessarion. Then he heard a thud. 

Looking back from his seat, he saw no one was in the empty library but him. 

When he returned to his book, he heard another thud. 

Shutting the book with frustration, he began to look for the source of the sound that disturbed his peace. Walking deeper between old tall shelves, he took a turn to the left and saw…her.

Younger and smaller than him, but the Tyrell girl grunts as she climbs the bookshelf. Strong but mighty. The way her silly tongue sticks out as she’s so persistent to reach a book at the tallest shelf. He cleared his throat as he looked down, noticing many books had been scattered around the floor for her to climb.

She turned to him with a surprise stare.

“Prince Aemond!” 

As a child, she squeaks like a squirrel

Aemond thought to himself.

“What are you doing up there?” Aemond asks curiously. “I..I’ve been trying to reach that book!” She says as she still tries to reach the book at the highest shelf. 

“You will hurt yourself,” Young Aemond sighs. 

“Can you help me, my prince?” she asks as she jumps down from the shelf. 

“No-“

“Please!”

“Absolutely not-“

“You’re far much taller than me!” She says pointing at his height. 

Even as children, he has always been taller than her. 

Aemond sighs, knowing what he’s about to do. 

And he did it. 

Not for his own pride, but for her.

“Oh thank you!” She thanked him with a smile when he easily reached and took the book she’s looking for. The girl hugged the huge book in her arms. “It wasn’t a big deal, whatever,” Aemond says, acting nonchalant while he dusts off his clothes. “It is though, I wouldn’t have been able to reach that book if you weren’t here!” She says with a bright smile.

Heat rose up to his cheeks. No one ever ‘relied’ on him before. 

“Biarvose,” he muttered under his breath, not wanting her to know. But she heard him and tilted her head with curiosity. “Are you speaking high valyrian? It sounds lovely! Can you teach me?!” She asks cheerfully.

“What, no I’m not-“

“Please! I want to at least learn something new!” The girl says excitedly. Before he could answer, she grabbed his arm and dragged him to their seats in front of the fireplace. “I’m a fast learner, I promise!” She says as she sits down beside him with a smile.

Can’t believe he’s doing this.

But…it felt nice. The way she wanted him to teach her. She could’ve asked Aegon or Daeron…yet she chose him. 

“It’s…”

He mentioned her name. He liked how her name rolled off his tongue.

“…Tyrell, right?”

She nods. 

And since that day, and for the whole summer he taught her high valyrian in the library. Word by word, he was patient to teach her. He hates to admit it but she actually was a fast learner. 

She was his first true friend.

She was the first person who makes him feel like he has a purpose in life. 

Until they took his eye.

Just a year after he knew her, by the time he turned 10 he had claimed Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in Westeros. But for a price, which was his eye.

He became the same boy who hated the world. 

Never came back to oldtown or any places except the red keep. Afraid what the world might say about him. How ugly he looked with his scar, one of his eye missing, but most of all he was afraid of what SHE might say about him. Afraid of rejection, how she’ll stop spending time with him.

His thoughts were interrupted when his mother came inside his chambers. Bringing in the young Tyrell. 

“Aemond, she’s here to see you,” Alicent says, in a slight pleading tone. For he has shut himself out from the world when the maester stitched him. It hurts and it will hurt even more if he knew that all that people will see in him was a monster. 

“Go away,” he says coldly, his chair facing away from the door.

“Are you feeling any better?” Her sweet gentle voice asks as Alicent has her arm around the little girl.

Sometimes he just wants to run and hug her for comfort. For she was his escape from this cruel world. Her optimism makes him alive. He didn’t want to lose that.

“I said go away,” his hands gripped the arms of the chair.

“I brought you-,”

“I SAID GO AWAY!” He shrieks, stepping down from his chair and throwing his cup at her direction as he turns around, accidentally showing her his scar. His true self.

Alicent quickly tried to shield the young girl as she screamed. Shielding her from him.

From him.

“Aemond!” Alicent scolded her son. 

Yet his mother’s scolding didn’t matter to him. He saw his friend’s…his only friend terrified expression. He scared her. He hurt her. Just like how the world hurt him.

He took a step back. 

“I…I’m sorry,” he says lowly before returning to his chair.

He wanted to cry. But it hurts if he does.

Then he heard slow and tiny footsteps.

And she…she placed a toy dragon at the table. As her hands tremble. 

“I carved Vhagar for you…father taught me how to carve.”

The young girl says bravely. Yet Aemond wasn’t brave enough to meet her eyes. Not after he hurt her. So he says nothing. 

“Get well soon, my prince,” she curtsied and hurriedly returned to the Queen. Leaving him alone in his cold and empty room. Only the sound of crackling fire filled the room. Aemond loved silence but this time…he hated it. 

So he reached out, taking the wooden figure of his dragon into his hands. And by the time Queen Alicent returned to his chambers, she found her son asleep in his chair.

Holding the little dragon in his hands, close to his chest.

-

Back at that party, I was all over her

The death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon was at his fault and he couldn’t deny it any more. 

Kinslayer. Thats what they call him now.

His betrothal to one of Borris Baratheon’s daughter came to an end once Vhagar snapped her sharp teeth onto Vermax’s body. No one wanted to marry a Kinslayer.

A crippled and a kinslayer. 

What a fucking combo. 

But he firmly believed that everything that has happened to him was meant to be. Because if it weren’t for it, he wouldn’t be shaped as he is now. And he has to be better. Every sword training, every lessons, and at every war..he must be the best.

But that little boy inside of him still clings onto him till this very day.

Especially when his mother mentioned her name.

For he shall now marry her to strengthen the allieagance between their house and the Tyrells. They needed this. And he shall do it for them. 

He convinced himself it wasn’t personal and he doesn’t wish to meet her and just arrange the marriage ceremony. Secretly afraid for what she’ll think of him now.

A kinslayer, a cripple…a monster.

For they have not met again since that very night in his chambers. 

And when he saw her gain at the grand sept for their wedding, may the gods help him. 

She has grown into a woman. Not a young child anymore. 

She smiled to her family, giving them a nervous thin smile. 

Does he makes her nervous?

Does he scare her?

The ceremony was done in the sept. Not a grand wedding like any royal ceremony would be for they are at war and it’s ignorant if they host a grand wedding in the midst at war.

He couldn’t help but to stare how different she is now. How reserved and mature her body language is as she gracefully walks around with her long dress dragging through the cold stones of the sept. She was…beautiful.

“My prince,” she says as she curtsied. Even her voice has changed. Now it felt as if honey were dripping down her tongue.

“My Lady,” he greets back stoically. Not wanting her or anyone to read his mind. 

“How are you, my prince?” she whispers as the ceremony begins. Still making small talk as always, yet he yearns for it. He’s deeply grateful that she still wants to talk to him. Yet it has been awhile since he properly talked to her, it made him nervous. “I am well,” he whispers back. His healthy eye looked into hers as they were pronounced husband and wife. He finds nothing but nostalgia in her eyes. She is just how he remembered her.

-

We didn't make out or do anything

I just remember I was lonely

He didn’t like the idea of a bedding ceremony.

Where people would see him…and her.

It’s unnatural…and unfitting. 

So he ordered for the bedding ceremony not to be done. But he promised that he shall take her that night and they can inspect the bedsheets in the morning.

When he stepped into her chambers, he found her anxiously standing beside the bed. A weird tense atmosphere swept the room. 

“I..,” she wants to speak.

“I would like to say thank you for…not letting the bedding ceremony to happen-“

What is this? Does she not want everyone to see us together?

His anxious mind and overthinking took power over him.

“Who said it was done for you?” He snapped at her as he closed the door. 

Shit. He did it again.

And she was quiet once more.

I scared her again.

“But…still…I still want to thank you…my pr-“

“Husband,” he sternly says walking past her.

“Pardon?” 

He took a jug filled with wine and poured it onto his empty cup. He at least needed a cup of wine if he wanted to bed her right.

“I am your husband now, am I not?” He asks, not looking at her. 

“Oh yes…husband,” she says with a nod, fiddling her skirt.

Aemond turned around and took off his attire and was left with his tunic, yet she just stood there beside the bed, not being able to move. 

She was nervous.

He looked at her, unsure what he should do. Should he comfort her? Should he take her quickly so they didn’t have to endure this pain together? No- no no no he didn’t want to hurt her.

Then he saw her slowly opening her nightgown. Her hands trembling like when he hurt her as a child. She slips her nightgown over his chest-.

It’s been awhile since he saw a woman’s body.

The last time was…..was…

“Stop.”

She curiously looked up to him, only halfway through from being naked. “I-is there something wrong?-.”

“No,” he quickly answered, looking down with shame.

Yes. There is something wrong.

When Aegon took him to that brothel…at the age of 13..he…he couldn’t- it scarred him. 

She’s not like them. She’s not like that whore.

It’s only her, it’s just her!

His mind battling inside his head as he stood at the other side of the bed. He blamed Aegon for ruining something that should be meaningful for a man and woman. Ruining something that should’ve been meaningful for him and her. He blamed the brothel, he blamed his brother, and foremost he blamed himself. 

He can’t bed her.

Not like this.

“We must…do our duty,” he says, trying to mask his insecurity and vulnerability in front of her. Trying to mask the same 13 year old boy who was terrified when he stepped into the brothel for the first time. 

He didn’t dare to look up. He didn’t want to see her being disgusted by hi-

“Yet you don’t want to,” her voice was gentle and kind. Not a hint of mockery at sight. 

“I-“

“I don’t want to do this either.”

He looks up, finding her shielding her chest with her nightgown. That sight aroused him terribly. He wanted to touch her, wanted to make her happy and satisfied. He wanted to make her smile. Yet he saw the same little girl that admired him as a child. He didn’t want to fuck her, he wanted to make love with her. 

But he didn’t know how to.

So he just…stood there. The two of them stood there and said nothing. 

Just as he thought all hope was lost, she puts on her nightgown and stepped away from the bed. 

She’s leaving.

She’s disgusted by me.

“What are you-.”

She took a butter knife and roughly slits her palm, letting blood drip to the bed. 

He stared at her.

“There. They’ll think I lost my maidenhead,” she says with a little smile plastered on her face. “No one will know.”

His eye drifts into her still bleeding palm. He groaned walking towards her, ripping a cloth and wrapped her bleeding palm with it. “Mittys,” he muttered under his breath. She chuckles, “You haven’t taught me that word yet.” 

And for the first time in a lifetime, a genuine amused smirk was plastered across his face. “Stay still,” he ordered, tightening the cloth on her palm. 

When he was done, she gazed up at him for a moment. “How long has it been?” She suddenly asked. “I have not been counting,” Aemond replied, still holding her scarred hand. She slowly then pulled him to bed, sitting down. “You must stay for awhile. Or else they’d be suspicious.” 

Gods be good.

She was too kind for him. 

And he joined her, laying on the bed side by side. He wonders if she’s still afraid of him as their hands brushed against each other. He never realized how much he craved for her touch. Wondering what it feels like to be held by her. Would she be gentle? Or would she push him away? 

“Usōven,” he muttered, looking at her. Apologizing for that night.

She turned her head to look at him. And smiled.

“I forgive you.”

-

I guess I am always, it's not a problem

It's just something, I got used to it

It got worse.

His yearning for her.

He was afraid to touch her, for he did not want to touch her like a whore. She was his equal. He didn’t want to hurt her.

So he lets all of his frustration to Madame Sylvie. He was attached to her even before his wife returned to his life, yet her presence made him worse. With the war…and his guilt for the death of Lucerys…and now the presence of her…it frustrates him. Every single time he fucks that whore, he thinks of her. He imagined that it was her in bed.

Imagined that it was her holding him.

At Least he could keep her safe from him.

He didn’t mean for it to happen. He never meant for it to happen in the first place.

But when he returned from his sins back to his sacred sanctuary, he finds nothing but horror in the keep.

They murdered his nephew. 

Prince Jaehaerys. 

A son for a son.

It was his fault his nephews were dead. 

It was supposed to be him who’s dead. Whose head should be beheaded. Not his nephew. Not anyone. 

After inspecting his chambers, he rushed to his wife’s room. Finding her in bed, holding Helaena and Jaehaera as the three girls cried. He saw how terrified the three of them were, but he noticed how she cradled his sister and his niece. Whispering nothing but reassurance to them. “It’s okay, they’re gone now…you’re both safe,” he heard her. She has always taken care of Helaena and the kids well. 

Noticing his presence, his wife looked up, finding him unable to move from the doorway. She lets go of her grieving sister in law and niece as she walks to him. Her eyes were teary and red. 

Oh how he hates to see her cry.

He looks down at her, cupping her cheek with one hand.

“Where were you?” Her question rang through his ear as her voice cracked on the last word she spoke. Guilt consumed him- no. Guilt starts to eat him slowly but surely. Eating him alive as her wife, her sister, his niece, and his brother grieve for the death of the young innocent prince. He couldn’t say a word, instead hugging his wife tight as she cried into his chest. Sobbing loudly as the castle was filled with darkness. Not a light of hope in sight.

“No one will hurt you. I swear it to you. I’m here..i’m here,” he whispers to his wife as she cried.

He might’ve gotten used to the pain people put on him, but he realized that he would never ever get used to seeing her cry. 

He would never let anyone hurt her.

He would protect her from the cruel world.

Even from himself.

-

Every stranger makes me feel safer

And every person seems more beautiful

“I do regret that business with Luke, I lost my temper that day. I am sorry for it.”

“They used to tease me, y’know? Because I was different.”

He knew he should be seeking comfort from his wife, but he couldn’t. As much as she makes him feel like him…he was still afraid his wife would see right through him. To judge him. So he couldn’t. Not to her. 

He feels safer in the arms of a whore, who has no power over him. While his wife, she had all the power to control him if she could. 

Nights went on and he sneaked out secretly. And no one knew. He was safe. His secret was safe.

Until Aegon…had to ruin everything like he always did.

Humiliating him was always his brother’s hobby.

Blinded with anger, he stomps and storms back to the keep. Wanting his brother and the world to disappear. He wanted to be alone. He hated everything. Yet he didn’t realize that a certain someone was still awake.

Closing Helaena’s bedroom door, lady Tyrell exits the queen’s bedroom for Helaena finds comfort from her sister in law. Just as she wanted to call it a night, she’s standing face to face with no other than her husband.

“Aemond,” she says in surprise.

He froze. He didn’t know what to say. All the rage and humiliation were gone in an instant. His face was covered with guilt and fear. “Wife,” he answered with a hint of anxiety dripping down his tongue.

“Where have you been?” She chuckled, thinking that he was just out for a walk or something. In her mind, she would never ever even think that Aemond would be doing things like that behind her back. 

Aemond stiffened, unable to answer. Before his brother always had to ruin the show.

“Look who it is!” Aegon says as his kingsguard follows behind him. “Your husband here…well, how do I say it..ah yes, was in the whore house, dear sister,” Aegon cackles, nudging Aemond’s arm before earning a hard punch from Aemond. 

He saw red. He saw red in his eyes. He hated his brother. He hates him. He should’ve shut up. He never should’ve brought him to that place in the first place, he should’ve never returned to that place!-

“What..?” His wife’s voice slightly trembled.

Even when Aegon was in pain on the ground, he cackled. Obviously still drunk. “You heard me! He was fucking that whore like a hound!” Aegon continues to say and starts to make howling sounds. 

Aemond saw how she started to grip her nightgown, her hands trembling. Her eyes were teary, not wanting to cry.

He disappointed her.

Disappointing the only person who has faith in him.

“I…I must go…sleep well your grace and….husband,” she says nervously as she curtsied at the two brothers before walking away. 

He watched her walk away. Not daring to chase after her or call out her name. He wouldn’t dare, for he knew he disappointed her deeply. He hurt her again. Like how he did as a child. And now he’s sure she won't come back to him. This was the start of him losing her.

-

She hasn't talked to him since then. What used to be civil and peaceful. Her small talks and smiles weren’t present at his presence. She avoided him at all times. To the point where enough was enough. He couldn’t live like this. He needed her to talk to him. He doesn’t want his marriage to end like his father and his mother. He cares for her…he…he…he loves her.

And when he blinks, he finds himself standing in front of her chamber doors one morning. 

He knocked gently.

“Come in,” he heard her sweet voice that he missed from her room. 

When he enters, he received her sad and surprised expression.

“Husband,” she greeted stoically, looking away.

He then realized how her closet was wide open and empty. Her clothes scattered on the bed as he saw her stuffing her dresses onto her..

“What’s this?!” He protested.

“Mother said it’s not safe for me to be in kings landing. War is coming and…I must go home,” she says in a sad tone.

His heart sank deep hearing her words.

She’s leaving.

She’s leaving him.

“You are not going anywhere,” he insisted, roughly taking dresses out of her hands. 

“Aemond-“

“Not on my sight!-“

“But Aemond-!”

“You are safe here! With me! With Vhagar!” He exclaims roughly, taking out of her dresses from her trunk. 

“Aemond, stop it!”

Yet Aemond does not answer. 

“I will keep you safe. Vhagar will keep you safe, no one will never hurt you-“

“But you did!”

Silence.

Gods, he hated the silence between them.

“You don’t understand,” he grunts as he grips the bedsheets. “How can I understand if you never let me in?!” She protested, tears streaming down from her eyes. He doesn’t even want to look at her. He didn’t want to see her cry.

“See? You wouldn’t even look at me! You wouldn’t touch me, you wouldn’t kiss me, you…,” she points out. 

Aemond sighs in defeat. 

It was all his fault.

But then he roughly took off his eyepatch, towering over her, gripping her wrist as he showed his sapphire eye to her. “And would you? Would you touch this monster, hm? Kiss this husband of yours who’s the reason why two innocent boys are killed? The reason why this war STARTED IN THE FIRST PLACE?!” 

She flinched.

She closed her eyes, scared…waiting for him to do something to her.

It broke him. 

“I…I..forgive me, I..,” Aemond lowers down his voice and hand, releasing her. Now guilt and shame has finally eaten him whole. He hurt her. Again and again. She deserved better. 

Then came a knock on the door.

“Sorry for interrupting, my prince but..the council awaits your presence,” A guard said to him.

“I’ll be there.”

-

Aemond took his time and walked out of her chambers with her as her trunks were carried out from her room. It was present how there’s a gap between them. He wanted to hold her hand terribly, but he couldn’t. Not after what he did to her.

He felt how people were looking. Eyes on them as they walked through the halls of the red keep. He tried one more time to reach his pinky finger to hers but when they touched, she pulled her hand away to rub her other arm. 

He lost her.

He probably never had her in the first place.

When they reached her carriage, he didn’t want to tear his eyes from her. 

“I would, y’know?” She suddenly says with her gentle voice.

“Pardon?”

“I would…kiss and touch you,��� she repeats. “The monster you said of…is still my husband. You’re still my husband,” she emphasizes.

Her words touched him somewhere in the deepest parts of his heart that no one has touched before. It made him frozen and unable to move a single muscle or bone in his body.

“I know that I am not what you needed, and I know that I’m nothing to you-.”

She was terribly wrong. How wrong she was. She meant the world to him.

She was…everything to him.

“I hope you will find what you’re looking for in the future.”

He didn’t want anyone but her.

They looked back and saw people watching.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

She has always been far much braver than him. So she walked back to him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, just beneath his eye patch. Beneath his scar. 

“Geros ilas, my love…avy jorrāelan,” she whispered to him before pulling away and stepping into her carriage without looking back.

And little did Aemond know, that will be the last time he would ever get to see her. 

In his heart, he blamed the world again. 

He blamed his brother.

He blamed everyone and everything that took her away from him.

Maybe in another life, the war wouldn’t have happened, Aegon wouldn’t have took him to the brothel, Lucerys didn’t take his eye, and maybe.. he could hold her like a normal person would. Maybe they’d have children…and maybe…maybe she’d stay. 

But right now, he walks back to the keep to assemble their army. To rook’s rest. To prove his brother and the whole world. To win this war.

For her. 

a/n: Hello everyone! I’m Alice and thank you so much for reading! Fyi I used to write on tumblr but my old account was like semi suspended? Idk I couldn’t interact with people, I couldn’t comment on people’s post so now I’m here and uhh hi🥹I hope you enjoy this one shot and I’m only gonna write fics mainly about the Ewanverse so you’re in for a ride🫶🏻🤗 I’m gonna write more in the future and thank you for sticking around until the end of this fic! Thank you once againnn💞💞