#she gets them to make pasta with sauce from a jar but anything else is beyond them

[itneverendshere]

can we see rafe with a pouge reader and they are dating. they go out to go grocery shopping and rafe sees that she has a calculator out and watches as she picks up an item then types it in the calculator and then puts it back and chooses a cheaper option and he has to tell her that she doesn’t need to do that

birds of a feather - rafe cameron

word count: 2.9k

The grocery store is quiet for a saturday afternoon, a rarity that makes the experience almost peaceful. Fluorescent lights buzz softly overhead as Rafe pushes a cart lazily with one hand, his other hand draped comfortably around his girl, you. 

He catches your eye and smiles, relishing the way you always lean into him, your bodies fitting together perfectly. Dating you was like finding the missing piece of himself—something he always knew he needed but never thought he’d find, let alone on the other side of the island.

Rafe grabs a box of cereal, tossing it into the cart without a second thought. “You good on milk, babe?” he asks, scanning the shelves for anything else that might catch his eye.

You nodded absentmindedly, focusing elsewhere. He notices that you are holding your phone in one hand and have a small calculator app open. His brow furrows as he watches you pick up a box of pasta, glance at the price, and then quickly type something into the calculator. After a moment of calculation, you place the box back on the shelf and reach for a cheaper brand.

Rafe's heart clenches. He hadn’t really thought about the differences between you in this way before. He knows you don't have the same privileges he does—didn’t grow up in a life of luxury as he had—but it’s moments like this that make him feel like a fucking entitled douche. 

He watches you do it again, this time with a jar of tomato sauce. You compare the prices, calculate the difference, and opt for the less expensive one.

“Hey,” Rafe stops you as you reach for another item. “What’re you doing?”

You blink, as if coming out of a trance, and look up at him with almost embarrassed smile. “Just trying to make sure I stay within the budget. Groceries can add up, y’know?”

He can’t stand the idea of you worrying about something as basic as food. Sure, he understands budgeting—everyone has to do it to some extent—but this? This was different. This was a mindset.

He gently takes the phone from your hand and slips it into his back pocket, keeping your hand in his. “You don’t need to do that. I’ve got you, okay?”

“Rafe, I—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, “You don’t have to worry about the prices. Just get what you want. We’re fine.”

You are grateful—God, you were always grateful—but there’s something else, something that has kept you up at night.

You hate relying on him. Not because you don’t trust him or appreciate everything he does for you, but because it reminds you of the whispers you’ve been hearing ever since you started dating. 

You can almost hear the voices now, like a nagging reminder in the back of your mind. “Gold digger,” they’d hiss. “Dirty Pogue. Look at her, clinging to him for the money. She’s got him wrapped around her finger, totally pussy-whipped.”

The rumors had messed with your head the first time you’d heard them, and even now, they still hurt, despite knowing they weren’t true. But the worst part is that a small, insecure part of you hates there might be some truth to what they said. You didn’t want Rafe to feel like he had to take care of you, or that you were using him for his money. You love him too much to ever want him to think that.

You glance at him, watching as he casually tosses another item into the cart without checking the price, without even a second thought. He’s so at ease, so unbothered by the things that you had worried about during your entire lifetime. You can’t help but feel guilty, like you’re dragging him down, making him take on responsibilities that should be yours alone. 

A you walk down another aisle, you keep your eyes on the floor, as you force the words out. “I know you’re just trying to help, and I really appreciate it, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.”

Rafe stops in his tracks, turning to face you fully. His brows knit together in concern like he genuinely can't grasp what you just said.

“I don’t feel like that,” he says,“I want to take care of you because I love you. It’s not about feeling like I have to—it’s because I want to.”

“But I hear what people say, Rafe—”

“They don’t know shit,” he scoffs, hand wrapping tightly around the cart, “They don’t know. Anyone who says otherwise can go fuck themselves.”

You sigh, your shoulders slumping as you lean into him, “It’s not that simple, baby. But I appreciate the thought.”

His other hand tilts your chin up so you’re looking directly at him, “It is that simple. I love you. You love me. That’s it.”

You know he means it, that he’s not just saying it to please you, but it doesn’t make the worries disappear. You nod, giving him a small smile, but he knows your brain is working double shifts, imagining all kinds of scenarios.

He sighs, knowing this conversation is far from over, and presses a gentle peck against your temple, all while murmuring, “Let’s finish up here and get out of this place.”

You agree, and the two of you continue down the aisle. Your hands are itching to take your phone out of his back pocket, and your brain scrambling to do simple math. You hate it. You automatically reach for the off-brand items, skip over the more expensive snacks, and choose the smaller sizes of products to stretch your budget. Rafe is abnormally quiet and you know it’s taking every will power in his body not to pick you up and lock you in his truck while he finishes shopping for you. 

He pauses in front of the snacks aisle, his eyes catching on your favorite candy. It’s something he knows you love but rarely allow yourself to buy. Without hesitation, he grabs a couple of bags and tosses them into the cart.

“Rafe, those are expensive—” you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a playful grin.

“They’re my favorite too.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the way he looks at you, with so much affection, makes the words die on your lips. Instead, you shake your head huffing as he wraps his arm around your shoulders dragging you along, “You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t be mean, baby.”

You squeeze his waist in retaliation. 

When you finally reach the checkout line, he watches as you nervously glance at the total on the screen. It’s a small thing, for him, but it’s enough to make him realize just how much it affects you. Without saying a word, he hands over his card to the cashier, ignoring the way you try to protest.

“Rafe, you don’t have to—” you start, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“I know,” he says firmly, “But I want to.”

You bite your lip, nodding reluctantly as he pays for the groceries. It’s a small gesture, but it means the world to him. He wants to take care of you, to make sure you never have to worry about something as basic as food ever again. He wants to give you the life you deserve, the one you never experienced on The Cut.

He opens the trunk of his car, starting to load the groceries while you stand there, too quiet. He hates not hearing the sound of your voice. 

“Hey,” he closes the trunk and turning to face you. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

He steps closer, his hand finding a home in your neck, thumb caressing your pulsing point, “Forget about them okay?”

You sigh, forehead touching his chin, “I’m trying. I just don’t want to be a burden to you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.”

“You’re not a burden,” he says firmly, fingers pulling your head up, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that, no matter how often it happens, still takes your breath away. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Now get that fine ass inside the car.”

You can’t help but laugh at the way he says it, so casually and with so much conviction that it leaves no room for you to second guess his thoughts. His confidence, his overwhelming trust in everything that he says, is one of the things you love most about him. He’s always been like that—bold, sure of himself, and unafraid to go after what he wants. And right now, what he wants is you. 

“Why?” You tease, rolling your eyes but smiling as you let him guide you toward the car “You gonna make me if I don’t?”

You wish you could photograph the grin on his face, the way his beautiful eyes seem to drink you in like he’ll die if he doesn’t look at you all the time. 

“Oh, you know I will,” he says as he steps closer, his hand slipping down to give your ass a firm but playful slap. The sound echoes through the quiet parking lot, and you gasp, more from surprise than anything else.

“Rafe!” you scold, though your laughter makes it known there’s no real annoyance. The smirk on his face only grows, clearly pleased with himself.

“Consider that a warning,” he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’d hate to have to follow through.”

You try to hold back a grin, biting your lip as you tilt your head to look up at him. 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” His tone is a challenge.

For a moment, you consider pushing more just to see what he’d do, but the way he’s looking at you—like he’s ready to scoop you up and take you back to his bed right then and there—makes you rethink it. Instead, you play along, giving him a coy smile as you turn and head for the door.

“That’s what I thought,” he calls after you, his deep voice filled with a smug satisfaction that makes you roll your eyes again. Before you can reach for the door handle, he gently pulls it open for you. You slide into the passenger seat, and before you touch the seatbelt, Rafe is leaning in, his hands brushing over yours as he clicks the belt into place.

“Safe and sound,” he murmurs, as he pulls back slightly. It’s something so simple, yet so endearing he has insisted on doing ever since the two of you started dating.

You smile up at him, practically oozing in your love for him as your hand reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“Thank you."

His gaze softens as he leans down to press a tender kiss to your lips, “Anything for you,” he whispers, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek before he finally steps back and closes the door.

As he rounds the front of the car to get in on his side, you can’t help but watch him. It still blows your mind that this is real. The way he looks at you, the way he takes care of you without making you feel small—it’s everything you never knew you needed. You’re still not used to someone loving you like this, so openly. You never imagined Rafe Cameron would be that someone. 

He starts the engine, the low hum filling the silence between you. The radio automatically tunes to a soft indie station, one of your favorites, and Rafe reaches over to lace his fingers with yours. 

“I’m cooking tonight.”

You turn to him, even though you know his attention is on the road, “Really?”

Rafe’s thumb absentmindedly rubs circles on the back of your hand, “Hmmm.”

“So you can burn down the kitchen again?”

“Baby, that was one time.”

You snort, the image of Rafe with a fire extinguisher still fresh in your memory, “What’s on the menu?”

He grins, “I was thinking we could make that pasta you like, with the garlic bread.”

Your heart swells a little at the thoughtfulness behind his choice. He remembers all the little things—your favorite foods, the way you like your coffee, the songs that make you smile.

“Are you trying to get laid?”

He laughs, loud and boisterous as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, “So you don’t want desert?”

You hit his shoulder gently, all too aware you’re still in a moving vehicle, “Don’t be nasty.”

His touch moves to your thighs, squeezing gently, "Can't help it when I'm around you."

The smile tugging at your lips is impossible to hide. There's something so easy about being with Rafe, despite everything. Despite the whispers, the looks, the insecurities that sometimes creep in—he has a way of making you feel like none of it matters. 

The city lights begin to twinkle on the horizon, the sun dipping low in the sky. It's peaceful, the kind of quiet that lets you sink into yourself. The idea of a cozy night in, just the two of you cooking dinner together, fills you with a warmth that has nothing to do with the summer heat outside.

Rafe glances over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Penny for your thoughts?"

You shake your head, the smile widening on your face. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."

He quirks an eyebrow, "I think I'm the lucky one."

"Yeah, but you're also really annoying," you tease, earning a chuckle from him.

"Annoying but irresistible," he counters smoothly, pulling into the driveway of his house 

He parks the car and quickly rounds the front to open your door, always the gentleman. As you step out, you look up at him, your heart swelling with a love so deep it almost overwhelms you. It's not just the grand gestures or the way he spoils you—it's the little things, the way he makes you feel cherished, the way he sees you for who you are and loves you anyway.

"Ready for our gourmet meal?" he asks as he takes your hand, leading you towards the front door.

You laugh, leaning into him as you walk. "If by gourmet you mean slightly burnt, then yes."

He chuckles, his arm slipping around your waist as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "With you, it's always perfect."

Before you can walk through the front door, he stops all too suddenly, dragging you against him. You’re confused for a second, looking up to see him ogle you.

“What?” You stutter out, “Something’s wrong?”

Rafe shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his pink lips as he looks down at you with that same adoring expression that never fails to make your heart  stop. "No, nothing’s wrong.”

You blink up at him, still confused, “Rafe...”

 “I know you worry sometimes. About what people say, about what they think. But I don’t give a fuck about any of that. I only care about you, about us.” His hand moves to cup your face, his thumb moving gently along your cheekbone. “I love you, y’know that? Right? Aways.”

Your breath hitches at the sudden emotion in his voice. It’s random moments like this that remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place—beneath the confident, cocky exterior, Rafe Cameron has a heart that beats fiercely for the people he cares about, especially for you. 

“I love you,” you whisper, feeling the words settle between you like a vow.

“I love you more,” he replies, his voice full of conviction. Then, with a small grin, he adds, “And I’m gonna marry you someday. We’re gonna have our own place, our own life. Just you and me.”

It’s not the first time you’ve talked about the future, but hearing him say it so plainly, so confidently, sends a warmth spreading through your whole body.

“Is that a proposal, Cameron?” you tease, though your voice wavers just a little, eyes burning as you pathetically attempt not to cry.

“Not yet,” he smirks, leaning down to press a peck to the corner of your lips, “But when I do, you’ll know. It’s gonna be perfect. Just like you.”

You pull back slightly, resting your forehead against his as you take a deep breath, trying to calm the stupid fluttering in your chest. “You mean it?”

“More than anything,” he replies without hesitation. “I want to build a life with you, baby. The kind of life where you never have to worry about anything, where you can just be happy.”

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, but they’re the good kind, the kind that comes from being overwhelmed with love. So different from the ones you’d experienced as a kid, growing up. You nod, not sure how to explain how you’re feeling inside, so instead, you pull him down for another kiss, letting your lips show what your voice can’t.

You kiss each other like you have all the time in the world, which you have, savoring the way your lips fit perfectly against his. There’s no rush, no urgency—just you two. 

When you pull apart, both of you slightly breathless, Rafe gives you a lopsided grin, his lips just barely grazing yours as he speaks, “So, how about we start with dinner?”

[syntheticavenger]

On My Mama - Two

Thank you to @cocobutterqwueen for the support while I was trying to map out this second chapter!

Santiago 'Pope' Garcia x Female Reader

Tyler Rake x Female Reader

Andy Barber x Female Reader

Jax Teller x Female Reader

Word Count: 6.2K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, more angst, jealousy, a lot of male posturing, persuasiveness.

Summary | Being a single mom with a complicated relationship with your ex-husband makes for an interesting summer after a school event and an unexpected errand puts you front and center with some eligible contenders for your attention.

True to Jax’s word, you’re in and out in less than fifteen minutes, happy to leave Melanie as she gave you a polite but pointed stare when you tried once more to pay him. He wouldn’t have it, slipping you his card in case you needed anything else, his cell written on the back. Not wanting to get in between Melanie’s distraction, there’s nothing left to say but to lobby another gracious thank you his way and slip into the driver’s seat. 

You found out much more than you ever wanted to in those short moments, Melanie whispering in your ear whenever he was out of earshot every detail that she had gathered about him. A single father to a son, a seven-year-old named Abel, rumored to be part of a biker gang – Vice President, Melanie had told you dramatically, her eyelashes batting when she says it like a secret – and more importantly, the best mechanic she’s ever had. 

Nevermind that her husband doesn’t particularly like that she takes her car to get repaired here, a fact she reminded you about at least three times. Melanie’s daughter tells every single bit of her mother’s business and Mia, at her young age, parrots it right back to you, laughing when you sometimes widen your eyes at the somewhat scandalous details, such as when Melanie bought store bought cookies and passed them off as her own, telling her daughter to stay quiet.

But as you had learned, there was no such thing as a secret to a five-year-old.

🌤

The late 90’s music blares through the speakers, pushing your cart down the aisle to continue your search  for marinara sauce. School nights are hard to plan for, especially with Mia’s ever changing appetite. 

This week it’s all about pasta, opting for spaghetti for dinner, even as you feel a small wave of guilt for the vegetables you will puree in the sauce. Reaching for a jar, a familiar face catches your attention, Laurie Barber giving you a wave when she approaches.

You know Laurie well enough to know that she has some gossip to share, usually between her and Melanie trading stories during field trips or snack day rotation.

“How have you been?” she asks, a hint of mischief in her smile. “I’m so happy I ran into you.”

“Oh?” you reply, noticing that she looks around before she finally speaks to make sure the coast is clear.

“You didn’t tell me your ex came to the parents’ lunch,” Laurie accuses playfully. “I had to find out from pictures?”

“Pictures?” you repeat, Laurie nodding her head, digging her phone out of her purse. 

“Of course there are pictures! I’d seen him with Mia when you had pictures of him with her as a baby but holy hell, that man is handsome,” Laurie praises, showing you a photo of Mia in Santiago’s arms, both of them looking intently at a finger painting. “Him being at the school is a good sign, right?”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, Laurie slipping her phone into the pocket of her pants. “It’s a start.”

“Still not on the mend, huh?”

“We’re divorced, Laurie. There’s no going back.”

“Don’t I know it,” she agrees. “It’s been at least three years since Andy and I divorced and I never look back. We got a great kid out of it and Andy’s moving on up in the world and he’s up for pretty big promotion.”

“Andy? That’s great.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t see him. He saw you,” Laurie teases, seeing you shake your head in response.

Every single mother throws themselves at Andy Barber.

You aren’t one of them.

“I guess I must have missed him,” you reply, Laurie shrugging her shoulders.

“You know Andy. I wish he wasn’t married to his work that much so he could get out and see the world, maybe date a nice girl who understands that sense of righteousness that he can’t seem to shake.”

“It’s nice that you’re on good terms.”

“Are you and Santiago not?”

“No,” you say quickly, hating that you feel like you’re now put on the spot. “I mean, we’re good, I guess. I was surprised that he wanted to see the school, he’s pretty much been against her going to public school since before she could even talk.”

“Avon Academy isn’t close to being terrible. He’s always had impossibly high standards, hasn’t he? Didn’t he go to a boarding school in Switzerland?”

“He did. If he had his way that is probably where our daughter would be right now.”

“Alone?” Laurie says incredulously. “She’s five!”

“No, not alone. I’d most likely be in some apartment in Zurich, trying to keep myself busy.”

“Sounds like a dream.”

“It’s lonely,” you respond, Laurie nodding, realizing that you aren’t willing to give up more details.

“Well, selfishly, I’m glad you and Mia are here. I’m also thankful for Santiago for gracing us with his presence.”

You crack a smile then, Laurie trying to contain her laughter as you both laugh. It’s absurd to discuss anything regarding your ex-husband but you know that Laurie is a safe space for you and that little bit of relief is what you need.

“Speaking of hot dads, Melanie told me you got your tire fixed. Jax Teller, huh?”

“Oh, God,” you mutter, running a hand down your face. “She really tells everything, doesn’t she?”

“Your fault for giving her a ride. Come on, don’t be shy.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, I’ve seen him like once and he wasn’t even on a motorcycle. He showed up in a truck to pick up his son.”

“Abel is seven, Laurie.”

“Still disappointing,” Laurie reminds you. “Barely got to see him up close and personal.”

“He’s nice.”

Laurie lets out an inelegant snort at your response.

“Nice? Nice is my neighbor across the way who wears a cardigan and a polo shirt and offers to water my lawn. Jax Teller is not nice. He looks like he could rail you into next week and send you off with a pat on the -”

“Laurie!” you admonish, hearing her laugh.

“I’m kidding but also,” she trails off, tapping the tip of her nose. “You know it’s true.”

Laurie’s cell goes off in her purse, picking up her basket.

“Shit, it’s Andy,” she mutters. “Probably needs me to pick up Jacob. I’ll see you at Jacob’s birthday party. Can’t wait to have a slice of your homemade cake!”

With a nod, she rounds the corner, speaking quickly while you add a box of noodles to the cart when you realize what she told you.

Birthday party?

Birthday cake?

🌤

“You said what?” you ask softly, Mia chewing as she hums.

“I said you could make Jacob’s birthday cake,” Mia offers proudly.

Placing your fork down on your plate, you stare at the wrinkled birthday party invitation that you had to dig through Mia’s unicorn backpack.

“Sweetheart, remember we talked about this? You ask Mommy first.”

“I did,” Mia insists, a smear of marinara at the corner of her lips. “You made mine when I asked.”

“Yes, you asked me to make yours. You did not ask me to make Jacob’s.”

Her little face scrunches up in displeasure at your hesitation, swallowing her food before she defends herself.

“But you’re good at it! Jacob’s daddy said you make the best cake in the whole world!”

“Mia,” you warn, seeing her little shoulders slump.

“No cake?” she asks pitifully, her lower lip trembling. “Please, Mommy? It’s his birthday. He has to have cake.”

“I don’t even know what flavor he likes.”

“He likes banilla!”

“Vanilla,” you correct gently.

“Vanilla and he likes vanilla frosting,” she enunciates. “He told me so.”

With a sigh, you get up, Mia following suit, nearly on your heels when you check the pantry to make sure you have everything you need.

“You’re going to make it?!” she asks, clapping her hands together excitedly. “You’re the best mommy in the whole world!”

“I’ll make it if you promise to finish your dinner.”

Mia gasps, running back to her chair as she climbs up, ignoring your warning for her to wait for you to help her, slurping spaghetti into her mouth.

“We gotta get a gift,” Mia reminds you, as if she didn’t just tell you last minute. “He likes cars.”

“We’ll go tomorrow after school, how does that sound?”

“Okay.”

She finishes her food, watching as you pick her empty plate up from the table, remembering her manners as she wipes her sauce coated fingers with a napkin.

“May I be scused?”

“You may,” you agree, seeing her jump off the chair as it slides backward slightly, nearly giving you a heart attack when she bolts up the stairs.

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” you call out, hearing her slam the bathroom door.

Pulling out a mixing bowl, you start adding in the ingredients, hearing Mia singing loudly at the top of her lungs.

🌤

You have to hand it to Laurie.

The woman knows how to throw a birthday party. As if directly ripped from a Pinterest page, you and Mia walk through a blue and silver balloon, Laurie’s headband green with alien googly eyes that move back and forth when she hugs Mia.

“Jacob’s out back,” she tells Mia, holding out a pair of headbands – one like hers and another that is hot pink with the same eyes but with lashes. Mia plucks the hot pink ones from her hand, handing them to Laurie so that she can place them on her head, smoothing out her hair before she does so, both of you knowing that she’ll either lose it or break it by the end of the day.

Laurie spies the cake you hold, the piping in blue with an astronaut on the left.

“God, I love your cakes,” Laurie murmurs with glee, taking it from your hands. “I was so happy that Mia said you would do it because I was at my wit’s end with him and trying to make up his mind. First it was a western themed party and then it was a dinosaur party and finally, at the very last minute, he wanted a space party. Gotta love the indecisiveness.”

She looks at your green sundress, settling on your white Mary Janes.

“Finally,” Laurie teases. “You got smart and finally wore flats.”

You were never sure of a dress code, especially with a child’s party. Every party in the city that you attended, kid or not, you were dressed up, right down to the sky high heels. After the last birthday party, you’d gotten wise once your heels had sunk into the grass, leaving a stain that you couldn’t get out.

You pass a contingent of parents, mostly fathers, talking in a huddle, beers in hand while you follow her into the kitchen.

“Andy will be so thrilled that you made a cake. I swear he kept asking. Do you know those peppermint brownies you made last Christmas? He took half the pan home and -”

“I did not,” Andy denies, his gaze settling on the cake when he steps into the kitchen. “Well, well, well. Looks like Jacob got his wish after all.”

You forgot how handsome Andy Barber is up close and personal, his mischievous smile on display when Laurie rolls her eyes.

“Jacob got his wish,” Laurie repeats to you, moving behind you after she sets the cake down. “I’m going to check on the bounce house. Make sure he doesn’t take a slice before the birthday boy, hmm?”

She’s out of your line of sight before you even have a chance to answer, Andy opening the fridge, pulling out a beer before he pauses.

“Do you drink?” he asks cautiously.

“I do.”

Still holding the beer in his hand, he glances at the pitcher on the top shelf.

“Beer or what I think may be a cosmopolitan. Laurie always has some sort of signature drink for these types of things.”

“I’ll take a beer,” you offer, Andy placing it into your hand after lobbing off the cap.

“Good choice. Last time we had a mom who downed three Tom Collins before she realized what hit her.”

You don’t dare share that you’re a lightweight, taking a swig of your beer while Andy leans back against the counter.

“I saw you at the parent luncheon, didn’t I?”

“I was there,” you confirm.

“That lunch was something else,” Andy comments, making a face. “I thought Jacob was teasing when he mentioned glue. Turns out the kid was onto something.”

“Glue?”

“You didn’t try the sandwiches?”

“No,” you say, trying to stifle your laughter at the look of pure disgust on his face. “I’m sure we’ll get a letter of an apology like we did with the dirt pudding cups last year.”

“I must have missed that.”

“You’d remember,” you point out, suddenly feeling self-conscious when you notice his eyes lingering on you. “What?”

He straightens up, looking over your shoulder, his index finger moving in a circle.

“Turn around?” he asks, your eyes narrowing suspiciously as you turn, seeing the ties of your dress float around you.

“Shoot,” you mumble, placing your beer down to try to reach behind you.

“I can help you,” he offers, keeping still when you feel his hands pick up the fabric, carefully drawing them together, the warmth of his breath on your back as he checks to make sure you’re comfortable. “Too tight?”

“No,” you respond, feeling him tie it quickly, the faint scent of his cologne lingering as he ties it slowly, your eyes looking up at the ceiling, staying still, feeling the slight tug of the bows before you feel him step back to look in approval.

“Better.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, feeling embarrassment wash over you when he waves your appreciation away.

“I was hoping I didn’t touch you with cold hands,” he answers. “Or get into your personal space.”

“I didn’t feel a thing.”

“No comment about the personal space?”

He smiles, lifting his beer to you before taking a sip. 

“Seriously though? Thanks for the cake for Jacob,” Andy thanks you, nodding toward the cake. “This kid hasn’t stopped talking about it once he found out. I gotta admit, they’re pretty damn good. I don’t know what you put in them but I can’t just have one slice.”

“I do the buttercream by hand.”

“Really? Tastes like heaven, that’s for sure. Not sure what you do for a living but if you made that career, I’m just you’d make a fortune.”

“Project manager,” you say, Andy nodding in response. “Wish I had the time. Baking relaxes me.”

“I’d be happy to eat your cake anytime,” he says, trailing off when he realizes what he’s said, laughing to himself as your eyes widen, biting down on your lips at the comment to keep from laughing yourself, when you hear Laurie coming back inside. Eyeing the cake, she looks up at you, turning to Andy.

“Cake is still intact. Guess she distracted you enough.”

🌤

Pete nudges Tyler in the side when you pass by, herding a small group of Jacob’s friends outside who were late arrivals, Laurie calling out to them outside to get their gift bags.

“You’re a married man, Pete,” Tyler reminds him.

“And I wouldn’t trade it for the world, but I have eyes, you know,” Pete counters. “Judging by the rest of us gawking, we all have eyes.”

Tyler can see Hunter running, playing tag with the other kids as they laugh and scream. He catches a glimpse of you, beer in hand as he sees Andy next you and Laurie. It’s a scene he’s still getting used to, seeing Laurie and Andy divorced but still cordial. It’s wistful thinking to believe he could have the same, knowing that the shared custody took years to be processed.

“Does Barber know that Mia’s dad is back in the picture?” another father asks, raising an eyebrow at the sight outside. “Bold move, Andy. Right next to your ex-wife.”

“He never left,” another man chimes in. “Look at her. You really think he wasn’t that far behind? Surprised he showed up, he never comes to these things.”

“Reconciliation,” Pete says with a confident nod.

“He came because it was a special occasion,” Tyler points out, the men turning to look at him.

“How do you know? She told you?”

“Hunter knows Mia through school, and she told him that her father was going to be there because it was important.”

“So, he’s still out of the picture,” one of them hints.

“I don’t hear any of you offering to step up and take care of his child so unless you’re willing to break up your marriages or take on another responsibility, you’re all creeping on a single mother who doesn’t know that you’re looking at her. Excuse me,” Tyler responds, breaking away from the group as he heads outside.

🌤

“Honey, it’s alright,” you say softly, holding onto the boy’s arms gently to keep him steady after he was dropped off unceremoniously on the door step. “It’s alright. You don’t need a gift, okay? Your gift is that you’re here. Your presence is enough, I promise.”

Tyler peers over to look at the boy who is nodding, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. 

Abel Teller.

No doubt his mother had dropped him off without a word, a far cry from his father, Jax, who would have come in to say hello. He would have most certainly provided a gift, even though it wasn’t required, seeing Abel shake his head when he’s asked a question.

“What’s your name?” Tyler hears you ask, soothing him as you dab at his tears that slide down his cheeks. 

“Abel.”

“Hi Abel,” you respond, introducing yourself. “Jacob’s outside. I’m sure he’ll be happy you’re here. Are you ready to go in and have some fun?”

He sniffles, nodding his head when Tyler clears his throat.

“Hunter’s here as well, Abel,” Tyler speaks up. “They’re playing tag, I think. You like that game, don’t you? Why don’t you come with me? They’re still in the thick of it.”

Abel’s eyes light up at the game, following Tyler to the boisterous crowd of children. A few of them recognize him, calling out to him before he leaves Tyler’s side. He can feel you standing next to him, your gaze settling on your daughter who is climbing up the ladder to the slide.

“You know him?” you ask, Tyler nodding as Abel takes off running.

“Yeah,” Tyler says after a pause. “He’s a good kid. His mother… she’s not always present. Father does what he can but when it’s her weeks to take him, it gets a little complicated.”

“I can’t imagine.”

He can hear the uncertainty in your tone, your fingers gripping your beer bottle tighter. He can tell you’re thinking about Abel and before it can go deeper, he nods at the beer in your hand.

“Need another one?”

At his question, you look at him in confusion before he smiles. You’ve been nursing that same beer since he’s seen you, absentmindedly ripping at the wrapper with your nail when no one is looking, a nervous habit that he finds adorable.

“I’m good,” you answer. “Thanks though.”

“How’s it taste?”

You look up at him, unsure of why he’s asking by the way you raise an eyebrow.

“Great,” you tell him, forcing cheerfulness into your confirmation.

He laughs then, seeing how stubborn you are. 

“Never met a woman who liked room temperature beer. You’re one of a kind.”

He sees you smile then, nodding at your lie.

“It tastes terrible,” you admit with a laugh. “But I was running around and by the time I got back to it, I didn’t want to ask for another one. It’s like coffee. I end up reheating it at least four times because I don’t have the time to finish it in one sitting.”

“I can get you another one, you know. No pressure, of course,” Tyler says, putting up his hands.

“I would like one,” you tell him, placing the bottle in his outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

“Thought so. I’ll be right back.”

Mia stops mid run to wave at you, grinning wide when you wave back, taking off after Hunter and Abel when Tyler hands you a beer.

“Thank you,” you say, looking back at the kids when Laurie gives you a pleading look, motioning with her hand that the cake needs to be cut.

“Shall we?” Tyler says.

Laurie calls out to Jacob, the kids lifting their heads so quickly that it reminds Tyler of meerkats, nearly a stampede as the dads remind them to slow down as they head toward the table.

🌤

Forks clink dully on the paper plates, frosting smudging on faces and clothing, moms swooping in to wipe mouths and clean off messes. Mia sits between Hunter and Abel, picking up a buttercream star and eating it, eyes closing in bliss as she dances in her seat.

Collecting discarded plates, you nearly run into Andy, who holds out a trash bag for you to toss them in.

“They’ll sleep good tonight,” Andy assures you, seeing the trio run into the house. “And I know I said this already but the cake… you just knocked it out of the park. Amazing.”

“Thank you, Andy.”

Between the number of kids and adults moving around you both, you focus on cleaning up the leftover cups of juice and water while Andy picks up the plates, working together in unison. 

You don’t really know the ins and outs of his and Laurie’s former relationship, only that they seem to have the co-parenting thing down to a science, no ill will, just a simple partnership that works well for them. Without meaning to, your mind wanders to if they sleep together, much like you and Santiago, watching his tongue run over his lip as he focuses the tower of plates in his hand to the trash.

You blink the impending thought out of your mind. It definitely isn’t any of your business and it only makes you more embarrassed that you have no self-control with Santiago.

Which is only half-true. You’ve been cordial when he asks about Mia, sending him pictures of her at the birthday party.

And you’ve conveniently ignored his text from the picture with you and Mia under the balloon arch.

Nice dress.

“Seriously though,” Andy says, any hint left of Santiago disappearing in a flash as he smiles at you. “Thanks for coming and helping. Laurie couldn’t do this without you, and I know I couldn’t clean this up alone. Crazy how people love coming to parties but when it’s time to clean… it’s suddenly time to go home.”

“I’m still here, Barber,” Tyler interrupts, holding up a trash bag. “Did you forget about the poppers with the streamers in them? They’re everywhere.”

“When Laurie throws a party, she goes all out, I told you,” Andy informs him.

Laurie stands, rubbing her lower back with her fingers when the doorbell rings. The small clean-up crew continues on, tidying up before the vendors come and finish up. A soft whisper of your name from Laurie makes you move away from the Andy and Tyler, both of them engaged in sports talk.

Hunter and Mia are asleep on one side of the large sectional, Jacob laid out in the middle and Abel on the other side. Standing in the entryway, Jax zeroes in on his son before he engages in a hushed conversation with Laurie for a moment, both of them turning their attention on you when you approach.

“Sorry,” Laurie says, frustration in her voice as she gives you a small squeeze of your hand. “I’m going to send Abel home with a gift bag. Would you mind showing Jax where he is?”

Jax gives you a glance when you give him a smile, hearing him sigh behind you.

“Sorry to come so late,” he says in a hushed voice as he looks on at the sleeping kinds. “Got word last minute that my ex wasn’t going to pick up Abel and I was doing a double at the shop.”

“He’s been fine,” you assure him, watching as he carefully picks up his son without waking him, brushing back his hair as he focuses on his son’s face for a moment. It’s a tender moment, one that you don’t pay attention to for too long, unsure of what to say. You can feel the anger radiating off of him, muttering to himself as he places a kiss on Abel’s head.

“We’re going home, buddy,” he says, Abel’s eyes opening for a scant second before closing once more.

Laurie meets you at the door with Abel’s gift bag, Jax extending his hand to you as you shake it, Laurie giving him a hug, careful not to wake Abel.

“You know he’s welcome here anytime,” Laurie tells him, the sliding glass door closing in the distance.

“I appreciate that, Mrs. Barber.”

“Laurie is fine, Jax. Do you have my number?”

When he shakes his head, Laurie has her phone in hand, waiting for Jax to recite his number.

“I’ll make sure she has it too,” Laurie promises, referring to you as he nods, giving you a hint of smile.

“Have a good night, sorry again for being so late to pick him up.”

Laurie closes the door after you both see Abel get settled into the truck, turning around to face Tyler and Andy.

“Teller?” Andy asks Laurie.

“The one and only.”

“Pity I missed that,” Andy murmurs. “I would have liked to ask him a few questions.”

“You leave your interrogations at work,” Laurie fires back softly, keeping her voice down. “He’s a father doing his job.”

“Oh, he’s got a job, alright.”

Tyler checks his watch, heading toward the couch where he looks over the remaining sleeping kids. You follow suit, your cell phone vibrating in your purse that is on a chair.

“Need some help?” Tyler asks, Laurie and Andy still in the foyer, their hushed voices a cue that he’s not ready to let whatever he knows about Jax Teller go.

“Actually,” you pause for a moment, looking at how peaceful Mia looks. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

He’s gentle when he scoops her into his arms, cradling her to his chest as Mia doesn’t move, her breathing steady as he carries her toward the door.

“Not everything has to be investigated, Andy. Sometimes people can make mistakes and learn from them,” Laurie says, her words fading out when she sees Tyler holding Mia.

“I hope my spirited debate with Andy didn’t scare you away,” Laurie says, shooting Andy a glare. ‘We differ on justice and knowing when to pick our battles.”

Andy stays silent, his eyes locking with yours.

“Thanks again for today,” he says, Laurie nodding in agreement. “Get home safe.”

Tyler waits until you collect your purse, hug Laurie goodbye and give Andy a quick hug, inhaling the scent of his cologne once more that is intoxicating. Underneath that Henley, you realize there is a solid wall of muscle, something you weren’t expecting to feel before you head out the door and down the steps, opening the backseat for Tyler to place Mia in her car seat. Her head falls back on the headrest, still fast asleep when you close the door, checking to see if the movement woke her.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, waving to Laurie, who is standing in the doorway.

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do.”

Warmth radiates off of him, trying to get the picture of how quickly he had lifted Mia into his arms so smoothly out of your mind.

“I was thinking,” Tyler says, looking over behind you to see Mia still asleep. “If you’re interested, maybe you’d like to go to dinner with me.”

It’s finally cool now that the sun has gone down but your face is warm, nearly burning with anxiety on what to say. You haven’t been asked out on a date since your ex, let alone even entertaining the thought if you were ever asked.

But now you have been asked and you need to give an answer.

You only get one chance at this.

“Sure,” you reply. “I’d like that.”

“Great,” he says. “I can give you my number. There’s no pressure, of course, if you find that you want to cancel or that you’re not interested then let me know and -”

You recite your number, Tyler realizing almost too late as he punches in the number, sending you a text.

“Get home safe and uh, just let me know when you’re interested in going. My schedule is pretty open this week and next.”

You see Andy standing next to Laurie, both of them waiting until you get into the car, turning on the lights and the engine starting before they take a step back into the house. Easing out of the parking spot, you see Tyler heading back inside to presumably get Hunter, text messages popping up on the screen during your drive home.

Birthday party? Is that why you’re all dressed up?

Need a favor.

I’ll be there in an hour.

At the last message, you look at the timestamp when you pull over. The time is nearly ten and the message was sent almost an hour ago. With Mia still fast asleep, you take the quickest way home, unsure if he’s already beat you there.

🌤

Pulling into the garage, you see him leaning against his SUV, your resolve hanging on by a thread.

He never visits at night. Always morning, always in between meetings or a flight, or some appointment.

When the car is turned off, you hear the back door open, looking over as he studies Mia’s sleeping face.

“Out like a light,” he murmurs, smoothing back her hair. “She must have partied hard.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask quietly, his dark eyes snapping up to look at you.

“You didn’t get my texts? Got a late flight out tomorrow, Derek was able to charter it at the local airport, so I figured I’d come and see my girls.”

He unlatches Mia from her car seat, careful when he lifts her into his arms while you get out of the car. In a way, it feels like this should be a snapshot or normalcy, domestic life that you had a taste of once that had been snatched away without having properly processed what had transpired before it was too late.

The promise you had made to yourself still lingers in the depths of your thoughts, propelling you forward when you open the door, letting Santiago carry Mia across the threshold, heading up the stairs slowly while you watch him disappear.

It would be so easy to fall into the same routine. To have him share your bed, to give and give as he takes, lusty promises against your skin that he doesn’t intend to keep because he knows you well enough that you won’t hold him to it.

Placing Mia’s gift bag on the kitchen island counter, you know you could follow him, let his lips trace a line down your neck.

Picking up your phone, you send off a text, heart skipping a beat at what you’ve done. For a moment, you don’t think there will be a reply.

Your answer comes swiftly, Santiago coming down the stairs.

I’m glad you made it home safe.

🌤

Santiago follows you up the stairs, your silk robe billowing out behind you.

“I liked the pictures,” he tells you once you reach the top of the stairs. “I’ve always loved the color green on you.”

“Why are you really here?” you ask, turning around to face him. His shirt is half unbuttoned, revealing a hint of the chest tattoo.

“I told you,” Santiago reminds you. “I wanted to see my girls.”

“Since when?”

He leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest when he narrows his gaze.

“Since I saw the pictures you sent me. You’ve always held people’s attention. A child’s birthday party is no different.”

“I wasn’t sending them to you to make you jealous.”

He smirks at your passionate denial.

“And I’m not jealous. I know every inch of your body, every little nook and cranny that makes you come apart. They don’t know you the way I do so no,” Santiago says with a sigh. “I don’t think you were trying to make me jealous, but I think you’re lonely. I think the men in that picture know it too, judging the way they were staring..”

“I’m not.”

He gives you that perfect smile, looking you up and down.

“We both know how this always ends. We’re good for each other. Maybe not emotionally but physically, we’re compatible and we always have been. There’s no one else I would have wanted to have my child, to be the mother of my precious daughter. I can’t get enough of you still.”

He pushes himself off of the wall, settling his hands on either side of your face, your fingers wrapping around his wrists. It feels euphoric, his lips close to yours, body pressed against you, and it feels familiar, like you aren’t living separate lives when he kisses you.

“I can’t,” you whisper against his mouth, his forehead resting against yours.

“You can. I’ll take care of you like I always do.”

Your hand flattens on his chest, feeling his heartbeat when you close your eyes. You want to, you already know how it would end, tangled in sheets and alone when you wake.

Satisfied but alone, yet again.

“I can’t sleep with you anymore. This isn’t healthy for either of us. You can have the guest bedroom,” you answer, moving away from him as he lets you go.

“Guest bedroom,” he repeats, seeing you head toward your bedroom. “I’ll leave the door open if you need me.”

Closing the door behind you, you lean against it, squeezing your eyes shut as you ignore the ache between your thighs.

🌤

Sun shines in your eyes, startling you when you toss away the blanket, looking down to find yourself still clothed, clad in your shorts and t-shirt. The sigh of relief that flows from your lips gives you a sense of calm, nearly laughing to yourself that you had the willpower to deny the man who you’ve willingly given your body to after the divorce.

The savory scent of breakfast hangs in the air, scrambling to get up when you look at the time. It’s well past the time you had meant to wake up, running down the stairs to stop in your tracks.

Santiago cracking another egg in the bowl while Mia carefully picks out pieces of fruit to place them on a tray. Bacon, pancakes and oatmeal is on the table, something you haven’t had the time to make in at least six months with Mia’s busy school schedule.

“Oh, you’re finally up,” Santiago greets you, Mia dropping a strawberry on the counter as she hops off the step, running after you when she clings to your legs.

“Hi Mommy! Daddy and I are making breakfast!” Mia announces loudly, standing on her tiptoes to see what her father is doing. “I want an o-mel-le.”

“Omelet,” Santiago corrects gently, Mia nodding.

“Yeah, one of those!” Mia agrees.

Santiago cleans as he works, wiping off a counter before he checks on the omelet he’s making for Mia. 

A ripple of resentment goes through you at the thought of what this means. He and Mia always make breakfast together when it’s his week with her. It’s something Mia looks forward to when she’s packing her suitcase to see her father, knowing that the best you and Mia can do is a rushed breakfast of toast or instant waffles.

Father of the beginning of the day, you think, sitting at the table after Mia points to your chair, Santiago placing a glass of orange juice in front of you.

“Breakfast is almost done,” he reminds you. “Coffee?”

Before you have a chance to answer, a mug of hot coffee is placed next to the orange juice, Mia giggling when he turns back to the stove, flipping the omelet over as she claps her hands excitedly.

Mia whispers to her father, the hushed discussion reaching you. Curious, Mia covers her mouth when she sees you staring.

“Secrets don’t make friends,” you tease her gently.

“We’re going on a tour!” Mia blurts out, Santiago plating her omelet, holding it high above her head.

“A what?” you ask, Santiago placing her plate down and lifting Mia onto the chair.

“A tour,” Santiago repeats.

“I heard her,” you protest, Mia grabbing her fork as she stabs into her breakfast. “A tour where?”

Santiago sits across from you, Mia focused on shoving a piece of fruit in her mouth as he looks at the breakfast spread and back to you.

“We’re touring St. Mary’s today.”

[raitrolling]

🤡☂️🍳 💝🎲 for katrin?

🤡 - What’s something dumb they’re embarrassed about?

Is 'existing' a valid answer lmao

But she's embarrassed about a lot of things she's done. Writing fanfiction about people she knows, getting her hand stuck in a vending machine more than once, breaking into friends' hives and discovering that they're home and wondering why she didn't just knock, getting caught stealing and failing to bluff her way out of it... The list goes on

☂️ - How do they feel about rain?

She doesn't have much of an opinion on it, other than it sucks to get caught out in the rain without an umbrella. The only coat she owns is her old work clothes from when she was an assistant at a boutique, which is definitely not made for the rain, and she owns limited spare pairs of jumpers and pants as well

🍳 - How well can they cook?

She can cook very simple dishes using ready-made ingredients (such as those pre-made pasta sauce jars instead of making the sauce from scratch), but anything more complex than that she'll struggle with. Money and motivation are huge factors that prevent her from ever bothering to cook, it's so much easier to steal food from someone else or just live off snacks

💝 - What gestures do they really appreciate? How do you get on their good side?

Money, free food, free things in general. Katrin is very easy to win over, but over time she'll start to feel bad about taking so much from someone without really giving them anything back

🎲 - Pick a random question to answer from this list. The random number generator decided: 🐒 - What’s their favorite animal?

It's a basic response, but raccoons because of her lusus. Though she does like other small mammals like Soroll's opossum lusus, Ullane's porcupine lusus, and Linnae's pet rabbit

[phrynewrites]

ugh i stan blind date au! can we get some more cooking hcs ?

Thank you so much hun!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying it!

Cooking HCs:

1. When Jasmine’s sick, Bosco decides to be a *good not girlfriend* and buy her soup. So they come over to Jasmine’s empty the can of condensed tomato soup into a bowl, and hand it off to her. And Jasmine, tripping on cold meds, accepts a spoon full of it before promptly spitting it out. Bosco doesn’t get it until Camden hears them mumbling to themself and has to tell Bosco that they have to heat up soup AND dilute it with water. And then takes a picture of the gloppy cold tomato concentrate and sends it to the gc.

2. When it’s their turn to host dinner for their friends, Jasmine always has Bosco plan the table setting and set it, telling them to “go as big as their heart desires.” This not only lets Bosco show off their artistry, it gives Jasmine at least two hours to actually cook the meal without Bosco either being a pest or trying to help cook, which Jasmine knows she’ll have to do over again anyway.

3. When Bosco first tries cooking Jasmine a nice dinner, they’re sending progress pictures to the group chat like “I’ll put the garlic on first because it smells good” and “and now I boil the water with the pasta” and “I think this is call deglazing but I put the wine in the pasta water because everyone likes wine” and the whole time everyone’s yelling at Bosco not to do what they’re doing but they simply ignore because they’re making pasta that maybe only Jasmine will appreciate. (Jasmine takes two bites of the alcoholic mush, compliments Bosco’s efforts at trying new things, how much she does in fact love pasta, and how they should order some pasta and maybe try to remake it together tomorrow)

[study-coffee-chicago]

Seasons of Med: Season 2 and Seasons of PD: Season 4: Necessities, Love, & Care (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

Your age: 15

Jay's age: 29

Will's age: 31

You were currently sitting at the library, trying to figure out how you'd get food for dinner. It was January and you had run out of your Christmas money two weeks ago and you had burned through your money from helping with kettle corn at the beginning of December. Right now you were SOL: Shit outta luck.

Your mind wandered back to the last day you had helped working the kettle corn stand when it was a dreary late October day.

"We have kettle corn, caramel corn, cheddar, Chicago style, and a few other flavors," you explained to a customer. She picked up a medium bag of caramel corn. "That one?"

"Yes, dear. Me and my husband love this stuff," the old lady said.

"I'm sure. It's really good! It'll be six dollars." She pulled out a five and two ones. "I'll be right back with your change."

"Oh, no, keep the change, dear. Thank you for the popcorn."

"You're welcome. Have a nice day."

"Y/N," Emma said to you. "Can you grab me a lemonade from the cooler?"

"Just one?"

"Yup, just one."

You grabbed it from the cooler and were about to pass it to her when you saw who her customers were: Jay and Erin.

"Y/N?" Jay asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Working," you answered quickly. "Little bit of extra money never hurt anybody. The real question is, what are you doing here? I know Erin hates being outside when the weather is crappy."

"It's because he's annoying when he whines and begs to do something, so I figured it was just best to give in," Erin answered.

Jay rolled his eyes. "God, I can't win with either of you. Why do you always gang up on me?"

"Because, Halstead, us girls gotta stick together," Erin laughed.

"Okay, okay, fine. Y/N, what popcorn should I get?"

"First of all, it's kettle corn," you corrected. "And, I suggest the cheddar. Or, if you want a combination of both salty and sweet, then get the Chicago style. It's cheddar and caramel."

"Me and Erin like sweet, but I know you. You like cheddar. And you'll pick out the cheddar pieces when you're at my apartment, so I'll get the Chicago style."

"Or," Erin started as she picked up a large bag of caramel and a large bag of cheddar, "We could get this big bag of caramel, and then you could have this bag at your apartment for Y/N. That way the flavors aren't touching."

"Erin Lindsay and not liking her food touching. Fine, we'll take what Erin suggested and one lemonade."

"One or two straw holes?" Emma asked, picking up the lid-punching tool.

"One's fine," Jay answered.

"They swap enough spit as it is," you whispered to Emma, causing her to laugh.

"What'd she say?" Jay asked.

"I can't tell you. It's a secret."

He huffed. "Fine. Keeping secrets from your big brother? That's cold Y/N, that's cold."

"So you're saying you never kept secrets from Will?" Erin asked.

"I have the right to remain silent."

"Exactly," Erin said. "How much does he owe you?"

"Excuse me? I didn't know I'd be the one paying for all of this."

"You were the one who dragged me outside, so yes, you are paying, Halstead. Now, get your card ready."

Jay rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet. "How much?"

You did the math in your head. "$23."

"Emma, can you check her math?" Jay asked and you rolled your eyes in his lack of faith in you.

"$10 for the cheddar and $8 for the caramel makes $18...plus $5 for the lemonade...yup $23."

You handed him the card reader. "And now it's just going to ask you a few questions," you told him after his card went through.

Without allowing him to read it all the way through, Erin hit the tip and no receipt buttons. "Hey!" Jay exclaimed.

"Don't blame me! You were the one who wanted me to come out here!" She turned to you and took the bag of kettle corn as Jay picked up the 32 oz lemonade. "Thanks, Y/N!"

"No problem! Just make sure he doesn't buy any more paintings of motorcycles!"

Man, how you wished you could work that job right now because it was only for a few hours on the weekends. But, it was winter now, so there were no street fairs, farmers markets, or festivals going on. Because of this, your money had run out. You'd have to do what you'd have to get yourself some food, even if it would leave you with a guilty conscience.

With that in mind, you got up and left the library.

***

"Pop's been complaining of chest pain and refuses to go to the hospital," Jay told his older brother as he walked through the front door and into the living room.

"Of course he did," Will grumbled. Then, he turned to his father. "This won't take long. Unless it's bad. Then you'll have to come with me and actually go to the hospital this time."

"You can't force me to do anything," he argued as he watched his oldest son open up his medical bag.

"Just let him do his job. He knows what he's doing," Jay agreed with Will. Then, he remembered something. "Where's Y/N?"

"At school."

"At school? At 5 pm?" Jay asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sometimes she stays after school and does homework. She's always home before it gets too late so I don't ask."

It's not like Jay and Will could have known this, though. Yes, you would talk and they're obviously there for you because they're your brothers, but your dad's parenting skills--or lack thereof--hadn't ever come up. You'd get together with your brothers once a week, but it was usually at one of your brothers' places. They rarely came inside your and your dad's place.

"All units, we have reports of a robbery at 3020 East Main Street. Assistance requested," Jay's radio stated.

Jay looked to Will, silently asking if it was okay for him to take it. "I've got it from here."

"Thanks, man," Jay said, clapping Will on the back and leaving the house.

He drove to the small corner market that had made the call. It was only a block away from where you and your dad lived, but despite it usually being somewhat slow, today it was even slower. There was only one car parked in the lot, so Jay was confused as to who would even rob this place.

He put on his vest and walked into the store. "Got a call about a robbery," he said to the store manager as he entered.

"Yes, right over here."

He led Jay over to where a girl was sitting on a stool, tears rolling down her face. She held a box of pasta, a loaf of bread, and a small jar of peanut butter. Her coat was unzipped, revealing the tampons and pads she had stuffed inside her coat after she had ripped open the box.

"Y/N?" Jay asked in disbelief. "What are you doing? What were you even thinking?"

"I- I'm sorry," you sniffled.

Then he turned to the store manager. "You called the cops on a fifteen-year-old girl for grabbing what looks to me like necessities?"

"I've let her go the past two times when she needed things, but today she didn't have the money, so I couldn't let it slide."

Jay threw $30 in the man's hand. "There. Now it's all paid for." He turned to you and took the loaf of bread. "C'mon."

You followed him out of the store, waiting to be yelled at as you entered his truck, but it didn't come. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he handed you the bread. "Why? Why did you do this?"

"There- There's barely any food in the house. I was just hungry."

Jay looked you up and down. He hadn't been really looking for changes in weight like he told Natalie he would do six months ago. He kept it up for a few months and then winter came around and it was hard to tell because of bulky jackets and sweaters. But, now that he actually looked at your face and hands in an investigative manner, it was clear as day: You had lost even more weight.

"And the other stuff?" he asked.

"Dad won't buy them for me. Says that they're too expensive and to just use something else. He said that if he had had a son he wouldn't have to worry about it, like it's my fault. Usually, I take some from school, but I ran out and I needed them."

"And the food?" Jay asked as he started driving back to his childhood home.

"I get breakfast and lunch at school, but I have to eat dinner at home. And on weekends I just skip meals and eat breakfast and dinner."

"What? What about Dad?"

"He gets takeout or he goes to the bar and isn't home until late."

Jay sighed as he pulled into the driveway. "Go pack a bag, kid. You're staying at my place until further notice."

"Really? I thought you guys forgot about me?"

"We could never forget about you. It's just, work has been busy for both of us. So, sorry if these last few times we've all been together for dinner have seemed a little rushed. Now, go inside and grab your stuff while I have a chat with Will and Dad."

"Dad, Will," Jay said after you had run upstairs and they were sitting on the couch. "I need to talk to you. In the kitchen."

"Really, Jay. Why can't it be here?" your dad grumbled. "First he--" He pointed to Will. "Wants to take me to the hospital because he said I have a valve issue and now I can't even have a conversation with my sons while sitting down?"

"Just get up, dammit!"

The three entered the kitchen and sat down, but Jay stayed standing. "Jay, what's going on?" Will asked.

Instead of answering his older brother, Jay just opened the fridge. There was a half drank gallon of milk, a jar of grape jelly, and a can of pasta sauce, along with other condiments, and a lone egg sat on a shelf. "This? This is what you expect your daughter to eat? I caught her stealing from a store just so she could get food and tampons!"

"Well, I'm not gonna pay for it."

"Excuse you?" Will exclaimed, eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean you're not paying for it? She's your daughter, isn't she? Then you have a legal responsibility to feed her, make sure she has shelter, clothes, and goes to school!"

"She can go get a job."

"She is fucking fifteen!" Jay yelled. "She doesn't need to be worrying about where her next meal is coming from! She's supposed to be worrying about getting a good grade on a math test or if that boy likes her or not, but not that!"

"She needs to learn to grow up someday. And she won't if you boys baby her like you always do whenever you see her."

"Baby her?" Will yelled, disgusted. "She's a kid. She needs to be babied sometimes. She needs fucking food and a nice home to come home to, not whatever the hell you think this is."

"It hasn't been a home since your mother died."

"Yeah, we gathered that," Jay scoffed. "But you don't have to take it out on her."

"Jay," your small voice said from the doorway into the kitchen. All three men looked over to you, your backpack on your back, a duffle bag slung over your shoulder, and your favorite blanket wadded up in your hands so that you could carry it without it dragging on the ground.

"Ready to go?" Jay asked, his voice immediately softening.

"Uh, yeah," you answered, unsure of how your dad would react.

"What do you mean ready to go?" Pat Halstead asked, standing up from where he had been previously sitting at the table. "She's not going anywhere!"

Will rushed over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder while Jay stalked over to be face to face with your dad. "She is coming with me until further notice. You're lucky I don't arrest your ass for child neglect!"

"You wouldn't do that to your own father!"

Jay pulled the cuffs out of his back pocket. "Oh yeah? Try me."

He sat back down and Jay turned to you. "Here, let me take that." You handed him your duffle bag and followed him and Will outside.

"Jay, I gotta go. I gotta get Dad to Med to get the valve fixed. And, I said one hour out of the hospital tops and it's been two."

Jay closed the truck door once you were safely inside with all your stuff. "Good luck trying to get Dad to go the hospital," he scoffed. "Get going. Don't give Goodwin another reason to fire your stupid ass."

"I'll call an ambulance if I have to." Then, Will smacked Jay upside the head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You know what it was for. And, I'm your older brother, it's my job."

"I'm your older brother, it's my job," Jay mocked. "But, in all seriousness, do me a favor and make sure Y/N's all caught up on her immune- immune--"

"Immunizations?" Will laughed.

"Yeah, those."

"I'll do that. And if she's not, I'll give them to her tonight when I come over to your place after my shift is done...which will be in like two hours...depending on how much of a pain in the ass he is to get in the hospital."

Jay nodded, and then got in the truck, both of you making your way to his place.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Jay said after you had put your stuff down by the couch. "You have homework?"

"Yeah," you looked down, not wanting to even try and struggle through your homework...or have Jay sign the slip that said that you failed your last test.

Jay smiled. "I'll help you with it when I'm out of the shower, okay, kid?"

"How'd you know--"

"That is the universal facial expression of I need help, but I don't know how to ask for it. I'll be ten minutes tops."

And so, you tried to struggle through your homework for ten minutes. But, you ended up working and reworking the stupid algebra problem. Why did math need letters anyway?

"Okay, I'm back," Jay said as he pulled a chair out to sit next to you. "What are you workin' on?"

"Can you sign this first?" you asked, sliding the yellow paper over to him along with the pen. You hoped he'd just sign it blind, but as you saw his eyes skimming the page, you knew that wouldn't happen.

"Did you try your best?" he asked as he slid the piece of paper back to you after signing it.

"What? Yeah, of course, I did."

"Okay, then we'll figure something out. Now, how about we eat some dinner? I've got pizza in the freezer. That okay?"

"That's great," you answered.

Jay got the pizza in the oven while you went and changed into your pajamas. You decided it was in your best interest to have Will help you with your math homework.

***

"Ah! The man of the hour!" Jay exclaimed as he pulled out the pizza and Will entered the house.

You immediately noticed the red bag he was carrying over his shoulder and the two king-sized Twix bars.

"Why do you have your medical bag?" you asked.

"How did you know this was my medical bag?"

"I'm not stupid, Will."

"Okay, so you're all caught up on your shots, but I need to do a blood draw because I need to see if you're deficient in any vitamins and minerals. Have you been eating enough fruits and veggies?" he asked.

"Probably not as much as I should," you admitted. "They're too expensive unless I get the canned kind and I don't like those unless it's canned peaches. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Short Stack. None of this is your fault. You hear me? None of it. I just need to take the blood and then get it sent to the lab to see if you need to get any specific pills to get your vitamin and mineral levels up."

"Okay. Does it hurt?" you asked. You knew what a shot felt like, but you'd never had your blood drawn before, so you didn't know what it felt like to have a needle in your arm for a long time, taking blood. You knew what it felt like to have an IV in from when you passed out at the movie theater, but you didn't know if this needle would be the same size or bigger.

"You just feel a slight pinch at the beginning."

"Like getting a shot?"

"Like getting a shot," he confirmed.

"Hey, I was thinking," Jay started as he reappeared from the kitchen area, "what if we have celery and carrots with ranch for dinner, too? You know, like when we eat chicken wings at restaurants and they bring you some veggies, except we'll have ours with pizza."

"Okay," you agreed. "I like ranch."

"So does everyone in the midwest," Will joked.

"What's the medical bag for?" Jay asked. "She needs shots? And, what's with the Twix bars?"

"No, I'm drawing her blood to see if she's deficient in anything. And, there's one Twix bar for her and one for you because we all know how you feel about needles, Jay."

Jay rolled his eyes. "We doing this before we eat?"

"Yes. And, I need you to answer some questions for me, Y/N. These are strictly doctor protocol questions, okay? You don't need to be embarrassed about any of the answers."

You nodded.

"Okay," Will started, "When did you last eat? Just need to write it down for fasting glucose levels."

"Um, lunch at school, so around noon."

"So, six-hour fast," Will scribbled down on a piece of paper. "Next one, are you sexually active?"

"Will!"

"It's just standard protocol, just in case I need to test for STDs."

"No, I am not. Next question."

"Okay, last one: When was your last period?"

"You've got to be kidding me. I'm not pregnant, I haven't had sex!"

Will chuckled. "It's not for that. Sometimes when people are deficient in vitamins and minerals, they can lose their period for months at a time, signaling that their body isn't healthy. The medical term is amenorrhea." But, what he wanted to say was that when girls are underweight, this can also happen. And, from seeing how baggy your sweatshirt and jeans were on you, he assumed that you'd lost ten pounds since last going to the doctor when you passed out in the movie theater parking lot, making your weight loss a grand total of 25 pounds, which would qualify you as being underweight.

"Oh. I started today."

"Okay, good to know. Any changes in length or heaviness of menstruation?"

"I swear, I'd rather have Natalie or April be asking me these questions," you grumbled. "But, yes, it's a lot lighter and it went from me having my periods for five days to two days. Can we please stop talking about this now?"

"Yeah, we're all done. Sorry about that, but it's protocol."

"Says the guy who's drawing my blood at Jay's apartment instead of in a hospital, where it should be done."

"Hey, I've worked in much worse conditions than this in Sudan. How much water did you drink today?"

"A lot."

"Okay, good." Will started to unzip his medical bag. He passed a Twix bar to Jay. "Here, eat this and focus on it so you don't focus on the needles and then freak out."

Jay rolled his eyes, but took the candy bar and unwrapped it.

"Do I get one?" you asked.

"Once I draw your blood, yes, the other one is for you. Now, right or left arm?"

You held out your left arm and Will moved to the other side of you so he had a better angle. He sanitized his hands and then snapped on a pair of gloves.

"So, what do you do?" you asked. "I've never had my blood drawn before."

"I just tie off your arm so that I can get the veins to show a bit better, wipe down the spot with an antiseptic wipe, stick the needle in, and then wait for the vial to fill up."

"That's it?"

"That's it. Can you make a fist with your left hand for me?"

You did as Will told you and then he tied a band around your bicep and started touching the inside of your elbow, trying to get some veins to show. He furrowed his eyebrows and moved down your arm, rubbing your forearm and then going back up to the crook of your elbow and gently pressing there.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

"You just have really small veins is all. I could take the blood from the big vein in your forearm, but I don't really want to do that one since it's so big. Can you squeeze your fist tighter for me?" You did as he said while he kept pressing on the crook of your elbow. "There we go. Got one. Now, turn and look at Jay while I get the needle ready."

You looked at Jay and tried not to laugh. "You okay?"

"Me? I should be asking you that," he replied. "You're the one who's about to get stabbed with a needle."

"It's just that you got some sweat on your forehead. You look nervous."

"They're needles. They're tiny little sharp metal objects and if one breaks off--"

"Jay, respectfully," Will started, cutting off his brother, "shut the hell up, so you don't scare my patient. You might just want to look away instead of watching me. Then you might feel fine." Then, he turned back to you. "Okay, Y/N, keep looking at Jay. Close your eyes if you want to. You're going to feel a small pinch."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Then, you squeezed your eyes shut tightly and grit your teeth, trying not to yell out as the needle pierced your skin.

"Hard part's done," Will said. You nodded, still keeping your eyes closed.

"That was not a small pinch," you retorted about a minute later.

"Sorry."

You opened your eyes and watched as the blood flowed from your vein into the small tube that was hooked up to the needle.

"I thought you hated blood," Jay pointed out. "And here you are, watching the entire process."

"I'm fine when it's my blood if it's not a huge, deep cut," you explained. "It's other people's blood I don't like."

"Well, that takes any job in the medical field off your career choices," Will said.

You sat there for a few more minutes, waiting for the vial to fill up. Will pressed on your arm, close to the needle, to see if more would come out. "This vein is really small," he said.

You watched as the blood coming into the tube started becoming slower and slower, in what looked to be bubbles.

"Just a little more," Will muttered.

You started taking deeper breaths as you felt sweat start to bead on your forehead.

"Okay, let's see how much this gave me." He pressed his thumb above where the needle was and you turned back to Jay as he removed the needle.

Then, he got the blood into the vial. "Bad news," he started, "I might need to take more. Let's see how much extra there is." He put the extra into another, smaller vial. "Yeah, this one clotted too, so bad news, we need more."

You nodded and closed your eyes, feeling your face get hot and starting to feel lightheaded. You pinched the bridge of your nose, willing this uncomfortable feeling to go away.

"You doing okay?" Will asked.

"Yeah," you answered.

"Okay, I'm gonna do your right arm this time." You held your right arm out to him. "Make a fist for me." You did as he told you and he tied the blue band around your bicep.

But, you were getting even dizzier. "Actually, can I get some water? I feel dizzy."

"Course," Will said. "Jay, can you get her some water and juice if you have any?"

"Apple juice good?"

"That's fine," you answered.

Will untied the band from your bicep. "We're just going to wait a few minutes until you feel less dizzy before I take more blood, okay?"

You nodded and took the water from Jay when he came back.

"Let's have the juice after I finish," Will suggested after a few minutes had passed and you finished the water. "Feeling better, Short Stack?"

"Yeah, let's get this over with." Your forehead was still a bit sweaty, but you were a lot less dizzy.

Will repeated the same process as the last arm and it went a lot faster. Turns out he picked a bit bigger vein in the crook of your elbow of this arm than he did the other one.

"And, we're done," Will said as he capped the vial.

He handed you the juice. "Thanks," you said. "That was not fun."

"I bet. At least you didn't pass out. I've had a few patients do that when I went through my clinicals. That's why normally when someone gets their blood drawn, they sit in this chair where something is flipped down in front of them so they don't fall out of the chair just in case they pass out."

"Jay, do you pass out?" you asked.

He scoffed. "No. I don't even get dizzy. My body doesn't react like that."

"He just breaks out into a sweat whenever he sees needles," Will whispered, loud enough for Jay to hear.

"Hey! I heard that! Take one more jab at me and you won't be getting any pizza, Will. I mean it!"

Will held his hands up in a mock surrender while you finished up your juice. Then, Will started to pack up his medical stuff and Jay brought the pizza and veggies and ranch out, along with plates of course.

You ate your pizza while Will helped you with your math homework. Once you finished two slices of pizza and some celery and ranch, you said that you were done.

"You sure?" Jay asked. "You can have as much as you want."

"I'm good. Gotta save some for tomorrow." Your eyes widened as you realized what you had just said. "I'm gonna go take a shower. It's been a long day."

"Okay, clean towels are in the cabinet in the bathroom where they always are," Jay said, trying not to react to what you had just said even though he knew exactly what you were doing.

You were rationing food.

"Fuck," Jay said as he put his head in his hands when he knew you were in the bathroom and out of earshot.

"What? What did she mean by gotta save some for tomorrow?" Will asked.

"She's rationing it. I used to do it in Afghanistan. Save some of my MRE and put it in my pack to eat the next day if I was on a long trek and we knew we wouldn't get back to base. It would be cold and usually disgusting, but I'd choke it down because it was calories and I needed fuel to be sharp in case we came in contact with combatants."

"Poor kid. At least we had Mom."

Jay nodded. "What happened with Dad at the hospital?"

"Had to have a mitral valve replacement because his wasn't working properly. Told him over and over to get his checked regularly, but he didn't because he's stubborn. He went for the non-surgical option first, but then there were complications, so Rhodes performed surgery. He's fine."

"That's good... I guess." Jay glanced around and he saw your duffle bag sitting outside the bathroom door. You had grabbed your clothes to bring them into the bathroom and left your open duffle bag by the door.

Jay stood up and started walking towards it.

"What are you doing?" Will hissed.

"I need to see if she's got anything else in there that will help prove neglect. I'm assuming it needs to be proved...I only know criminal court cases, don't know much about family court cases."

"What do you mean family court? You're going to fight Dad to be able to take care of her?"

"Yeah, I'll fight to be her legal guardian. Unless you want to do it. My loan went through for a new apartment, which has two bedrooms, so I figured I might be better suited."

"Go ahead. You'd probably have a better chance anyway because you were around more when I was in New York."

Jay nodded and started to dig around your duffle bag. He chuckled and pulled out your Build-A-Bear. "She still sleeps with Beary," he said as he held up the stuffed bear. "Probably doesn't change his clothes anymore because she's too old for that, but he's in pajamas."

"Remember that military uniform you got for her bear? Mom said she barely took Beary out of that because she missed you so much."

"Yeah, and if she wouldn't have dropped him at the airport, I might not have met Mouse."

The two fell into a comfortable silence as he continued to dig through your bag. He got to a big zip-lock bag full of pieces of fabric that were stained light reds and browns.

"Will, c'mere," Jay said, waving him over. Will squatted down next to Jay. "You know what this is?"

Will sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. I saw a lot of this when I worked in Sudan."

"Well, what is it?"

"So, when girls don't have access or money to buy feminine hygiene products, they'll use scraps of fabric and wash them. Looks to me like she cut up some, um, she cut up some underwear and then used them as make-shift pads. If they aren't taken care of properly, she could end up with an infection. And, if she tried to use them as tampons instead of pads, it could lead to TSS, which stands for Toxic Shock Syndrome."

"We're gonna have to talk to her about this now, aren't we?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. She's not gonna be happy you dug through her stuff, so I'll let you explain why you were going through it. And, if she used them as tampons, I want her to get a pelvic exam, just to make sure she didn't get any infections. Much more likely to get an infection from tampons than pads."

Jay nodded. He hated having the current conversation and knew he was going to hate the next one even more, but he knew he had to do these things if he wanted to petition the court for legal guardianship.

Jay picked up your duffle bag and brought it to the living room and he set the zip-lock bag full of pieces of fabric on top.

"I can't believe we missed this," Will said. "I mean, we're both trained in how to spot abuse and we couldn't even spot it in our little sister."

"There weren't outright signs," Jay said. "No bruising, limping, cuts, burns, nothing like that. And, it's winter, it's easy to hide the weight loss. But, I still agree with you. If we would've spotted it earlier, we could've gotten her out of there."

"I'm pretty sure she's officially underweight now."

Jay ran a hand through his hair and then stood back up. "I'm gonna go put clean sheets on my bed. I'll let Y/N take it tonight so that we can keep talking out here when she goes to sleep."

"Good idea."

A few minutes later, Jay was back on the couch next to Will and you walked out of the bathroom, wearing a baggy t-shirt and some sweatpants that you had to keep pulling up because they were too big on you now, and a pair of fuzzy socks. You were cold all the time now and wanted your hoodie out of your duffle and wanted to put your dirty clothes in there, but when you looked down to the spot where you thought you had put it, it wasn't there.

"Guys?" you asked. "Have you seen my bag?"

You walked over to the kitchen table where your blanket was sitting on the chairs and wrapped that around yourself instead.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you saw your brothers on the couch, your duffle bag in front of them on the floor, and on top, your bag of ripped-up, old underwear that you used as pads when you didn't have any.

"You went through my stuff?" you asked, starting to become angry.

"Y/N," Jay started, "I know you're mad and it was me who went through it and not Will, so don't be mad at him, be mad at me. But, I went through it to see if anything was in there that could help me get you out of dad's house. Permanently."

"You- You want to have custody of me?" you asked.

A small smile appeared on Jay's lips and he nodded. "It wouldn't be considered custody because I'm not your biological parent, it would be considered guardianship, but yes, I want you to stay with me. And, my loan went through for a new apartment, so you'd have your own room and everything."

"Okay."

Jay looked at Will, not wanting to be the one to start this conversation. And, he figured Will would be the best one to start it because he was a doctor.

"Y/N, we need to ask you about these." Will motioned to the zip-lock bag on top of your stuff.

You sat in the loveseat across from them and looked down at your feet.

"It's okay, you're not in trouble," Will continued. "We just want to know how you used them in case you need to get a pelvic exam to check for infections in that area."

Your lip began to tremble as tears started to roll down your cheeks. "I used them as pads," you said quietly. "Dad wouldn't buy me any and I stopped getting them from school because I thought they'd suspect something was wrong if I- if I kept taking them."

"One more question," Will said softly. "I just need to know in case we need to take you in for this. I know you said you used them as pads, but did you ever try and use them as tampons?"

"No. I only used them as pads," you whispered. "I was scared to use them as tampons." You looked up at your brothers, who both had tears in their eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you rushed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner I was just--" You let out a wail and Jay got up and knelt in front of you.

"Hey, hey, none of this is your fault. Do you hear me? Absolutely none of this is on you. It's all on Dad. Every single bit of it. You are not the one to blame."

You launched yourself into his arms, crying out every emotion you had felt these past few months: anger, frustration, fear, sadness, it was all coming out now.

And, Jay just held you and let you cry it out because that was what your guys' mom used to do for him. And, he knew it worked.

Twenty minutes later, your wails were just quiet whimpers and you pushed yourself back up onto the loveseat, where Will had moved to the spot next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and you leaned into him, craving the comfort that had been denied to you for so long.

"You still have that Twix bar?" you asked.

"All that crying made you hungry, didn't it, Short Stack?" Will asked as Jay got up to retrieve the candy bar from the table.

You nodded.

"Thank you," you said when Jay handed you the Twix bar. You unwrapped it and broke it into the two sticks. "You guys want any?" They both shook their heads: they knew you needed to get as many calories in you as possible.

Jay sighed, he might as well get this hard conversation over with you tonight as well. "Y/N, you can eat as much as you want. I won't say anything about you eating too much, okay?"

You looked up from your candy bar. "You won't call me a burden because I'm eating your food? Like Dad did?"

"He said that?" Will asked, giving Jay a look that read when I see him next, I can't be held accountable for my actions.

"Yeah. One time there were some leftovers he had gotten from a bar and I was so hungry and it was the middle of the night, so I took them out and heated them up. The microwave timer must've woken him up because he came out just as I was about to start eating and then he yelled at me for eating his food and called me a burden."

"Well, we don't think that. Neither Will nor me think that," Jay told you. "And you can eat as much as you want."

You yawned as you crumpled up your Twix wrapper.

"Tired?" Will asked.

"Yeah," you mumbled.

"It's been a long day," Jay said. "You can take my bed."

"Jay, it's your apartment, I can't--"

"Y/N, this isn't up for discussion. I already put clean sheets on the bed for you."

"Is- Is there a fan in your room? I can't sleep without white noise."

"There is. You want me and Will to tuck you in?"

"I'm too old for that." You stood up and Will did, too. "Jay, can you hand me Beary? He should be in my duffle."

"Here you go, kid."

You took your bear and held him loosely in your arm. Then, you enveloped Jay in a hug and did the same for Will.

"I love you guys."

"We love you, too," Will said.

"Now get to sleep. You've still got school in the morning. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Dad sometimes wouldn't be home when I woke up for school. He'd be at a friend's house sleeping off a hangover from the night before or just sleeping."

Jay furrowed his eyebrows. "Doesn't he have to work?"

"He does work, but only a few days a week. The other days, he stays out really late and then comes home either drunk or hungover."

"I see," Jay stated. "Well I won't be doing that, I can promise you that."

"I know. You aren't like Dad. Neither of you are." You yawned again. "I'm going to bed, goodnight."

A few minutes later, you were out like a light and Will was still at Jay's apartment.

"So, Abby called me the other day," Will started. "She's looking for you. Says she's in town for a few days and wants to meet up."

"Oh yeah? She say why?" Jay asked, wondering why his ex-wife--who was the result of a blackout drunk wedding in Vegas, a thing that lasted only 24 hours tops--was in Chicago and was looking for him of all people.

"She said you two are still married."

Jay threw his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

***

"Morning," Jay said as he stood at the stove flipping some eggs. "Sleep good?"

"I slept really good. Didn't even hear you wake up."

"Fan did the trick then?"

You nodded and grabbed a mug from the cupboard and went to start pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

"Nuh-uh," Jay chirped, putting his hand on the handle of the coffee pot as well.

"Why not? I drank it at Dad's."

Jay raised an eyebrow. "You drank coffee at Dad's?"

"Yeah, on the weekends sometimes that would be my breakfast because it curbs my appetite and there wasn't a lot to eat."

Jay sighed. "Well, you'll have enough to eat here, I can promise you that. And, coffee stunts your growth."

"Jay," you groaned. "I haven't grown since sixth grade."

"Okay, well, then you don't want to become dependent on it at such an early age, then. Come talk to me when you're a legal adult or in college."

"Fine." You let go of the coffee pot and put the mug back in the cupboard.

"You can have juice though." The toast in the toaster popped up and Jay placed the toast on a plate and then put a slice of cheese on each piece and then an egg on top. He also put a small bowl of strawberries next to it. "I'm gonna go get dressed while you eat. And then, once you're ready, I'll take you to school."

"Okay, thanks, Jay."

"You're welcome, kiddo."

You rolled your eyes at the nickname and then went to the fridge to get the apple juice. When you opened the fridge, you saw a brown paper bag with your name on it. Curiosity got the best of you, so you took it out and looked at the contents while you ate your breakfast.

Inside was a ham and Colby jack cheese sandwich with lettuce, pickles, mustard, and mayonnaise, an apple, a coconut-flavored Greek yogurt, celery with peanut butter, and a chocolate chip granola bar. There were also two dollars at the bottom of the bag paperclipped together with a sticky note stuck to the top.

For chocolate milk. ~Jay was what the note read.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you continued to eat your breakfast. You don't remember the last time you brought a lunch to school; you'd always get your lunch for free at school. When you got the paper from school about the free/reduced lunch because teachers noticed you didn't have much to eat, you waited until your dad was hungover and it was early in the morning, and handed him a pen and he signed the paper blindly. And, that's how you got lunch and breakfast at school without any cost to you or your dad.

"Hey, I can just brush my teeth at the kitchen sink if you want the bathroom--" He cut himself off when he saw the tears in your eyes. "What's wrong?"

"You- You made me lunch?" you asked as you turned to face him.

He smiled. "Of course I did. I know how bad cafeteria food can be. And, if it tastes good, it's usually not very good for you."

"Thank you," you said as you wiped a tear away that had rolled down your cheek.

"Aww, hey, don't cry, don't cry. It's okay. You're safe now. You don't need to worry about where your next meal will come from. And, I'm going to petition a judge for legal guardianship in a few days. I just have to have a few conversations with some lawyers."

"Does this mean you have to move? I don't want to kick you out of your apartment."

Jay dismissed that with a wave. "I already put in a loan application for a new apartment. Two bedrooms. Really nice."

"Can you tell me about it? While I finish eating my strawberries."

Jay nodded and sat down in the chair across from you. "It's a two-bedroom, washer, dryer. But, I know you don't care about those things. There's underground parking. It's got a gym, a whole club level, with like a coffee lounge, and all this other stuff."

"That sounds really nice."

"Yeah, it is a pretty nice building. Coffee lounge would be perfect for you to get your homework done if you don't feel like staying in the apartment."

"I thought you said I couldn't drink coffee?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I meant the caffeine in the coffee. Decaf coffee and lattes and tea lattes, that's a different story. I'm sure they have pastries there, too."

"Never pegged you for a coffee snob," you joked.

"You learn a lot about coffee and about a person when you have to get your entire unit coffee. I'll let you in on a little secret: Ruzek's coffee order is the most complicated."

"Really?"

"Really. Now, go finish getting ready. Don't want you being late for school."

***

"Hey, Er, can you meet me at the diner we usually go to?" Jay asked his girlfriend over the phone after he had dropped you off at school.

"Yeah, no problem. Give me fifteen minutes. We haven't caught a case yet, but we should keep our radios on just in case. Everything okay?"

"It's a long story. I'll explain everything in person, okay?"

"Okay," Erin answered skeptically. "I'll see you in a few."

Fifteen minutes later on the dot, Erin walked into the little diner and spotted Jay sitting in the corner booth.

"Alright, what's going on?" she asked after she had ordered her food and some coffee. "You sounded really stressed on the phone."

Jay sighed. "I'm going to fight for legal guardianship of Y/N."

"What? Why? What happened?" Erin asked as she widened her eyes.

"Our dad, he uh, he hasn't really been the greatest. Not keeping food in the house, calling her a burden when she tries to eat some of his food, not buying her products for you know...girl stuff. She's probably lost like 25 pounds since the end of last school year. And, I know that doesn't sound like a lot with the amount of time that's passed, but she's underweight. Will drew some of her blood last night to see if she's deficient in some vitamins or minerals."

"My God."

"Yeah, so, I know we were going to move into your place together, but I need another bedroom and my loan went through at that place I told you about, so I'm going to put an offer in there. You could always move in with me if you want, but I don't know if it would be a good idea for that to happen right away. I just want to get Y/N healthy again. I'm sorry."

"Jay, I get it. She's family. Do you know how you're going to go about this? Did you talk to Voight about taking any time off to sort this out?"

"Not yet. But, I think I'm going to call Antonio and see if he can help me out with getting a meeting with ASA Stone. I know he works criminal cases, but he's gotta know some stuff about family court cases. So, I figured he might be able to help me with this whole process."

"Good idea. If you need any help, just say the word and I'll be there."

Jay smiled. "Thanks, Er." He didn't want to have the conversation he was about to have, but he knew he had to tell her. "There's uh, there's one more thing I need to tell you."

"Okay, what is it?"

"About eight years ago, I was married."

"Excuse me, what? You were married and you didn't tell me?"

Jay knew this was a bad idea...which was why he hadn't wanted to tell Erin, but now that he wasn't officially divorced for whatever reason, he knew needed to tell her. "Just let me explain."

"Yes, please do," Erin sneered.

"Her name's Abby. She ran Cultural Support during my last tour in Kandahar. About a year after I came home, I saw her at a funeral in Vegas. Was... was a guy in our unit, he had redeployed, and, um, he didn't... Um, I was, like, blacking out most nights, and we were both pretty shook up. And, um, we got married." He chuckled at the thought of his twenty-one-year-old self thinking that marriage was a good idea. "It was, like, a 24-hour thing, it was a total joke, and it is long over."

Erin just stared at him, as he waited to be chewed out by her. "Jay, you married this girl. And you never told me, and you were never gonna tell me," was all she said.

"I know. And, I'm sorry. But, I'm meeting up with her in a few days to sign the documents that I thought I'd signed because she's getting married and we need to make the divorce official...even though, in my mind, it's been official for eight years.

"Er, please don't hate me, but with everything going on, with me trying to get guardianship of Y/N and me finding out that I'm somehow still married--"

"You want us to take a break?" Erin asked, finishing his sentence for him.

Jay nodded. "I'm sorry. I just don't think I can juggle a relationship with all this other stuff. And, it's not fair to you."

Erin swallowed. "Well, just tell me if you need any help with Y/N. I'll always be there for you. Relationship or partnership, I'll always have your six."

"And I'll always have yours."

Erin's phone buzzed on the table and she picked it up. "It's Voight. We caught a case."

Jay laid some bills on the table. "Then let's go."

***

"Got the results of Y/N's bloodwork back," Will told Jay over the phone while he had a quick break for lunch...even though it was four o'clock in the afternoon. But, that's the thing about the medical field: breaks are never regular.

"And? Any deficiencies?" Jay asked, walking into his bedroom as you were at the table doing homework and he didn't want to distract you.

"Yes, two actually. Iron and riboflavin. The low iron explains why her periods have become shorter and lighter, but that can also be attributed to how small she is now."

"How do we go about this then?"

"I'll send you a list of foods that have levels high iron and riboflavin. Oh, riboflavin's found in vitamin B by the way."

"Okay, care to tell me what iron and riboflavin do? I know iron helps with hemoglobin and red blood cells, but I have no idea what riboflavin does."

"You're right about iron. I'm shocked. Or, what do the kids say these days? I'm shook."

"I swear to God, please never use that phrase again. And, I know what iron does because I paid attention in high school nutrition class, thank you very much."

"If I remember correctly, I helped you with most of the homework in that class."

"Whatever, you helped me. Now, tell me about riboflavin."

"So, riboflavin just helps convert food into energy and is needed for healthy skin, hair, blood, and a healthy brain." Jay could hear a beeping in the background on Will's end. "Gotta go. I'll send you that list of foods right now, though."

"Thanks, man."

You looked up as Jay came back into the kitchen. "Everything okay?" you asked.

Jay pulled out a chair and sat across from you. "So, I just got off the phone with Will. He got the results from your bloodwork back."

"Is it bad? Am I dying?" You set your pencil down, bracing yourself for bad news.

"No," Jay chuckled, "you're not dying. You just don't have enough iron and riboflavin, which is a specific B vitamin. Will sent me a list of foods that have high levels of those in them. You up for some grocery shopping? We can also grab some multivitamins that have those in them, too, just to help your levels stabilize faster."

"Okay, we can go now. I'm due for a break."

***

"So, some foods that contain riboflavin include milk, eggs, cheese, yogurt, meats, green leafy vegetables, and riboflavin enriched grains and cereals," Jay read off his phone.

"I've had a lot of those today already," you pointed out. "Eggs and cheese with breakfast. I had that yogurt for a snack at school, and I had meat and cheese on my sandwich and I had chocolate milk with my lunch at school."

That was just standard, Jay thought. He wondered what you ate when you were at your Dad's. And, he knew that if he wanted to obtain guardianship of you, he'd need to know these things.

"What did you eat at Dad's?" Jay probed.

"I mean, I barely made it to school on time most mornings because I was trying to be quiet so I didn't wake Dad, which made me move slower when getting ready. So, I'd usually just grab a small thing of dry cereal when I got to school and eat it in my first class. I never checked to see if it was one of the enriched ones. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. There's no way you could've known. Now, what did you usually have for lunch at school?"

"I always tried to get veggies with my lunch, but most of the veggies were the gross canned ones, like canned corn or green beans. I don't like those. Sometimes, they'd have little salads as a side and I'd get those. Sometimes they'd have yogurt parfaits and I'd get those. But, I'd usually go for the pre-made subs, because at least those would have veggies on them...even if it was just lettuce and pickles. I'd usually try to get an apple or banana as my side, too." You paused. "If I was getting meat and cheese from the sub and milk from my chocolate milk, then how am I deficient in this?"

"It's probably because the meat and cheese schools use is so heavily processed that there are little to no vitamins left in it," Jay answered.

"And you know this how?"

"As you get older, you acquire a lot of knowledge and one of those things is that the more processed a food is, the fewer vitamins and minerals are preserved...and I watch a lot of The Food that Built America on the History channel."

"Oh, okay. What foods are on that show?"

"Usually it's about fast food. One episode I watched last week was about ice cream and popsicles and how they came to be in America. Pretty interesting."

"Can we watch an episode tonight? That show sounds good."

"Of course." He paused in front of the fresh produce. "Take your pick. But, just make sure you get some leafy greens for the riboflavin and some fruit and other green veggies for iron."

You picked up a few things such as more apples, a bag of Clementines, bananas, spinach, carrots, and celery, and then, you shocked your brother as you picked up a bag of kale.

"Kale?" he asked. "Didn't know you liked it."

You shrugged. "I heard it tastes kind of like spinach. And, I saw a recipe on Pinterest for a salad that has kale, lemon juice, and dates. Is it okay if we try that?"

"You know, I think that would be the perfect side for dinner tonight. I'll add lemon juice and dates to the list."

"I didn't grab too many fruits and veggies, right?" you asked, not wanting to waste food or your brother's hard-earned money. "I- I can put some back if you want me to."

"Nope, it's all good. We can always freeze the bananas if they go bad for smoothies or banana bread. And, we can always turn the apples into apple sauce. Spinach and kale freeze well, too and you can't even taste them if we put them in smoothies."

"How do you know this stuff?" you asked.

"I used to watch Mom cook a lot when I was little. And, when I moved out on my own, she gave me a copy of a cookbook she always used. Said the recipes at the beginning of the book were simple enough that I wouldn't burn my apartment down."

You laughed at the thought of your mom scolding Jay if his apartment got ruined from his cooking. "Do you still have it?" you asked. "The cookbook, I mean."

"I do."

"Can we make something out of it tonight?"

"You know, I think that's a great idea." He pursed his lips. "How about Mom's chicken pot pie? I think I have some frozen peas and corn in the freezer and we can use the carrots we just grabbed in it, too."

"That sounds really good. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me." Jay paused. He figured now would be as good a time as any to tell you. "Uh, do you remember the day that we got ice cream and went and played soccer with Ben when you were little? The night that Mom went into the hospital?"

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat at the memory of that day.

"Well, she told me to take care of you. There's no way I would break a promise to Mom."

"She said that?"

"Mhmm."

"It's like she knew something was going to happen."

"Mom was a smart lady. Will had to have gotten it from somewhere and he sure didn't get it from Dad."

You laughed. "Hey, you're smart, too. Just not sciency smart. You're more puzzle smart because you put the pieces together of who committed a crime." Jay laughed at your description of his job. "Oh, is the recipe for Mom's garlic mashed potatoes in that cookbook?"

"It is. Want those as a side along with the salad you mentioned?"

"Yes, please...if it's not a problem."

"They're super simple and quick to make." He scribbled on a piece of notebook paper that he had written down a few groceries on, like the salad ingredients you had mentioned. "Alright, potatoes, a rotisserie chicken, and pastry dough have all been added to the list."

***

"I'll be back later tonight, no later than midnight," Jay told you two days later on Sunday night. "I know it's not ideal because you have school in the morning, but try and get some sleep while I'm gone, okay?"

"I'm used to being home alone at night, Jay." You shrugged. "I'll be fine."

"I know, it's just that not something I want you to get used to. Feel free to eat anything you want, cook anything you want. As long as you don't burn down the house, I don't care what you make. Oh, and remember to take your multivitamin before bed."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm fifteen, not five. Now, get going. Don't want you to be late to meet that lawyer."

"Love you. I'll be back by midnight. Lock the door behind me."

"I will. Love you, too."

With that, Jay left his apartment to go meet with ASA Stone and you locked the door behind him as he told you.

***

"So, Antonio told me you have some custody questions," Peter Stone said once he closed the door of his office.

"That's right," Jay replied as he took a seat in front of Stone's desk and turned his phone completely off and Stone took a seat in his chair behind his desk.

"Didn't know you had a kid, Halstead."

"No, I don't actually," Jay chuckled. "I have a kid sister. Name's Y/N and she's fifteen."

"Okay, and why do you want guardianship then?"

"When me and Will, my older brother, were kids, our dad kinda checked out on parenting us when we hit our mid-teens. But, we had our mom around, so it was okay. I went over there the other day because my dad was having some heart issues and I called Will. When I was there, I got a call of a robbery and it was Y/N. She was stealing food from a corner store because our dad wasn't feeding her," Jay explained.

"I see. So, other than her word and her stealing food, do you have any proof of this?"

"I know I should've called DCFS before letting her stay with me, but I couldn't let her stay there a minute longer, Peter. She's lost like 25 pounds in the past six months and she's deficient in both iron and vitamin B."

"Okay, what we have to do is petition for guardianship in front of a judge. I can help you with the documents and I can even represent you at the hearing if you want."

"Wow, yeah, that'd be great. Thank you."

"Anything else you want to tell me about your dad? Any physical or emotional abuse?"

"Not technically, but there is something else." And then Jay launched into all the information you had told him two days ago.

"Okay. And, you know your dad could theoretically press kidnapping charges against you because you took his kid without his permission?"

"I do. But he was basically starving her. No jury would find me guilty."

"I'm not going to argue with you about that one because I agree with you."

"So, do you think I have a chance of getting guardianship over Y/N?"

"In theory, yes. But, most judges like to keep the child with their biological parents. But, seeing as Y/N's fifteen, she does get some say in who she stays with," Stone explained. "When we have a custody or guardianship battle, we use the child's best interest standard. This means that you must prove that you are capable of providing food, clothing, housing, medical care, and a stable home life for Y/N. There will be one or two home visits before appearing before a judge, just to let you know."

"I'm aware of that. And, I just put an offer in on a new apartment with two bedrooms this morning and they're pretty quick in responding, so I should know in the next few days whether or not I got it."

"That's a good start. And you are financially stable to raise her until she turns eighteen, so three more years?"

"I am."

"Alright, let's start on those documents then. Unless you have any more questions for me?"

"I do actually. I, uh, I just found out that I'm technically still married. Something about me not signing the divorce papers even though I specifically remember signing them? And, before you ask, me and this girl served together, we were both twenty-one, going through rough patches and it was a Vegas wedding eight years ago. Lasted no more than twenty-four hours."

"It's really good that you told me this because any good lawyer would find that out when you file for guardianship. It's possible that she didn't co-sign the divorce papers. If that's the reason, I can help you draw up new divorce papers right now."

"Really? You'd help me with that?"

"Of course. A friend of Antonio's is a friend of mine," Stone said as he started typing on his computer. "So, what you can do is you can file for a no-fault divorce."

"You're gonna have to be specific, Stone. I know a bit of criminal law because I've had to testify in criminal cases, but like I said, I don't know family or civil law," Jay said.

"What a no-fault divorce is, Jay, is that you don't have to prove that either of you did anything wrong to get a divorce. All you have to do is state that your marriage is unsalvageable and continue filing for divorce."

"That's it? What if she doesn't sign it?"

"The divorce papers will be served to, uh...what's this girl's name again?" Stone asked.

"Abby."

"Abby. The divorce papers will be served to Abby and she has twenty days to file her response with the court. If she doesn't, then the court rules it as an uncontested divorce and then you're officially divorced."

"Me and Abby are meeting up to talk about all this tonight. But, can we just fill out paperwork for this no-fault divorce just in case things don't go as planned? I just really need to get guardianship of Y/N. The least amount of problems, the better."

"Of course. And if everything goes well with her tonight, then just give me a call and I'll shred the documents."

"Alright, just tell me where to sign."

***

"Wilson is running through the showers wearing nothing but a Kevlar vest, right?" Jay reminisced on the good parts of his Ranger days with Abby at a bar around 8:30 that night after his meeting with Peter Stone.

"Well, the lieutenant said, all outdoor activities to be conducted in body armor." Jay laughed at Abby's rendition of their lieutenant's voice. "Do you remember, he had his girlfriend's name tattooed on his ass?"

Jay set his empty drink down on the bar. "Did he tell you that was his girlfriend? That was his dog's name," Jay laughed.

"That actually makes more sense," Abby said. "I could go for another one of these."

"I, um, I shouldn't."

"Gotta get back to the barracks?"

"No, I uh gotta get back to my little sister, actually. I'm looking after her at the moment. It's a long story. Do you have the papers?"

"I, uh, I don't have them."

"Abby."

"It's just, I never told you. Even that crazy day we got married, I never told you that I loved you, Jay. It didn't feel right. But, I loved you, Jay. I do love you."

Jay sighed. "Abby, you deserve everything good. I'm just not the guy that's gonna give that to you." He brushed her hair to the side and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

After putting some money on the bar to pay for the drinks and tip the bartender, he left the bar. Guess he was going to need these no-fault divorce documents, anyway.

He was almost to his car when he heard someone calling his name. And, it was a voice he knew all too well.

"Erin?" he shouted as she came closer. "What are you doing here?"

"Would it kill you to turn on your phone? You need to get to the district. Now."

"What? Why? What's wrong?"

She got in his passenger seat. "Just drive. I'll explain on the way."

***

You were sitting on Jay's bed reading a book when you heard a knock on the door.

Slowly, you got off his bed and made your way out of his room. You took a knife out of the knife block, but you hoped you wouldn't need to use it. Jay would've told you if someone was planning on stopping over. And, if it was Will, he would've given you a heads-up.

The knocking got louder and more aggressive. "Jayson! Open this door! I have the right to see my daughter!"

Dad.

With the knife still in hand, you backed up and then, once on the carpet, ran back into Jay's room and quietly shut the door and locked it. You pulled out your phone and tried Jay. It went straight to voicemail. The pounding was getting louder. You tried Will. It went straight to voicemail because he was on shift. You thought you heard your dad starting to kick the door now instead of just pounding on it with his fists. You tried the last person you thought could help.

"Y/N?" Erin asked as she answered her phone and paused the tv show she was watching.

"Erin," you whispered. "I'm scared. I need help."

"You need help? Can you tell me why?"

"My dad, he's- he's here. He's looking for me." You heard a crash.

"Jay? Y/N? I know one of you is in here!"

"I- I think he just broke down the apartment door. Please help."

"Okay, okay, here's what you're going to do. I want you to hide somewhere and I'm going to call a patrol car over there right now. You're going to turn your phone on silent and I'm going to call you right back," she told you.

"Okay," you whispered as quietly as you could.

"I'll call you back in one minute tops."

You moved as quietly as you could with the knife and your phone still in your hands and opened Jay's closet door. You buried yourself behind the two garment bags that contained Jay's police blues and his military dress uniform, hoping against hope that your dad wouldn't find you.

Your phone lit up and it was Erin. You answered.

"Y/N, the officers will be there soon. I don't want you to talk. Just know that I'm on the phone with you."

At the same time, as she was talking to you over speakerphone, she was texting the team. She assumed you couldn't reach Jay or Will since you had called her. She told them what was happening and that a few of them needed to get to the district because they needed to find Jay's location. She also told Voight to get ahold of Sharon Goodwin so she could notify Will of what was currently happening.

"Chicago PD! Put your hands where we can see them!" you heard from your hiding place.

"See?" Erin said. "I told you that you'd be okay. I told them that you were hiding, so if someone opens the door, it's just an officer."

Just after she said that the closet door opened.

You squeaked.

"It's okay. You're safe," the officer said. "We're just going to take you down to the district. You're safe."

You peeked out from your hiding place and you saw the blues of the officers. You slowly made your way out and followed the officer out to the patrol car, the one that didn't house your dad for a breaking and entering charge at the moment.

***

"Where is she?" Jay yelled as he entered the district.

Platt just pointed to the bench next to one of the offices where you were sitting, staring at the floor, with a police jacket draped over your shoulders.

He sunk to his knees in front of you. "Are you hurt? Did Dad hurt you? Did he put his hands on you in any way?"

You shook your head.

"Oh thank God."

"I was so scared," you whispered. "When you and Will didn't answer, I thought he was gonna get me."

"I'm sorry. I turned off my phone when I talked to ASA Stone, and I forgot to turn it back on. I'm so sorry. C'mere."

You all but fell off the bench and into Jay's arms. "Is he going to jail? I don't want him going to jail."

"He was drunk out of his mind. I can ask not to press charges, though."

"Please. He needs help."

Although Jay didn't say it, he knew you were right. Jails and prisons didn't rehabilitate, they just taught criminals how to be better criminals. He knew that his dad needed rehab, a twelve-step program, anything.

"Okay, I won't press charges. But, I think we're gonna need to stay with Will for the night because our door's broken. What do you say we run home and grab some clothes to bring to Will's? And, since Dad will be here for a little longer, we can run to his house and get more of your stuff. Sound like a plan?"

"Can we get Dairy Queen on the way to Will's?"

"We sure can."

***

"I- I don't think any of these dresses will fit me anymore. They look way too big," you said to Jay as the two of you unpacked a bunch of your stuff in the guest room of Jay's new apartment. You wanted to think of it as the guest room for now instead of calling it your room just in case Jay wasn't awarded guardianship. You didn't want to get too attached.

Jay sighed. He figured you were right. He would see if Erin could take you, but their relationship was on the backburner right now. And, Erin had some stuff with Bunny she had to work out after she had brought her that pearl bracelet and said that she might be leaving Chicago. So, now wasn't really the right time for him to be bugging Erin about going shopping with you. And, he couldn't ask Kim because she was taking some furlough after finding her sister brutally sodomized after a night out.

He thought about asking Will if Nina could come, but he didn't think that those two were too happy with each other at the moment since Will hadn't told Nina about their dad being in the hospital and she had to find out from Natalie. Not Will's greatest moment.

He racked his brain for more women he knew.

Then it hit him: Gabby.

Yes, they had briefly dated, but that was five years ago. She was married now and his feelings for her were completely gone. They were civil with each other when they saw each other in the field and would chat when Gabby showed up at the district to pick up Eva or Diego.

"How about you try a few on after we finish unpacking, and then if none of them really fit, I can give Gabby a call and see if she'll take you shopping while I work on unpacking the rest of the house," Jay suggested.

"Okay. Will's gonna be over after his shift to help though, right?" you asked.

"He better be. He said he would. If he doesn't come, he better have a really good excuse."

"You can't unpack the kitchen without me," you told him.

"Why not?"

"I can't have you putting the glasses and other stuff on high shelves because I wanna reach them without having to climb on the counter."

"Okay, fine. I'll keep your short little height in mind while I unpack." He paused. "Do you want to get those fancy word stickers for your room for one of the walls?"

"Decals? And, it's not my room yet."

"Listen, after that stunt Dad pulled at my old apartment, Stone is 99.9% positive that I'll be granted guardianship. We just have to jump through all the hoops first."

"Like the home checks?"

"Like the home checks," he confirmed.

"What do I say in court?" you asked a few minutes later as you were putting the pillows on your freshly made bed.

"You just tell the truth," he answered.

"Will you be in there with me?"

"No, I won't. Stone said that usually in these cases you talk to the judge by yourself so that you can't be intimidated by either of the people who are fighting for custody or guardianship."

"So you won't be there? Will won't be there?"

"Will will be out in the hall and I will be in a different room. I'll be in like a witness room, where they make witnesses of a crime wait so that their testimony isn't swayed by what the other people are saying on the stand. But, me and Dad will be in the courtroom at the same time, just so I can see what he'll be saying."

"And, I'll be in there then, too?"

"Yes."

"What kind of questions do they ask me?"

"Stone said that since you're older, you get a say in who you stay with, so they'll ask you questions like who've you known the longest, who you feel safest with, who you want to live with, etc."

"Will they ask me questions about Dad? Like how he didn't give me food and how he broke into your apartment?" you asked.

"They will," Jay confirmed. "But, Stone will be in there for those questions just in case he needs to object to something."

"So the only time I'll be alone with the judge is when they're asking me the first few questions? Like who I feel safest with?"

"Exactly. Now, do you need help putting these books on the top shelf of your bookshelf?"

***

"Hey, how was your day?" Jay asked as he came home from work that afternoon. It was a shock that he was home by 5 pm, but you had a big day tomorrow. Not only was tomorrow Friday, it was the day you and Jay had to go to court to see if he would be awarded guardianship of you.

"We've got a problem," you stated.

"Um, I can try to help you with it, but let me go put my gun away first."

While he was doing that, you pulled out the slip of paper and the note that Gretchen Cunningham had written, saying that she wouldn't allow you to make up the test you would be missing because you had to go to court.

"Alright, what's the problem?" Jay asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"Cunningham. She's the problem...as always."

You handed him the papers and he read them over. "Yeah, this isn't going to fly. She doesn't need a judge's signature to allow you to take the test. I'll talk to the school tomorrow morning when I call to tell them you'll be absent."

"I hate her," you groaned. "She's so mean. And, I know what you're gonna say. You have to deal with people you don't like. But, she lost one of my assignments and told me I didn't turn it in and couldn't re-do it!"

"Well did you?" Jay asked. "Turn it in, I mean."

"Jay!"

He put his hands up in a sign of surrender. "I'm just saying, could be your fault."

"Yes, I turned in the stupid assignment. And, she paired me up with the stupidest kid in the class and told me to do well on this assignment because he needed a good grade to pass. It's not my fault he's failing! Don't put his grade on me, lady!"

"And she wouldn't let you re-do it?"

"Nope. But it's fine. I'm still getting an A. That might change if she doesn't let me take this test, though."

"It's like deja-vu from my freshman year all over again. Why doesn't she retire already? She's like 100."

"Or they could fire her," you quipped. "Or I could switch classes."

"I'll see what I can do. Who's the other history teacher?"

"Um, Miss Hedge."

"Hedge? As in Jayne Hedge?"

"Yeah, it's actually her. Why? Do you know her?"

"Yes he does," Will said as he entered Jay's apartment. "In fact, they went to freshman snowcoming together."

"How did you even get in here?" Jay asked, turning around to look at his older brother.

"For a cop, you're not that smart. You didn't lock the door behind you."

"I don't lock my door when I'm still awake. And, seriously? You just had to tell Y/N that, didn't you?"

"You guys can't just leave me hanging now. Tell me the story!"

"Fine," Jay grumbled and Will just laughed and sat down at the table, too. "I met her at school, obviously. She was on the freshman basketball team and I had winter weight training for the soccer team. I thought she was pretty and she was really smart, too. And, I knew that a bunch of the girls went to get Taco Bell after practice, so me and some of my friends decided to go, too."

"There used to be a Taco Bell close to school?" you asked. If there was, you'd never seen it before.

"It got torn down just after I graduated," Jay answered. "Anyway, we went to Taco Bell and I started talking to her and we talked a lot after practice. I'd walk her home sometimes. Then, I asked her to snowcoming and she said yes."

"So, why'd you guys break up? I know you dated Allie in high school."

"We realized we were better off as friends." Jay shrugged.

"And he realized he liked Allie more," Will added.

"Yeah, that too."

Will set a big bag of takeout on the table.

"Seriously?" Jay asked. "I thought we weren't going to do this that much anymore so we can get Y/N's vitamin and mineral levels stabilized."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate the break from your mundane meals," Will said. "And, I got us all side salads to go with the burgers instead of fries, so calm down." Jay gave him a look. "Fine, I got the side salads along with the fries. But, they're made out of potatoes, so they're technically a vegetable."

"For a doctor, you don't know much about nutrition, do you? And, my meals are not mundane."

"Dude, you'd have chicken, spaghetti, or grilled cheese every night."

"Not every night, just a lot of nights when I'd get home from the district late. I'll have you know me and Y/N have been making really good diners lately. Wanna tell Will what we made last night for dinner, Short Stack?"

"We made this really good pasta. We used Orzo, which looks like rice, but it's pasta. And we made a sauce out of tomatoes, onions, and orange juice. It was supposed to be lemon juice, but Jay didn't have any. We put chicken sausage in it for protein...and spices of course," you told Will.

"That actually sounds really good. Wow, Jay cooking every night, not something I expected."

"I like it," you said. "And, he lets me play whatever music I want when we cook."

Will rolled his eyes. You had Jay so wrapped around your finger that he'd do almost anything for you. Will didn't think he himself was that bad, but deep down, he knew he'd do anything for you, too...despite not being in Chicago as long as Jay had been.

***

"So I got a call from Stone this morning," Jay said around 11:30 that night when he and Will were sitting on the couch, each nursing a beer.

Will set his beer down on the coffee table in front of him. "And?"

"And, as of yesterday at midnight, I am officially divorced from Abby. Turns out, they served her the papers and, since she didn't sign them and it had been twenty days, it turned into an uncontested, no-fault divorce."

"Congrats, man. Might've been eight years too late, but you're a free man now."

"Amen to that. And it came at just the right time."

"Yeah," Will agreed. "You nervous for tomorrow?"

"Not really. More nervous for Y/N than anything. I've testified in criminal cases, so I kinda know how this goes, but she hasn't. And, before me and Dad go in to plead our cases, she has to talk to the judge all by herself. I just wish one of us could be in there with her."

Will nodded. "Know what they're going to ask you?"

"I know what Stone's going to ask me because we prepped, but I have no idea what Dad's lawyer is going to ask me. Pretty sure he's got just a public defender, though. Hopefully, that works in my favor."

"Not always, man," Will disagreed. "The public defenders who do these cases only do these cases. They've had a lot of practice."

"You really know how to make me feel better, thanks," Jay replied sarcastically.

"Rather have you hear it from me before the case than someone else after. Are you going to get cross-examined?"

"Probably. Don't know what they're going to ask me though because it's a cross. Stone set up some sample questions for me to answer with him to practice, but I'm going in blind. I'm used to it though because I've testified before. But, this feels like my biggest case."

"Because it probably is."

"Are you talking about tomorrow?" you asked as you quietly padded across the floor towards the living room.

"Y/N? What are you doing up? It's almost midnight," Jay pointed out.

"I- I know. But I couldn't sleep. I'm scared. What if I have to go back to Dad's? What if they find neither of you fit and I have to go into foster care?"

Jay patted the empty spot on the couch next to him and you sat down. "We just have to trust the system. That's all we can do."

"I know, but I can't sleep. And I'm so tired."

"I have an idea," Jay started and stood up, "stay here."

"I'm gonna go look for some melatonin," Will said after a few minutes of you two just sitting in silence. "I think Jay still has some for nights that he can't sleep."

Will was still rummaging around Jay's cabinets when Jay came back with a big black box with some cords and a cardboard box balanced against his hip.

"The hell is that?" You quickly covered your mouth when you realized you had sworn. "Sorry."

"It's okay. And, to answer your question, this is VCR. And, I have a bunch of videotapes in this box." He turned from you to face the kitchen, where Will was still opening and closing cabinets. "Will? What are you doing?"

"Looking for melatonin for Y/N. You got any?"

"First of all, it's so late that if you give it to her now, she'll sleep through her alarm and we can't be late for court tomorrow. And, second of all, I keep it in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom."

Will closed the cabinet and made his way back to the couch to sit next to you as Jay started to hook up the VCR to the tv. "Uh, Jay," Will began, "you know it's a little late for a movie right? And, I should get going in like half an hour?"

"We're not watching a movie. I recorded a bunch of the Blackhawks playoff games on one of these and I thought Y/N'd like to watch the 2010 Stanely Cup final series against the Flyers. Or, we could watch the final series against the Bruins when they won the cup last year."

"Let's watch the 2010 one," you said. "I don't think I watched it because I wasn't into watching hockey as much as I am now."

"And you have Jay to thank for that," Will pointed out.

"You can record things on there? Like an old-school DVR?" you asked.

"God, now I feel old," Will groaned. "Wait until she learns about floppy disks."

"Floppy what now?"

"Nevermind. Only 80s-90s kids would get it."

"We get it. You guys are millennials."

"Got it!" Jay exclaimed as he popped the videotape into the VCR and it started playing. "Now, shut up so we can relive this, Will."

You fell asleep before you even reached the end of the first period.

***

You rubbed your eyes and then looked around you to notice that you were still on the couch. You craned your neck to see the time on the oven on the other side of the open concept kitchen and living room and saw that it was 5:45 am. Jay was at the gym now. And, you knew you wouldn't be able to fall back asleep because you were already starting to worry about the rest of the day. You had to be in court at 8:30 and had to be talking to a judge at 9:00, the judge that would determine who you would be living with, which would inevitably determine your future.

God, you were thinking just like the teachers talked about the SATs, how if you didn't get a good grade on that standardized test that your future would be ruined.

You stood up and stretched and then went back to your room to grab the book you were currently reading. Then, you turned on a few lamps and grabbed a yogurt and fruit from the fridge, along with a glass of orange juice. After wrapping yourself in a blanket, you started to eat and read, hoping that that would keep your mind from wandering and worrying at least until Jay got back from the gym.

Half an hour later, Jay unlocked the apartment door and walked inside, confused as to why you were awake. It was only 6:15 and he had told you just to be up by 6:45.

"What are you doing awake, Short Stack?" he asked as he grabbed a banana from the bowl on the counter.

"I woke up at about 5:45 and I couldn't fall asleep. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to worry about. I just want you as well-rested for today as possible. You have your dress all ready? Know what shoes you're going to wear?"

"Jay," you whined. "I picked all of that out last night because you told me to."

"Just didn't want you to have to rush. I can turn the game back on for you so you can watch it until you have to start getting ready?"

You nodded and Jay came over and fiddled with the tv and the remote, going back to the middle of the first period where he thought you had fallen asleep.

"Okay, I'm gonna take a shower. Will said he'll be here around 7:45. Oh, and you can take that history test when you get back on Monday, in Miss Hedge's class."

You smiled. "Okay." Then, you turned your attention back to the hockey game.

***

You widened your eyes as you stood in the second bathroom getting ready. You had gotten dressed (into a navy blue, lacey dress that ended just above the knee that you had bought with Gabby a few days ago), washed your face, brushed your teeth, did your makeup, but now you were cursing yourself for being so stupid. You had no way of doing your hair. You didn't have a straightener here. And, your typical ponytail or bun wasn't going to cut it for court.

"Jay!" you yelled as you exited the bathroom and knocked on his bedroom door.

He opened it as he was tying his tie. "Yeah? Everything okay?"

"I don't have a straightener! I can't do my hair and if I wear my hair like I usually do then it will look bad on you and--"

"Hey, hey, calm down. We've still got over 45 minutes before we have to leave. I'll give Gabby a call and see if she's not on shift and can let you borrow hers."

You sighed the biggest sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Five minutes later, Jay knocked on the bathroom door as you were brushing your hair. "Gabby will be here in ten."

"Oh thank God."

***

"Thank you!" you exclaimed ten minutes later as you opened the door, revealing Gabby with her hair straightener. And, behind her, was Casey.

"No problem. Just tell me if you're not used to it and need help."

You took it from her. "No, I should be good. Thanks, though. C'mon in. I'm pretty sure Jay's around here somewhere."

They came into the apartment while you ran off to find Jay.

You knocked on his bedroom once more and he opened it, this time completely ready for the day. "Gabby and Casey are here," you told him.

"Casey's here?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yeah. I think he just came with Gabby."

"Okay. Go fix your hair. I'll go talk to them."

Twenty minutes later, you were finished and slipping your shoes on when you heard a knock on the apartment door. "I got it, Y/N!" Jay yelled.

Well, I hoped you would because you're closer to the door than me, you thought to yourself.

Jay opened the door, and since it was exactly 7:45, he was expecting to just see Will. But, what he saw both shocked him and made him want to cry from appreciation at the same time.

Standing next to Will was Natalie and behind them was all of Intelligence and Trudy Platt and Mouch, all of Squad 3 and Truck 81 (minus Casey because he was inside), Sylvie Brett, Chief Boden, April, Maggie, Dr. Rhodes, Dr. Charles, Reese, and Noah.

"You're all here for the court case?" Jay asked, stunned.

"Well, Natalie has to testify about Y/N's deficiencies and weight loss, but yeah. It's better if the court sees that the person trying to get guardianship has a ton of support. So, I figured I'd call in reinforcements...even though I'm pretty sure my big personality is enough."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Your big ego maybe." He paused, not knowing how he was going to fit everyone in his apartment even if it was bigger than his last one. "However many of you guys can fit inside, can come in. Um, some of you might just need to meet us at the courthouse--"

"Jay, they just came now so you could see how many people were behind you. They're just gonna meet you there. Except for me. I'm driving you two." Jay furrowed his eyebrows. They didn't talk about this. "I'll explain later."

"Gabby," you said as you walked out of the bathroom. "Can you--" you stopped as you saw everyone outside Jay's apartment.

"They're all here for you and Jay," Gabby explained as she stood up. "And, you can't cry because it'll smear your makeup, so hold back the tears."

You nodded as you held them back. "Can you, uh, check the back of my hair to make sure I got it all straight?" you asked.

"Two spots are still a bit wavy. Let's go fix it so you can get going."

A few minutes later, Gabby had fixed your hair and everyone besides Will and Jay had left and were on their way to the courthouse. You slipped on a pair of black ballet flats and your coat.

Will had explained that the reason he was driving was that if Jay didn't get guardianship, he didn't want him driving in such a distressed state. Will had worked on so many patients who were in car accidents due to their emotional state and he didn't want Jay to be one of them.

"Ready?" Jay asked you.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you said as you wiped your sweaty palms on your dress.

"All you have to do is tell the truth."

***

You thought you'd be comfortable inside a courtroom because of the crime dramas you'd seen. But, standing inside one was very different from watching a fictional tv show.

No one but you, the judge, the court reporter, Peter Stone, and your dad's lawyer could be in the room for this next part, so everyone was either in a witness room or waiting outside in the hallway for the go-ahead to be let in. You would be allowed to be in the courtroom while they were talking to Jay and your dad, but they wouldn't be able to be in the room when you talked to the judge...for obvious reasons, such as influencing what you would say.

"All rise."

You stood up next to Stone as the judge, who you now knew as Judge Callahan, entered the room.

Once you sat down, you were called to the stand. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?" you were asked as you placed your hand on the Bible.

"I do," you answered.

"Alright, please allow Miss Halstead on the witness stand," Judge Callahan said. "Now, I'm just going to ask you a few questions. All you have to do is answer them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Okay, first question: Has your father, Pat Halstead, ever hit you or physically abused you in any way?"

"No," you answered.

"Has he ever neglected to give you necessities, such as food, water, clothing, or shelter?"

"Yes."

"Can you please elaborate?"

You did. You explained how your dad never had food in the house and would yell at you and call you a burden if you tried to eat his leftovers.

"Is it true that your father tried to break into your brother's house to get you?" Judge Callahan asked.

"Yes."

"Who do you feel safest with?"

"My brother, Jay Halstead."

"Who would you prefer to live with?"

"Jay Halstead."

***

Jay sat on the witness stand. He had answered all of Stone's questions, including all of the questions about him finding you stealing, what you had been using for pads, and what he had been told that you had been eating at your dad's house. Natalie had testified about your physical well-being, weight loss, and iron and riboflavin deficiencies. But now, it was time for Jay's cross-examination. And, he sure as hell didn't expect this next question to be asked.

"Mr. Halstead," your dad's lawyer began, "you previously said, and I quote, that your dad clocked out on parenting you and your older brother, Will, when you were in your teens, around when you started high school. Can you elaborate on that?"

"Objection!" Stone yelled. "Relevance?"

"Speaks to a pattern."

"I'll allow it," Judge Callahan said. "Please answer the question, Mr. Halstead."

Jay nodded. "He clocked out on parenting me and Will because he said that were essentially grown men at this point in our lives, we didn't need him cheering us on or him helping us. He didn't come to a single one of my soccer games in high school. And, if by some miracle we went out for ice cream or something just me, my brother, and my dad, he wouldn't pay for ours. Said we were old enough to pay for ourselves.

"But, we had our mom. She came to all our games and school events. She made us breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If she wasn't there, I don't know what would've happened to me and Will. My dad didn't even want me to go into the military and didn't want Will to go to medical school. He said a real man went right to work. The only time I felt loved by him in all my teenage years was when I left for the military. It was like because he knew I might die over there that he figured he'd say he loved me one last time."

"Redirect, your honor," Stone said. Judge Callahan nodded at Stone. "You said that your mom made you and your brother lunch. Are you doing that for Y/N?"

"Objection! Relevance?"

"Speaks to Mr. Halstead's abilities as a parent."

"I'll allow it. Please answer the question."

"I actually do," Jay answered. "I make her a packed lunch to bring to school every day and I'm sure to add foods high in iron and riboflavin to help those levels stabilize quicker. The first time I packed her a lunch, she actually cried because she hadn't gotten a lunch from home in so long."

"Thank you."

"Mr. Halstead," your dad's lawyer started, "you were previously deployed overseas in Afghanistan for two tours of duty. While I thank you for your service, is it possible that you could have PTSD and hurt Y/N in the middle of the night?"

"I would never hurt her!"

"While you are fully conscious, maybe. But, while you are in a sleep-addled state, isn't it possible that you might think that the person waking you up is an enemy soldier and not your little sister?"

Jay sighed. No one knew this about him, not you, not Will, not his dad. No one. And now all of his family and closest friends were going to know since they were in the courtroom watching this entire thing unfold.

"I am on Prazosin for nightmares caused by my PTSD," Jay answered.

"And how long have you been on this medication?"

"For about two years."

"And this has helped you manage your nightmares?"

"Yes, very much so."

"No further questions."

***

"Jesus, Jay," Will said after you had watched your dad's testimony on why he should get to keep you. It was the usual: how he was your father, so, therefore, he deserved to keep taking care of you and it's what your mother would've wanted...despite her telling Jay to keep you safe before she died. They already had the responding officers testify about the break-in, so he couldn't deny that and he was under oath, so if anyone found out he lied, then your dad would be held in contempt.

"I'm sorry I never told you, man," Jay said. "I just, I thought of it as weak that I couldn't deal with my own shit." He grimaced when he realized he had sworn around you. "Sorry, Y/N."

"It's okay. I hear that stuff at school."

"I'm just upset you didn't tell me they were getting that bad, Jay," Will lamented. "I know I wasn't there for you a lot after Mom died, but I'm here now."

Jay nodded, and Will knew he didn't want to talk about the topic anymore. You looked through the little window into the courtroom and saw that the judge was coming back from her chambers.

"Guys, I think she's made a decision," you said nervously.

"Whatever happens, me and Jay will be there for you," Will promised.

All you could do at this point was nod, as a lump was forming in your throat from all your nerves.

Jay led you back into the courtroom and you sat at the front, between Jay and Will. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress and Jay gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Judge Callahan stood up.

"By using the child's best interest standard of who can provide food, clothing, housing, education, medical care, and a stable home life for Y/N Halstead, I declare Mr. Jay Halstead the legal guardian of Y/N Halstead."

You could've sworn that you stopped breathing the second she said Jay's first name. You were so overwhelmed that you just turned to him and started crying as he wrapped an arm around you while he listened to the judge state your dad's visitation rights.

But, you didn't hear any of that. The only phrase that kept repeating in your head was I declare Mr. Jay Halstead the legal guardian of Y/N Halstead over and over again.

Now, you knew that you'd always have the necessities when you lived with Jay. You wouldn't have to worry about where your next meal was going to come from or if your dad would be out until 3 am drinking. You wouldn't have to worry about having access to tampons or pads and not be embarrassed anymore to ask for some from school if you forgot to put any in your backpack that day. But most of all, you knew that you would be loved and cared for.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Did I make anyone cry with this one??? The blood draw scenario was actually based on when I had to go and get my blood drawn the other day and thought I was going to pass out, which is why that scene was so long. Anyway, thank you again for reading, and please reblog/like and comment and tell me what you think! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e

[onceupon]

London Boy - Part 2: Let the Game begin

summary: You had always thought you knew exactly what kind of boys Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton were - but did you actually?

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

a/n: no one is asking for this but here it is anyways lmao enjoy (not canon Rafe)

You make it back to your room and take a deep breath. Boys. You were living with boys. Not just any boys - Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton. Whatever, you thought, shaking yourself back to reality. It didn’t matter anyways. You weren’t about to let them get in the way of having the time of your life these next few months and you definitely weren’t going to let them keep your mind tied to OBX. That was a tie you desperately wanted to cut. Besides, if you knew Rafe and Topper like you thought you did, they’d be too caught up with playing both the field and the girls of Westheath before you knew it, effectively keeping them occupied and out of your way. 

You decided to go about your day as you usually would. Your Have a Great Day playlist was queued up and playing as you slipped on your favorite jeans and top. You let yourself get absentmindedly lost in your actions as you did your hair and makeup - enough to make you feel put together and regain some control after the way this morning had left you feeling vulnerable. Looking good made you feel good - and if anyone else thought you looked good too, then hey, that was just an added bonus. 

You hadn’t noticed how lost in the process of getting ready you had gotten until you looked down at your phone and saw that an hour had flown by. You were half way down the hall to the kitchen when the door of your flat flew open, bringing you face to face with two new people for the second time that day. 

“Oh my gosh hiiii!” a girl turned to you, pausing her laughter from the conversation she was having with the girl next to her. “I’m Olivia! It’s so nice to meet you!!” the bubbly girl exclaimed, immediately embracing you in a hug. The other girl laughed at her friend’s excitement and forwardness which had clearly startled you. 

“I’m Millie - you must be one of our flatmates,” the other girl smiled, introducing herself to you as well. 

“Hi, I’m Y/n,” you smiled softly. 

“Oh my gosh Mills! I knew it! I told you we’d get roomed with the Americans! Ugh this is so exciting, there’s so much I need to know I don’t even know where to start!” Olivia squealed with a little hop. 

“Alright don’t scare the poor girl, she’s gonna think they’ve stuck her with a couple of psychos,” laughed Millie, pulling her friend’s arm to lead her down the hall. “Come on Liv let’s let y/n breathe for a second while we go put our bags down,” she said, giving you an apologetic smile.

You laughed and continued on to the kitchen to get some water as you had originally set out to do. You were honestly relieved. Thank god your other two roommates were girls who weren’t remotely associated with OBX. You didn’t even mind their intensity, it was endearing really, and you’d take a couple of loud but genuine girls who seemed like they were a bunch of fun to hang out with over the bitchiness and cattiness you were used to with the girls back home at Kildare. 

“Alright Y/n, I forgot sheets and Mills didn’t bring a towel so we’re going to Primark and you’re coming with. I want to hear all the American gossip,” Olivia reappeared and then slipped back down the hallway with a wink. You laughed and went to go grab your bag, just then realizing Rafe and Topper were no longer at the flat. You wondered where they had gone, not hearing them slip out over the music you were playing earlier. Not that you cared, it was a relief to have them out of sight and out of mind for now. 

—

“Hmm Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton, does sound rather posh,” mused Millie as you had begun providing some intel to your friends on the two flatmates they had yet to meet. 

“Two American ladies men, sign me up!” cackled Olivia. 

“Hey watch yourself missy, you’re taken,” Millie scolded. 

You had only known these girls for maybe an hour and somehow you had been comfortable enough with them to open up about your entire life’s backstory as you walked with them through the home section of Primark. It felt like they had been your friends for years, the three of you gelling together effortlessly. 

“Oo you have a boyfriend?” you asked as your eyes scanned over the shelf of fluffy blankets in front of you. You simply couldn’t leave without the light grey one, daydreaming about how cozy napping with it would be. 

“I do. His name is Jake,” Olivia beamed, “he’s kind of an idiot, but I love him.”

“And he’s got a whole squad of idiot friends too, but you’ll see for yourself,” Millie laughed. 

“Oh shit that reminds me! I invited them all over to pregame tonight before freshers,” chimed Olivia. 

“What’s freshers?” you asked, raising your brows in confusion. 

Millie and Olivia shared a quick laugh at how clueless you were to everything in their world. 

“So freshers is like this huge club event at the beginning of the school year. It’s really meant for uni freshers but since half of us are 18 and we can easily sneak in the other half it’s kind of tradition for Westheath kids to go their last year. Me and Mills went last year too though, one of the guys we knew the year above us was cousins with the bouncer,” Olivia grinned proudly. “But literally everyone is going and that means you’re coming too and- oh shit I’m such a bloody idiot aren’t I! I’m sorry Y/n I literally didn’t think at all to ask anyone from our flat if it was okay to host a pregame,” she bit her thumb with guilt-ridden eyes. 

“Looks like you and your idiot boyfriend are actually a match made in heaven,” joked Millie as Olivia gave her the finger, trying to suppress the smile tugging at her lips. 

“Oh no that’s totally fine! I’ve had like barely any human interaction these last few days and it’ll be nice to meet some more people from Westheath. It’ll be fun,” you reassured Olivia with a genuine smile. “I just uh- I’ve never been clubbing. Like what do I even wear, I don’t think I brought anything like that. And I’m not 18 for another month, would I even get in?”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re here isn’t it!” exclaimed Olivia, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the clothes section. “Mills this would be PERFECT don’t you think,” she said as she held up a sheer black top in front of you. 

“Oh my gosh yes. With a black bra underneath and mini skirt,” Millie grinned, nodding in excitement with Olivia. 

“Guys I don’t know if I can wear this. Like I don’t think I can pull this off,” you said meekly. 

“Oh my god shut up this would look so good on you. Your body is killer and you can 1000% pull this off,” Olivia insisted, shoving the garment toward you. “And we’ll get you in the club no problem,” she added firmly, shutting down any possibility of you talking your way out of tonight. 

“Wait shit do you think Rafe and Topper will be cool with the pregame? We haven’t even properly met them yet and I’ve already invited a bunch of strangers to our place,” groaned Olivia as the three of you headed toward the register. 

“Trust me, if there’s two things those boys definitely don’t mind it’s a party and a reason to drink,” you laughed. 

—-

As the three of you unlocked the door to your flat you could hear Rafe and Topper’s voices from the kitchen. Ugh, back already. 

“Hellooo boys,” called Olivia with zero hesitation, walking straight into the kitchen. “Name’s Olivia, pleasure to meet you,” she smiled extending her hand. 

“Pleasure is all ours,” Rafe smiled back. It took every ounce of your will power not to roll your eyes at his smugness. 

“Indeed it is,” grinned Topper giving her a hand shake. “And you are,” Topper immediately drew his attention to Millie entering the kitchen right behind Olivia. You didn’t miss how his eyes ran her up and down. 

“Millie, your fifth and final roommate,” she smirked, not having missed his wandering eyes either. 

“So listen boys,” Olivia clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “I may have invited my boyfriend and some of our friends over to pregame tonight before we all go out to the club. You guys are obviously welcome to join but if you’re not cool with us having people over just say the word and-“

“Done deal. What time should we be ready?” Topper cut her off

“9. See you then,” she grinned from ear to ear sauntering off to her room. 

“Alright I need to go unpack, but it was lovely to meet you boys, see you soon,” Millie smiled, eyes locking with Topper’s for a second too long before she too slipped away. You wanted nothing more than to escape to your room as well but you were starving, and since you were now living with Rafe and Topper you’d have to learn to go about your life around your new home despite their presence. You sighed as you made your way to the fridge, trying to decide what you were gonna scrap together for dinner. 

“So how long have you been here already?” asked Rafe, grabbing some Pringles and taking a seat at the table, Topper already spreading out comfortably on the couch. 

“Uh, few days,” you replied, not bothering to turn around. 

“See anything cool yet,” Topper chimed in as he scrolled on his phone. The way they were asking you questions was oddly normal. You were trying hard to detect any hint of cockiness in their voice but you couldn’t find any. You weren’t ready to let your guard down fully, not entirely trusting the pair, but you decided to soften a bit and give them a chance. 

“Yeah actually, I walked around Hyde Park the other day and the day before I watched the sunset from Millennium Bridge. It was beautiful,” you replied, finally turning toward the boys, a jar of pasta sauce in hand. 

“Crazy being in a city like this huh. Definitely not the Outer Banks,” Rafe chuckled lightly, gaze settling on the window. 

“Definitely not the Outer Banks,” you smiled. 

—-

“What do you mean you haven’t watched Friends!?” you let out an exasperated cry as you twirled more spaghetti on your fork. 

“It’s stupid,” said Topper, making a face. 

“It’s a classic,” you retorted. 

“No. The Office though. Now that’s a classic.”

“Should’ve know you were an Office guy,” you shook your head, Rafe laughing from his seat across from you. 

“Listen, I can’t help you if you don’t know how to appreciate true comedy,” Topper shrugged. 

“Yeah okay,” you rolled your eyes, turning now to face the dirty blonde seated across from you, absent mindedly shuffling a deck of cards for no reason, the golden ring on his finer catching your eye as his hands moved in a repetitive motion. “And what about you Mr. Dealer,” you asked Rafe, eyes motioning to the cards in his hand before going back up to meet his gaze. Rafe knew how to keep good eye contact with a person, confident yet not overpowering, and as the evening progressed and you become more comfortable you welcomed the challenge of his piercing blue eyes. 

“I’m more of a How I Met Your Mother guy,” he answered nonchalantly. 

“Huh, I wouldn’t’ve pegged you as that.”

“And what would you have pegged me as, Y/n,” he asked, still holding your gaze to which you just shrugged playfully, letting him wonder. 

“Okay, forget about comedies. Game of Thrones. Hands down best thing I’ve ever watched,” Topper stated, throwing his palms down on the table. 

“I mean I do hear good things, but I don’t know, seems kind of intense,” you said before shoving another forkful of spaghetti in your mouth. 

“No no no Y/n you literally don’t know what you’re missing out on, it’s pure genius,” Topper continued passionately. 

Rafe gave you a knowing glance as you two made eye contact again, trying not to laugh, “He’s been on my ass for years to watch it.”

“And now you have no excuse! It’s senior man, classes will be light work, just give it a chance,” Topper pleaded. 

“You know what Topper, just because you’re practically jumping out of your seat right now, I’ll check it out just for you,” you laughed as Toppers face pulled into a wide grin. 

“Good enough for me,” he said victoriously. 

“Lemme one up that Topps, I’ll also give it a chance, so it better be worth it,” Rafe added, Topper’s eyes growing wide in simultaneous glee and disbelief. Topper quickly got up from his seat, puffing his chest, “woooo! Winter is coming to London baby!” he exclaimed, pumping his fist before heading down the hall to his room. 

Two hours had passed by with you hanging out in the kitchen with Rafe and Topper, and to your surprise… you were actually enjoying yourself. You guys had talked about the things you wanted to do in London, the music you all listened to, favorite movies, and tv shows of course. You almost didn’t know how to process it. How could two guys who seemed like such kook douchebags actually be - cool? You had always regarded the two at face value, but perhaps there was more to these boys than what meets the eye. 

“Oh god how is it already 8, I’m so behind,” you groaned, getting up to wash your dishes. 

“Once Topper is full speed ahead, there’s no stopping that man,” Rafe laughed. 

“Hey,” you turned your head around from the sink, soapy dish in hand. “I was actually serious about giving Game of Thrones a try. Damn Topper if he didn’t make me curious now,” you laughed, “but I was thinking, if you’re actually gonna watch too, that we should time it so we both watch on the same days. Because then if we’re on the same schedule, whenever we see each other in the kitchen or something we can discuss and we’ll be on the same episodes so no spoilers.”

“So you mean we’d both watch on our own but at the same time?” Rafe asked. 

“Yeah,” you replied, as if it was obvious. That’s what you literally just described. 

“Well if we’re gonna watch it at the same time, we might as well just watch it together Y/n,” he calmly stated, walking right up next to you to put his Pringles away. 

“Uh yeah I mean that works too,” you replied, looking up at the boy now next to you, getting slightly flustered by his presence once again. His blue eyes were piercing right through you, and this time it was a losing a battle. 

“Cool,” he smiled, turning around and walking out of the kitchen to his room. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, the water still running in front of you as you stood their holding the sponge like an idiot. What the fuck just happened?

---

Part 3

[wienerbarnes]

A Certain Romance (2/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,685

Warnings: not rlly anything

A/N: a lil bit of a deeper dive for these two’s relationship👀... enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

Your apartment is nice. Very you.

Sam invited him out to some restaurant, but after the last one he suggested, he decided to pass. And when Sam asked him what he was doing instead, if he was seeing you, Bucky lied and said yes. It made Sam happy and got him out of going to another ridiculous restaurant, so he saw it as a win-win.

Once Sam left, though, his thoughts did drift to what you were doing.

You two exchanged numbers at the pizza place after your date, but you two haven’t texted much. He texted you making sure you got home safe, which you did, and a day or so after, you texted him a picture of some advertisement with an awfully cheesy pick-up line written on it, which even he agreed was awful.

But that’s about it. So, he texts you.

Hey. What are u doing?

About to make dinner. Y?

Told Sam I was seeing u. Wanna hang out?

Come over.

Simple enough, he thinks.

You two haven’t had the most meaningful text conversations, clearly, but it’s still nice. No flirting, no typing and retyping messages in order to hook, line, and sinker, no ghosting. No relationship texting.

It was a dream for him. To have a new friend. He’s made plenty of friends, both in New York and in Wakanda. But it’s all under the same… umbrella. Always an agent, a fighter, an analyst of some sort. Someone to train with, to fight with, to fight for. Never someone like you. Someone that works a mundane job and lives in a mundane part of New York where her weekends are filled with going on mundane blind dates or otherwise cooking dinner for one.

It’s a breath of fresh air to not talk about fighting or missions or press or media or anything else he has to hear about at work. The only connection you have with Sam is that you met in a coffee shop a few years ago that has since closed down. He was one of your first friends here.

You could care less about Captain America, too. Which hurts Sam’s ego, and in turn, makes Bucky smile.

So, he goes over to yours.

He’s not sure what you’re making, but he brings a bottle of red wine as a courtesy. You are making dinner after all. Besides, women love wine, right?

Your apartment is nice. Very you.

Enough going on to show that someone does indeed live here, but also enough to show that you’re not exactly swimming in riches, like most people that live in this city.

The place smells like garlic and basil, and he’s glad that he brought the wine.

Shoes discarded at the door, he helps chop up the rest of the ingredients while you put a pot of water to boil. He chops up mushrooms, onion, pancetta, eyeing the bottle of vodka out on the table and tube of tomato paste next to his hand.

It's an understatement to say he’s excited. Most of the pasta he makes is from a bag of precooked noodles and a jar of tomato sauce.

Basic small talk floats through the air as the two of you dance around one another in the kitchen. Even though you’re “dating”, you don’t know much about each other. This isn’t too uncommon from how dating was for Bucky when he was a teenager; you’d marry women knowing very little about them.

Your favorite color is orange. You played violin in grade school. You had a childhood dog named Chowder. Bucky tells you his favorite color is green. He played a little bit of piano when he was younger, but did boxing in his late teens and early twenties before the war. You poke fun at him when he can’t remember the name of his own childhood dog.

“He’s probably rolling over in dog-heaven.”

“Good boy; he’d deserve a treat.”

You laugh.

Easy conversation continues on the couch as bowl after bowl of pasta is eaten and replenished. As fun and seemingly simple questions are asked, like each of your favorite movies or whether or not you pour the milk before the cereal, the room that’s left is used for deeper questions.

“What’s your most embarrassing moment?” You ask him.

He thinks for a moment before opening his mouth, only to close it again. “One time when Princess Shuri was fixing my arm it wasn’t secure completely, so it flew off while I was playing with some of the children.”

“That’s not your most embarrassing moment. I know it’s not, now you have to tell me what it really is.” You tease him.

He’s never been the best liar.

“You’re right, it’s not my most embarrassing moment. My actual most embarrassing moment is just kind of… sad. And I didn’t want to ruin the mood or anything.” He explains, hoping you’ll accept that but instead you give him an encouraging smile to hopefully give him some comfort that whatever it is he wants to tell you is safe in your apartment.

“Okay, uhm. So, in the 40’s, after I was rescued by Steve, but before we shipped out again where I was recaptured for the second and final time. We were all holed up in this little dance club, all the soldiers and their gals. And in walks Peggy Carter in a pretty red dress,” He begins, only glancing at your eyes periodically as if to make sure you’re still there.

“I know she’s Steve’s gal, he told me all about her. I wasn’t flirting with her because I wanted her, I was flirting with her… to make sure I still could. I mean, after being held in that… place… they injected me with stuff, told me things that weren’t true, I mean Steve told me I was repeating my number over and over again when he found me, I didn’t even remember doing that. I felt… violated, used, not like myself. I felt like I wasn’t me anymore.

“So, when Peggy walked in, I thought about how everyone always called me a ladies man, how good I was with women, I mean, I’d take girls out about every damn weekend, you know? I wanted to feel normal, so I flirted with her, tried to get her to dance with me. And she completely ignored me. She never even took her eyes off of Steve. It’s like I was invisible. And it just sort of felt like the nail in the coffin for whoever James Barnes was before the war. It was a realization that I’m never going to be that person again. And it was embarrassing for me.” He explains.

He hasn’t looked up at you again, but he heard your fork stop moving around your bowl a minute or so ago. He feels a lump in his throat thinking about that time, how he knew he’d never get back the man he was, even before knowing what was in store for him after falling off that train. How he used to be this man that wanted a long, happy marriage, six or seven kids running around a big backyard, a white picket fence surrounding a big two-story house in a neighborhood of identical homes. He wanted the cheesy life, at one point. But the same man that wanted that life died falling off a train many years ago.

All of that’s forgotten, though, when you open your mouth, and seem to say the perfect thing to make him feel better.

“One time in the third grade, this girl pulled my skirt down in front of my crush, and I wasn’t wearing any undies.”

A snort escapes his throat as you, somehow, after he’s shared something so deeply personal, something he never even told Steve or Sam about, still found a way to make him laugh. Which is what he wanted, he realizes. The comfort of moving on from that confession and not having to wallow in it like other people would try to. His hand leaves his fork to cover his face as tears threaten to leak out from how hard he’s laughing.

He took that secret to the grave, even if it wasn’t his own. He told himself he’d never tell Steve about how he felt in that situation, and he never did. He never told Steve that he didn’t enlist, either. He couldn’t imagine how Steve would’ve felt knowing that the army would’ve rather taken men that didn’t want to go to war, men who were terrified to go to war, had too much to lose and wanted to be selfish and stay home, than men like Steve who would do anything to enlist. Including lying on the damn enlistment form.

He wonders if Steve is looking at him now. Watching over him as he shares something that he never did with his best friend, with you, a girl he’s met barely a week ago, on your couch over bowls of pasta while he points out leftover sauce on the corner of your lip.

“What’s your greatest fear?” He asks you next.

“Dying alone. Actually, no. Getting kidnapped, probably.”

“Oh, mine’s spiders.” He shares.

It’s so easy to laugh with you, he finds. He jokes with Sam a lot, all the bickering and teasing all in good fun at the end of the day, and it’s mostly pretty funny. But laughing with you. He feels like a teenager again. Somehow, everything is funny; he doesn’t remember the last time he’s laughed so much, especially about things that aren’t even that funny.

It’s raining at the end of the night. Early morning, rather.

“You can take the couch, if you’d like.”

“Nah, I don't mind a little rain, and I like the ride home.” He fed Alpine before he left, but he imagines his cat misses him, even if she’s probably busy licking herself to even notice he’s left.

“Suit yourself.”

You don’t push him. A simple pleasure that’s more of a luxury for him. There’s no pushing or convincing or Are you sure’s with you.

Certainly a luxury, you are.

[peralta-guaranteed]

Would u write something about Mac first words being "dad" o "daddy" and Jake GOING INSANE about that? I think it would be really special to him bc all his story with his dad and all his fear on becoming

He'd taken his eyes off of him for five seconds - the card machine at the bodega was giving him some prompt he'd never seen before - so of course something had to happen. Jake still mostly banked on Mac being unable to walk freely for more than a few steps from him, but he should've really factored in all the perfect toddler-height shelving that he could use as railings to get a whole aisle over before he and the cashier flinched from the sound of a crash.

And then the crying started.

The cashier was actually faster than him, given a headstart from not having to drop an entire basket of shopping to run over, but Jake was directly behind her to see his kid sitting on the ground, a puddle of something slopping around him and half over him. Pasta sauce, he realised as he saw the wobbly carton display that had obviously not been as steady as the metal shelves Mac had been holding onto before.

"Da...!" Mac sobbed with outstretched arms towards him. "Da-heee..." He wailed again with tears streaming down his face while Jake lifted him up, covering himself in sauce too as Mac clung to him and sobbed into his shoulder.

"Daddy's here, bud. It's okay. It's okay." He bounced him up and down as the crying slowed, cursing himself out in his head all the while. How did he let him wander away like that? Why did he not notice sooner? He'd been careless and stupid and irrespsonsible and a horrible fath-

"Is he okay?" The cashier still looked far more worried at them than at the mess she'll have to clean up now, and it gladly brought him back to centre as the only real adult in the room right now (she can't be more than 17, he thinks).

"Yeah, just spooked. I'm so sorry, I'll pay for the sauce of course-" Jake stopped as Mac lifted his head off his shoulder again, eyes red-rimmed but not crying anymore, at least, only to see that his forehead was less covered in pasta sauce and more smeared with blood from a cut over his eyebrow, and his heart dropped even deeper than when he heard the crash. "Actually, do you sell bandaids?"

-*-

"It's okay, peanut. Daddy's fixing it." He forces his voice to be soft and calm while Mac sniffles, sitting on the counter, the cashier picking up Jake's dropped shopping bags while he cleans the little cut with the alcohol wipes she'd handed him without even ringing them up. It's not that bad, he tries to comfort himself fruitlessly, just a little nick that bled a bit more than usual, but should be fine with a bandaid and some lotion. It's fine. He didn't- he didn't let Mac get actually injured. He didn't. Even though his subconscious was screaming nothing else at him.

Mac's eyes are still swimming while he stares up at Jake, unblinking, clinging to his fake-soft smile as probably the only thing to convince him there was no need to cry at the moment. You and me both, Jake thinks for a second.

"Daddeh." He squeaks softly as Jake sticks on a puppy-themed bandaid (also not rung up), and grabs his hand with his little grubby fingers, and time kind of stops for a moment as they look at each other. Mac's eyes are big and still slightly red-rimmed, but trained on him like there's nothing else in the world but them, and for Jake, there might as well not be.

"See, Daddy fixed it." The cashier breaks through, smiling at him too as she hands Jake his shopping with the bandaid box dropped in, and time loops back into normal. She gets a soft Thanks and a nod after she hands him his card from the blasted machine that started it all, too, and doesn't even mention the several jars broken an aisle over. She waves goodbye to Mac instead as they leave, and Jake is definitely leaving the largest bills he has in her tip jar next time they come in.

-*-

Mac's splashing water and bubbles around in his small tub, because the sauce had leaked through his dungarees straight over his legs, and Jake is busy scrubbing him down with the soft loofah that'll probably have to go into the trash after all this. There's too much swirling through his head while he carefully showers Mac off. A whole barrage of emotion he'd love to just aimlessly ramble out, but there's no one to listen to him in their little apartment right now, the only person who'd maybe understand him still stuck at work. He looks at the puppy bandaid on Mac's forehead that he'll have to change after the bath, at his happy face playing with the little ducky that makes such fun squeaky noises when it's filled with water, no sign of tears or pain left at all.

"Hey, Mac-a-roni." Jake whispers while Mac giggles and splashes some more water out of the baby-tub into the big one it was sitting in. "You... said something at the bodega, didn't you?"

Mac had been babbling and making noises for months now, lots of Goos and Gaas, the occasional Bleh and Duh thrown in, but Jake and Amy had agreed that none of those had been discernible as words yet, especially as they were never directed at anything in particular. Not like on the counter back there, staring straight at him with his big, chocolate eyes after that little parenting disaster he still wanted to scold himself for. Not like right now, soap bubbles clinging to his curls, smiling up at him in the comforting moment of their usual night routine.

"Daddeh!" Mac squeaks again, holding his arms out to be picked up into a towel like always, but held against Jake's chest much tighter than usual. He's trying not to cry, very hard, but he's sure his eyes are swimming and shiny as much as Mac's were while he was being bandaged up.

"Daddeh." He repeats as Jake laughs, breathlessly, kisses up and down his perfect chubby cheeks for some more squeals and laughter from them both, hugs him close again and again even as he dries him off and gets him dressed.

There's something warm glowing in his chest, Jake feels as he dances Mac to sleep to abuela's Spanish lullaby tape, something that feels both familiar and foreign at once. It reminds him of the feeling that shook all through him when that firefighter placed a screaming, goo-covered baby onto Amy's chest as she cried and carefully touched the dark whisps of hair already matted to his head. That feeling that settled around his heart for forever as Rosa handed him a cleaned up, swaddled baby that wasn't screaming anymore, his eyes closed but his teensy tiny hand wrapping tight around Jake's finger. It's a little different - but it's not, it's more of the same, but grown. Added on, like a new bud on an already flowering tree.

Jake is sure there'll be lots of new blooms on that feeling in the years to come, but this one, the one that opens up even more as Mac sighs one more little "Daddeh" as he falls asleep against his shoulder, will surely be remembered for forever.

-*-

He has enough wherewithal to warn Amy about the bandaid when she gets home and immediately moves to check on sleeping Mac, and she only rolls her eyes when she drops down onto the couch next to him after softly closing the nursery door.

"Do I even want to hear the story of the bandaid?"

"It wasn't anything. Just a little accident at the bodega. He's fine." Jake's actually convinced himself of that now, too, so it sounds believable enough.

"Alright." Amy nods, he swallows back down the worries he thought about sharing if she asked him to still explain instead. "Aside from that, how was your day with him? Did you have fun?"

"Oh yeah." Jake tries to grin and pulls her in to lean against his side as she rests her head on his shoulder, seeming almost as sleepy as Mac was when he did it earlier. "We went to the park and the post office and the bank and the bodega, obviously. A whole Brooklyn adventure."

"That's nice." Amy says in a quiet voice, and he wonders if he'll have to carry her to bed in a second.

"And, well." He hesitates, and that is enough to make her lift her head. Maybe he shouldn't say it. Maybe he should wait until the morning, let her discover it on her own, and pretend like it's the first time he's hearing it too. Forget about how it all came about today.

"Well what?"

"He said something."

"What?! Why didn't you lead with that? Why didn't you text me?!?" She sits up, staring at him with wide eyes, and he looks - apologetic, almost worried.

"I didn't want you to feel bad because you missed it." And didn't want to explain how I fucked up to make it happen.

"Oh." She visibly deflates, but then smiles at him. "But you heard it, right? He said it in front of you?"

"Yeah. He, uh. Actually. He said daddy. To me."

Jake completely misinterprets Amy's face, her scrunched together eyebrows, her shining eyes, her mouth softly opening and closing, and immediately leans forward with a hand on her arm to console her.

"I'm sure he's going to say Mama next, Ames - he's already going 'Mah' all the time, so-"

"He called you daddy?" Her voice is so soft, almost breaking, as he feels her hands on his cheek. "Jake, that's wonderful!"

"Yeah." He nods with a shy smile, but Amy's face only softens more.

"You're his first word." She says with so much reverance, and he can't feel bad about it anymore. Can't think he doesn't really deserve it, not when she looks at him with that much love in her eyes. "You're Mac's first word."

"I'm daddeh." His smile isn't so shy anymore, not when he says it out loud like that, not when it feels 100% right.

"You're really daddy, babe. You're daddy."

He huffs and smiles even wider with another nod, and that feeling is back, that little warm glow blooming in his chest, and Amy is quick to wipe away the few tears that make their way down his cheeks all of a sudden before bending forward for a kiss.

"DADDEH!" echoes through the room from behind a closed door where someone is clearly not interested in sleeping anymore, and Amy laughs against his lips.

"See?"

"I'm gonna go and get him." Jake sighs happily.

"Oh please." She nods as he gets up. "I want to see him say it to you."

[amberofembers]

I am tired (and I am yours)

A/N: This angsty fic is brought to you by a party of one by brandi carlile induced breakdown. buckle up and i hope you enjoy the read! (wc: 3.3k)

ao3

-

The car cruised along a quiet road. The sky was tinted a featureless dark blue as night enveloped the grey skies of the day. It was a silent car ride home from the grocery store, a trip that neither of them wanted to take, but takeout could only sustain them for so long. 

Andrew stared blankly at the winding tarmac road ahead of them, one hand on the steering wheel and the other kept on his lap. She opted to look out of the window at the blur of trees and houses whizzing by. Silences like these were thick, impermeable. Saying anything would feel like a strange interjection and it had already taken enough energy out of her seeing him follow her begrudgingly on this grocery trip. 

The car pulled up to the gravel driveway, stopping with a jerk. They sat in complete silence for a few seconds, the engine whirring in the background. She glanced at him out of  the corner of her eye - nothing. With a quiet sigh, she got out of the car, forcefully opening the boot. There were three large paper bags stuffed messily in the tight space, their contents threatening to spill out. 

The only task you had to do and you couldn’t even do it half-decently. She bit the insides of her cheeks to stop her from saying anything she would regret. For just a moment, the sharp teeth pressing down on the slick flesh of her mouth provided a distraction from the frustrating situation at hand. 

It had been this way for more than a week now, each day making her closer and closer to snapping, but she couldn’t snap at him; he had done nothing to deserve it. He’d driven them to the grocery shop, he’d placed the bags in the boot like she’d told him to. But he’d been apathetic at best, distant and unaware most of the time. 

-

“Not there,” she said with a touch of scorn, pointing at the countertop, “put it in front of the fridge, there’s meat in there.” Is this your first time living in this house? She wanted to add.

He nodded and complied, placing the paper bag on the floor in front of the fridge. He stood there for a moment, wondering if there was anything else he could do to help out. His hands hovered over the bags, unsure of what to do. It was obvious to him that she was mad, he just couldn't think of the reason why. 

“I don’t need an audience,” she said, her back facing him as she placed various food items on the cabinet shelves. She stood on her tiptoes, pushing the jar of pasta sauce into place on the top shelf.

“Let me help,” he said, the paper bag rustling as he reached in to get other items out. Spinning around to face him, she grabbed his arm abruptly. “I don’t need any help,” she stated plainly. 

“O-okay,” he stuttered, the sudden harsh movement and blunt attitude startling him slightly. 

Shit. Too mean. She wasn’t proud of it, how her anger took over her in that moment. But it had been there all along, slowly building in the pit of her stomach. 

Andrew walked away into the living room, since it seemed like stepping away from her was the best option. As he moved away, he heard her voice from the kitchen, “Can you at least take your shoes off? The carpet just got cleaned, for god's sakes.” He was nowhere near the carpet. 

“I’m not stepping on the carpet,” he retorted, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible, “and my shoes are off.” He turned around to face her. She looked at him through furrowed brows. 

“What’s wrong? You’ve been mad at me the whole day,” he began slowly, “did I do anything?”

“A day!” A small laugh escaped her lips as she continued, her voice laced in sarcasm, “and you’ve just realised that today?” 

“I don’t- I don’t understand.”

“It’s nothing,” she brushed it off nonchalantly. Nonchalant, just like you’ve been, she thought.

Andrew wasn’t one for confrontation. In fact, he’d try to avoid it at all costs, but he pushed through this time.

“Well, obviously it’s not nothing, judging by the way you’re acting.” He said with a voice firmer  than usual. 

“The way I’m acting?” the bitter words rolled off her tongue almost immediately. 

“Wh-”

“Have you even considered how you’ve been acting lately?” She cut him off, her voice rising in volume.

She looked at him directly in the eye, her fists clenched knuckle-white. 

His eyes darted from her to the ground and back to her again. “I can’t read your mind,” he said curtly. “So no,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, pulling it back tight before letting it cascade in a mess around his head, “I don't know how I’ve been acting.” 

“When’s the last time we had a conversation since you came back from London?” 

“We’re speaking right now,” he snapped back in frustration. 

“This has nothing to do with London...” he started then paused. “And you told me to go there. It wasn't even my idea!” 

“It was a suggestion so you’d stop moping around at home, I didn’t ask you to go there and disappear!” Her voice strained as it reached volumes she hadn’t realised existed. 

“I was working! You can't expect me to be talking to you all the time!” He retorted. Her face fell immediately. 

“Working? Andrew, really?” She sounded almost incredulous.

“Yes, working! I don’t –” 

“Any other lies to tell me?” She hissed through clenched teeth. 

“What–”

“I asked Alex about what you were doing,” she said, rubbing her temples as she spoke, “he said you were with friends.” 

“Why’d you have to go through Alex?”, He snarled, “It’s like you don’t even trust me!” 

“Well, I don’t, Andrew! Because you can't just tell me you're working and then– and then ignore my texts and calls for a whole week when you’re not even fucking working!” Her cheeks started to flush a deep red as she rasped a near-scream, her eyes searching his for some semblance of an explanation. 

“It was one night! One night that I went out with friends,” His hands flew up in the air as he gesticulated, “What, I can't even catch up with friends now?”

“It’s not about that, you're not listening to me!” Adrenaline coursed through her veins and her body buzzed with anger. Gripping the countertop for stability, she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“I do not care what you do in London,” She said, the firmness in her voice wavering slightly, “I just want to know what the radio silence was for.” 

“I told you, I was busy.” He said, his tone ice cold. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Look, I’m tired. Can we handle this tomorrow?” 

“You're tired?!” 

“I’m the one breaking my fucking back over here. And you just take, and take– ” Her voice cracked as she croaked out the last few words, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She clenched her jaw in desperation, trying to hold back those tears. His tongue fell silent. 

The room quietened for a moment. Her chest heaved up and down, her heart beating erratically against her ribs. He stood opposite her, wringing his hands. His eyes were fixed steadily on the ground; he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered quietly.

“Well then fucking show it!” The room filled with noise yet again as she let out something between a sob and a shout. “Don't come home and ignore me! Or avoid me or– or whatever the fuck you're doing!” 

“Because it feels like months since we’ve had an actual conversation. and when you're here it's like your head is in a completely different place!” Words escaped her lips in an exasperated flurry. All the unsaid words and quiet car rides of the past week seemed to have cumulated to this. 

“Look at me,” She ordered. His head remained bowed downwards. “Andrew, look at me.” She repeated, voice softening this time around. 

“I’m sorry– I really am. I don't know what else to say. I don't know what I was even thinking but fuck I'm sorry.” He said in a single breath. He reached out to grasp her hand, but she pulled away. His hand was left in the space between them, frozen in motion. His heart dropped to the depths of his stomach. 

“I’m fucking tired, Andrew.” 

“What– what do you mean?”

“I don't know how much more I can take. Of all this, of... ” She trailed off. Each word sunk deeper and deeper into his chest.

“If you leave me, I don’t know what I’d do. We can't– we—”, his words distraughtly pieced into a plea.  

She cut him off, tears steadily streaking down her face. "I am yours, Andrew. You know that, but right now…” She choked out, “I- I don't know if you're mine." 

“I am yours!” He insisted, taking a step towards her, closing up the distance between their bodies. Instead of leaning into the familiarity of his warmth, she took a step back, shaking her head. “Andrew, I- I can’t…” She barely managed.

As she backed away, she knocked into the cabinet behind her. Just as protest was about to escape his lips, a loud crash silenced the both of them. It was a slow motion moment for Andrew as he saw the jar of pasta sauce fall from the shelf, narrowly missing her shoulder. The ground was stained red with sauce, shards of glass embedded deep among the red. 

“Fuck!” She exclaimed, jumping away from the mess of broken glass. The crimson sauce had splattered onto the bottom drawers as well as her pants. The scene looked like something out of a horror movie.��

“Jesus!” in a slight state of shock, he asked, “are you hurt?” She shook her head.  

He reached down to pick up the largest shard of glass sticking out from the spilled sauce. 

“Stop. Dont.” 

“Let me help you clean this up,” he persisted as he picked the piece of glass up. 

“Andrew, I told you to stop.” 

He looked up from where he kneeled on the ground. “This mess… I’ll h-”

“Can you leave? Please just- please just leave…” She strained, her voice cracking.

“But I-”

“Please…” she whispered. Her head was turned away from his, a single hand clasped over her mouth to prevent sobs from escaping. His heart broke at the sight. 

More apologies were at the tip of his tongue, inches away from tumbling out, but he couldn't bring himself to say any more. Fearing that it would sound like nothing but empty words, he slipped out of the front door. It took every fibre of his being for him not to turn back, but seeing her hurt like this stung just as much as leaving her did. 

She watched out of the corner of her eye as he turned his back away, taking quiet steps towards the front door. His movement was so quiet that only the jingling keys and closing door could be heard. 

Once out the front door, his footsteps quickened. He pulled open the car door with a force that shook the entire vehicle and plopped into the driver’s seat. Leave, she had said. So he did, but now, he didn't know where to go. 

Andrew sat motionless in the driver’s seat. He could hear the hum of his blood flowing through his veins, the quick yet steady rhythm of his heartbeat filling the silence. He tried to focus on breathing, but his mind couldn't help but drift back to her. The image of her head buried in her hands, shoulders jerking up and down as she took shuddering breaths seared deep into his mind. 

Without much thought, he revved the engine and headed towards the only place he knew would welcome him with open arms, unconditionally. 

He pulled over where the road leading to the beach ended. No other cars were parked and the beach was completely empty. The sharp scent of salt water hit him first, followed by the cool, moist land breeze as he stepped out of the car that seemed to edge him towards the water. 

The silence of the night was disrupted only by the rhythmic crashing of waves on the shore. His thoughts, however, couldn't be further from the calm of the night sea. 

He never meant to hurt her. Truthfully, he’d felt it coming, and so when she suggested taking the trip to London, he figured it was the easiest way to get away from all the tension building back home. Catching up with friends and burying himself in work were all familiar and comfortable sensations. Conflict, on the other hand, was unfamiliar territory, and escaping that seemed like the best option to him. He didn't want to ruin anything between them, and he thought that time and distance would ease some tension, but maybe he’d gone about it the wrong way.

Leaving for London and labelling it as an “escape” in his mind was the first mistake. Placing his phone on “do not disturb” mode and disappearing into the studio for hours on end was the second. Then, grabbing drinks with friends led to bad drunk decisions - the third. 

“You gonna get that, man? Been going off all night,” His friend gestured towards his ringing phone lit up with her name. 

“Fuck, I’ll handle it when I get back,” he remembered leaning over to shout in his friend’s ear to be heard over the loud chatter of the pub, or maybe it was because he was drunk - perhaps both. Either way, he’d turned his phone over facedown on the table for the rest of the evening. 

He sat on a large rock facing the sea, kicking the pebbles beneath him. He gazed at the ripples formed by the undulating waves far out in the sea, then focused on the thin layer of foam on the edge of the shore that reflected the moonlight almost entirely, causing an ethereal silver glow along the shoreline. 

I don't know if you're mine. Her shaky voice echoed in his mind. 

I am yours, He wanted to scream out to the sea, or to anyone who would listen. I am yours, he wanted to affirm so unreservedly that it would be known by the most distant of stars. I am yours, he yearned to whisper to her as he breathed in her scent and felt her skin on his. 

-

Some time had passed since Andrew left the house. 15 minutes? 30 minutes? She couldn't tell. 

Once he left, the onslaught of tears hit. She crumpled to the ground and cried in earnest. Her chest burned like it never had before as she struggled to take in breaths that quickly turned into hiccups. She refused to let the tears get any further than her jaw, angrily wiping them away as they trickled down her cheeks. 

She’d only just managed to get up from the frozen position she maintained, crouched on the kitchen floor. Pushing herself away from the cabinet drawer that she was leaning on, she grabbed the countertop and heaved her aching body up from the ground. She had clutched the bottom of her sweater so hard as she sobbed that it fell in a permanent wrinkle as she stood up.

The mess caused by the broken jar of sauce was still apparent in her peripheral vision, and she could more than use a distraction at this point. 

Wiping the mucus that had collected at the dip above her upper lip, she leaned over the sink and splashed some cold water over her face. Lingering over the sink for a couple seconds, the tears and tap water became indiscernible as they dripped off her face. 

With that, she patted her face dry with the same wrinkled sweater. She shuffled about the house, drained of all energy as she cleaned up the mess with robotic movements. Conscious enough to handle the broken glass with care but too spent to wipe away every speck of red on the floor and cabinet doors, she did the bare minimum of cleaning and left the rest of the groceries in the bags. 

She knew he wouldn’t hurt her on purpose. She was fully aware of his tendency to detach from everything when faced with uncomfortable situations. She thought she was prepared for it, for the silence and the coldness, but it was harder on her than she’d expected. 

She climbed into the bed, not bothering to change into something more comfortable. They’ve never had an argument this explosive before. She had half expected him to stay in the driveway but her heart was hit with a sharp pang of pain when she heard the sound of the car starting up. 

She wondered where he could’ve gone at this hour of the night, but she was too tired to think straight or feel anything anymore. She drifted in and out of consciousness as the events of the evening replayed in her dazed mind, spliced haphazardly together into a confusing jumble of screams and tears. It was as if she was a spectator to her feelings, too numb to experience them. Still, her head pounded with an unrelenting headache. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing for sleep to wrap her in its comforting arms. 

-

The front door creaked softly as he pushed it open apprehensively, as if to inform her of his presence in the house. 

He wondered if she was still awake, if she had waited up for him. Taking one look around the kitchen area, he noticed the still bagged groceries left on the floor, the cabinet drawers left open and oil smears on the ground. A rush of panic raced through his mind. 

Scanning the empty front room for her presence, he padded around with caution. The house was eerily quiet, not that it hadn’t been silent before, but this time silence hung in the air with unanswered questions and unresolved issues. It was far from the comfortable silence they were used to. 

He stalked up the stairs, heart pounding with each step towards the landing. He pushed the bedroom door open enough to stick his head in. 

His eyes drifted to where her body lay on the bed. She was curled up beneath the sheets, faced away from the door. She remained strictly on her side of the bed, leaving his side tidily made.

He moved towards her instinctively, without much control over his limbs. He climbed on top of the sheets and waited for a response from her. Not prepared for any reaction in particular, he froze when she stirred in her sleep. His breathing quickened as she rolled on her back to face him.

She felt the dip in the bed before she’d fully awakened. Then, she heard his breathing. He didn’t know, but she was taking in breaths just as deep as his.

Her eyes drifted to his, and it was over. 

His hand laid upon her face in a rough caress. He scanned her face for any sign of contempt but all he saw were tired eyes and tear-stained cheeks. His body burned with guilt. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed, his voice raspy with disuse. 

All the conflict, though unresolved, seemed miniscule at this moment. Her breathing softened, as did her gaze. She placed a hand over his, giving him a small nod. The touch, ever gentle and affirmatory, eased his racing mind. 

“I am yours,” he whispered once, but once wasn’t enough.

He shifted closer to her, his hand moving from her cheek to the back of her head. Gently resting his forehead on hers, he whispered a second, third time - I am yours. 

[dean-winchesters-gardian-angel]

The Same bed - Chapter 4

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Friends are there to help each other out, but can they help falling for each other when all the long days they spend together turn into late nights they have and their reliance on each other.

Word count: 2544

Warnings: Fluff, angst, description of blood and injuries, nightmares, slow burn.

A/N: Chapter 4! Off we go. Read it enjoy and I’ll see you on the other side. There’s also a tag list, so be sure to tell me if you want in, as well as a masterlist so be sure to check it out. As are the latests, Unbeta’d all mistakes are mine.

Series masterlist 

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Dean didn't sleep that night, too busy cursing himself for hurting Y/N and simultaneously afraid he may have a nightmare. He had gotten up several times with the intention of going to her room and seeking forgiveness if she'd give it to him, though he wouldn't blame her if she refused. Instead, he'd pace around his room or make it as far as her door before heading to the bathroom to wash his face rather than knocking.

The next night Dean had been too exhausted to stay awake, now accustomed to getting around 8 hours he passed out some time just after 2 in the morning while everyone else slept soundly. Dean managed to get just over an hour of shut-eye before waking up to one of his worst nightmares. He jolted up with a scream though quickly cut himself off as to not wake anyone. Nevertheless, he was half a scream too late as Y/N sat up in her own bed wanting to go check on him but refused due to her own stubbornness.

Dean mumbled a 'son of bitch' before getting up and making his way to the kitchen to get started on some coffee. Dean was given about 2 hours to contemplate his idiocy towards Y/N before his brother found his way to the kitchen.

"Dean?"

"Huh? Hey, morning."

"Man, you look like trash."

"Oh, thanks you're not so bad yourself in the shorts." Sam looked to his running shorts before rolling his eyes.

"You always did give me a hard time for wanting to stay in shape."

"Hunting keeps you in shape, not some little jaunt you do every morning. Hey, speaking of, have you found any new cases seems like forever since we've killed a deserving asshat."

"I've been talking to Jody and Donna, they've got a lead on a vamp nest, said they're heading out in two days and we're more than welcome to tag along."

"So, tomorrow. What time."

"They wanted to hit it just after sundown. So, we would leave tomorrow morning if you're interested."

"Oh, I'm interested, give me some' to kill."

"Dean are you sure you're okay. You usually become self-destructive when you've got something going on, something you need to talk about."

"I'm fine, Sammy."

"I'd mention that Y/N isn't sleeping in your room anymore, but I think that'd just make you mad considering that's probably what's bothering you."

"So much for not mentioning it." Dean swallowed what was left in his coffee cup before washing it and setting it in the dry rack. He made his way back to his room hoping his brother would take the hint and leave for his run, which he did. Once he heard the bunker door shut Dean went back to the kitchen to have another cup of coffee. As he sat down the sound of footsteps padding down the hall alerting him that Y/N had awoken. Dean straightened his posture as she entered the kitchen making her way to the cabinet to fish out a mug without making eye contact.

"Morning Y/N."

"Oh my god! It speaks." She filled her mug before walking out having not looked him in the eyes once. Dean rested his chin in his palm kicking himself for having hurt her. After a deep sigh, he dragged his palm over his face closing his eyes momentarily allowing them some rest from the lights of the bunker. Dean strolled his way to Y/N's room and knocked on her door. He heard her sniffle some before the door swung open, Y/N standing in front of him, eyebrows raised clearly on her last nerve.

"I just wanted to let you know we've got a case tomorrow, with Jody and Donna, we've got to leave early-ish so, you know, you might want to pack today so you're not rushing. Anyway, just keeping you in the loop." Y/N looked at her best friend whose eyes were tired, red, and glossy, staring at the ground in front of him. She missed him, but she didn't know why he was angry at her.

"Thanks." She turned away from him intent on closing her door to block the view of the broken man she so deeply cared about and wanted to help, and he spoke.

"Y/N."

"Yeah?" Dean swallowed trying to think of what he wanted to say to her but came up with nothing. There wasn't anything specific he wanted to tell her in that moment he just wanted to be with her. In the same room sitting next to her, looking at her. He wanted to spend time with his best friend whom he had been missing lately but if there was one person more stubborn than Y/N it was Dean.

"Nothing...nothing." With a sad smile and a sigh, Dean walked to his own room with the aim of avoiding her, once again, all day.

Dean listens as Y/N played her music in her room and smiled when the Grease love song came though it wasn't given a chance to finish before Y/N skipped it. He could hear his brother and Y/N talking in the library during the day occasionally finding something funny as they giggled in unison. He missed having her, missed being the one laughing with her, or even just talking with her.

Nearing the end of the day, Dean made his way out of his room for the first time that to grab a snack before trying his hand at some forty winks, wanting to be rested up before their hunt tomorrow. The energy of the room sizzled to nothing as he entered the kitchen. Sammy and Y/N were sitting next to each other looking at pictures of haircuts on the internet.

"Seriously Sam, I've been cutting my own hair my whole life. Just let me add a little shape to it. A little trim here and there I can make you look like the handsome devil you really are."

"I'm not letting you cut my hair. I don't trust you not to just cut it all off. Besides, I don't—" Both their eyes looked up to Dean as he stood in the doorway observing their interaction. Once he noticed their gaze he moved to the counter, pulling a bowl from the cupboard and reaching for the box of cereal.

"Sam and I made pasta if you're hungry for real food." Dean looked over the noodles as his tummy growled, licking his lips.

"Dean, just have some, we're not gonna finish it. It'll just end up going to waste." He hesitantly looked over his shoulder forcing a smile to Y/N who had the smallest one of her on her face. She watched him as he traded his bowl for a plate. Dean plated himself some of the homemade food before Y/N gestured at the spot in front of herself and Sam along with the parmesan on the table. Dean took a seat not wanting to be impolite more so than he'd already been.

"Anyway, I'm trying to convince Sam to let me trim his hair."

"You're not touching my hair with a ten-foot pole."

"Oh, come on Sam it grows back. You'll see, it'll look really good and you won't even want to grow it back. Won't be in your eyes anymore, won't distract you during hunts, monsters won't be able to grab at it. You know I make a good case."

"Sure. But you're still not cutting my hair." Meanwhile, Dean was silently moaning at the flavours on his plate. Y/N watched as the eldest closed his eyes savouring the taste, before he spoke, displaying his voice to them for the first time since the early morning.

"This is kind of amazing. I don't think I've ever had spaghetti this amazing. What jar did you guys use?" Referring to the sauce that had his taste buds dancing on his tongue.

"Actually, Y/N made the sauce."

"My mum used to make these gigantic pots of spaghetti sauce and freeze it so we could have it whenever we want. I was missing it, so I made some from memory. It's not hers but I think it turned out alright. I know I missed something, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was." Dean looked up, his mouth full, to the women speaking, no longer focusing on him rather in her head desperately searching for the missing ingredient, as he swallowed.

"You made the sauce? From scratch?"

"Uh-huh. Yeah, I mean it's not really that hard just time consuming, you have to let it simmer for a little bit, but I think it's worth it. Once in a while at least."

"You mind if I have more?"

"Go right ahead. Sam and I both already had seconds." Dean finished what was left and helped himself to more before moving back to his spot at the table.

"Sam promised to make me the 'Winchester Surprise' one day? Said you used to make it for him." Sam looked to his brother who reminisced, thinking back to the worst meals he had prepared for his baby brother.

"It was terrible. Sam that's — to repay her for this. Seriously Y/N you won't want to eat anything we make for the rest of your life. It was god awful."

"As much as I believe you because I do, by the description, Sam gave me, oh boy, I'll still be the judge of that." Dean chuckled at her retort missing her effortless comebacks and modesty when it came to the things she was good at, though he found it frustrating when she didn't accept the compliment he'd give her. He wanted her to brag about how many Djinns she could kill in a week, or in this case how good the sauce was instead of saying it wasn't perfect, so he'd done it for her, telling his brother when she would do something 'awesome', as he'd put it, that made him feel proud to call himself her friend. The guilt he felt was sudden and overwhelming. Even after he'd gone days without speaking to her, after pushing her away so abruptly, she was still offering him dinner, the conversation, the casual smile, the eye contact. How he longed for her eye contact. She had always been able to communicate with him with her eyes. He craved her gaze, how her orbs would sparkle when she was happy or grow dark when hooded with anger. But the thing he loved the most about her eyes was the fact that when they looked into his, it was like nothing else mattered. He could see he had her attention, and he wouldn't want to look away.

"I'm—ehem— I'm heading to bed, didn't sleep well last night, gonna try to rest up before our hunt tomorrow." Dean looked to Y/N who had a saddened look on her face, clearly angry and confused as to why Dean wouldn't let her help him. When he noticed the look on her face, he realized his words and quickly made up an excuse for why he couldn't sleep hoping to ease Y/Ns mind indirectly.

"Maybe it was a full moon, could never sleep well during a full moon."

"Full moon was last week Dean." Y/N answered him with an unreadable expression along with it. He didn't respond in an effort to save what dignity he had left. He forced a smile in Y/Ns direction as he passed by, once he'd finished cleaning his dishes.

"You mind telling me what's going on between the two of you Y/N?"

"Honestly Sam I haven't got the slightest."

"I know you two were sharing a bed... was that like—"

"If you're suggesting that we were a thing then no. He slept better when there was someone in the room with him, so I was that someone. Then out of the blue, he got distant and said he didn't need me anymore so." She shrugged not sure how to further explain their recent exchanges. "I know he's not through with the nightmares though because I heard his screams last night. I didn't check on him 'cause I was angry at him saying they were done, and he didn't need me anymore, but it was petty. I wanted him to stew in his nightmare, remember how bad they were before I told him I'd stay. I just don't understand him, I didn't do anything to warrant his actions. I haven't bothered asking why he's mad at me and even if I did, he'd just ignore me some more so what's the point. He's being a child. He's acting like I killed his brother when really all I'm trying to do is cut his hair." Her joke succeeded in lightening the mood as Sam chuckled moving to the sink to clean off his plate.

"You're a good influence on him, you know?"

"Why's that."

"Well for starters, he washed his plate."

"Oh yeah, I yelled at him this one time for leaving a mess, which I'm pretty sure was actually mine from the night before, but he hasn't left dirty dishes since so I guess it all worked out." Sam outright laughed at that before excusing himself to prepare for bedtime.

By the time 8 o'clock rolled around the bunker was silent, everyone in their respective bedrooms reading or watching a little telly before getting some rest. Due to the lack of sleep the nights prior and the upcoming hunt, Dean closed his eyes tight willing the nightmares away as he gripped his sheets. It didn't take him long to doze off though and it didn't last long before he was startled awake by Y/Ns voice. "Dean! Wake up!" She looked terrified, holding Dean down by his shoulders. "You idiot. Get up."

"Y/N? Why? What's—" She dragged him out of bed to the bathroom.

"Look at your hand Dean." She could hear the anger in her voice frustrated with him for refusing her help. The help they both knew would work. Dean looked down at the palm she hadn't grasped as she marched him down the hall like a child in trouble. It was bleeding, trailing down his fingers, shards of dark glass still imbedded in the tender skin of his palm.

"How did—" It came out as a whisper, laced with sleep as he did his best to orientate himself. Y/N turned on the light in the bathroom before forcibly sitting him on the lid of the toilet.

"You must have grabbed the beer bottle on your nightstand in your sleep." Y/N had pulled out the first aid kit they had stored under the sink along with a pair of tweezers, kneeling in front of the older Winchester.

"Y/N you don't have to—"

"I swear Dean if you tell me you don't need my help one more time I swear," she looked up from his palm to glare at him, "I’m going to tie you down until you get past... what ever this is." She didn't break eye contact with him until he nodded, shamefully looking down at the injury he only now started to feel.

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Chapter 5 ~~ Out now!

Tag List: @akshi8278​ @bargedog @just-someone-difficult​ @mila-dans​ @valhallavxlkyrie​

Series Tags: @autobotgirl15-blog​ @classyunknownlover​ @laycblack​ @lovememisha​ @music-is-all-i-need​ @redbarn1995​ @wellfuckmyexistence​

[missmonsters2]

Come Closer || Part II

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader/OFC

Summary: In which, you enter Natasha’s world via cleaning her window.

Warnings: nothing but disastrous wlw content.

Genre: Romance

PART I

PART II of III

Count: 2529

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You stand there, staring at the towering building. There's a bit of a frown on your lips as you regard the building. It's easy to spot her window as often as you had come now. 

It's a weird thing.

It had only started as a morbid curiosity and desperation for sleep yourself.

And a little gratitude.

You had come back, although you're unsure if that was the right choice to have made. You purse your lip once more as you scale the up the building to Natasha's window.

The curtains are open today, which is new. 

And while you spot no redhead in sight, there's something written on the window from Natasha's side.

⸮   o ɔ ɘ  ɔ ɘ   l    γ   W

The message itself was incomplete, but you tilted your head as if trying to decipher it. 

It was no use, though, with too many missing letters. 

You sighed and went back to cleaning the window. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The entirety of the whole thing went without Natasha showing up. You weren't sure if that had disappointed you or not. 

You had mulled over it when you were cleaning her window, and then your mind would drift to words Natasha said.

“When you sing, it’s the only time I can sleep lately.”

It was a little jarring, and you had slipped slightly, spilling some soapy water on yourself.

You sighed as you slowly made your way back down. 

The moment your toes touched the ground, you stood up straighter and turned, only to come into contact with bright emerald eyes. 

Eyes widening in surprise, you opened your mouth.

"What--"

"I had a meeting this morning," Natasha explained her absence this morning even though you had not asked. 

"Okay," you reply a little unsurely. 

Natasha regards you with a slight tilt of her head. She had almost wanted to kill Steve this morning for holding a meeting when it would be interrupting her time with you. 

The meeting let out before you were done your work, but Natasha stayed at the bottom as she watched you work. You seemed like less in a rush today.

"Thanks for coming back," Natasha speaks again, and you feel your cheeks heat up, feeling a little foolish for it.

"Will you have lunch with me today?" 

You raise your brow before shaking your head again. 

Natasha sighs but accepts the answer. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

With that, the redhead leaves, and you find yourself frowning at how easily it was for Natasha to give up.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

⸮ ɘ o ɔ ɘ  ɔ ɘ  ɘl  υ γ    W

You stare at the window before you. There are more letters, but you're no closer to figuring out what it says. Cleaning the window slowly, you see Natasha in her room at her desk. She seems to be going over some documents, and you purse your lips.

It's quite early in the morning, and in the past, Natasha was usually asleep at this time.

“When you sing, it’s the only time I can sleep lately.”

And you grit your teeth. 

It's too mortifying.

It's one thing to sing and not realize someone hears you, singing and not being able to see the person listening to you, but there was no way you could sing while you can see Natasha staring at you and listening. 

Especially when she's sitting right in front of you as you clean her window.

You jolt slightly when Natasha looks up at you suddenly.

"Lunch today?" She asks, well before your shift is over.

You furrow your brows as an answer, and Natasha sighs and returns to her work. 

It's a couple more minutes of silence before Natasha puts her documents away securely and leaves the room. You feel a weird pang in your chest as you watch her shut the door behind her. 

It doesn't help when you look at the window and see your own reflection frowning. 

The rest of the shift seems to pass by, and you tiredly make your way down. Your arms a little sore, not used to prolonged hours with your hand raised doing something. 

When you reach the bottom, you see Natasha standing there again, this time with a packed brown bag.

She holds it out to you until you take it hesitantly. 

"Hopefully, you'll have lunch with me tomorrow," Natasha rubs her lips together briefly before she walks back into the building.

You can tell she wants to say she hopes there's a song tomorrow too, but she hasn't pushed you for any more singing. 

You look down at the bag, opening it and let out a chuckle. 

There's a simple peanut butter sandwich, an option of packed fruits, or a bag of chips, along with a bottle of juice. 

And you find yourself humming. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

⸮ ɘ o ɔ ɘ  ɔ ɘ ɒɘl  υ γ   iW

The mystery is starting to unnerve you.

"How was the sandwich?"

Natasha comes by, opening the window slightly so she can talk with you.

She wasn't in her room initially, appearing much later than she normally would.

Not that you were counting.

Even if it was two hours and thirty-six minutes. 

You sigh.

"It was good. Thank you," you tell her politely. 

Natasha smiles. "So would you like to have lunch with me today? Or should I get you another sandwich? I'll have you know it's the only thing I can make."

You let out a disbelief chortle. It's a little hard to believe an Avenger is only capable of making one dish--if you could even call it that. 

Natasha's efforts were attractive, not that you would admit it.

"Why do you want to eat lunch with me? Also, what are you writing on the--"

You nod towards the writing.

"Window," you finish.

Natasha lets out a toothy smile, pleased she's gotten you intrigued and talking. 

"Stick around long enough, and you'll find out," Natasha blinks, still smiling. 

Natasha thinks it's cute the way you crinkle your nose. 

"Alright," you sigh after a long moment.

Natasha is unsure at first as to what you're agreeing to, but when you go back to cleaning her window with a small smile, Natasha can't help but have a grin herself.

Especially when you spill a little soapy water on yourself again.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You shiver a little, an action Natasha notices.

It may be warm out, but it was merely the end of the spring. There was still a cool breeze out.

"Are you cold?" Natasha asks, but she already knows the answer when she sees the goosebumps.

Perhaps it was not ideal to choose sitting out on the patio. 

"It's fine," you breathe. You usually wore a t-shirt or tank top when cleaning Natasha's window. The laborious work would work up a sweat for you.

You looked at Natasha to see her staring past you, and you followed her eye line until you found some college boys staring unabashedly at your exposed skin. Especially with your shirt still partially drying when you split water on yourself, exposing some of your skin underneath.

Natasha stares at them, hard look in her eyes until the college boys look away, a little embarrassed and guilty of being caught.

Natasha takes off her button-up dress shirt, revealing she was wearing another long-sleeved underneath.

"Here," she hands you her shirt, "wear this."

You merely smile a little, putting on her shirt, noticing how warm it felt from Natasha's body heat and how it smelt just a little like cinnamon and orange blossoms.

"Thanks."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Not to be rude, but I feel like Avengers should have better things to do then persistently ask strangers out for lunch dates."

Natasha has a low chuckle in her throat.

"This is the better thing to do," she replies, enjoying the way your cheeks flush.

"It must be hard," you comment softly, and you don't need to say the rest for Natasha to understand.

It is, she thinks. It is hard to live a normal life with her occupation. Not only was it hard, but it was risky. 

And sometimes Natasha would hesitate to take such risks.

But...

"I'm open to change," she says with a slight nod of her head. 

Before you can comment on that, Natasha asks you another question.

"You said you had a full-time job already," she brings back. "I imagine you must have an interesting career as there's no way you can have a 9-5 when you're cleaning my windows during the weekdays."

You sigh but nod.

"I'm an artist," you tell her. "Although, not as of late since I've seemed to hit a bit of a slump."

It's a little embarrassing to tell a stranger--an Avenger--such a personal problem you were having.

"And you're cleaning my windows as a distraction as well?" Natasha asks because she doesn't think you would just stay and continue to clean her windows for just gratitude. 

"It helps," you mumble, pushing your food around your plate. "I wake up at the same time most days to get to your place on time. It gives me a little bit of stability. Otherwise, I would waste the day away."

And Natasha nods fully understanding, staring at you.

"You're spilling pasta sauce on my shirt."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

⸮ɿɘ o ɔ ɘ  oɔ ɘ ƨɒɘl  υ γ   iW

Few things drive you mad. 

"Any closer to figuring it out?"

You look at Natasha through the window, squinting at her.

"Can't you just tell me what it is? Or at least write it all?"

Natasha merely laughs throatily as she smiles. 

She taps on the window.

"Hungry?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"You don't have to give me your jacket," you shake your head.

Natasha has come prepared.

"Are you always going to spill water on yourself and not bring anything else to wear?"

"Probably..."

"Then, my clothes will have to do."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Spending the day is easy with Natasha.

Natasha is not only interesting to talk to, but also easy. 

A part of you wonders if it's because she's a trained spy that conversation seems to come easy to her.

You spend the day going to some galleries and museums to show her your paintings.

"You're amazing," she compliments sincerely, and you smile a little contritely.

Another thing that Natasha notices. 

The evening comes fast, and Natasha invites you to drinks with her.

"Yes!" You agree a little too excitedly and sheepishly smile.

"You like to drink?" Natasha asks with a smile, no stranger to drinking herself. 

"Yes," you smile with a slight blush, "it's an enjoyable activity."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

A little liquid courage brings a new side to you that Natasha finds endearing. There's a bit more confidence and courage as you speak.

You like to ramble a little bit, and you look at Natasha, enjoying her vodka soda slowly and soberly. 

She laughs as you ramble about crocodiles, and whether or not she's laughing at you or with you, you know one thing for sure. 

You want to kiss her. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"So, what did you think about me when you first met me?" Natasha asks as she leads you back to her car to drive you home.

You pause with a bit of stumble.

"Why?" You slowly ask.

"Because you're drunk and you're more likely unable to control your filter."

You snort.

"You really want to know what I think about you, Natasha Romanoff?"

She hums.

"I thought you were a little entitled," you mutter and laugh when Natasha just stares at you.

"But I like that you say things like my voice is lovely. At least I know why you'd want to be entitled to it," you slur slightly.

Natasha's lips twitch of a smile. 

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, you're so annoying. Persistently annoying. Annoying, annoying, annoying!"

Natasha hangs onto you as you stumble over a rock and sighs.

"Christ, stab me right in a gut, why don't you?" Natasha mutters, but you hear it and smile.

"Anything else to destroy my ego?" She asks.

"Hm," you hum.

"Well?"

"I wouldn't mind kissing you."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There's nothing that could describe the feeling you felt as you woke up. You let out a miserable groan as you sit up.

"Feeling like a million dollars?"

You look over to see Natasha sitting on your couch with a book in hand.

It's your couch. You look around to see your own room and bed. You snap your head back at her, groaning as you did with the sudden movement.

"Why are you here?" You moan as you try to rub your temples.

Natasha closes her book, giving a smirk that makes you hate her.

"I needed a place to crash. It's the least you could do after what you put me through last night."

"Oh god, what did I do?" You ask a little mortified.

"Which part are you referring to? The part where we got to your place and I tried to help you get in, and you threw your keys two houses down, and I had to go find them? Or the part where you threw up on my jacket?"

You wanted to die.

You wished an asteroid would come down and blow up your entire house.

"I'm so sorr--"

"You can apologize by washing my jacket when you're better."

You wince at the headache but nod.

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

"No," Natasha answered simply, and you frown.

"Because of me?" You ask, but Natasha doesn't answer. 

"God, I'm seriously so, so, sorr--"

Natasha turns to go to the door.

"Are you leaving now?" You ask, and Natasha nods.

"Okay..." 

"I'm just going to the convenience store to get you some hangover stuff."

You look at her, smiling lightly.

"You're coming back?"

Natasha nods as she turns open the door. 

Just as she's about to step out when she turns her head back to you. 

"I'm not going to lie, but I really hate it when people throw up on my things."

You crinkle your nose.

"Sorr--"

"But you still looked lovely, and I wanted to kiss you too, so I'll let it slide this time."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Mortification.

That's the only feeling you could feel when Natasha came back with some Advil and other things.

You drank way too much, but you should have drank more so you could at least forget how you told Natasha you wanted to kiss her. 

There was no point in trying to lie to Natasha that you didn't remember anything. She would know.

Natasha was in your kitchen, using your blender, and you were still hoping the ground would open up and swallow you.

She comes back with a drink in hand.

"What's this?" You ask.

"Banana, milk, and honey smoothie. It'll help with your hangover."

You take the drink, sipping on it slowly. 

It was good.

"So you can make more than a peanut butter sandwich," you say with a small smile. 

Natasha grins as she looks as you finishing her smoothie. 

You're way too endearing. 

"You're also lovely when trying to avoid conversation," Natasha says, enjoying the way you tense up.

"Did you want to kiss me while I was making the smoothie?"

You groan, "I hate you."

PART III

[barnesafterglow]

Hey! I’m sorry you’re having a rough time! Maybe a fluffy request will make you feel better. We know reader from Oops is a huge klutz but I wonder what would happen if the tables were turned and Bucky was the one who tripped or dropped something. Would she be like welcome to my world and comfort him? I just love the two of them together! 💜

oh my goodness i love this. clumsy bucky would steal my heart

so i’m imagining bucky has been teasing you because it’s been a whole week since you’ve broken or dropped anything so he’s like ‘how long is this record gonna last huh’ because it’s probably the first time since he’s known you that you’ve been semi-stable instead of an all out klutz

so you just roll your eyes at him because you’re determined to prove him wrong, even though you’re a little shocked yourself tbh. so one night you’re in the kitchen making dinner and bucky is still poking fun, especially because the kitchen is your weakness, and he’s doing all kinds of stupid stuff because he thinks he’s immune

so he has an armful of ingredients, let’s say like a box of pasta, a jar of sauce, some veggies, whatever else and he’s like ‘hey y/n look what i can do’ and as you turn he accidentally stubs his toe on the corner of the island and everything goes flying from his arms, and he totally wipes out

so, being the amazing partner you are, you take a picture of the mess before helping him to his feet and giving him a little kiss on the cheek and saying ‘maybe keep your mouth shut next time, barnes’ and then you go get the mop to clean up because he needs a moment alone to nurse his pride anyways

[kindness-bliss]

New Beginnings Ch. 7

Timothy Thatcher x OC

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Tim looked over at her discreetly he witnessed her trying to open a jar and cleaned his hands on his already stained shirt “I got that for you”   “And I got this for you” she said as she went into her small closet in the living room and pulled out a flannel shirt  “It’s my dads, I don’t wanna see you in a bloody dried up t shirt as we make dinner”   He nodded quickly as he took off his shirt and unbuttoned on the one she gave him Maya blushed as she grilled her ground turkey and noticed how chiseled he was, his upper chest having the perfect amount of body hair and peaks, his biceps bulging out nicely but not overly muscular or anything like that    “It fits” Tim grinned as he showed her  “Not that bad on you” she admits with a small grin “Plaid is definitely your style, I like it on you” “I-I don’t deserve you being so nice to me” he said quietly “Maya, I won’t ever be able to stop saying sorry to you ever, know that. I’m probably gonna say sorry to you for as long as I know you”   “Tim, when’s your birthday ?” Maya asked suddenly as she looked at him “I know it’s 1983 but month ? What month ?”  “March….March 17th” he answered slowly “why ?”   “Oh my god you’re a Pisces, suddenly everything makes sense wow” she nodded as she laughed “Gosh you fit it to a T, you’re a water sign”    “What does that have to do with anything ? A water sign ? What the hell is that ?” Tim asked confused as he put his cutting board down   “It’s your sign Tim” she chuckled “Your sign is a Pisces which makes sense because they’re...well you are considered to have a sign that is known for its over sensitivity, self-pitying but also very selfless and very accepting”    “Oh” he said softly “well I guess yeah, kinda is me. My mother says it’s because I’m an only child and never got to experience things other children got at my age since I also stayed with my grandmother a lot. I think that made me highly sensitive”   “You call it highly sensitive, I call it highly aware” she grinned as she took the carrots and celery from him and added them to a pan to saute   Tim observed as sat on a stool by her “what are you making ? It looks kinda complicated honestly” “Bolognese” Maya says “Though I’m kind of cheating because I’m using sauce from a jar, but I promise it’ll be good”   “Oh” he nodded “I don’t cook much honestly, I only have ever made chicken or ham and it’s typically without seasoning. Same with my rice, I stick to bland foods for the most part. I broke my diet when we went to that Korean BBQ place” Tim said softly as he reached over and cut up onion for her    “Glad I got you to change things up for a bit, though you ghosted me and acted like a child afterwards and ruined me introducing you to better places” she giggled   “I’m gonna age myself here a bit but um, what’s ghosted ?” he asked with genuine interest as he looked down at her   “It means ignore, basically a millennial way of saying you ignored me” she answered back  “Ah I see, I like that...ghosted. I’m adding that to my vocabulary” he nodded as he repeated the word under his breath as he chopped   “Gosh he’s cute” Maya thought to herself as he stood only inches away from him, their arms basically touching as she sauteed. She made sure she stayed in close distance as she cooked looking around as silence began to take over   “Since you were a dick to me, you have to be really nice to me now like really nice” she said with a smile  “I will do whatever you want or need me to do” Tim smiled at her with his dimple popping out more “Kiss me” she whispered nervously as she looked into his eyes    “Like...like right now ?” he asked nervously “o-okay...I’m not that good at it though and my beard is gonna scratch, my lips are kinda dry too and-” he stopped blubbering when he felt her soft lips gently press onto his as she carefully put his hands on her waist as he leaned in more and placed hers on his cheeks    Maya grinned up at him afterwards as she gently wiped his lips and put ice back on his face “go sit with this on while I finish here and by the way, you’re a good kisser”  He chuckled as nodded and sat on her couch “well thank you, haven’t heard that one in like 5 years at least”. Tim sat quietly as he iced his face trying to make sense of what had just happened. Just 6 hours ago he had told her horrible things and now here was having just had a make out session in her kitchen as they cooked dinner together. Tim looked around as he picked up magazines she had on her coffee table and looked through them smiling when he realized they were all her covers or features. One in particular catching his eye, a feature in a parenting magazine where she was holding a baby on her lap.    “Last year” Maya grinned “I typically don’t do those kinds but they needed a model last minute and I happened to be in the area and went in. It was fun, kids and babies were great to work with honestly and now what I expected. That little one stole my heart, made me think I wanted my own for a bit”    “You think about kids ? Not in a weird day of course, just since like me you’re an only child” she asked “I mean yeah, sometimes” he admits quietly “Granted I really thought I was gonna stop wrestling when I was like 30 and settle down and have that white picket fence life everyone else had but clearly life has passed me by. But I’ve had some other good things in life, experiences and memories not everyone has had in life. I’m not one to complain, you ?” Tim asked as he looked at her   “Sometimes I want 1, sometimes none and other times I want like 5” Maya chuckled

“5 ?” Tim laughed “That’s a basketball team right there, Jesus that’d be feeding an army daily”   “Which is why then I think maybe not having them at all would be more beneficial” she laughed “I’ve got time to think about it thankfully, like 5 more years”   “Enjoy your youth, and your job. It’s interesting, really it is Maya” Tim says genuinely “You’ve been to some amazing places, you have experiences most won’t get and you’re only 25. It’s amazing truly”  Maya grinned at him as she fixed the ice pack on his face “I appreciate that, but your face will appreciate this ice way way more”. Damn, kissing him must’ve been the best thing she felt in ages, she could tell he wanted it just as bad as she did yet kept his usual calm demeanor. She came out of her daze as she heard her her cell phone buzz, muttering quietly as Marcel’s pet name appeared  “Dinner tomorrow is still on ?” “Yeah….but let’s meet somewhere, I think I’m ready to tell Tim the truth” Maya sighed as his name quickly appeared on her screen and declined his facetime requests and calls immediately  “Answer me please, Maya just don’t do it today please. Let’s meet tomorrow and we can figure something out...please ?” “Fine, I won’t do it tonight but I’m doing it soon, I like him a lot and I’m not gonna keep secrets from him Marcel, and neither should you. I’ll text you tomorrow morning” she sent as she put her phone on silent and set their plates up She went to the bathroom as she wiped her residue makeup off her face and put her hair up in a ponytail to fresh up, applying some perfume lightly as she looked herself over and left the bathroom    “Oh” she whispered as she saw Tim sleeping on her couch, giving soft snores as his arms were crossed on his chest. Even in his sleep he wasn’t relaxed, it kinda looked like he was just closing his eyes to her and waiting to spook her any second. She contemplated waking him up for a second and went to touch his shoulder, but instead decided to graze his cheek with the back of her hand gently, covering him up with her throw she had on the couch.  Maya shrugged as she turned on the tv and sat on the opposite end as she stuffed spoonfuls of pasta into her mouth watching Real Housewives of New Jersey, shaking her head at the stupid drama on her television shifting when she heard Tim move around and groan   “What ? What happened ?” Tim asked with a groan as he stretched “did I fall asleep here ?” “You did” she nodded “only been like an hour and a half, now please get yourself a plate and don’t bother me for the next 20 minutes because Teresa Giudice is about to cause drama at this fashion show so shhh”   He raised his brow in confusion as he stood up and served himself a plate and sat next to her going back and forth between her reactions and the tv screen in front of him “Did she just call her an old hag and a bitch ?”    “Tim shh” she put a finger to his lips absentmindedly Tim nodded quickly as he leaned back into the couch and ate, speaking up when the show was over with wide eyes “That was… a lot. Is all reality tv like this ?”  “Only the best” Maya laughed “and by the way, sorry for shushing you like that” He shrugged “I deserve more than that”  “Tim, as of tonight we drop it” she turned to look at him “Please” Maya cleaned up thinking what the hell she got herself into with him, this wasn’t in her character at all. One second she was ready to see him drop dead 8 floors to the ground and the next she was making out with him in her kitchen. This was new territory she was going into and deep down it felt right, it felt right to kiss him and feel his touch and she could feel he was feeling the same way. She turned her head , gasping as she bumped into him    “Yes ?” she whispered “Maya, I like you” Tim said “I like you a lot...and I feel like if I don’t tell you now that it’s just us here in a comfortable environment I probably won’t say it again. This isn’t like me one bit” he admits “I’ll be honest yeah I’ve had girlfriends, I dated women here and there but I never felt like this…”    “Like how ?” she asked softly  “Scared, scared that when I was with you I liked who I was for once, I felt at ease and like I didn’t need to put the harsh wrestling persona up. You didn’t care or give it much thought either or pestered me like some others had in the past. And I just wanna say-” “Tim shut the fuck up and just kiss me already” she said softly    And he did. He kissed her deeply as he moved his hands down to her hips and lifted her with ease onto her kitchen countertop feeling her hands move up and down his chest. It wasn’t just a long kiss, it was several kisses with small breaks in between to ensure they could catch their breath as their hands roamed freely all over each other's bodies. Maya unbuttoned the first 3 buttons off his shirt as she lightly traced his chest with her nails as her forehead pressed against his “we should go to my room….we don’t have to you know...have sex but we can just do more of this there comfortably”   “Okay” he nodded as he took her hand and followed her into her room, looking around at the pristine condition everything was in. A vanity organized with makeup items and skin care products he couldn’t even name, her bed perfectly made and covered in pillows, a closet the size of his bedroom with clothes in every color of the rainbow. Everything so neat and luxurious, everything he didn’t have.   She leaned up against him she kissed him again, this time with more dominance as she stumbled onto her bed on top of him, feeling his hands lightly on her lower back    Tim pulled apart from her as he rubbed his slightly red lips and pet her hair gently with his hand “I haven’t had anything like that in a while” he admitted with a small grin    “Neither have I’ she chuckled, licking her lips feeling them swell “It’s like free lip filler” “Always a comedian” Tim laughed genuinely sitting up on her bed “Jesus it’s 11 already and I gotta walk back to my car to get home, I got tapings tomorrow”   “Just stay here and I’ll take you back in the morning, it’ll be early I promise” she said softly as she gave a comforting grin “Okay, I”ll take the couch though. I’m not sleeping in your bed, this was a one time thing that I typically don’t let happen”    “What a gentleman you are” Maya said as she brought him a pillow and blanket “I’ve got all the works on my tv so feel free to watch what you like, bathroom is right next to the closet”    “Thanks, I appreciate it really” She got up in the morning as she turned off her alarm and got ready for the day, taking a peek and seeing Tim up and sitting as he watched tv making different facial expressions  “What are you watching ?” she chuckled as she walked out and turned on her Nespresso machine “Danielle is a mess, I get why you watch this trashy stuff. It’s addicting” he shook his head as he turned it off  Maya laughed as she took out two mugs from her cabinet “Well now you know and let me guess, you take your black ?” “ Yeah” He nodded as he got up and sat on a stool    “I got a shoot in like an hour so I probably won’t be able to talk to you for most of today” she said softly as she packed her bag “chances are till late late tonight”   “Oh….well um I was hoping if you’re able to, I actually have a taping tomorrow and I wanted to ask you if you would like to attend ? It’s about 2 hours, it’s fun even for someone like you who’s never been around wrestling” Never been around wrestling, after a great night she remembered the big mess she had yet to talk to him about. Marcel, shit.    “I’ll try my hardest” she responded with a grin as she drove them back to his car “Thanks again for driving me here, I appreciate it have a good shoot” he nodded as he lingered for a while leaning in slowly as he pet her cheek with his hand and kissed her “Um I think your friend over there saw us” Maya laughed softly as she pointed to an opened mouthed Oney at the gym entrance    Tim chuckled and shook his head as he got out “I’m not gonna hear the end of this one, I’ll text you later, have a good work day” he smiled softly as he walked away “Is that….you have a ?, speak up already” Oney pushed as he followed him to his car “you can’t just not tell me what’s going on after kissing someone like THAT” He turned around as he got out his gym bag “excuse me ? what do you mean like that ? what’s with the emphasis on the end there ?”    Oney shook his head as he gave a scoff “Do you have any idea who that is ? What kind of work she does ?”

  “Uh yeah she’s a mode” Tim nodded as they walked inside “I’ve seen her stuff, she showed me and talked to me all about it”

“I can’t believe you’re dating a model man, you of all people. No offense of course but I mean I never pictured you even dating someone at all”

Tim raised a brow “I’m that bad of a catch huh ? Gee I feel great now that you’ve given me this amazing pep talk, feeling like I can conquer the world now” he answered sarcastically stretching

  “How old is she ?” Oney asked “because there’s no way she’s older than 30”

“25….” he said softly “she’s 25, just turned 25 actually about 2 months ago”

“WHAT ?” Oney said as he spit out his water “No fucking way, you’re dating a 25 year old ?”

  “Would you stop, we’re not dating…….we’re friends that’s all” he answered as he began his cardio

  “Oh yeah because you totally suck face with a friend before leaving right ?” Oney chuckled “You’re in deep, you did the cheek grab and the little linger after you kiss” “Well maybe I like her, friends right now but who knows maybe after she comes to the show might change” he gave a smile “I invited her and she said she’ll come” “Who are you and what have you done to my friend ?” Oney asked with a raised brow “Because you are not the Tim I know” “Let’s just say maybe I wanna enjoy life a bit more” He shrugged “and I’m starting with her, she likes me. I like her, there’s nothing that can go wrong” Nothing right ?

[softbiker]

Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: 18+ only - smut (oral, f/r), cursing, unsanitary kitchen conditions

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: This is my Valentine’s Day gift to all of you! You’re welcome ;) Apparently I’m in a writing rut and the only thing that can get me out is writing smut...I’m not going to question it. As always, feedback is appreciated! <3

Post-mission, post-debrief, post-shower.

Pre-dinner, pre-Netflix binge, pre-dessert.

Bucky swipes at the fogged mirror with a towel, leaving streaks that slightly reveal his own damp skin and dripping hair. A harsh breath blows past his lips as he examines the planes of his own skin, leaning forward into the mirror. His whiskers have grown out over the last few days, unable to shave due to forgetting his razor, and he refused to share with Natasha’s legs, in spite of her insistence that she wouldn’t mind. There’s a nice shiner blooming under his right eye, bright purple-red on his cheekbone - lucky swing of some thug’s fist. Didn’t land a second hit, though. 

Towel around his waist, not yet dressed, the drops from the tips of his hair drip down his shoulders as he continues to frown at his reflection, fingers rubbing absently at the scratchy new growth on his cheeks. Should he shave? Eyelids already growing a little heavy, breath slow - he doesn’t want to. He wants to slip on his pajamas and go find her in the kitchen; he knows she’s there, he can smell the pressed garlic and hear the light pad of her toes as she shuffles around, swaying to her music. The corner of his mouth twitches just a little, and he reaches down, digging in the second drawer for his shaving cream. He’ll go ahead. She’ll like it. 

The cold lather on his skin and the scrape of the razor wakes him up just a little; the fog on the mirror slowly fading and his hair drying in soft waves that he curls behind his ears. Lips pursed as he turns, examining his profile, whistling a soft tune - something jazzy and familiar, more muscle memory than anything. The back of his mind buzzes with swing music and cigarettes, another lifetime, another man. A man he sees reflected back in the glass, right before his eyes, as he pats down his now-smooth cheeks with a towel, soft skin flushed a little with the cold water and the friction of cotton. He gives himself a slow nod in the mirror, rolling his shoulders, and takes a slow breath. 

Rubbing his hands together, his whistling turned to a low hum in his throat, he shuffles out to the chest of drawers for his boxers and pajama pants; her music comes drifting through the doorway, something poppy with a good beat, the singer’s smooth voice weaving up and down through the lyrics. Beneath the music, he can hear his girl humming along, a word or two passing her lips as she mouths along to the melody. Bucky smiles to himself. Time to go see about a girl. 

**********                                                                               

Another pinch of salt…maybe two pinches. She dips her pinkie into the spoon and takes a small taste of the sauce, tongue smacking as she examine the flavor. Definitely more garlic. She reaches for the pressed cloves on the cutting board, sprinkling them into the pan. The sauce sizzles and bubbles as she stirs, nearly ready to add the tortellini. She turns the burner down low and whirls around to the island, where the standing mixer has done most of the work on her brownies. A moment’s deliberation, and then she adds in the caramel bits she was saving, debating whether or not to toss them in the batter. She pops one of the morsels into her mouth, thinking “why not?”. 

Her phone is propped up next to her bluetooth speaker, shuffling a fun new pop album, and she shimmies her hips as she steps back to the stove, reaching for the tortellini. The shower had shut off several minutes ago - surely Bucky would be ready to eat soon. Poor thing, he was always ravenous after missions, surviving on protein bars and takeout; his pitiful texts bemoaning his hunger and how much he missed her cooking always ensured a piping hot home cooked meal on his arrival. Tonight’s menu? Pasta and chocolate, a $7 wine chilling in the fridge; he always liked rich food, the heavy flavors so unlike the boiled and bland taste of his childhood. In the 21st century, he had abandoned the bare bones nutrition of his Depression kitchen in favor of a wide array of modern culinary miracles. She enables him a little, all too happy to see his eager, excited puppy eyes at the prospect of a new recipe; all too weak to his boyish pout at the grocery store when something brightly colored and full of sugar catches his eye. 

“I need this, babydoll - it’s got Steve’s picture on the front! I could win a chance to meet Captain America!”

“You see him every day!”

“Yeah, but the sweepstakes includes a cash prize, too! C’mon, honey, please?”

Yep. Total enabler. 

The song changes from a slower track to a faster one, the album’s title song and catchy as all hell, she bobs her head along and dances back and forth in front of her pasta, now finished, just waiting for-

On cue, a pair of hands slide around to grip her hips mid-sway, a firm chest pressing up against her back. 

“What’s cookin’, hot stuff?” His lips grinning against her ear, pressing a little kiss to the skin just beneath. Strong fingers give her hips an affectionate squeeze as he sways them a little in time with her music. 

“Tortellini. With that homemade sauce you liked last time.” Tipping her head over her shoulder, she shares a light kiss with him, lips lifting in a sweet smile - the best ‘welcome home’ a man could ask for. When she tries to pull away he leans in, presses firmer, holding onto the kiss for just a few seconds longer. 

“Well, ain’t you sweet,” he whispers, nudging her nose with his own. She hums. 

“Not as sweet as the brownies I’m whipping up.” Her eyebrow tilts up in challenge; those brownies are his weakness - well, that and every other form that chocolate can come in. His sweet tooth is something else she consistently indulges, since he insists on pushing his super soldier metabolism to its absolute limit. 

At the mention of brownies, his eyes perk up and he stands up straight, looking around at the kitchen counters for the promised treats. Their feet shuffle awkwardly as he turns without loosening his grip, dragging her with him and flicking drops of the coveted sauce across the floor and countertops from the spoon still in her hand. 

“Buck! Hey! You’re making a mess,” she protests, reaching for a paper towel and trying to wiggle out of his grip. He catches sight of the brownie batter on the island and gasps, a little victorious “yes” escaping his lips as he reaches for it, finally releasing his hold on her. Freed for the moment, she takes the opportunity to wipe up the drips of sauce on the floor and tosses the paper towel in the trash. 

When she turns back she catches him - lips smacking around the spoon in shameless approval, dimples appearing in his cheeks, eyes dancing with mischief as he meets her eyes over the spoon. 

“Bucky!” she huffs. “I wasn’t done with that yet, they still have to go in the oven!”

He raises an eyebrow, a challenge, a dare, and inches the now-contaminated spoon back towards the batter. 

“Oh, that’s okay, babe - I can just eat it with a spoon,” he smirks, seeing her fists tighten before she lunges for the bowl, grabbing with both hands and tucking it to her chest to save further batter from being stolen. 

“That is not the proper way to eat brownies and you know it.” He’s taking her speech very seriously, if the grin on his face is anything to go by. “You could get salmonella.” 

“Worth it.” 

She rolls her eyes and turns back to the kitchen counter, where her pan is already waiting, already greased with Crisco - with a glance over her shoulder to find him still watching, leaning against the island with his arms crossed, she plucks a whisk from the jar of utensils and pours out the batter, scraping the sides and letting it all drizzle its way into the pan. It slides into the oven lightning quick, before he can make another attempt at it. 

Whisk and bowl now on their way to the sink, and with a satisfied hum she glides a finger down the cage of the whisk and sticks it in her mouth. Releasing it with a pop, she smiles at him across the island.

“Mmm.” An exaggerated groan, and she can see the flush starting high on his cheekbones. “You’re right - it is good enough to eat with a spoon.” 

His steps are slow, measured, stalking, as he rounds the island, his tongue tracing his lower lip. Caught in his stare, she can’t bring herself to move - her heart starts picking up its pace, a rabbit’s excited thumpthumpthump against her ribs, and she grips the counter behind her. Without leaving his eyes, she draws her hand up, deliberately slow, and scoops another helping of the batter onto her fingers. Biting her lip, secret smile pressed into her cheeks, her fingers creep back towards her mouth, when he suddenly intercepts. A strong metal grip wraps around her wrist and brings her hand back to his face, slipping her fingers into his own mouth and sucking them clean. Her stomach swoops at the feel of his tongue tracing her fingers, swirling over them in long, firm strokes. 

She opens her mouth to say something, a pun, a flirty innuendo, but all that comes out is a muted gasp when his hips press her own further back against the kitchen counter. Wolfish, hungry, he’s smirking at her as he pulls her fingers from his mouth. Cool metal fingers grip the back of her neck and he hauls her into a filthy open-mouthed kiss, his tongue licking deep into her mouth, as if he could get a taste of the chocolate that remained there. He groans when she responds in kind, sucking lightly on his tongue and rolling her hips against his in a slow grind. 

Keeping his metal grip in her hair, his other hand slides down her side, squeezing the soft flesh at her hips and tracing the skin just under the hem of her shirt, before fingering the button of her jeans. He hears her breath stutter when he squeezes her through her jeans, the firm pressure of his fingers and the rough seam of the denim sending a brief jolt down her legs at the friction. He smiles against her lips, still ravishing her mouth, tracing the line of her teeth with his tongue. Nimble fingers undo the button and zipper, before slipping his hand inside to rub her through her panties. 

“Oh, honey,” he clicks his tongue. “You’re so wet already - I ain’t even touched you yet.” 

“Believe me, I know.” Her voice is never as firm as she wants it to be, her usual sass melting into breathy whines every time he touches her this way. A particularly firm press of his fingers over her clothed core has her hissing through her teeth, just the frustrated side of pathetic. “Buck - please.”

His metal hand scratches the back of her skull, affectionate and comforting, as he nuzzles his nose against her cheek. 

“You gonna let me lick the bowl, honey?” he asks, low and husky, and for some reason she’s still thinking about the brownies when she nods emphatically, totally willing to barter sweets for everything his voice is promising. He grins against her skin, licking across her jaw and down to her neck…then removes his hand from her jeans to the tune of an offended whine. Her small, cold fingers grip his wrist, trying to keep him there as she pouts.

“Bucky,” and she’s not even trying to control the way it sounds now, needy and breathless. Warm tongue tracing the shell of her ear, he huffs a little laugh and squeezes her hips. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I gotcha.” He withdraws an inch or two, rearranges their embrace to get a better grip around her hips. “But you said I could have a lick, so-” With no further warning, his palms each grasp a handful of her ass and hoist her up into his arms, her legs winding around his waist on instinct. Nails dig into his shoulders, leaving little red crescent shapes in the soft, freckled skin. His teeth nip at her neck between sweeps of his tongue, and she moans as he pays particular attention to her pulse point. 

With a turn and a few steps, he’s back at the island, gently depositing her on the edge, his hands stroking up and down her sides. A few insistent tugs at the hem of her shirt, and she lifts her arms to let him peel the offending fabric away, tossed somewhere behind him. His hand is firm on her spine as he lays her back against the marble, the cool surface making her arch up against him. Soft lips press a final firm kiss against her collarbone as he pulls himself back, looking down at her - adoring eyes, wet lips - his hands making their way down to remove her jeans. A dark flush spreads across his chest as he pulls them down, his eyes finding the wet spot on her panties, and she feels her entire body heat up as his lust-blown eyes drink her in. 

His metal hand grasps one of her ankles, lifting her leg to press a kiss there and working his way up, dragging his tongue against the sweet-smelling skin and taking his time on his way to the real prize. A little bite at her inner thigh, and a scratch of his fingernails, has her giggling and moaning at once. He leaves a kiss over her panties and moves to the other side, still savoring, still teasing, tracing his lips over the ticklish skin on the inside of her knee just to make her squirm. Sliding his hands along her legs, he massages her calves gently, knowing how sore she gets from being on her feet all day - he makes a mental note to give her a full-body massage soon. That never fails to get them both going. 

He licks up the arch of her foot and holds back a laugh when she huffs and tries to kick at him.

“Are you going to get back up here anytime soon?” she pouts, fingers tugging at his hair, just the way he likes. Just the way that makes him a little bit wild. Teeth sink into his lower lip as he looks at her under his lashes, his eyes dark and hungry. 

“Oh just you wait, babydoll,” he promises with a low growl. “Gonna taste you till you’re screaming.” 

Before she can respond, his fingers curl in the waistband of her panties and yank them down her legs, flinging them over his shoulder impatiently. Hands beneath her ass, he lifts her hips up, licks his lips, and dives in with a broad lick up her slit. 

Shameless and eager and starving for his girl, Bucky buries his whole face between her thighs, his nose nudging her clit as he laves at her entrance, the tip of his tongue slipping inside to draw out more of her juices. From there he traces a path upwards, sucking on her lips and drawing warm, wet circles over her clit. 

“Oh, god…Bucky,” she arches into him, the words trailing off into a moan when he wraps his lips around her bud and sucks. 

With a final harsh squeeze of her ass, his hands curl up from under her hips, one tracing up to grasp her breast, the other twining his fingers with her own. She squeezes his hand and gasps, holding on for dear life as he plucks and tweaks her nipples in time to the strokes of his tongue against her heat. 

He’s too good at this - he always has been, not that she’d ever tell him and let his ego inflate that much larger. But Bucky Barnes eats pussy like he’s on a fucking mission; he’s groaning as he devours her cunt with his entire mouth, tracing his tongue up and down, side to side, nipping delicately at her folds with his teeth. She can barely keep her eyes open, but she can see the slick shining across his freshly-shaven cheeks, even on the tip of his nose, when he pauses to take a breath and fucking winks at her before going back for more. 

Her toes curl against his back, thighs tense and trembling with every swirl and suck of his wicked tongue; she feels his hand leave her breasts and moans in protest, before the digits reappear at her entrance, gathering wetness for a moment before slipping inside. 

A whispered “fuck” is all she can get out when his fingers scissor inside her, twisting back and forth, before curling upward and stroking firmly against her upper wall with the pad of his fingers. Never letting up with his tongue, the pattern against her clit constantly changing, she feels the heat pooling in her belly, hot and insistent and so, so close. 

“Buck, I’m - fuck, I’m so close,” she whines, and he smiles and nods against her, pulling another sweet moan from her lips. The tip of his tongue draws lines and swoops over her bud, a strange pattern almost like, like -

B-

Jesus Christ, he’s -

U-

He’s writing his fucking name -

She shudders at the letters “C” and “K” when he presses firmer with the flat of his tongue, cheeky bastard. By the time he’s started on his last name, her whole body is starting to shake, the room is impossibly hotter, her head feeling dizzy and light. Her nails dig into his scalp as she cries out his name again. 

“Go ahead, go on, come for me, honey,” he coaxes, before giving her clit a harsh suck while pressing that secret spot inside her. It tumbles her over the edge, her hips rolling into his mouth and her back arching up from the counters, her pants and moans falling breathless and sweet in his ears. He works her through it, continuing to lick and stroke her folds, pulling away every so often to leave kisses on her thighs and nuzzle her hip. When she starts to push his head away he pulls out his fingers, watching the gush of wetness that follows. 

He drapes himself back over her body, a hand on either side of her head, as she comes back to herself and opens her eyes. Blinking a few times, she smiles at him, sharing breathless little kisses as he smooths her hair back from her face. 

“You’re a menace, Bucky Barnes,” she laughs, eyes and limbs feeling heavy and soft. 

“Yeah but you already knew that, sweetheart.” He kisses the tip of her nose, her closed eyelids, her cheek. “And besides -,” without warning, he scoops her up in his arms and heads towards the bedroom, leaving their mess - and dinner - behind. 

“You know I like to have my dessert first.” 

[buckyreaderrecs]

Gloxinia

Summary: You’re a witch that helps The Avengers a couple of times. Bucky Barnes finds some sort of happiness and healing in you, and the flowers you surround yourself with. He’s a boy in lalalove. 

 Words: 5,808 Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, James 'Rhodey' Rhodes, Clint Barton, Thor Odinson Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame never happened), witch!Reader, enhanced!Reader, she/her pronouns for Reader, other characters mentioned but not in scenes, recovering!Bucky, witchy vibes, evil werewolf clones, sassy Sam Wilson, LOTS of flower symbolism, Avengers compound, fluff Warnings: reference to having nightmares but nothing serious My masterlist.

Note: This was written for @the--sad--hatter and her Flowers For My Followers writing challenge. Kara, I love you, and I hope you love this. Also shout out to @vibraniumwitch for being my witchy inspiration always. Also, sorry for probably wrong geography stuff; I'm Australian and don't know shit about New York/Upstate New York loooool.

 Gloxinia

For any of The Avengers to be sceptical of witchcraft seemed, to be perfectly frank, really fucking stupid. Each of their lives had been wrapped up in magic and mystery, so to have them hold back smirks and send mocking glances across the table at each other was not exactly what you had expected.

To be fair, it wasn't all The Avengers making fun. At the head of the table, Steve Rogers watched with curiosity, although he was sure his expression read as neutral. Sam Wilson took the seat closest to you, asking the same question phrased multiple ways.

"So, a witch witch?" "Is it more Sabrina or Charmed?" "Really just making a potion, huh? Like a real life witch…"

He broke the tension, which would have been otherwise unbearable.

Tony Stark, Clint Wilson, and James 'Rhodey' Rhodes had been reduced to acting like teenagers at the mere suggestion of brewing a potion. You'd been hoping for a different audience. Specifically, Wanda Maximoff. She would have believed you. Alas, you had not been gifted your choice in company.

"Alright, Broom-hilda, show us what 'cha got," Tony said, growing impatient.

"Do we really have to drink that?" Clint added, peering into the bowl you'd been mixing things in. "Won't turn our skin purple? Grow an extra limb?"

Rolling your eyes, you held up a plant. "Magnolia, for perseverance. Or, add the petals to a salad for a bit of extra colour," you explained in your best infomercial voice.

Sam snorted, then began to poke around the rest of the ingredients. "What’re the orange ones for?"

"That's nasturtium. For conquest."

When you'd finished the mix, you let it cook over a small, portable heat pad. Modern witch, and all that. Hot off the stove, you poured the liquid into a collection of small, glass bottles.

"Let it cool, cork them, then drink it when you need it," you announced, matter-of-factly.

When Natasha Romanoff had exhausted all of her routes of gathering information, returning with only your name, everyone was close to admitting defeat. The battle was lost, surely, if a witch's potion was the only hope… But Steve wasn't in the business of giving up. He sent Sam to bring you to the compound.

Steve explained that they had located a source of power. Ancient, unstable, highly sought-after power. And even with all their superhuman strength and superhuman speed and superhuman everything, they couldn't get to it. Maybe, though, with what was best described as a performance-enhancing-witchy-substance, they had a fighting chance.

The room looked over the bottles.

"How do we know if it'll work?" Sam asked, picking one up and inspecting it.

"We don't," Tony answered. It was less an attack than a statement of unfortunate fact.

"You'll just have to trust me."

Sam nodded, and watched as you pulled a sprig of yarrow and put it into his bottle.

"Yarrow, for healing," you told him.

"Yeah, ah… Can I grab some of that too?" Rhodey asked. "Falc ain't the only brother without super healing."

 …

"No," 

"But-"

"No. I'm not gonna be a magical drug dealer to-" but Sam cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

"Y/N, Y/N, you got it all wrong! I don't want that nasty nasturtium stuff. Nah, I'm thinking… truth serum?"

"Truth serum," you repeated deadpan.

"Yeah, nightshade," he says nodded and wriggling his eyebrows. He was doing his best 'good kid does extra credit' impression.

"You googling 'truth plant' isn't impressive," you said. That elicited a snort from Sam's companion.

Standing next to him, silent and appearing impatient, Bucky Barnes crossed his arms over his chest. But the snort had dragged him into the conversation.

"And what do you want?" you asked him.

"What?"

"Love spell. Vampire tracker. Or just an easy bottle of truth serum too?"

Bucky blinked at you, then slowly shook his head. "I've had enough serums to last me a lifetime… I'm just here 'cause Steve said you'd kick his ass before you gave him any…magic or whatever," he answered, motioning to Sam.

"So Rogers got all the trio's brains, huh?"

Sam and Bucky frowned in unison.

"Look, we normally just use Nat for this kind of thing. But our guy ain't talking, and we need the information," Sam tried again. "She's out of town, and Wanda's taking a break from getting in people's heads."

Being called in to brew superhero steroids as a once off was one thing… Having the Falcon and the Winter Soldier show up on your doorstep at 11:00 pm was another. However, the men looked desperate.

Sighing, you looked at them. "Fine. Come in. I might be able to help." 

You lead the men through your living room, overlooked by a small kitchen. Their faces told you a lot. "You were expecting a magic cave? Portal to a hut in the middle of a forest?"

"Yeah, kinda," Sam replied, casually shrugging.

"Do you live in a nest?" you asked him.

Bucky chuckled.

"Alright, I get it. The witch thing isn't always literal."

But that's when you pulled a dark purple velvet curtain back, revealing a room you referred to as your office.

"Woah," Bucky whispered to himself.

"Now, see, this is what I'm talking 'bout!" Sam exclaimed, looking around the room in awe.

The small, windowless room was framed by floor to ceiling bookshelves on three of the walls. Stuck between books were trinkets and oddities. Against the fourth wall was a table covered in dried herbs, potted plants, and other things neither Sam nor Bucky could identify.

"Sit," you instructed, pointing to the round table in the centre of the room. There were scorch marks and deep gashed in the wood grain. Bucky traced them with his right hand.

As they pulled out chairs and sat, Sam pointed, "Is that a microwave?"

"For heating potions… and hot pockets," you explained. "So, how much can you tell me?"

"Officially - nothing. Unofficially - your magic juice helped save the world a month ago, so, whatever you need to know," Sam answered.

"Okay. And, none of those C.I.A. psychotropic L.S.D. drugs are real? No secret truth serums invented by Bruce Banner?" you asked, more out of interest than need-to-know.

"If they do, they ain't telling us," Sam said. 

He explained that they had a man in custody. The man knew a date and a location, but he wasn’t cracking in interrogation and time was running out.

"Sounds very spy T.V. dramatic," you mused.

"But it's real life," Bucky said.

"Yeah," you replied, looking at him and his serious expression. "Okay, so what's meant to happen? On the date or whatever?"

"You'll sleep better not knowing that," from Bucky, his expression remaining the same.

You trusted him to gauge what you should and should not know. Nodding, you turned around and began to look for the things you needed. The men watched, leaning over the table when you put things on it.

"I don't do magic on other people. It's a line we don't cross. So, no truth serum. What I can do is try to pull the information you need from somewhere else. Bring it here," you told him.

When you joined them at the table you smiled at their matching faces; furrowed brows and darkened eyes.

"You're sure he knows what you need to know?" you asked. They nodded. "Do you have anything of his?" Sam frowned, shook his head.

Bucky thought for a second, then pulled a knife out of somewhere. "Haven't cleaned this yet. Might still have some of his blood on it,"

"Disturbing, but okay," you said, taking the knife and putting it in the wooden bowl in front of you.

The room went silent as you picked white chrysanthemum petals off a fresh stem and dropped them into the bowl. Begonias followed, then basil. Truth. Knowledge. Success.

"One of you has to be the vessel,"

"The vessel?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. The information needs to go to someone. It can't be me,"

"I'll do it," Bucky offered.

For a second you hesitated, wondering how white magic would work through someone with so much darkness in their past. But that was just it - it was the past.

"You need to wear this," you said, handing him a crown made of blackthorn plant. "It's like, a filter. Brings in good luck, and lets the universe know you're working for good."

Bucky looked at the thing in his hands, slowly putting it on his head.

"Suits you, man," Sam said, smirking. Bucky just shot him a look.

They fell silent again, watching you carefully place a few more things in the bowl before filling it with a liquid poured from a glass jar that looked like it once held pasta sauce. Everything sat swimming but still until you placed a hand either side of the bowl, then it started to simmer. It bubbled and popped and seemed to quickly reduce down, evaporating faster than it scientifically should have. Soon, all that was left was about shot glass worth of black, thick syrupy liquid.

"Where's my knife?" Bucky asked.

"Gone," you replied as you poured the potion into a cup. You handed it to Bucky and he looked at you apprehensively. "Drink it and focus on what you want to know… Think about the guy. And, think about what happens if you don't find out what he knows. Think about it so hard that it hurts."

Bucky nodded slowly but shot the liquid quickly. At first, he just sat there, almost like he was stunned.

"How long-" Sam went to ask, but you shushed him.

Suddenly, Bucky pushed back from the table, standing up and sending his chair flying. Sam followed, holding his arms out like he expected Bucky to fall.

"It's okay," you told Sam. "He's okay."

Bucky's eyes were shut tight, and he held his head, fingers curling around his blackthorn crown. He began to breathe heavily, mouth open.

"Is he gonna spew?!" Sam shrieked in a high-pitched voice.

Taking the empty wooden bowl with you, you stood and moved to Bucky. He went still and mimicked your exact movements of slowly lowering yourself to the ground and kneeling. Sam didn't understand how Bucky knew what to do; you'd not uttered a command.

You placed the bowl between you and Bucky. He leaned over it, and began to cough and pull something from his mouth. It was impossibly long, coming from somewhere deep inside him. He pulled and pulled, letting it slop into the bowl. When it was all out, he spat, then seemingly woke up, falling on his butt and backing away from the bowl.

"What the fuck," he said between heavy breaths.

Sam and Bucky watched you look through the muck and gunk in the bowl, no hesitation to your movement.

"What is that?" Sam asked, truly disgusted. 

You looked over to Bucky, who was looking at the thing intently. He scrambled back over and took it from you. "I know…" he started, looking up at Sam. "I know… everything.”

 …

 You had dropped cutlery three times, but when it was almost midnight and no company had come, you were getting restless. In your office, sat at the table, you shuffled a deck and laid out cards.

The Hanged Man. The Hermit. The Hierophant, reversed. The Lovers.

Then, 11.11 and a soft knock on the door.

Bucky Barnes looked sleep deprived but somehow hopeful.

"I thought I might see you tonight," you told him, opening the door and letting him through. "Were you right? About the date and place?"

"Yes," he said, coming to stand in your living room.

"Good. What do Earth's Mightiest Heroes need now then?"

Bucky looked around. "Do you have any pets?" he asked.

"No. Do you?"

"A cat. Alpine... Thought you'd have one… black cat or something." He wasn't teasing, like Sam had.

"Black cat? Thought you guys were the ones with a black cat?"

Bucky grinned. "Funny. You're funny,"

"Thanks… You're not here for them then,"

"No," he said, walking over to the window where plants were everywhere. "Do you use all of these? For your magic?"

"Most of them, yeah. Like, these ones…" You moved to stand next to him. "They give strength,"

"Snapdragons," Bucky identified.

"Yep. And… Vervain are protective in nature, especially from enchantment." You picked a sprig of the purple plant, threaded it through Bucky's hair, behind his ear.

"What about nightmares? What helps with those?" he asked earnestly.

The room was illuminated by candlelight. A soft orangy glow lit up half his fast, casting the other half into shadow. You turned to him and cupped his face in your hands.

"A tired soldier… Sing him to sleep… A tired soldier… The devil's to keep," you sung gently, running your thumbs along his cheeks. "Sit. I'll brew you tea,"

"Tea?" Bucky asked, a little hesitant to be out of your hands.

"Magic tea," you clarified, rolling your eyes.

Elderflower for compassion and sweet-brier petals for healing. A little poppy and chamomile, and other secrets kept in your family for generations. A dash of Indian jasmine to finish. It glimmered as you swirled it in the teacup.

Bucky was on the couch, sitting up too straight.

"Take your boots off. Lay down," you instructed. He went to protest, probably say you didn't need to put that much effort in. "Please," you said, stopping the protest. "Let me do this."

Bucky followed your commands and took the teacup when offered. He skulled it like a frat boy in a bar trying to impress his mates.

"Now close your eyes. Sleep," you said, taking the empty cup from him.

Kneeling next to the couch, you softly ran your fingers through Bucky's hair and waited until he fell asleep before you moved to your own bed.

He was gone when you woke up.

 …

 "What? No broomstick?" called the unmistakable voice of Sam Wilson.

Standing at the open boot of your car, you looked up and watched him approach, Bucky trailing behind, hands shoved in his pockets.

"You stalking me now?" you asked, clocking the bunch of flowers in Sam's hands.

"Nope. Just waiting for you. Weren't home and we wanted to drop off a thank you, for the helping last week," he said, holding out the bouquet to you.

"So, the information was good?" you asked, pretending Bucky hadn't already confirmed it to you. His late night visit to you a few nights before was obviously not something he'd shared with his friends.

"It was good. You do good work,"

"Thanks," you said dubiously, but taking the flowers.

"We picked those out especially. This one is a gerball-"

"Gerbera," Bucky correct.

"Means 'you are the sunshine of my life' and this one is an orchid, for beauty," Sam rattled off.

"What about this one?" you asked, pointing to the yellow agrimony.

"Buck picked that one. What's it mean?" Sam asked, looking over to Bucky. Bucky was leaning against your car casually. He shrugged, pretended to not know agrimony was the gratitude plant.

"They're beautiful. You didn't have to," you told them, putting the flowers in one of the boxes in the boot of your car.

"You need a hand?" Sam asked, not waiting for a response. He swooped in and collected one of the heavy boxes. Bucky followed, picking up the other.

"Ah… sure…"

You let them carry your things inside, put them on the kitchen bench.

"More witch stuff? Eye of newt? That kind of thing?" Sam asked.

"If microwave popcorn and frozen lasagna is witchy, then ya got me," you laughed. "You're gonna be disappointed if you keep thinking like that, Sam,"

"You say that but I've seen behind the curtain. You're definitely witchy enough,"

"Yeah, yeah… So what do you want? You didn't just come to give me flowers," you asked, launching yourself backwards and up to sit on the bench.

You glanced over at Bucky, who was back over at the window and the plants. Sam clocked you looking, but filed that away.

"We've got an offer for you,"

"When you say 'we,' who exactly do you mean?"

"Us! The Avengers! Superheros!" Sam said, chest puffed out.

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. "Nope,"

"You haven't even heard-"

"No. I'm happy doing what I do," you told him.

"I told you," Bucky chimed in, stopping at a gloxinia, something about its prettiness resonating with him. "What's this one mean?"

"Love at first sight," you said, biting your lip to hide a smile.

"Whatever you do doesn't come with the perks we have," Sam persisted.

"Also doesn't come with anonymity I kinda like,"

"Alright. I tried. Can't promise we won't be back for more help though. Like I said, you do good work... So, this lasagna. Fresh?"

…

 "Well, if it isn't Broom-hilda," Tony said, arms open.

"I hope you're not expecting a hug," you replied, holding your own arms around yourself. Bucky snorted from next to you.

"Brumhilda?! A name derived from Brunnhilde, no doubt. I have a friend named-"

"Yeah, now's not the time for Asgardian tales," Tony interrupted a seemingly very excited Thor.

"Her name's Y/N," Bucky said to Thor.

Thor looked back and forth between Tony and you. "He thinks it's funny," you explained.

"It is. And I am," Tony argued.

You sighed, sat down in one of the conference room's chairs and began to slowly spin on it. "So, what am I doing here?"

When Sam and Bucky knocked on your door before the sun had a chance to rise and shine that morning, you knew it was going to be hard to say no to them. They both looked upset, and Sam was even free from his usual quips. As soon as you saw their faces, you began to nod. "Let me get dressed. I'll come," you whispered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Bucky pulled up a seat next to you, the rest of the room taking the cue and finding their spots around the large table. You recognised everyone, having met most of them. Clint and Rhodey nodded politely in your direction.

"Y/N," Steve greeted, sitting next to Bucky. "Good to see you. Heard these punks have been harassing ya?"

"Nothing she can't handle," Sam cut in, sitting on your other side.

"Truly sorry for them," Steve said, grinning.

You shrugged, looking at Bucky. "They're alright."

Tony cleared his throat. "Whole team isn't here yet, but they're coming… We're going to need all the help we can get."

 ...

 "There's too many of them!” 

"At least they're not evil flying robots!"

"Hey! I said I was sorry!"

"Cap, we've got to try somethin' else. Bullets ain't doin' shit."

"Wanda? Can you-"

"On it."

"Do you need me to go big? 'Cause I'll go big."

"Yes! Mr. Stark, can he go big?!"

From your hidden vantage point higher up the mountain, you watched the battle play out in front of you. Through the earpiece you listened to The Avengers et. al. try to work out what to do. It was true - they were severely outnumbered. The situation was going from bad to worse.

"Jesus!" you yelped as someone almost body-slammed themselves next to you.

"Sorry. Checkin' you're still here,"

"Where else would I be?"

Bucky shrugged, reloaded.

"What are they, Buck? I know a lot about a lot, but I've never seen anything like them."

You took another look through the M22 field binoculars you'd been issued. The monsters didn't look entirely… natural. Maybe, like many creatures of the world, they were made in a lab. They were men pulled apart, stitched back together with pieces of dog and wolf. Their claws ripped through protective gear and flesh like it was nothing, and they could communicate by wordless sound. It was almost howling, but more guttural and less fluid.

"They all look the same," you said.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, noticed that too. Exactly the same,"

"Exactly? Up close? Even the human parts?"

He stopped what he was doing and looked at you. "Yep. Clones. What're you thinkin'?"

"Clones..? Um, I don't know… I just… If I can figure out what they are then I can figure out how to help."

Sam dropped down on the other side of you, his wings damaged. He ripped the pack off his back and began to try to repair them. "If I knew we were gonna be out here fightin' fucking werewolves I would've packed the silverware instead of the vibranium."

"Werewolves?" you asked, pulling a small silk pouch from your bag. "Here. Use this to stick them back together,"

"Stick it back together? Y/N. Can't just glue an EXO back together-"

"It's not glue, Sam. It's bumblebee orchid, oak leaf, protea, and a bunch of other things you don't wanna know about," you explained.

"You really questioning her magic? Use her glue,” Bucky ordered. 

Sam huffed but complied. And abracadabra, your witchy sticky goop held his wings together stronger than they were before.

Bucky and Sam stood up, reloaded and ready to rejoin the fight.

"Wait!" you called, suddenly having a thought. "What if they really are werewolves?"

"What?" Sam said.

"Weirder things have happened, right? Werewolves are real. So maybe…" Your voice trailed off as you tipped the entire contents of your bag onto the forest floor.

"Y/N, we don't have time-"

"Gimme a second. I know I have it here,"

"Have what?" Bucky asked, kneeling down and studying the contents of your bag too.

"Aconitum extract… in a bottle… Here!"

"Aconitum?" Sam asked confused and growing impatient.

"Monkshood. Um, wolfsbane. Bucky, are we too far up for you to get one?"

Bucky took your M22s and assessed. "No. Nah, I can get one,"

"Gimme a bullet."

Sam and Bucky watched you dip the bullet in aconitum while uttering any and every luck enchantment you could think of. Bucky loaded his M249 SAW, steadied himself and fired.

The monster went down.

All three of you held your breath and waited. Through the M22s you watched Steve approach the body, check it.

"It's… dead…" came through the comms.

 …

 It had been two weeks since the army of hybrid werewolf clones, so two weeks since you'd last seen Bucky. It had taken days to kill them all. You had to be flown out to find more aconitum extract. From the lab at the compound you were able to work with Bruce Banner to find better ways of delivering the wolfsbane to the clones. Once you had it, it was all over for those motherfuckers.

When everyone else arrived back at the compound, they were exhausted, covered in the thick ash generated by the massive fires it took to burn all the bodies. Bucky was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open, but he mustered the energy to offer to drive you back home to New York City himself. You just sent him off to shower and bed, taking Tony's offer of a ride with one of his minions.

It had been two weeks, then a dream, a vivid and hazy dream. A white cat brought you orange blossoms, carrying a branch in his mouth. "Do you want me to plant this?" you asked the cat, and you knew he would say yes if it could speak. He watched you tend to the blossom, then he disappeared through an open window. You could feel the cool breeze against your skin, felt your hair move.

When you woke, it didn't surprise you to find Bucky sitting next to your bed, back to it and legs stretched out in front of him. The window was open, letting in an unseasonably warm morning zephyr.

"I just had a dream about you," you whispered, ruffling his hair.

Bucky looked up at you. He seemed sad. "Good dream or bad dream?"

"Good. Always good."

He nodded, trying for a small smile. "The fern… It meant I could come in, right?"

"Glad you got the message," you answered. Out on the sills of all your windows, you left ferns. They meant a lot of things - fascination, magic, enchantment, sincerity, and shelter - and you'd told Bucky they were his plant, back when he and Sam came to offer you a job with The Avengers. At the entry points to your home, they were an open invitation for him, a coded welcome mat.

"Didn't want to wake you," Bucky said.

"I'm awake now. What do you need?"

He thought for a moment. He needed a lot of things, many of which you could definitely provide. "Tea? Thought maybe you could mix some for me to take home. Maybe give to the others,"

"I can do one better than that. I can make everyone their own blend. It will be fun. Come on. I'll teach you how," you said, pulling the blankets away and getting out of bed.

Bucky stood, looking a little alarmed. "You don't have to-"

"I know, Buck. But I want to. Come on."

It took all day, but eventually you had packaged up individual tea blends for everyone. Bucky got a stash of his special sleepy tea, and he already looked more rested with it in his possession. You walked him to the door sometime just before 5:00 pm.

"Thank you," he said, quiet and reflective.

"Easy. You're always welcome here. Sam - not so much. But you - always," you told him, leaning against the frame of your front door.

"Might take you up on that,"

"Please do," you said nodding.

Bucky smiled, went to leave, but turned back like he was going to say something. You stood straight, patient. His brain was ticking, thinking something over. Deciding. Then, he moved. Quickly, he stepped back and pressed a fast but soft kiss to your lips. He was gone, literally nowhere to be seen, before you had time to say or do anything.

 …

 The Hudson River sparkled under the sunset. Bucky watched the colours reflect the scene, like one of Steve's paintings. He was lost in a daydream when Sam nudged him.

"Where you at, man?" he asked.

Bucky looked over at Sam and Steve, who were both eyeing him off suspiciously. They'd carried a couple of couches to the roof. Stolen Clint's beer and set up shop for the night. Pizza was on its way.

"What?" Bucky asked.

"You were thinking about her again, huh?" Steve guessed.

Bucky looked back at the river, ignored his friends. They laughed, returned to their conversation.

Later, when Sam had retired to his room, not able to superhuman heat himself, Steve moved over to lounge next to Bucky. He rested his head on Bucky's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"You really like her, don't you?"

"I think I love her," Bucky replied.

Steve laughed at the speed of the response. "I think you might too. All those girls before, and you never really loved any of them... Guess you stuck around to meet her,"

"Seems that way,"

"You gonna do anything about it?" Steve asked.

"Yeah… It's gotta be good though," Bucky said, only then realising the depth of his feelings.

"Wouldn't wait too long, pal."

 ….

 Bucky took you up on your invitation, coming and going from your place frequently. Sometimes, you'd find fresh croissants left on your kitchen bench. Sometimes, you'd find him asleep on your couch. 

How much he needed from you varied, but how much he was willing to give seemed infinite. You had to proactively stop him from becoming some sort of amazing housekeeper slash meal provider.

After about a month, he settled enough to be able to just exist around you. He'd help you pick the right leaves for the teas you made people. He'd disappear into your bedroom when you had clients over, reading their cards while Bucky listened in like it was a television series. It was easy being around him, and you were ready to be patient for a lot longer, but fuck were you itching for more.

The kissing was sweet, but very often brief. Bucky caught your lips in the moments between your magic and his profound awe. You did what you could to encourage him, but knew the ball was well and truly in his court. So, when he ushered you outside one sunny morning, you didn't really have much expectation.

"I thought you'd never ask," you said, face lighting up when you saw Bucky's bike out the front of your place. New York City was buzzing around you, but as soon as you watched him get on and hand you a helmet, you'd never craved the open road more.

All the other times you'd been to The Avengers compound, you'd traveled by air. It was quick. The ride took longer but it was so much better. Having your arms wrapped around Bucky, the feeling of the bike rumbling under you, it was something new, which was all sorts of remarkable. Being magic sapped a lot of the wonder from the world, ironically. Bucky was bringing it back.

At the compound, Bucky took your hand and lead you around the side, not going in. "I've, ah, got something for you," he said.

"You sound nervous,"

"Yeah. If you could just cast up a little spell to get rid of that, it would be great," he said deadpan.

You laughed while looking around for clues to Bucky's surprise for you.

Rounding a corner, it came into view. A garden. A proper garden, complete with white picket fencing surrounding it. It was like something out of Practical Magic, and all your childhood dreams.

"What is this?"

"It's for you. A place you can grow whatever you need. Or want," Bucky said.

In a state of genuine shock, you let go of Bucky's hand and covered your mouth with yours. You had never seen anything more spectacular.

At the single entrance to the garden was an arch. Ivy and honeysuckle covered it completely, like they'd had a lot of time to grow. You pulled a flower from the arch, reaching up to find a full bloom. "Honeysuckle petals are edible," you said, reaching out to Bucky. He let you feed him the flower. "Sweet, like the perfume. They symbolism devotion, or being 'united in love.' Kinda like the ivy on it. Ivy symbolises attraction."

Bucky smiled wide, his eyes sparkling as he watched you walk further in. "We tried to make sections, you know, for the different plants. Like, this part here has sandy soil for the desert plants," he explained.

"We?"

"Got a lot of help from the others,"

"I'll have to thank them," you said.

There were veggie patches and small fruit trees. Almost half the garden was designated to all the types of plants Bucky had seen you use in potions and teas. Dog rose, blackthorn, rosemary, euphorbia, snowdrop flowers, bells of Ireland, and welcoming wisteria. The raised beds were overflowing with plants, just about ready to bloom in an explosion of colour.

"This… This is incredible,"

"Figured your apartment doesn't really have the space. And you're welcome here anytime,"

"I’ll wanna be here all the time." The garden was what your magical ancestors could have only dreamed of. "I don’t even know what to look at first,"

"Well, maybe that," Bucky said, pointing to a birdbath, where butterflies were hovering over the water. The best part though, was a small sign sticking out the ground next to it that read For Sam.

You laughed. "Oh my god,"

"He was so grumpy about it,"

"Shouldn't have named himself after a bird then," you reasoned.

Bucky nodded, grinning. "And we put that bench opposite so you could sit and watch them."

Your eyes were beginning to tear up, overwhelmed with the sheer amount of love and effort surrounding you. "Buck… I just can't…"

"Oh! And, one more thing. This was Wanda's idea. Come on."

Bucky took your hand and lead you through the garden to the back to where a weeping mulberry tree stood in the corner. He pushed through the soft branches, revealing the manicured underside. A green, little cave under the canopy held secret another wooden bench. Bucky sat down, otherwise he'd have to bend. It was the perfect height for you though, but you sat next to him anyway.

From under the mulberry tree you could see the rest of the garden. All the plants swayed in the warm breeze, and the flowers popped bright and happy.

"How long have you been working on this? Some of those are grown well in,"

"You don't need to know any of that. Takes away the magic, don't it?"

"You mean, a magician doesn't reveal his secrets and all that?" you asked.

Bucky shrugged and nodded, leaning back into the bench a little more and putting an arm around you. Snuggling into his side, you breathed out and just soaked it all in. Your mind was caught between racing with ideas of all the things you could do with the garden and plants, and totally turning to blissful mush.

"I know ya never wanted to work with us, but I'm glad Nat found you. Glad I met you," Bucky said, his voice back to being a little bit shaky, nervous. "You've made my life better, you know? Not just with the, the nightmares, but just… everything. You make everything better…"

You knew he wasn't finished, so you stayed quiet while he gathered his thoughts. In the meantime, you threaded your fingers through his, rubbed your thumb along the back of his hand.

"I used to be so good at this," he said, huffing a little.

It made you giggle. "Used to be good at what?" you asked knowingly, sitting up and looking at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Y/N! I'm tryna' tell you I'm sweet on you and you're gonna give me shit,"

"Yeah, I am. I'm also gonna give you shit about the phrase 'sweet on you' too," you replied, laughing.

Bucky smiled, watching you laugh, just happy you were happy. When you stopped, he sat up and used both hands to fold the hair behind your ears. Holding your face in his hands, he tried to not grin like an idiot. He couldn’t hide the smirk.

"I love you. I'm in love with you," he said, voice finally dead certain.

"Yeah, the garden was a bit of a giveaway," you replied, quickly adding, "And that's good. 'Cause I'm in love with you too. Very completely."

Bucky made the kind of expression you'd pull at a basket of mewing kittens, or a puppy tumbling across fresh cut lawn. It was very, very kissable. So, you did want any self-respecting witch would do. You kissed Bucky Barnes like your life depended on it in the secret mulberry tree cave he had made just for you.

 ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

My taglist (open): @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @the--sad--hatter​ @fairislesheets​ @vibraniumdaisies​ @cristie24​ 

[writingsbychlo]

more ways than one (03)

word count; 4173

summary; you finally start to make some progress with the clone copy that you’re harbouring.

notes; a little bit shorter than other parts, but they’re just making progress, that’s it.

warnings; none.

You were practically dragging your feet as you made you way up to the loft, a deep and heavy sigh on your lips and the keys jingling in your hand, the warmth from the heaters in your car slipping away and you realised just how cold the large building complex actually got when it wasn’t buzzing with the energy of all your friends or the heat from Derek’s central heating. 

The lights of the elevator flickered, and you watched as it flicked from the ground floor, up past the first floor, the second floor, and finally to the third, curiosity spiking within you as you wondered just what might lay on the floors between Derek’s and the main lobby, but you’d never been shown, and it felt wrong to pry into Derek’s personal life like that. Who knows what he’s got going on?

Your voice within your own mind rang with the words ‘Mr Hale will see you now’ as you contemplated the secrets that might be held within the floors, and you were still snickering to yourself when you unlocked the door, the large open plan floor that you knew so well was lit up warmly with natural daylight and quiet was settled over the room. 

“It’s just me, please don’t throw anything!” 

Your playful mood clearly wasn’t reciprocated, because the man wandered out from the kitchen, a sour look on his face as he glared at you, the expression stitched on his face screaming a silent ‘fuck off’ as he all but sneered at you. Rolling your eyes, you toed off your shoes, your arm aching as you adjusted the heavy bags hanging from it, his own eyes moving down to scan along the many possessions and items you had brought with you.

Despite the warm glow of the room, the atmosphere was freezing, and you hummed as you moved further into the room, putting down all your bags on the messy couch, picking up the cushions and adjusting them before rubbing at your arms. “It’s fucking freezing in here, I’m sorry I can’t turn the heating on, but then Derek would know something was up, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want other people to know about you.” His neutral expression turned down in a bitter frown at your words, and he stayed standing idle in the kitchen doorway. 

Despite your mentions of the cold, he still stood in the same thin cotton t-shirt you’d left him in last night, and he didn’t seem all that affected by the lack of heat in the room, your brows furrowing as you took him in, bare feet on the cold stone of the cement floors making your cringe as you shivered, only getting colder at the sight of him. 

“You’re not cold?”

You hadn't really expected an answer, and he merely watched at you, his body tensing a little as you watched him, the locked stared between the two of you growing uncomfortable and you tore your eyes away from his, glancing over the bags you had brought with you and rubbing your hands together as you prioritised. 

“How are your wounds doing? Will you let me take a look?” You took a cautious step toward him, and though he flinched at your approach, he stayed still, before eventually turning, and he reached a hand behind his head, a soft grunt of discomfort leaving him as he tugged the shirt up until it was over his head, pulled tight around his biceps as they hung before his body as you looked at his wounds. 

Your finger traced over the soft white material of the bandages, his body shifting under your hold and he glanced at you over his shoulder, your eyes meeting his and you tried to ease him by offering him a small smile, only being rewarded with a blink, before he was looking away again, and you reached around to his front to find the seal you’d left, and you unwrapped the material carefully. Lifting his arms to help you a little, the wrapping came loose, allowing you to peel back the padding you’d put on his body to check on the gashes down his back, a gasp falling from your lips.

He startled, turning to look at you and you placed your hands on his hips, holding his back to your tightly and he twisted his head, doing his best to look at them as you shook your head. “Sorry, no, nothing bad.” His eyes narrowed on you, but there was no hostility behind the glare as he turned his head back, his body deflating as he sighed in relief. “These are healing really quickly, they’re doing so well.”

Wrapping the wounds back up, you checked that they were properly sealed, shaking your head in approval and letting out a little sound of satisfaction at your own work, bouncing on the tips of your toes as he pulled his shirt back on over his head, easing it down his body until he was covered again, before turning to you. 

“You’re healing unnaturally fast, but I’m really not all that bothered about questioning it. Kinda’ wish I had that ability for getting rid of my hangovers after Lydia’s parties.” At this point, you were just rambling to yourself, talking aimlessly as you busied yourself with making your way back over to the couch.

“What’s a ‘hangover’?” Your eyes widened as he spoke, and he swallowed thickly, his throat sore and aching as he coughed on it upon speaking, his eyes fixed on you and you made your way to the kitchen, tipping your head at him in signal for him to follow you, his footsteps quiet and slow as he trailed after you.

“A hangover is what happens to you after you drink way too much, usually at Lydia’s parties because she spikes everything with a lot of vodka.” You giggled, and it didn’t seem to clear anything up, his brows furrowed, and you merely waved your hand at him, dismissing the statement, choosing instead to take a glass and fill it up with cool water, handing it to him and motioning to your neck, and his eyes dipped to look at the floor as he took it, sipping on the liquid slowly. 

Shaking your body down, the enthusiasm you’d held while in a bubbly mood was slowly slipping away as awkwardness filled the room between the two of you, the air heavy and stifling, and you chose instead to move around him, your body slumping and you took two of the bags you’d abandoned on the couch, tins and jars jingling within them as you brought them back into the kitchen. 

You shuffled around the kitchen quietly, paying extra attention to the way in which you were laying out the vegetables in the kitchen drawer, colour coordinating the fresh produce you had brought with you, before unstacking packets of pasta and jars of sauce into one of the cupboards, making sure everything was lined up perfectly until there was no way you could possibly avoid socialising with the man behind you any longer.

He had finished his glass of water, and you took the glass from him, placing it in the sink as he wrung his hands in front of his body, flexing his fingers open and closed within fists, before spinning on his heel and making his way from the room. You watched him go, shaking your head as he moved his body in awkward and jerky movements, flexing and freeing his muscles, before poking through the final bags on the couch. 

An evident routine seemed to be setting in between the two of you.

You would arrive at the loft, silence would take over as you checked his wounds, before moving onto cooking. You’d make him a meal, eat in silence as he stared at the food, possibly eating it or possibly not, all depending on his mood, before finally going back to ignoring you and you eventually left. The situation was the same shit on different days, and you chewed at the inside of your cheek to keep from bubbling over with anger. 

Taking the same pan from the draining rack that you’d become accustomed to using, you tipped pasta into it, guessing at how much you would need and thinking that perhaps at some point you should stop just making him pasta and make him something real, but you weren’t quite in the mood to start with a Gordon Ramsey approved three-course meal for the man that wasn’t indulging you in more than three words at a time. 

Holding the metal instrument under the tap, you watched as the water took over the top of the solid tubes, and you placed it onto the hob, sparking it up and fishing around for a spoon in the drawer in which to stir with once it really began to cook. 

You zoned off as you stared into the bubbling water, the pasta softening and you absentmindedly twirled them around the pan, sighing out in exasperation as the tubes swelled up and lightened in colour, and you reached for the drainer, turning down the heat as you strained the food, the water draining away and you rinsed the starch away, tipping the jar of sauce over the food and placing it back on the heat, stirring until the sauce was piping hot. 

The smell of tomatoes and herbs filled the air, smelling so good that your stomach grumbled, and clearly, the notion was reciprocated because shuffling caught your attention, and your eyes flicked up to notice the man hovering in the doorway, head tipped up slightly as he sniffed at the air. 

Taking two bowls, you tipped out the food into the dishes, balancing a fork on top of each meal before turning to him. You had expected him to take the dish and leave with it, or to look at it before storming from the room the way he had the previous times you’d tried to feed him. Pulling out a seat at the kitchen counter, you hopped up onto it, stabbing at your food and blowing on it carefully, his brows furrowing as he watched you. 

Pulling out a seat, your jaw hung slack a little as he sat opposite you, stabbing at the pasta, before blowing on it tentatively, the look on his face questioning as he watched you, before biting cautiously at the mouthful. He’d barely taken two chews of the food before his shoulders were slumping, a happy sigh leaving him as he shovelled more of the food into his mouth, and you had to suppress a chuckle as you watched him practically inhale the meal, pride filling your chest.

He didn’t say anything else to you, and while it was slightly upsetting that he would sit with you but not talk when you now knew he clearly understood what you were saying, at least you were making progress. He was sitting with you, and eating the meal you had made, and his aggressive attacks seemed to have stopped. Some kind of trust had been formed between the two of you as you helped patch him up and heal the wounds, and for now, that was enough.

The meal was practically torturous as you ate, the man long-since having finished his own dish, but instead of leaving, he sat with you in silence, watching you as you ate and heat flooded your cheeks. Eventually, you had reached out for his dish, and he’d pushed it across to you carefully, watching as you scraped half of the portion of pasta you had left into his dish and offered it to him. 

He finished that before you had finished yours, again. 

You felt a pang of guilt, knowing just how hungry he must be when you were only showing up once a day, and the time was going to come when you wouldn’t be able to come and see him every single day. You needed more snacks and simple food so stock the cupboards so that he could eat even when you weren’t here. 

He was a puzzle. He could talk, and fight, and seemed like a functional person but he can’t cook himself a meal, or run a bath, or dress his own wounds. 

Once you had finished, he lurked around the kitchen as you washed the pots, the same collection of utensils and crockery moving from the sink, to the table, to the drying rack, on a repetitive cycle. He was standing by his seat, scratching at the bandages on his torso with a scowl on his face and your eyebrows raised, and he sighed, squirming under your gaze as he resisted the urge to pick at the fabric under his shirt. 

“You know, if it’s irritating your skin, I could probably take off the bandages and just tape down the padding a little more. It’s healing.. oddly quickly.”

He seemed to perk up a little bit, his shoulders rising as he stood a little straighter at your words, and he took the initiative for once, making his way through to the living room where he seemed to have set up camp, a stack of books beside the empty bags from the groceries you had brought with you. You ran your fingers over the spines of each of the books, no dust on the covers and your eyes flickered up to glance at the bookcase across the room, a clear patch on the shelves where books had been carefully selected, and you plucked one of them from the centre of the pile, glancing at the cover.

“I got Derek this book, I don’t think he’s ever actually read it, but I think you’ll like it.”

He licked over his lip, watching as you put it down on the top of the pile, and he picked it up, swapping it placing it directly under the one balanced on the corner of the coffee table, the one you figured he must be reading now, a subtle signal that he would read that one next. Tugging up on the collar of his shirt, he peeled the material up, and you quickly undid the bandages wrapped tightly around his middle, dropping the pile to the table. 

Picking up a fresh packet of padding, you tore it open carefully, peeling away the slightly blood-soaked ones that were there and replacing each one as you went, applying double the tape you had applied the time before in order to ensure they stayed in place, seeing as no bandages would be going on this time. 

Once they were all secured, you tapped at his shoulder in a signal that he could lower his arms and his shirt, his hand smoothing over his front as he relaxed, feeling at the place where the bandages once lay, and almost relieved look painted on his face. It was a look you’d seen many times before on your best friend, and yet despite having the same face, he still managed to look entirely different at the same time. 

Sweeping up the bundle, you stuffed the used wrappings into a bag to take with you, dumping the whole collection by the front door, only one bag remaining sitting on the couch, and you worried your lower lip between your teeth, messing with the zip on it as you stood in tense quiet for a few moments. “Do you want me to leave?”

He didn’t reply, his fingers fidgeting with himself anxiously as he shuffled, not even bothering to look up at you but his body didn’t become defensive, and he didn’t tense up. Instead, he took a small, minute, step closer to you, dragging his gaze up from the ground with pursed lips and a neutral stare fixed on your own. You took a deep breath, letting the tension slip from your body, your shoulders slumping as you turned to face him fully, holding his gaze and unwilling to back down under his intense watch.

“You want me to stay?”

The words were spoken almost timidly, as though you were worried you might offend him, and he blinked at you, his chin tipping up in agreement and he swallowed thickly, looking between you and the bag sitting beside you on the couch cushions, before he cleared his throat, his expression smoothing out into one that almost looked relaxed when you mumbled an ‘okay’ under your breath.

You grabbed one of the large cushions from the couch, dropping it onto the floor, the flopping sound it made out echoed from the walls and you decided that you absolutely couldn’t stand the silence any longer, choosing to pull your phone from your pocket, nibbling on your lower lip as you scrolled through all your playlists, before settling on a slower one, turning the volume down until the classic guitar notes could be barely heard, but it broke up the silence and you smiled to yourself, settling down on the cushion with the phone out on the table before yourself.

Clearing some space from all the cluttered belongings littering the surface, you tugged the textbooks and notebooks from your bag, choosing to start with your summer maths assignments to get ahead on classes for senior year, laying it out before you and plucking a pen from the fuzzy pencil case that always made you smile. The man still stood idly on the other side of the table, and you made a pointed effort not to stare at him as he tried to sort himself, and for a while he just stood there, his gaze burning into your skin as you scribbled down equations and answers, humming along to the tunes playing gently in the space around you.

Finally, he moved, picking up the book from the top of his pile and holding it in both of his hands. Instead of settling on the couch, he rounded the table, his leg brushing your shoulder as he took a seat beside you, mimicking you by sitting cross-legged on the concrete, and you turned to look at him. His gaze swept over your face at close range, closer than he ever had been, before he balanced his book on the wood before him, turning his attentions to the writing you were doing, a single finger reaching out as he brushed it over the material of your pencil case, the softness of the artificial purple fur making him hum in appreciation, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to contain the smile that threatened to break out. 

He simply watched you work for a while, his fingers sometimes tapping on the hardcover of his book when a particularly catchy tune played, and you made a mental note of the songs he enjoyed, deciding to make a specific playlist of those ones and ones like it when you got home, because the music was doing fucking wonders for his mood and temper.

Eventually, he got bored of watching you do quadratic equations, and chose instead to read his book, the bare skin of his arm brushing against your rhythmically every few minutes as he turned a page, and yet he never shuffled away or made an effort to distance himself from you. He merely stayed put, taking comfort in the light form of physical affection as the two of you sat together in relative silence, the only sounds being the beats of the melodies and your humming along, the flicks of book pages and the scratch of pen on paper accompanying it.

The peaceful environment soon came crashing down around you though, when the device cut off from the calm tunes it was playing, buzzing loudly on the table for a split second before a loud remix of the Star Wars theme tune blared out, disturbing the ambience you had created, and the man beside you jumped violently in shock. His body tensed up, the book slamming shut as he glared at the device, hands forming fists as he leaned forward to look at it, and you placed a hand on his shoulder, a curse falling from your lips as you picked it up.

The calm aura around you both had been shattered, and you squeezed at the man’s shoulder, his body relaxing just barely under your hold and you nodded at him, holding the device up before him to show it was okay, his eyes widening as he looked at the contact picture shown to him. 

You seemed unfazed, completely unaware that you were best friends with his charge, the boy he had failed so badly, and you were grinning as you swiped a finger over the screen. His mouth felt dry, his stomach twisting as the blaring music finally cut off, and he watched as you lifted the device to your ears, talking into it as a muffled voice came from the other end. 

Your heart clenched at his confusion, the adorable look on his face making you smile a little as he watched you talk, no idea what a mobile phone was, evidently, and your hand slipped down from his shoulder, resting on his forearm as he moved to look at your hand on his arm, your fingers flexing absentmindedly on his skin as you traced soothing patterns into his skin, chatting in a tone that was far lighter and happier than you’d ever used around him before.

You shifted, your happy gaze dropping for a second and panicked spike in his body when you let out a stressed sigh, your eyes meeting his and the smile no longer reached your eyes. His sights were fixed on you as you stood up, balancing the thin device between your ear and your shoulder, brushing off the dust the cushion had become covered in from being placed on the floor, before you were putting it back in the place it belonged. Scooping up your books, you closed each of them, humming and mumbling acknowledgements to the boy who had called you as you packed away, and the doppelgänger watched you move, still sitting on the ground with a book in his lap. 

Once your bag was zipped up and on your back, you scanned around the room, swiping your keys from the coffee table, standing stock-still in the centre of the room, finishing up your conversation and promising to be there in a few minutes, your heart sinking and gut twisting. Of course, the pack would need urgent help, the second you were beginning to make progress with the man you were hiding out in the loft.

“I..I have to go.” You didn’t expect much of a response, and you watched as he simply ducked his head, tearing his gaze from yours as he picked at the slightly worn leather on the front cover of the book with a bitten down and torn fingernail, before lifting it up to sit on the table. Getting to his feet, he walked past you to the door, picking up the two bags on the floor before turning back to you, a single eyebrow raised as he held them out to you, waiting patiently as you took them and adjusted them in your arms comfortably. 

Unlocking the door again, you stood in it, his hands hanging idly by his sides as he watched you, before taking a step away, a signal that he wasn’t planning to run away again while the door was open, and you let out a sigh of relief. His hands flexed into fists as you moved, raising a hand to the handle on the metal door, and he reached up, sealing his fingers around your wrist, worry flashing in his eyes as he stilled your movements, sights flickering over your face for a second before his lips parted.

You waited, no matter what was going on you definitely had time to wait for him to speak, the cogs in his mind visibly turning in his eyes, his features twitching as he tried to work out what to say, before he was taking a  deep breath, and looking directly at you.

“I..” He swallowed, shaking his head at himself, his voice soft and nervous as he blinked slowly. “See you soon?”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in, smiling widely and nodding at him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be back real soon. Tomorrow, I promise.” He didn’t seem to understand what a ‘promise’ was, but he nodded at you, his fingers leaving their gentle hold on your wrist as he pulled it back to his side. 

“Tomorrow. Promise.” 

You were shocked he was even talking at all, but after watching you for a moment, he turned his back on you, wandering into the loft and back to sit down, and you slid the metal door closed, sealing him from your own view and locking it, a beaming smile on your lips as you hopped down the steps and made your way to your car.