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comfortless · 3 months

Note

The way you write König makes me cry and dry heave cuz you balance his loser unhingeness and his heartbreaking tenderness is✨ ART✨

Now I feel like you would be able to EAT this prompt up but imagine König as Frankenstein’s creature that is this big ass hulking mass of body that immediately makes the town grab their pitchforks but he can DESTROY them in seconds. But inside he is just a little guy who just wants somebody to hold and love (and other activities if ya know what I mean

Keep doing what you do❤️

A Place For Us

Frankenstein’s creature! König x fem! horologist reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. discrepancies!, reader is implied to have anxiety, angst & fluff, non-malicious stalking?, loner/loner dynamic my beloved.., brief mentions of previous murders and religious imagery, codependency, smut; masturbation, unprotected piv.

notes: receiving this ask was so funny to me because @melancholic-thing and i have been bouncing this idea around forever (i simply could not have brought this any justice without ghost’s input— if you see this please know that ily dearly). thank you, anon for your kind words and finally giving me the push that i needed to write it! 💘

wc: 10.6k

You’re good at fixing broken things; tinkering with them with a set of well-polished tools until they begin to tick, or chime, or cuckoo.

Some take longer than an afternoon sat before the wooden desk, weeks or months— a year, once. Oiled parts and small cogs, the three arms that jerk and glide over a face riddled with numbers that all lull you into feeling that your work is not just some monotonous service only the rich buzzards could afford, but as if you were a healer of sorts; a little cleric stationed to bring life into whichever jagged, broken thing has been dropped or kicked at her doorstep.

This one, however… you’re convinced it’s as good as dead.

No matter how many times you take apart the little, gray pocket watch, the arms refuse to move. Its ticking sounds less like that of the beating of the heart and more like the grinding of dry teeth, a corpse begging, pleading to let this attempted resurrection come to an end.

Your tweezers wrench the face free, and all at once it proves too much— bending and warping beneath the metal grip until it cracks, a split right through it, down to its very center.

“How…” Your voice fills the void of ticking, pseudo-silence surrounding you. A word slipped out in frustration and unknowing before you finally toss the wretched little thing onto the desk with a clatter and step aside.

The house is as dark and brooding as always, too large for a woman on her own and a workshop that hardly counts as a proper business. Shelves of broken clocks serve as decor where potted plants and well-loved photographs should sit in their stead. Books of study for modern devices such as these in place of the poetry and worn love letters other women seemed to have in abundance.

This place was starved out of light, even with the flickering glow of candles and the electric humming of the unnatural yellow one above.

The sun is no stranger, either, your curtains neatly pulled aside to allow for it to filter through like an invited guest. Only it doesn’t, not on such a melancholic gray day.

You need a walk, a distraction, or this hungry home would be certain to rip away your work from the shelves and swallow you whole instead.

Isn’t it such a tragedy that, someone who pours her creativity and all of her love into time, all she seems to do is waste it?, the gaudy wallpaper seems to taunt, all the colors of filthy maroon and darkened blue flowers seeming to make it feel more imposing and less of a comfort.

Your hand curls around the handle of your umbrella, a sturdy thing, but just as drab as the rest of the home. Then, the package you’ve been putting off delivering to the elderly woman in town. Best to get it done with now, maybe upon your return the hands that fix could do so once again.

Shame about the clock face though. You would certainly have to patch together another and pray the pocket watch’s owner wouldn’t notice.

The wind is not what you had anticipated.

Outside is different. The howling of it past the windows and shuddering through the attic felt perfectly at home in your shoddy little house, but as the door swings shut behind you, it feels entirely alive. Cold and bitter and angry— the things you keep repressed that nature lacks the tact to.

The trees bend and sway from its invisible yet incessant pushing. The hand containing the package falls down to the lap of your skirt to keep it from flying up just as your other clutches the umbrella ever tighter to keep it from billowing out into the air to be left discarded miles away.

It isn’t a short walk to town, but with the wind and the drizzling rain, it almost seems as though you’re in more tender company than the lumber and the ticking clocks.

The path through the forest is overgrown as always, branches are pushed aside and your skirt is lifted to avoid burrs and thorns.

You should have had the sense to bring along a coat, because when the thunder does strike up and the rain finally begins to fall in heavy, hurried drops, you find yourself shivering terribly with the package guarded against your chest.

Lamplight would have done well, too.

You would have almost happily allowed yourself to toss aside the umbrella and be battered by the rain if you could only see. The forest is dark on days like this, with the canopy of thick branches and their dense leaves blocking out any sliver of light cast down from overhead.

It’s only by sheer luck that you don’t manage to trip, toss your delivery into the shadow of a tree and lose it entirely before you do make it out. When the trees finally part to the barren hill overlooking town you breathe a sigh of relief, a quiet thanks for the grayed light above.

Your steps are hurried as you make your way through the quiet town. The shop windows are all lit aglow with the silhouettes of people inside, strangely dancing like shadows through a fog. A place you can not be, can not touch.

The stares the townsfolk give you make your skin crawl, as though they are so close to being what you are but not, only tied down to your world when they think themselves lofty. Their eyes always seem to question, scrape under your skin with sharpened arms, ticking and flaying, always asking: Why?

You face forward as your skin begins to prickle, not from the wet or the chill but a subdued sort of fear that nestles burning into your chest, sets your heart rushing like a rabbit.

The streets are silent enough, a small blessing; any passing strangers are hurriedly skittering through the rain and muck to hide away in their homes, children ushered with a hand to their back by flustered looking mothers, complaining in hushed voices about the rain. You only smile at them and step aside when your paths cross.

They never smile for you.

It’s why the broken clocks are delivered to your doorstep rather than brought inside, addresses and names from muffled voices calling out beyond your thick wooden door, coins and bills pushed through the mail slot to lie cold on the welcome mat. The bell above the door never chimes, and you only make your deliveries on days like this, when the rain or the dark blanket you up to keep you safe and eternally somber.

You leave the package on the doorstep, covered from the rain by a small, vermillion awning. One sharp knock is given and you’re back on your way, back to the old house, to the simplicity of the ticking, the comfort of the old cobweb on the vaulted ceiling and the drab gray of the bleakness.

There are puddles now, glistening with any light they can suck into their depths, threatening and taunting as the dull stares and that rickety old desk you really should fix. You think for a moment, that perhaps no one would even notice if one of those dark pits of rain water pulled you in entirely, only to splash through it with ease, dirtying the ends of your skirt.

The rain lessens when you crest the hill, the forest less a tangle of clattering limbs and now only a gentle sway reaches the tops of the trees, light filtering through them, as if to guide you on your way. It doesn’t lessen the bushels of thorns, the tree limbs downed and scattered over the path. In some small blessing, you’re able to scramble over them without having to plan a visit to a tailor to repair a ripped gown; scrubbing the mud from it would surely be tedious enough.

The droplets splatter against the dirt and fallen leaves in hushed bursts, the forest alive as always with the cooing of nesting birds in spite of the rain. The only thing that seems out of place is a sudden, soft thud, the snap of a branch underfoot. Just one footfall, and things return to a placid state amidst the sky’s tears.

You raise your head to glimpse in the direction, gaze sweeping over the figure of a man some paces off to your left. Beneath the shadow of a broad, twisting pine layered in thick branches, his details are mostly obscured, a thin trail of silver light only casting aglow the glimpse of a blue eye.

He’s only large enough to notice, shoulders slumped and chest rapidly rising to fall like a frightened animal; as his silhouette shifts just so you even consider that he’s shivering.

There’s something in that stare of somber blue that splinters at the wall of discomfort; it is not accusing, not bitter, worn and cold. Curious. Something akin to your own.

Damn your sweetness, your inability to simply let things be even as that ache twists around in your chest, clawing at a cage of bone and hissing that you keep silent. Be on your way. Don’t look back.

Instead, you extend your umbrella outward, toward him.

“Awful rain, hm?,” you chime.

The figure visibly tenses, seems to shrink into himself for a moment before straightening and giving one solemn nod.

“You can take my umbrella. I’m almost home, anyway.”

That seems to spark something, not much, but the stranger does take a step forward. Your eyes catch on the wet, matted hair clinging to his head, cascading down to shroud a face you still can’t quite make out.

The poor thing stirs something in you, a deep sympathy that clouds even the judgment of that flighty, skittish thing resting deep inside.

Even from such a distance it’s clear that he’s been neglected, likely cast off by the town even less favorably than you have. His scent carries on the breeze, like dirt and wood and misery.

You extend the umbrella again before realizing he won’t come any closer with you being there. So, you lower it to the ground, avoiding the mud as best you could and leave it. If he took it, fine. If not, you travel this path so often it would be collected in time.

The figure mutters something as you rise, a low string of foreign words that you can only interpret as being spoken out of surprise, perhaps even gratitude.

You smile toward him as you wipe fat, slithering raindrops from your brow.

“You don’t want to catch a fever.”

With that, you’re back on your way, thoughts of the rugged stranger weigh heavy on your mind as the roof of your home comes into view, stilted and in the same drab navy as the flowers on the wallpaper.

You could have done more. It had been instilled into you to not to open the door for someone you did not quite know, yet a part of you longed to take care of something not simply fed by oil, something only capable of telling you how much time you’ve sat alone as thanks.

Surely it was best not to let it distract you.

This was good enough.

The key is produced, the door opened, and just like the many times before that you have forced yourself from this place, the house seems less unsettling upon your return.

As what little daylight remains fades away into night, you find yourself seated, toying with the old pocket watch once more. It’s the only one that doesn’t make a lick of sense, a puzzle that can not be solved. For all the polished parts and meticulous tinkering, it still won’t work properly.

It grates and growls as though rusted, the cogs shifting inside with each movement of the arms are well-polished yet seem to do little but hiss and spit.

This is the fourth time you have taken it apart only to put it back together with no improvement.

There was little to be known about the man who owned it, some pompous, arrogant creature that you had only seen in passing. He had turned his nose up to you, you were sure of that, only to deliver this dying thing to your door the following day.

Your work had always been compared to your father’s. Though you possessed a similarity in skill, you were not what the townsfolk had deemed to be respectable. An unwed lady out on her own, biding her time repairing what they had broken rather than feeding hungry mouths delivered from her very womb, how terribly scandalous.

The pocket watch is set aside as you busy yourself tailoring a small sheet of metal for it. The graduations are carved in with a sharp razor, impeccably angled. Then, the Roman numerals, just before it’s slotted back into place.

The likeness to the former face is nearly uncanny, it’s only sturdier and less susceptible to ripping from the mere touch of tweezers. The rust s gone from the casing, and at long last— it ticks; no grinding growl as the second hand begins its revolution. The fickle thing just needed a touch up, you supposed as you flick off the desk lamp and rise to your feet.

The curtains are drawn as they always were when you step into the bedroom. The muddy dress is finally peeled away as you change and slink into the covers, and just for a moment, you almost think that you feel the animal between your breasts begin to settle too.

———

There’s a letter stuffed into the mail slot: crumpled with no postage stamp, scrawled across some scrap of paper that surely was plucked from a garbage bin.

You marvel at the lack of care for a moment before your fingers do find themselves pawing at it, unfurling the worn edges to find the words: Thank you.

Written in thick black ink, there’s a clumsiness to it, the dance of a quivering hand holding pen. You think back to the elderly woman you had made that delivery to only yesterday; had she trudged through the mud and muck just to bring you this?

Her thanks was only needed in the blessing of payment, and she had already generously done just that when she left her little humming wall clock at the door.

You flip the note over, inspecting it carefully. There’s a line there, too, hastily scratched out in the same black ink, the lines crossing and digging leaving little pinprick holes in the paper.

Holding it to the light, you can just barely make out the words: I have been alone.

Your mouth dries at the sentiment, tongue flicking out to try and force a wetness to your lips. The animal begins its keening howl, a chain rattling as claws sink into your innards; the very same agitated fear that starved you out of comfort day in and out.

The man in the forest, perhaps. You were sure that you would have remembered seeing someone so disheveled and tall about town, and if not for a certainty that he had not followed you home, you would have assumed it was him. Gratitude finally said, and well on his way to someplace else.

There’s nothing here for him or anyone else, surely he could see that. Even you could.

The walls around you seem to bulge, the room shrinking once again as every little thing held within begins to taunt and yowl. Safety was only a temporary luxury, it always has been.

The letter is discarded onto a table, as you opt to hazard a peek out of your curtains instead. The gray from yesterday remains as thick clouds crowd above, threatening another storm. The treetops and tall grass dance in the breeze, freeing leaves and breaking flower stems. There’s no one standing there to greet you, to explain themselves for the strange message that they had left.

The town had probably already driven you to madness, picturing things that were not there while old fools jab you with ominous letters and jeering stares to see just how long it would take to watch you fall apart.

Another delivery day it would be, then; best to get it out of the way before the rain begins to fall.

Maybe you could even retrieve the umbrella along the path, discarded, battered from the rain and likely unused.

You don’t bother packaging the pocket watch, choosing to hastily stuff it into the pocket of your coat instead. Courtesies be damned. Tea and a warm bath would do well when the house was sated by your absence, when you were finally given time to breathe.

In your haste, you nearly kick over what’s been left on the uppermost stair leading to your door.

You find a table clock covered in a thick black fabric, a little note attached to it giving the owner’s name and address, and a small bag containing payment.

It’s all securely placed inside, next to the ugly letter on the table.

Your umbrella doesn’t wait on the path, but you’ve hardly the mind to care. Your hand tightens around the pocket watch as you cord your way down the path and back into town, rushing amidst the foliage until the sounds of your footfalls are dulled by the street.

Reaching the house, a towering narrow building that smells like tobacco even from outside, your hand curls to knock at the door in the same breath taken as the chain is plucked to place it on the knob, intent on scurrying away immediately to avoid the disgusted gaze of the man that waits inside.

You don’t quite make it far enough before the door swings open and you’re greeted by a round face, nose upturned and lip curled into a sneer.

That isn’t imagination.

There’s a genuine hate in this man, seeping down into his bones that makes him almost seem to reek like sulfur through the cloud of cigarette smoke that wafts around him. It’s the face of someone who would love nothing more than to see your own damnation, watch the earth suck you in until your wails fall silent and a fire roars upward in your wake.

“This isn’t my watch, dear.”

“Parts needed to be replaced,” you explain, voice tight and keening like a wolf in a trap, “I assure you that I—“

“It’s shoddy work. Any clocksmith up north would have done better for half the price..”

It goes on like this for what feels like at minimum thirty revolutions, but it must have only been five or so. His droning voice makes it hard to keep track, buzzing as he examines your work, hours wasted upon aiding such an awful creature.

He only seems to grow bored of his chiding when you fall to silence. He wants a reaction, not a wide-eyed fretful stare and pursed lips caging in any sound that may bubble up from your throat.

In one final act of detestation, the watch is tossed to the ground, stomped in repetition until the hands snap, the ticking quiets, and you see months of your work brought to ruin in a mere seven seconds.

He storms back inside and slams the door shut as you stoop to collect the little, broken thing, cradling it in your palms. Maybe it wouldn’t be fixed again, but you’ve hardly the mind to let anything be left abandoned like this.

Though the anger builds, white bitter smoke billowing through your veins, it remains tucked away inside eventually communing with the animal, all but entirely snuffed out when your steps lead you to the front door of the house.

The window to the right is open, not broken. The curtains were pushed aside as though to allow a breeze to enter. A muddy footprint, vast and long scales the siding, but there’s no exiting one to join it.

You stare and listen, taking one quiet step towards the open window to strain your hearing. Nothing. Inside, it’s quiet, only the sound of the breeze rattling that note left on the table, the ticking and the familiar creaks and groans of the house settling.

So, you enter.

With the poker from the hearth in tow, the rooms are investigated one by one. Each and every one of them clear of any intruder. Even the attic, for all of it’s imagined ghosts sits empty, stale and silent. There’s no one here, nothing out of place or broken that hadn’t already been cast out from the world and delivered into your hands.

Strangely enough, it’s more peaceful like this; the leaves could be heard rustling outside, birds calling, even the chirps and strumming of crickets too late to flee the onset of chill seeping through this purgatory, filling the mundane void with sounds of life and peace.

You leave the window open.

The pocket watch is left on the desk, the kettle filled with water and placed upon the stove to heat, all before your eyes trail over to that little table beside the front door.

The only thing amiss is there, your intuition roars at you: “Look, look. Just look.”

The table clock from this morning sits there, the wood casing dusty and the hands perpetually stuck to sit at six o’clock, easy to enough to break, and easier still to fix. An overworked battery and a little oil would be its saving grace; if only things could be so simple for yourself, for the thousand or so others that surely must feel the same— clawed, fretful little rabbits.

Your eyes narrow momentarily, vaguely recalling that the damned thing had been covered when it was dragged inside. Something sable and thick, a scrap of a heavy dress shirt perhaps, verily stained. Odd that someone would have broken in merely to steal something so useless, but stranger tales have been told. For all you cared, the perpetrator could keep it.

You entertain the idea of the wild man in the trees, thick and sturdy as one. Perhaps he left the note, stole warmth from your home and found comfort in that useless old shirt after leaving that roughly scrawled note. Though the idea would horrify others, it only sets your ceaselessly racing pulse at ease.

Toying with the idea that someone so very much like you lurks the hills, found a home in your eyes and paid a visit, kind enough to wait until you were in town as to not scare you… and the kettle begins to whistle.

———

You had forgotten to close the window last night. Or maybe it was left as an invitation, a silent offer of your companionship for the unknown thing that occupies your already haunted mind these days. Something in your subconscious dared you to simply forget, see what happens, and you’re not entirely disappointed to find out that yes, something has happened.

There are three flowers laid out there in a row, smushed by the weight of a heavy palm: a daffodil left golden and proud despite the way her petals fray and wither, and two others wild and unnamed with blue and white colors leading to vibrant green stems. And roots. He hadn’t the time to pluck them proper, nor had a sense of gentleness to his touch in doing so.

It’s the first time you’ve laughed in months, a giggling that makes your chest ache from a sudden mirth through all of this wretchedness. Who knew it would only take three flowers and the appearance of someone so disconnected? You take them and place them in a vase in the same spot, careful to add just the right amount of water to keep them living for a time.

Someone brought you flowers— actually brought you a gift, not a job. You remember those eyes, too. His hands may not have been gentle, but that look was.

Though darkness still creeps internally, you’re resolute in what you must do when you prepare for the day. You’ve never really worn this dress— a soft, white thing with billowing sleeves and tight cuffs that brings a swell to your breasts and cinches your waist. One of the women about town had given it to you in lieu of payment for repairing her husband's watch, left a note prattling onward for three pages about how a woman should dress to find a man. Three!

You’ll find him, thank him for the flowers, bat your eyelashes just a little and retrieve your umbrella. That’s all. The rain would be back, more deliveries would have to be made, and if you could manage a friend from all of this well… surely things could work out for you, just this once.

Your steps are less hurried and more tentative this time around. You don’t barrel through the woods like a galloping mare, mindful of your dress as you lift the fabric at the hips to avoid thick, slickened mire. There isn’t much to do about the thorns nipping at your ankles, leaving little scratches like cat’s claws in their wake.

The thought that maybe this was a ridiculous idea only settles in your mind after an hour of searching. You don’t even have a name to call him by, not an idea on just where he may be or what his intentions truly were, all further punctuated by the fact that you’ve found yourself in the midst of a wild orchard, the yellowing grass nearly reaching your knees as you reluctantly allow your dress to flow free. Thick clusters of apples hang above your head, each nearly ripe, some even fallen to leave a fragrant sweet smell in the wake of their rot.

Thunder roars above, distant but loud, cruelly threatening the wake of a downpour that would so easily sully the delicate thing you wear. Your chest aches from exertion, from whichever horrid fear it's settled on today, and you’re nearly fully convinced of your own madness when something does finally catch your eye.

There’s a cabin, nestled between the trees, old and lacking glass panes for the windows. The roof is covered in moss, walls creeping with the old green of vines and nearly hidden away entirely by the tall grass that rises above its face.

You could wait out the storm in the dark there, rethink your steps until you find a way back home and the prospect of actually entering a building that wasn’t the very picture of your own agony stirs something within you.

You don’t bother to knock, only waltz right in and let the door shut softly behind you. It creaks as it goes, whining from the rust laden over its hinges. As expected, the cabin is mostly barren; a set of dust laden chairs sits on opposite ends of a table missing a leg, a large bookshelf housing only a torn copy of Paradise Lost and a journal, a few dirtied dishes are left on the floor, and in the corner…

There are a lot of things that make you feel small.

You couldn’t live up to your father’s name in town. The thought that you were not an equal to the other ladies with their fine jewelry and dresses, rings wrapped around their fingers, that was a sore spot despite the way you refused to admit to it. Even the hounds lurking about the butcher’s shop on lonely night deliveries, baying and growling when your feet carried you too close.

None of those things could even compare to how you felt now.

The rug he lies beneath is large on its own, but your flower-giving, grateful titan seems even more so. It’s as though walking into a bear’s den and expecting a mere squirrel. Even curled into himself in sleep, he seems impossibly huge.

You couldn’t see much of him that first night, but now… where the rags that make up his clothes reveal a series of long scars along his legs, the hairy arms that seem far too thick: all of him, all of him is massive.

Your rabbit heart does not claw or fight you now, it only flutters, placated by the sight of something so… was there really a word for it? The idea that someone so imposing could strike the match of attraction within you. Feelings were strange, each comes sharp and new like the deliberate twist of a knife through a body, soft like warm bread.

You smile as you wander to his side, recognizing the cloth he wears over his head immediately as the one stolen from your house. Your dress is smoothed at your rear as you lower yourself to sit on your knees at his side, quiet and slow.

“Hello,” you whisper, placing a hand on a shoulder that dwarfs it entirely, feeling the bulge of muscle beneath the ripped shirt, the ridge of keloid scars from deep cuts laid into his skin.

The titan’s eyelids flutter for a moment as he begins to stir, staring up at the ceiling, teetering on the edge between waking and dreaming. Then, those cold blue eyes lock onto you. A flash of disbelief crosses them, just for a moment before something flips and from the holes ripped into that makeshift hood you see an expression that seems almost agonized.

“Hello,” he rasps after a long moment, shifting onto his side to prop himself up and raise his head to level with your own.

His breathing is shallow, almost panicked and you finally think to bring your hands to your lap instead, avoid touching him and potentially startling the poor man further.

“I wanted to thank you… for the flowers. They’re beautiful.” You pause as you study what little of his expression you can make out through the mask, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners only giving a glimpse of a smile. All teeth, probably, an excited one that even the imagination of warms your heart. “I put them in a vase. I didn’t want them to die.”

“I should not have…” His voice is softer than you ever imagined that it could be, well-spoken as the words are pulled from his throat. You find yourself transfixed, almost, praying that he continues if only to hear the delicate strumming of his tone, the soft sigh of breath that leaves him afterward.

“Es tut mir leid.”

The apology is followed by a low sweep of his gaze, slowly crawling from the peek of your cleavage to your hips to rest where your hands lay clasped in your lap.

He hardly seems to know what to do with himself, what to say, and all at once the realization dawns on you that no, he isn’t merely paying his thanks and seeking conversation. Perhaps that was part of it then, but now… he seems almost entranced.

You recognize those looks, from men in passing when they leered, but from him… from this weary, haunted stranger. It only seems a silent sort of reverence; as though longing for something he’s been deprived of.

“No, it’s fine, it made me happy.”

“Happy?”

“Yes, it was sweet.”

He falls silent at that, conflicted if the pinch of his brow were anything to go by. Then, sudden, he takes your wrist and jerks your hand toward his face, thumb brushing over the small calluses over each pad of your fingers. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails, even more scaring along those massive hands and you shiver. It’s not fear it’s… something akin to it, opposite by the way it dances and writhes in warmth rather than the cold.

“You have the hands of a maker.”

Strange, sweet Goliath.

His words are spoken somberly, as if there is more to say that he holds back. A part of you warns that you’re not prepared for it anyhow, so you let him continue that motion, brushing over your palm with a featherlight touch until it begins to tickle.

Your giggle prompts him to raise his head, watery eyes threatening tears when he hears that sweet sound bubble up from within you. His hand curls over your own, trapping you in his grasp as though little else matters to him more than the need to touch you in some way.

“You have kind eyes.”

“I am not kind.”

You shake your head at that, flicking your thumb across the top of his burly hand, marveling at the smooth skin of his scars and the rough texture of the hair that dots his knuckles.

“You’re sweet to me, and that’s all that matters.”

It could have been a mistake, how easily you’ve taken to this bizarre titan. Any lady with proper regard for her standing and womanhood assuredly wouldn’t have said something like that to a beast that has the stature and the scent of something wild.

Still, the words leave your lips far too quickly to draw back; he responds with an urgency.

You find yourself pulled ever closer by the iron grip on your hand, tugged into the rug-turned-mattress by this man as he cages you in to meld against his chest. He’s everywhere, warm and burning against the chill of your skin with flesh touched by hellfire.

You only sigh pitifully when his arm wraps around your waist. When was the last time you had even felt an embrace? You couldn’t recall, and even if you had, it would have paled in comparison to one such as this. You breathe him in like a summer’s breeze, tasting a hint of the apple orchard beyond on your tongue when you open your mouth to speak once again.

“See..?”

The tension in his muscles seems to melt away; if your heart is like a hare then surely his must be more akin to a bull. It takes some time before he softens entirely against you, despite his initiation. His breath is almost a pant when his hand trails upward along your back, feeling every ridge and dip and curve, breath catching in wonder as you allow it.

“You are soft like…”

His head dips to press into your shoulder, breathing you in, humming his approval at the mingling scent of clock oil and tea leaves that lingers on your skin. Even from beneath the hood, you can feel the way his lips brush over you, his mouth parted in a voiceless plea.

“… like one of the flowers.”

It’s almost torture really, how someone could be so comforting, so endearing.

His hand trails further, drifting over the backside of your dress to curl against your thigh threatening something if you don’t conjure the sense to stop him. It stokes the fire within you, glowing ember in place of a brain, it seemed. You feel weak, lost in a foreign touch and sweet, clumsily spoken words.

If the townsfolk could see you now, herded up in this stranger’s arms, surely they wouldn’t dare to cast any disapproval your way. Not one of those meek little devils would have a word to say… not now or ever again.

“You’re like… a tree then,” you whisper as you finally will yourself to twist away from the grip, already mourning the loss of warmth as a cold wind filters through the openings in the cabin.

He doesn’t sulk as you pull away, only seems content to have been blessed with that much. That mist remains in his eyes before they shut again, willing himself to rise to sit up just as you do.

“Will you stay?”

You glance over the cabin again, with all of its dust and cobwebs. Your umbrella sits in the corner, propped upright with its handle leant against the wall, out of place amidst the dilapidation prevalent here.

This wasn’t a home at all, just a quiet, cold purgatory. Though the halls of your own may mock your solitude, this place seems to echo his very being: alone, broken, rotting and so, so very cold.

Your heart bleeds as you weigh your options, expression growing sullen and torn. He notices, tentatively takes your hand again in an almost practiced way of providing comfort. Had he ever even…

Your thoughts begin to drift again, and you force yourself to settle on a choice. It’s not your heart that should be damned, but that horrid seed of doubt constantly burdening, stealing from, and clawing at you.

“I should get home, before the rain.”

“Verstanden.”

“You can come too.”

There’s an audible hiss of breath through his teeth, that peculiar look of agony crosses his face again… and finally, he weeps.

———

König, you think to call him.

He teaches you German from time to time, in turn for you allowing him to watch as you work away at the clocks. It feels fitting in a way. Not because he harbors the self-importance of a noble figure, nor his stature; he’s simply become something impossibly important in the week long span you’ve spent together now.

You’ve decorated the guest room properly for him, and in turn he’s brought you firewood, foraged and hunted so that neither of you have had to bother with the town. The fire raged in the hearth as the cold continues to set in, and your walks to town have been enjoyable now. He accompanies you to the hill on some nights, draws you a bath when you come home, even cooks.

So… maybe a king was not entirely appropriate, but calling him a servant certainly wasn’t either. Even with the way he seems to melt and become docile at the slightest brush of your hand, the way you know with a certainty he would die for you if you spoke the word.

And still, you call him König: the king of your heart.

There are flowers at your windowsill each morning, still clinging to their roots. You bake the bread while he cooks stew with herbs gathered from the little garden just beyond the walls of the home, one he’s graciously told you he’s wanted to expand for you. Books you’ve overlooked for years have been read end to end by him, and he especially seems to like those with art of flowers drawn into their pages, always seeking you out to show you, explain their meanings, expressing the beauty that he sees in them and within you.

You don’t know where he’s come from, what his life was like before this, and with the same respect that he gives to you… you don’t ask.

“We’re starting a new story,” you had said the first morning over a breakfast of hastily made apple dumplings. To which he had agreed, with a somber hum, nodding his hooded head.

Though you do wonder about his secrets, his face. Seeing him now is all it really takes to make you smile.

He comes through the door, hauling in the massive grandfather clock that a carriage had left only this morning. The bob and the lyre both appeared broken at a glance, but your heart sinks when you read the name on the note left attached to it.

The same petulant little man that had stomped that poor watch to pieces right in front of you, no doubt he had broken this one too in some sort of tantrum. What was it now? Had the poor clock chimes a bit too loudly during the night? Was that deserving of a foot lodged right into its heart?

“König, do you mind just leaving it there?” You gesture toward the middle of the room, watching as the muscles beneath his shirt don’t even seem to ripple from exertion.

“Natürlich.”

As you set to work, pulling away parts, straightening out bends and replacing what’s broken, he kneels at your side watching with rapt attention. There’s no fixing the pendulum bob entirely, it’s far too bent and scraped, but you wouldn’t be replacing that with work of your own either. The bastard gets what he gets and that will do.

In truth, your work since having König here has only improved, and perhaps you’re showing off a bit, but the way he watches you tinker with the dusty old things as if mesmerized fills you with pride. You could fix anything, yes, with him at your side you wanted to.

The house doesn’t echo wasted time anymore, only that crowding feeling of something buzzing and chirping, budding up in the spaces where shadows should crawl: love. You wouldn’t trade it for the loneliness to return, not ever. A new sort of fear that stings just as much as it does caress.

So you work in silence, only breaking it to answer the sparse questions that he throws out.

When the clock is shoddily finished, you wipe the oil from your hands on a rag, and take König’s own large arm as it’s offered out to you to stand.

“I will carry it for you tonight,” he suggests, delicately brushing a bit of dust from your sleeve. His touch does linger, always lingers, trailing up to massage at your shoulder and cup at your neck. The swell of heat that arrives at your face then, the press of your thighs beneath your skirt… it’s always the same.

“I thought that you didn’t want to go into town?”

Your shoulder meets his chest as you press against him, doing very little to calm your body’s frustrations. The blood within you stirs like a violent wave feeling him this near— cleaned up and dressed in some patchwork conglomerate of your father’s old clothes. He smells like a union between the earth and sea, salt and alder leaf, a hint of thyme and lavender.

His eyes glitter when his gaze roves from your face to chest, hand skittering down to curl at the small of your back. To anyone else, you would look the picture of husband and wife perhaps.

“I would go anywhere with you.”

A fresh normal, like the rise of spring, those words and touches that suggest more: threatening while you plead in silence for him to just give you a push, unlace your dress and finally feel and see him properly.

“Then… yes, let’s get the cursed thing out of here tonight.”

His grip tightens around you just for a moment, fingers curling and flexing into the soft linen covering you, bunching it up just so at your back before he relents, draws away.

“You dislike this one?” König sounds almost hurt, perhaps he favored it, being tall and similar to him in some way. Another odd thing, hard to place, but he’s never seemed to like you talking down about your own work, a habit that needed breaking.

“No,” you begin to explain, curling your arms around his middle as you both stare at the thing, ticking quietly before you, “its owner is just a pain.”

“I can tell. You seem nervous, meine geliebte.”

“You haven’t taught me that one yet,” you point out, not playing coy, despite the look he gives you that suggests you know.

There’s always that ache when his eyes narrow and that playful glint reaches them. How someone could look as though they’ve suffered dozens of lifetimes of pain and still have that look, you did not know, but it excites you. A furious, needy excitement.

“Beloved,” is all that he says.

The stare relents as he heads back out into the garden, leaving you to sort yourself out.

———

“You’re sure that you can carry it the entire way?”

It’s not that you could help, really. The thing must have weighed as much as yourself, strung up over König’s back with a rope he had found lying someplace in the garden.

“Ja, it’s fine.” He’s not out of breath in the slightest either. You realize then that if you put on all your charms bending, arching and delicately maneuvering your hands to fix the clocks, the assuredly this was his way of doing the same. You try to reign yourself in from staring at the damp spot on his shirt, clinging to his broad expanse of chest, the way that his thighs seem to tense with each step forward.

You can’t— you merely trail behind him until you take the lead to bring him right to the other man’s doorstep. Your hands find the ropes that keep the clock saddled to König’s back, carefully untying them as he stoops down to let its wooden legs rest against the ground below. It scrapes, the consequence of being so heavy and forced to stand on those four tiny legs, and only then does it decide to make a cacophony of noise signaling the new hour, a trilling sort of bong that makes even your ears ring as it breaks up the silence of the night.

You don’t even need to knock, because the door flies open immediately. The man stands proud, unperturbed by your giant companion as he shoves past you to inspect his clock. There are no greetings, no pleasantries, and if you were just a bit more careless with your reputation, smacking him would have only brought you satisfaction.

“Not good, but it will do,” the little man huffs, knocking at the glass casing over the clock’s face with his knuckle. “Be a dear and have your friend bring it in for me.”

You’ve no doubt that König senses your annoyance as he cocks his head at you, but when you give a curt nod in response, he does what’s requested. The clock is set in a large den. It’s not as opulent and gilded as you had expected, just a simple home housing a very infuriating man. You watch from the doorway, swaying on your feet as König rights the clock and pushes it where he’s directed. Just a few more seconds and the two of you would be well on your way, and perhaps he would even teach you a new curse for a man like that.

He comes uncomfortably close to König’s side, a smug look plastered over his face that only seems to exaggerate just how greasy and mousy that you know him to be. Something is whispered that you can’t quite make out, a dare, a mocking taunt, something that pisses you off even without the knowledge.

The hood is pulled off by thin fingers, cast aside to the floor beyond the pair.

The man’s face goes pale before you even get a glimpse of König at all. He backs away, mouth gaping as König calmly moves to retrieve the cloth. You think you hear the word “monster” mumbled amidst a slew of incoherent babbling, but when your companion turns to face you, you feel no fear.

König’s face is like patchwork, scars connecting all together. They run like small streams up from his jaw and over his chin, splitting his lip at the corner of his mouth and dancing up to his eye. The nose is broken in places, several times over likely, crooked with a bump that only seems strangely cute. The unkempt hair lining his jaw should be trimmed, but… there’s no monster here. Only a man who has seen and felt pains that you could not bring yourself to imagine.

His head dips when he notices your wide-eyes stare, a sort of shame hidden away behind strands of long, black hair. He shuffles out of the house and shuts the door behind him, standing rigid as he expects the worst, for you to wail and sob and gather a group of townsfolk to herd him far away with fire and stones.

You only take his hand.

“Let’s go home.”

He doesn’t bother to hide himself away again during the walk back, his hand remains in your hold, trembling every now and then and gripping you tighter as he struggles with the thoughts no doubt raging in his skull like a storm. You offer your comfort as you lean toward him, head pressed against his arm even as you turn the knob and step inside.

You warm a bath for him then, a task that is no easy feat. König does not offer his help, resigned to some belief that this is only a temporary pity.

He allows you to peel away his clothes, graze your fingers over his body, over the scars all with a barely contained creature scraping out from inside: the untamed bull that you can not see. You press a kiss there, over his heart, feel it’s beating against your lips, pulling away only when his thumb strokes your cheek.

Each new sight of him is just as wonderful as they have always been. It’s not that you take pleasure in seeing the way he must have suffered; the now healed bullet wound over his abdomen speaks volumes of just what people are capable of when met with the sight of something that they do not understand.

The questions burn at the back of your skull, bitten back as your jaw tightens.

You help him wash with soap and a soft cloth, carefully removing any patches of dirt and dust that have lingered despite his near-daily bathing since living beneath your roof. The rough beard is trimmed in full, until all that’s left is a trail of dark stubble lingering along his jaw, broken up by scars like thin spider silk that make up the entirety of his body.

His hair is a mess, too, matted and clinging to his skull in wild clumps. You’re gentle with the brush as you free the tangles, clipping at what can not be saved with sharpened scissors, and massaging at his scalp as he murmurs his approval. It’s such a subdued, gentle cooing from his chest, a purr almost that shatters your heart and forces it back into place instantly.

Whatever he was or was not, you were certain this stray had never felt a touch like your own, if he had ever been touched by human hands at all.

König seems to settle greatly once you’ve tended to him and it does seem to finally dawn on him that you’re not repulsed, you’ve touched most of his damaged body, and have only brought him the gentleness that should have been commonplace by now. This isn’t some elaborate torture method— it’s only tender.

“Your turn, hm?”

That, however, brings you pause. Your hands rest on his shoulder, carefully trying to loosen a stubborn knot when you abruptly still. As if that were all he needed for encouragement, his hands cinch your waist, pulling you up and over the rim of the tub as you whine your protests in hushed little hisses. All for naught, as you find yourself submerged below the waist.

“I’m still dressed,” you sulk as the water dampens your dress, now seated between his parted thighs.

König only gives a laugh in response as his arms encase you in another embrace, his head resting against the dip between your shoulder and neck as his chest is brought to press against your back.

“And you’re still mine.”

His fingers trail further down to the wet fabric billowing amidst the soft, lapping waves of the water, pulling it up until it rests just above your hips. There’s no tact, only a clumsy sort of desperation rarely seen upon men, especially not of his stature.

You allow him to loosen the strands of lace at your back, bring your clothing up and over your head to leave it resting and dripping over the rim, pooling below onto the boards of the wooden floor. Your undergarments follow to join the flooding pile of soaked linen and lace.

You’re flustered certainly, grateful for the water surrounding that conceals the warmth that echoes your fondness for this titan between your legs.

You even considered that he would be more shy, not… as eager to begin to wash you, and not with the cloth but with his own hands, nimbly moving over every dip and curve coating you in the slick residue of soap, leaving suds in its wake. He starts at your shoulders, breath growing heavy the more you soften and relax against his chest.

It’s only a matter of time before his hands find and cup your breasts, and you swear that you can feel the grin that splits his face as you melt further against him. König gropes at and massages you there, eager fingers deliberately stroking at your hardened nipples until you quiver and sigh.

You find purchase moving your arms to your sides to grasp at his biceps, muscles flexing as he works his way down your trembling abdomen to your mound, kissing at your shoulder as you purr your encouragement.

The praises that leave your lips come tight and barely restrained as a finger trails against your slit, moving up to circle your clit before diving back down to prod at you.

Your head is gently tilted back by his free hand, your face peppered in clumsy, messy kisses as a digit sinks into you. It’s lazy work, trying to find a rhythm with your squirming. He only seems satisfied when it presses further, curling against the spot that makes you mewl sweetest, and finally, he kisses you full on.

It’s delivered as sloppily as his fingering, any trailing thought left in your skull dims, fuzzy with sheer bliss as his thumb begins to pet at your clit in tandem with each push and drag of his index. It doesn’t help that you feel his own growing need, hard and hot against your lower back, throbbing with each sound pulled from your mouth, his hips jerking on occasion to drag his shaft against your backside.

“König, we should get out,” you murmur through a flood of heat that curls and urges and presses at your lower half to seek some satisfaction, have him bed you proper. “We can go to—“

His mouth meets yours again, hungrier and more determined than before, the water rolling with each flick of his thumb. In a mere moment you feel that heat stoke to an inferno, blazing from your stomach to cause your feet to kick out, water sloshing over the side of the tub as you ride out each passing wave of paradise crying openly into his mouth.

When your trembling does subside, he kisses your cheek and pulls you up from the water, wrapping you up in his arms. His stare remains ever burning, pupils blown to a coal black, dreamy in the way he slinks back just to drink you in further. You can’t keep track of all of the places his eyes seem to dart, which touch to settle on and relish as he paws at you from chest to rear, as if mesmerized that you are no mere illusion.

You’re giving him everything; no longer the king of simply a beating organ tucked beneath your breast, but your body, bed, wherever he chooses to conquer next, of all the things that he’s been deprived of.

“We will go to bed, beloved,” he rasps, sounding more present than ever. The nightmares lurking behind his eyes have long past now: all focus is turned to you. You’re the only thing that’s ever loved him in return. “We will… become one.”

“Have you ever…” Your own voice fails you now, the evident want between you two incapable of making this any less… tedious. It was tedious, a flighty feathered thing that seems keen on slipping out of your grasp at any moment. If it were to be his first, surely it should be special, somehow, someway. If it were not… you dreaded that thought, a bitter envy sours on your tongue until it’s shaken off.

“No,” he states simply, shrugging.

Though a sense of relief seems to flood you at that, you dare not show it. You will take him to your bed, climb atop him and show him how these things work, a slow sort of love and the rest could wait.

It was foolish to believe that König would settle for such a thing, wild and only temporarily tamed by your sweetness: he is entirely different the moment you’re herded into the bedroom. The desperation of his touches has faded out entirely, replaced with what feels almost like a rage.

He wouldn’t take out humanities sins on you, no, but he would years of brutal neglect have left him starved and it just so happens that you’re an outlet for it, something to feed from by way of spilling his soul and his seed all into you, taken back with the kisses and praises that would surely come after this union.

You’re unceremoniously pushed onto the bed, lying at your side as he climbs in behind you. He whispers his requests into your hair, even as his hand wraps to pull your thigh up before you can bless him with a nod in response. He struggles for a moment, parting your labia with the obscene, ridiculous thing that hangs between his legs. It drags over you in repetition, oiled like the clock cogs before the head of his cock finally finds the opening his finger explored only minutes earlier.

You almost expect him to break you right then, force you to take what your body— no body- had surely been made for, but he only thrusts the tip inside and gives you some time to adjust, roll your hips down centimeter by agonizing centimeter.

“You are… Does it hurt you..?” His voice is a breathless pant, trying to hold himself together despite the daze he’s found himself in, buried not even three inches into your cunt.

“No… you can move,” you breathe out, eyelids fluttering as you tilt you head to look at him over your shoulder.

König clings to you as he sinks further, grasping at your waist to pull your further down, sharp breaths hissed between gritting teeth as he delights in the way your womanhood grips at his shaft.

Just as before, there’s no rhythm to him, he takes the sounds that leave you as a direction, huffing into your ear words that your mind could not hope to translate. There’s an indulgence to it, shared between you both as his hand curls tighter against your thigh, spread open and accepting of the brutal pace he takes to have just a taste of what it feels to be a normal man.

His words falter at a point, when you feel your body tightening around him, sucking him in, closer, nearer as your head lolls back. The inferno from before pales in comparison to the blaze that overtakes you now, his voice strained with bliss as you begin to moan for him. With each drag and soar of his cock spearing you open, you’re only brought further to a glimpse of Eden. If this were the fall of man, you find you couldn’t question Eve for relishing in it.

“… you gave me a name,” he rasps, “A home…”

All at once that glimmer of heaven crashes down around you, bathes you in the glow of something lofty and holy as he pulls you close and drives himself to the hilt within you. The throbbing and pulsing of his length pulls you over just as his seed spills within, drips thick and flooding as your own sex drools in tandem, sharing a perfect rapture both clandestine and sacred. He gives you another generous thrust, ensuring that he’s carved a space inside no other man could ever hope to fill.

You fret when you find him weeping, quiet tears rolling down his pale cheeks to spill over your shoulder, but the gentle smile on his face is pacifying as you twist around to face him. “And now you have my love.”

“I’ll cherish it,” he murmurs, voice broken and pitiful as you’re maneuvered upward to rest against the feather-stuffed pillows against the headboard.

You curl against him, head resting on his chest, an arm draped over his waist. He takes your hand into his own, appraising it like the first time you properly met. Hands of a maker. Your mind wanders to significance in that statement, the things that needn’t be told are finding ways to curtain you anyhow when he speaks again.

“Could you fix me?” He asks, tracing over the calluses on your fingertips, still bathing in the afterglow.

The question, though you felt it coming, still hurts to hear him speak it: breathing life into a thought that should have never existed to begin with.

“There’s nothing to fix.” Though you speak true, though you know he feels your sincerity, his eyes are heavy when he looks to you again. “Why would you ask me that?”

The story that he tells you then is one of horror. From his maker down to the things he’s done, seen, felt: hated from the moment he woke into this strange world, the horrible loneliness that pushed and bedded down inside of him like acceptance never would. The people that he’s throttled in some desire to finally have someone like him; men, women, it made no difference. All of it is bared with only one message eternally prevalent: he has only ever wanted to be loved.

In truth, he was a monster. Not because he was given the instinctual urge to be, but because it was all he knew. Gnashing teeth from demons hurling that word out with every stone they threw, every shot and stab at his heart.

You listen, despite the way it hurts, pull him a little closer when he ends his tale with your meeting, how he knew you were the only blessing he would ever receive in his lifetime— however long that may be.

You were good at fixing broken things, but König never needed to be fixed. Only found.

———

“Now you’re supposed to say it,” you hum, as his hands reach to the hem of the hood— his- covering your face. They rove beneath the fabric, curling against the skin of your cheeks, tracing small patterns there, some rotations like the clocks, others the childish hearts scribbled into books.

“I vow to take you as my wife.”

“You’re bad at this.” You giggle when he does finally push the cloth up past your nose, above your eyes and further until it’s pulled back like a veil.

“I will love you endlessly,” he continues, returning your noise of elation with a huffed laugh of his own. “I already do.”

“I love you, too.”

No one in town would ever properly marry you two, not if one look could make a weak man fall to his knees in horror, but here, beneath the roof of a home once echoing the same voice that haunts him… it was good enough. The moon seems to echo your vows with dancing rays, stars twinkling in approval as the calls of night birds carry through the open window.

There are no rings, no written formalities to be stored away with dust-ridden papers, preyed upon by mites. It’s far more sacred, genuine than the flippant affairs and arrangements that go on with those that would so readily cast the both of you aside. In truth— the thought of them rarely comes; doesn’t even rile up that intense fear inside of you any longer.

Everything only seems easier with the blooming garden outdoors, and the man who gazes upon you like he sees divinity itself behind your eyes, in the softness of your flesh.

When you kiss, it’s something from a fairytale, flowers strewn at your feet and the veil removed from your hair by a gentle hand.

Eden doesn’t seem so much like a memory lost to time, after all.

#könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig x you #könig #konig #cod fanfiction

979 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 5 months

Note

First Poly!landoscar thought! Reader is OBSESSED with Christmas and super excited to decorate but they’re away at races. Maybe they come home to a super over the top decorated house or something?? And Christmas baking! And movies! And hot chocolate!

Abu Dhabi. The final race of the year. Because of her studies, Y/N wasn't able to join her boyfriends on the last race. She had to stay home, cramming for all of the exams she had before Christmas.

Oscar and Lando kept themselves occupied, though. They called her when they could, but, usually, Y/N was far too busy to stay on the call for long.

Busy doing what, though? The boys thought studying.

Well, that was bullshit.

Over the years Y/N had amassed a great collection of Christmas decorations. She kept them up in the attic, the box completely overflowing. Boxes, I mean. There were several.

She dragged them down in the attic and left them in the hallway. The boxes had been very well organised and labelled from the previous years, so Y/N got right on with it.

She wrapped tinsel around the banister and placed a wreath on the front door. Y/N put lights up in every room, attaching them to mirrors, the kitchen cupboards, around the doorframes. She had three stockings, two with the boys logos and Y/N's with one of her passions.

Cushion covered with swapped to Christmas ones. The coasters, placemats, and kitchenware were swapped to the Christmas ones Y/N had been collecting. She had these mini light up plastic trees that she put in the window and Christmas-y candles that she put on any free surface.

When Y/N was done inside of the house, there was just one box of decorations left. It was the biggest, the one Y/N hadn't been able to close properly.

Pulling on her shoes and her coat, Y/N dragged the box outside with her.

***

It was Oscars first Christmas with Y/N and Lando. Oscar hadn't prepared him for the Christmas season with Y/N, and there was a good reason for it.

Lando drove them from the airport to the house the three of them shared. Their street was pretty much glowing as they drove down it, towards their house. It wasn't the street lights, though.

"Surprise," Lando said as he pulled into their driveway.

Oscar stepped out of the car with his mouth open. "Holy shit," he muttered as he looked at all of the lights on the front of their house. There were lights wrapped around their fence and lights draped over the hedges. Y/N had wrapped it around the little tree they had growing in the front garden.

Y/N had put out the light up reindeer and sleigh; she had individual lights lining the path and a small, plastic tree in the porch.

"Does she do this every year?" Oscar asked as Lando pushed his key into the lock and twisted it.

"It gets worse and worse every year," he answered as they dropped their bags.

Lando pushed the door shut and turned his attention to the rest of the house. "Y/N!" He called as he and Oscar walked through the hallway, heading straight towards the kitchen.

That was where they found Y/N. She was balancing rather precariously on a chair as Y/N attached fake mistletoe to the ceiling.

"Woah," Oscar cried. He rushed over to her as she stepped from the chair onto the counter. Oscar reached up, placed his hand on her waist as she finally managed to get the mistletoe onto the ceiling.

"Hey, Osc!" Y/N called as she stepped down and into arms. "Do you like the house?"

Oscar looked around at the kitchen. It genuinely smelt like pine and cookies. "I... love it. It's really bright," he answered quickly and kissed the top of her head.

"Lan, can you get the cookies out of the oven, please?" She asked as Oscar kept her in his arms. He leaned down, placing his chin on her shoulder as they watched Lando.

"You made cookies?!" He called as he raced over to the oven. Lando used the oven mitts to pull the cookies from the oven. "Oh my god, I love you!"

"Do you two love me enough to bring in the tree?"

The tree in question was out in the garden. It was tiny, only going up to Y/N's waist, but it was far too busy for her to bring in on her own. Y/N had bought it two years before and had been keeping it alive ever since. It was never going to get much bigger, not since Y/N was keeping it in a pot to bring it in the house for Christmas.

Lando and Oscar looked outside of the house, towards the tree in the garden, but they couldn't see anything. It was far too dark, being five in the evening and all. "Can we do it all tomorrow, babe?" Asked Lando as he joined them.

For a moment, Y/N thought about it. The little tree and a big tree was all they needed, but it could wait. "I have conditions."

"Go on."

"We watch movies in matching pyjamas."

Lando's face dropped. "You bought us matching pyjamas?"

"I bought us matching pyjamas."

"Let's fucking go."

806 notes · View notes

awfcspencer · 2 months

Note

reader feels ugly and just upset and leah comforts? pure fluff I beg xx

Don’t Listen To Them || leah williamson x reader

prompt: requested! Social media can be a cruel, cruel place.

warnings: self confidence issues

a/n: hope you enjoy it! happy v-day to those who celebrate <33

Inside your shared home, you and Leah decided to stay in and build a charcuterie board as a snack before you both cuddle up together and watch a film. For dinner, Leah had lit some candles and put on some slow music while she watched you cook her favorite chicken alfredo pasta recipe. The both of you decided to pop a bottle of red wine as a nice way to end the jampacked week. Dinner was relaxing, enjoying one another’s company and talking about miscellaneous topics. Leah cleaned up the reminiscent of dinner as you began on the board. Organizing the charcuterie board was pretty simple, you had found a Pinterest photo to recreate, and Leah had accompanied you to the grocery store to collect the items you would need.

Placing the finishing touches on the board, you grabbed your phone located on the other side of the kitchen island. The board had taken you a lot longer than you assumed it would, but you wanted it to be perfect, so you found yourself examining the picture intricately and making sure everything was placed exactly.

Leah had become bored roughly about 10 minutes into creating the board, she paced back and forth around the kitchen and occasionally sighed loudly to really get the point across that she was bored.

“Wait let me take a photo first Lee,” As you swat her hand away for what felt like the hundredth time tonight from the perfectly aligned board that she had been secretly picking at each time you would set a row of crackers or stack of pepperonis in place. Each time she would eat off the board, you would have to replace the food and scold her. It was like baking a cake with a toddler who would lick frosting off the spoon when you weren’t looking.

“Oh silly me how could I forget Instagram eats first.” Rolling her eyes and grabbing the remote in the living room to put on a movie. “Mamma Mia tonight?” It was always a go-to in the home. You loved the cute little plot and Leah liked singing the ABBA songs loudly in your ear.

“Perfect idea baby,” nodding your head towards the blonde. Carefully balancing the food in your left hand as you make your way towards the couch after you took the perfect photo. Then remembering that you have to get back up and grab the two red wine glasses the two of you had been nursing before. Placing yourself between the defender’s long legs on the L-shaped couch, leaning backwards into her as she placed her head on your shoulder, placing a few kisses in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish Williamson.” Whispering as you kissed her now reddened cheeks.

You grabbed a few of the pepperoni’s and tossed them into your mouth, reaching your hand back and allowing Leah to have a few after she made a toddler-like gesture and a huff indicating that she wanted one.

“I sometimes think you are a 26-year-old stuck in a toddler’s body.” All night Leah had managed to find some way to annoy or antagonize you, all in fun though.

Pretending to be offended, “Well toddlers don’t cuddle so maybe I should get up.” Making a move to get up and sit on the opposite side of the couch.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t get up, I am comfy, and you are warm.” You plead out in a joking manner, turning towards her placing a kiss on the tip of her nose as you forced her back down to her original position.

“So nice to me now but less than 30 seconds ago you were mean.” Folding her arms across her body and a stern look on her face. You wanted to make a comment about the state of which is looked right now, how it was so toddler-like, but you refrained, settling with a loud laugh.

“Momentary lapse of character” Reaching out to grab a peace treaty as an apology, “Olive?”

“You know the way to my heart, apology accepted.” As she takes it from your grasp and plops it into her mouth, pulling you back closer to her from her previous fake exit as you leaned into her chest.

Opening Instagram to post the pictures you had taken throughout the night. “Do you want me to tag you?” Organizing the selected photos on the screen and applying final touches on the photos. Ending it by adding a song in the background that had been playing when Leah grabbed you away from the masterpiece you had been creating and pulled you in for a quick salsa twirl and leaned you backwards and placed a kiss on your lips.

“Yeah so I can repost it” as she watched you create the post. You and Leah had been seeing each other for a few months, baking in the privacy for a bit before you let the whole world know. Each week that had passed, you and Leah got less and less subtle, performing a ‘soft launch’ through similar locations but different angles or the way she would repost your stories. This specific collection of photos was new though as it featured a slide of a side profile of Leah looking down at the board. It also had only 2 dinner plates, 2 sets of silverware, and 2 wine glasses in one of the photos, indicating it was in fact a date.

The fans had started to catch on and for the most part, the reactions had been mostly positive. Opposite of your life, Leah’s life was in the spotlight. Everything she did, everything she said, and everywhere she went was documented on some sort of social media outlet. Your account had maybe a few thousand followers, most of them you had gained from when Leah first started reposting your posts. So this post would set in stone that you and Leah were officially an item.

Clicking upload and then facing your phone downward on the table, cuddling backwards more into Leah with your back into her chest. Baking in her warm body, strong arms, and vanilla scent. “Omg who is this beautiful blonde in the third slide?” Gushing over herself as she quickly reposts your photos and places her phone next to yours, pulling you in tighter. “Always so humble Lee” gently swatting her on the thigh as she clicked play.

Every few minutes throughout the movie, your phone would go off, a little buzz that at first you just assumed was a few Instagram likes but after what felt like your phone was vibrating every second, you untangle slightly from Leah and grab your phone.

Your post had over 100,000 likes and several comments from people who you definitely did not know. You scroll casually through the notifications on your device. A few negative comments stuck out to you and when you opened the app, you were greeted with hundreds more.

‘Can’t believe she is dating THE Leah Williamson.’

‘Leah definitely downgraded.’

Several comments simply just said, ‘ugly’. The hurtful comments went on and on.

Private accounts and faceless profiles, people would say anything they desired behind a screen when there were no direct consequences. Harsh words that initially you were able to push to the side, but each one that you read dug a little deeper. The response was overwhelming, there were new comments each minute, and almost none of them were nice. It hurt and each one you read felt more real. You could feel the tears coming, the emotions coming out, so you briefly excused herself saying you needed to use the restroom, desperately hoping that the way your voice cracked was unnoticeable.

The words felt true as you locked eyes in the mirror with yourself. Where you enough to be with someone like Leah? I mean she was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, and what were you? Staring at yourself in the mirror you noticed each and every blemish, freckle, or pore on your face, and the tears began to fall. The grey sweatsuit that you had initially put on for the chill date now felt ugly on your frame, you wanted to rip the clothes off. Someone who was dating Leah Williamson wouldn’t wear such an ugly outfit.

Back on the couch, Leah was beginning to get worried at the amount of time you had been gone. The part Leah knew was your favorite was coming up so she reached for the remote on the coffee table to pause it so you could enjoy it when you returned. In attempting to pause the movie, she noticed your phone open on your Instagram comment section. The vulgar comments made her sick. They were piling in with each minute that passed, and she felt angry, but then she felt sad. She quickly left the couch and rushed to the bathroom, desperately hoping that maybe the pasta didn’t sit right, or you were busy washing your hands.

A soft knock on the door took your eyes off the mirror. “Hey babe, you all good in there?” the blonde questioned. Leah’s heart was beating out of her chest because she had heard the soft sniffles from outside the door as she walked up to it. She knew you had read the comments. She wanted to run in and immediately convince you that not a single one of those comments were true, but she didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“Don’t come in.” You didn’t mean to scream at her, you weren’t angry with her, but you did not want her to see you like this, your makeup now smeared and tears freely falling from your eyes. You quickly locked the door and rushed to the opposite side of the bathroom. She would break up with you, she would realize the comments were true, you were ugly. You were fidgeting with your hair, a trait you’ve had since primary school when you got overwhelmed or nervous, it was a way to calm down.

“Baby please let me in, nothing any of those comments said is true. Nothing.” She pleaded, hoping she could convince you to let her in. She wanted to pull you into a big hug and say anything and everything she could to help you see that nothing they said was true or how she felt.

“You don’t mean that.” Your head was clouded, only being able to replay each and every comment in your brain. Your eyes continued to shift uncontrollably across different sections of your face or body that you felt ashamed of in the mirror.

“I love the way your baby hairs stand out even though you try and try to brush them down in the morning. I love the little crinkle in your nose when you get annoyed or confused about something. I love the way your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth when you are trying to focus really hard on something. I love your freckles, every single one, especially when you get some sun and they especially become vibrant. I love the way you lick your lips before you speak. I love the way each time you laugh or smile I can see the indent on your cheeks of your dimples even though you try and claim you don’t have them. I love the way you twirl your hair into curls when you get stressed. I love your eyes, it is like I can see a sparkle in them when you look at something you love. I love the way you close your eyes sometimes because you say it helps you think more clearly. I love you baby, every single inch of you. Those comments do not know you like I know you. They do not see how truly beautiful you are to me,” the compliments gushing out of Leah like it was second nature, truly meaning each and every word.

There was silence on your side of the door, taking in what Leah said. A click of the door as you unlocked it and Leah rushed in and to your side immediately. You sobbed into the defender’s chest as she rubbed large circles on your back.

“Thank you, Lee, really.” Your breathing had returned to normal and your heart no longer felt like it was racing. You felt safe and loved in the blonde's embrace.

“It is only you baby, you are my love. Don’t listen to them,” pulling you in tighter and placing a soft kiss on your temple as she forced you to look her in the eyes. She took her thumb and brushed over the final tears that escaped your eye.

“I can’t believe I let social media get to me, this is so stupid. I’m sorry for crying and for ruining our date,” your voice no louder than a whisper as you look down at the bathroom tile.

She forces your head back up with a finger under your chin, “It’s not stupid baby. I get it, it can be a lot. But anytime you feel like it all gets too much, I want you to talk to me. I want to know. And you never need to apologize to me, and certainly not for crying baby.”

Another wave of silence fell over the bathroom. The two of you are still huddled in each other's arms, swaying slightly left and right as you come down from the major wave of emotions previously.

"I'm pretty sure we still have mint chocolate ice cream from last week," she quietly whispered, a small upward quirk of her lip that turned into a soft smile. She knew it was your favorite and that you rarely let yourself keep it inside the household because you would easily eat a whole pint. You matched her grin, locking her fingers with yours, and pulled her towards the kitchen.

Two spoons and one large bowl of ice cream was shared between the two of you. Leah had made the final touches by adding chocolate syrup and way too much whipped cream. You took your pointer finger to swipe the white cream and tapped Leah on the nose.

"Who is acting like a toddler now?" wiping her nose with a nearby napkin as you shrugged and placed another large bite into your mouth.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso #woso soccer #woso blurbs #womens soccer #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #awfc #arsenal women

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mykneeshurt · 1 year

Note

Hello! I was wondering what you think 141 & Alejandro, König & Rudy’s reactions be if their partner tried to get out of bed after a very spicy night & ended up falling/couldn’t walk?😳 Also yes I’m over 18😂

Of course!! My first ever head cannon! Apologies about Gaz and Rudy I don’t really read any fics on them, hence why they’d so short 🙈 I hope they’re ok! Hehe - I’ve tried to keep this Gender Neutral, if something needs changing tell me so I can fix it! ❤️

Price 🥃

He would be loving and attentive. Price would run you a warm bath, and as you soaked your aching body in the hot water he’d make you a strong cup of tea. 2 sugars.

You struggled walking to the bath, your knees wobbling, your thighs aching, small bruises littered you skin. He’d watch you as you walked to the bathroom, your hips swaying back and forth hypnotising him.

Price would then join you in the bath, he’d sit behind you, caressing your shoulders. Peppering your skin with light healing kisses. He’d check in on you, constantly. ‘You alright love?’ … ‘god, you took me so well’

He’d lean you back against his chest, kissing your forehead, whispering praises to you. He’d slowly work his way down to your aching core, massaging your inner thighs.

‘You feel so tense love. Let me help.’

Price would hand you your tea, letting you sip it slowly, savouring the taste as he caressed your chest. He’d plan the day for you, to take your mind off the ache, the pleasurable pain. Walk the dog in the country side, find a quiet tree he could kiss you against, before returning home where he could cook for you. Worship you.

Before starting all over again.

Ghost 💀

Riley would tease you, degrade you slightly, ‘couldn’t take my cock huh?’ … ‘pathetic.’ You knew he didn’t mean it, you got off of degradation from him.

He’d make small gestures to show he cares, breakfast in bed. A back massage. Firm slow kisses on your swollen lips from the night before. Caressing and squeezing your neck, something to distract you from the pleasurable pain you felt.

If you got out of bed your knees would be weak and wobbly, earning you your new pet name ‘Bambi.’ He’d throw you over his shoulder and slam you back on the bed. ‘Stay.’

He’d work you up, again. Making you want him despite the pain you felt from him fucking you the night before. You’d beg, plead and whimper for him take you again. You’d drag your nails along his bare muscular back, pleading for him to take you again.

He’d bruise your skin, holding himself back from fucking you again. He wanted you. Needed you. But he knew you needed to rest, heal, so he could have his way with you once more.

‘Careful love, sure you could take me again?’

Soap 🧼

Wee John, oh he would worry, worry he’d hurt you, but be low key proud at how well you took him. Deep, fast, hard.

‘You were so good for me hen.’ … ‘fuck you felt so good, so tight.’

He wouldn’t let you leave the bed, he’d keep you tucked into him as he cradled your face. Checking in on you constantly. Needing reassurance he didn’t hurt you too much, despite seeing you waddle to the toilet. Now that made him chuckle.

He’d whisper bad jokes to you to ease the burn you felt, he’d make you laugh to distract you. ‘Why did the beach blush? - because the sea-weed.’

He’d explore your body with his fingers, teasing you as he made his way to your aching centre. ‘Fuck off Johnny, it’s so sore.’ He’d secretly smirk to himself feeling somewhat proud, he did tell you he’d ruin you. And yet you didn’t believe him, till now.

Gaz 🇬🇧

Gaz would worship the ground you walked on for the entire day. All the chores? Done. All the cooking? He’s cooking what ever you want. Bath? Consider it run with essential oils, a glass of wine ready and your favourite candles.

‘You alright babe?’ He’d ask as you hiss when standing up. You’d kiss him sweetly, reassuring his lil head that you’re fine.

Losing your balance because your knees are so weak would cause him to giggle endlessly. ‘Fuck are you giggling at’ you’d snap throwing a pillow at him, grinning. ‘Never thought I’d see you so weak in the knees for me’ he winked.

Rudy ❤️

Rudy. What a sweetheart. He’d make you the finest hot chocolate, made from cocoa beans he brought from Mexico. The thickest whipped cream as well as mini marshmallows. Of course.

He’d put your favourite film on and you’d snuggle up on the sofa all day. ‘Eres tan hermosa’ he’d whisper to you as you buried your head in his chest. - you’re so beautiful

Stroking your head he’d check in on you ‘estas bien?’ - you ok?

As you’d lay there he’d be thinking about the positions he had you in the night before. Bent over the bed, at his mercy. He’d slowly become hard thinking about it. Your moans echoing in his memory.

Feeling unable to hold himself anymore he’d guide your lips to his as he devoured you in a moment of intense passion.

Alejandro 🌹

Alejandro would be on you again as soon as you opened your eyes. Pulling you into his embrace, intertwining your limbs together once more.

‘Te necesito mi amor’ he’d whisper into your neck ‘eres como una droga para mi.’ His sultry voice washed over you as his hands massage your skin.

He’d pepper you with kisses, with praise at how well you took him last night. How much he needed to feel you again. To feel you become a liquid beneath his as your moans injected themselves into his veins.

Wiggling out of his grasp you’d try and go to the toilet, but your knees were weak, muscles sore and tense. Losing your balance he’d be by your side within seconds. ‘Mi amor, let me help you.’

Pulling you in he’d place a lingering kiss on your lips before carrying you bridal style to wherever you needed to go.

König ✨

Definition of ‘lady in the streets a freak in the sheets.’ Wee man struggles with his anxiety in social situations but not when it’s just the two of you.

This man is obsessed with you, hence why you cannot walk this morning. You tried getting up to go to toilet but you knees gave out. You collapsed in a pile on the floor in a fit of laughter.

The mountain of a man peered over the side of the bed at you ‘mein Schatz’ he murmurs, smirking. Adoration in his eyes. He offers you his arm to help you up, before rolling you into him.

His huge arms keeping you trapped against his chest. You giggle against him, your ass bounces slightly against his cock. ‘Careful Liebling’ he growls into your ear.

He places a possessive kiss to your temple muttering words of love and praise in German to you.

He takes you to the shower, over his broad bulky shoulders and puts you gently into the tub. Leaving you to shower he quickly gets dressed and faces his demons to go to the local shop. On his return he presents you with a small bunch of flowers and your favourite hot drink.

You’re thrilled and surprised ‘König?! Are you ok? Did you manage?’ You chirp, a huge smile on your face. Pride swelling within your chest.

He found it difficult but he’d do anything for you, anything to see your face light up for him.

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stardustdreams-andcaffeine · 10 months

Text

The Thin Line | Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: Of one thing you were certain—Bucky Barnes hated you, and you hated him. How could you not, considering the super soldier had made it his personal mission to make your life a living hell after you had been assigned to protect him? But there was someone after Bucky from his past, and now he was forced to work alongside you to stop them. And in the process, you would find out just how thin that line was between love and hate.

A/N: This one comes from this request that I received a while back! I have been criminally slow in responding and I sincerely apologize. Hopefully this makes up for it a little bit 🤍

Warnings: blood and violence (all canon for the MCU), someone takes a severe beating (may or may not be reader), ANGST, fluff scattered here and there, fatws!Bucky, banter, mature themes and allusions, grumpy!Bucky

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

Hate. There was perhaps no other word as final and lasting as hate.

People had always said that there was a thin line between love and hate, that the two emotions were so similar it was often hard to tell them apart. But not to you. You knew the line between them distinctly.

You had seen people fall out of love as easily as the winking out of a candle, and in the same manner you’d watched a person’s hate burn on even past the grave. You couldn’t understand how someone could mix up the two emotions, not when love had always seemed so fleeting and hate so persistent.

What you didn’t know just yet was that the passion involved in both love and hate often danced upon that line you were so sure was distinct to you. You didn’t know that love, real love was barely an emotion at all. And you certainly didn’t know that when one person truly loved another, it was anything but fleeting.

It was the one thing that lasted longer than hate.

But it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t know. After all, how could you? You’d never known real love.

At least, not yet.

|||

The sky seemed to sparkle as the rare sunshine blasted through the clouds and beamed down upon the city of Brooklyn.

But in this moment, you couldn’t fully appreciate its glory. No, not when this happened to be the day you were moving box after box of your belongings into your new apartment. The dazzling sun dared to make you collapse under its rays as you hauled out the last box of your stuff from your car. Sweat slipped down your spine as you managed to slam the trunk shut while balancing the box precariously on one hand. With a huff, you gripped the last box tightly and swiveled towards your apartment complex for the last time.

By the time you’d managed to get into the lobby and over to the elevator, you were practically dreaming of being able to drop down this last box into your new apartment and drop dead on your new couch. You could almost taste the beer you’d picked up on your way into the city and-

“You have got to be kidding me!” You exclaimed, dread coursing through your frame as you read the sign taped onto the elevator doors.

Out of Service.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” The concierge called, leaning on his desk and offering you an uncaring smile, “Stupid thing’s been breaking down all month.”

And you haven’t fixed it yet?

The angry words stayed in your head as you decided with a long sigh that the argument wasn’t worth it.

“That’s fine,” You gritted out, adjusting your hold on the box, “I’ll just take the stairs.”

“Good luck,” The concierge wished, his tone bored.

Not even an offer to help you? The urge to yell at the worker was growing by the second, but you were determined to start this mission out right. Gritting your teeth, you walked over to the stairs and started climbing them without giving yourself time to hesitate. This was going to be a long journey up, and you’d rather get it over with as fast as possible.

By the time you reached your floor, your arms were trembling with effort and your legs were moments from giving out. You took the last step up the stairs onto your floor, letting out a sigh of relief as you paused only for a moment. Just a few more steps and you’d be at your door.

You took half of a step when someone slammed right into you. With the box obstructing your view, you couldn’t see the person coming and they clearly hadn’t seen you. You let out a yelp as you stumbled back towards the stairs behind you. In sudden panic to not tumble down them, you released the box you were holding to free your hands. Just as you were grappling for a railing or something to keep you from falling, a gloved hand gripped your arm and yanked you forward, away from the stairs.

You stumbled right back into the person who had just collided with you seconds prior. As you fell into their hard chest, you were bewildered since you were sure you had dropped the box right…

As you glanced up, you saw the box you had released resting easily on one of the stranger’s hands. His other was still holding your arm, and it was then that you realized that his hand was ice cold. Even with the glove on. With furrowed brows, you glanced up towards the stranger.

“Thank-” Your words died abruptly as your eyes met steel blue ones burning down at you. His hair was shorter and his face was drawn into a look of slight annoyance, but it was him. Your mission had run into you before you could even move into your apartment, “You.”

James Buchanan Barnes released your arm, his stubbled jaw clenched in the way you figured it often was. You would be lying if you said it was only your mission that made your thinking halt so swiftly, because none of his pictures did Bucky’s roguish beauty justice. He was ruggedly, painfully, hopelessly handsome, and you scrambled to collect your mind.

“Don’t mention it,” Came Bucky’s low reply. His voice shot straight through you, setting your hairs on end and stirring something in your chest. With easy strength that now made sense, Bucky held onto your box with one hand, “Moving in today?”

It took every ounce of your strength not to giggle. His words were strained and almost…awkward. You knew he didn’t talk much anymore, but it was hopelessly adorable how he was trying to make small talk. With a smile you kept restrained, you nodded.

“In that unit right there, actually,” You replied, walking over to your door and turning back towards the super soldier, “Thanks for saving my box.”

“I think I saved more than that,” Bucky quipped, his tone smooth and rough all at once. You raised an eyebrow at the man.

His arrogant charm was still intact, that’s for sure.

“Well thanks for that too,” You responded, pulling your keys from your pocket and unlocking your door. As you shouldered it open, you held out your hands to take the box back.

You could tell he wanted to carry the box in for you, a remnant of the 40’s manners that were ingrained deep within him. You kept your hands out for the box, to which Bucky gave in swiftly. You breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he did. Had he brought it in for you, he would have seen the surveillance equipment and weapons scattered about the unpacked apartment.

“Well, I’m next door if you need anything.” Bucky stepped back once you had the box in your hands, half of your body inside your open door. You smiled at him, internally cheering that this mission had already begun on such a great foot.

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” You announced, your trained eyes taking in the bags underneath his eyes and the tense hold of his frame, “I’m Y/N.”

He hesitated only for a moment, “Bucky.”

And just like that, he had turned on his heel and walked away towards the stairs. You watched him go for a second, intrigue filtering into your gaze. He was distant and detached like you had expected, and the air of grumpiness he bore was unmistakable. But there was a softness to him that you couldn’t deny. Only a touch, but it was there.

Before he could see you watching him, you fully entered your apartment and made sure the door shut behind you. Setting the box down with a huff, you settled your hands onto your hips and surveyed the controlled chaos before you. A few handguns lay strewn around, and your secured technology was piled atop the couch you so desperately wanted to drop onto.

But you couldn’t sleep, not just yet. There was work to be done.

Out of your entire CIA division, you were the operative that Sam Wilson had tasked with keeping an eye on his lone wolf of a friend. Even though Sam knew he could take care of himself, he had asked you to keep tabs on Bucky to ensure he was safe, especially since the Winter Soldier had racked up a list of enemies just dying to exact revenge now that the world was back to semi-normal.

But this wasn’t the Winter Soldier. This was Bucky Barnes, and even though you knew he could handle his own, you were not going to take this mission lightly. You would look out for him, make sure he didn’t drop off the grid like he loved to do, make sure no rogue enemies took him down.

You would protect him, even though you knew Bucky would kill you and Sam if he found out.

So, you would just have to keep him from finding out.

|||

It had been almost two months since you moved in, and the most you had talked with Bucky since your first encounter was in passing on the stairs and the occasional elevator ride.

Of course, you had formatted your daily routine to oppose his perfectly, ensuring you would run into him as many times as passable for coincidence in a day. Even with that, though, all you managed to get out of Barnes was a nod or the occasional hello. He truly was a lone wolf—quiet, grumpy as hell, and, well, alone.

Even with his avoidance of you and all other humans in general, you managed to survey him nearly every day. It had been quiet. No intruders, no threats, no disappearances. Physically, he was perfectly safe. Mentally?

You shook your head at the thought. Bucky needed a life. And social interaction. Sam called you often, wondering if he was still alive considering how much Bucky dodged his texts. It was almost like he wanted to be separated. Like he was punishing himself for something.

That last thought rang through your mind as you started cleaning the dishes you had acquired from your dinner. As the warm, sudsy water ran across your fingers and over the pot you were washing, your brows were furrowed in concentration. If Bucky really was keeping his distance on purpose, maybe protecting him physically wouldn’t be the object of this mission.

But you weren’t trained for that. You were trained for gun fights and strategy and high-level, covert operations. You were trained to infiltrate criminal holdings and take down dangerous individuals. You were trained to attack, protect, defend, strategize.

That’s why you noticed that Bucky Barnes’ door didn’t open precisely at the same time that it had every night for two months.

You paused in your dish-washing, setting down the pot into the sink and turning off the faucet. Letting silence cloak your apartment, you listened closely for the sound of his footsteps or the shutting of his door.

Nothing.

He could be running late, but Bucky never ran late. He never-

There was the smallest shuffle of a foot against your wooden floor.

You shot your hand out and grabbed the knife you had just washed, but you were a moment too slow. Just as your hand closed around the handle and you began to turn around, your back was shoved into your fridge and the knife ripped out of your hand.

Before you could even blink, Bucky Barnes had you pinned against the fridge with his metal hand around your throat.

Your pulse ratcheted up painfully, your eyes wide as you gripped onto his metal wrist. His grip wasn’t constricting your airway, but was applying enough pressure to remind you that your life was currently in his grasp. Bucky was close to you, so close that you could see the flecks of gray in his blue eyes as well as the fury that crossed through them.

“Who the hell are you?” His voice sent a shiver down your spine. It was dark and rough and even, and it should not have had the effect on you that it did.

His body heat poured into you with how close he was to you, and the cold metal of his hand was a sharp contrast. Breathing was difficult, and not entirely because of his hand on your throat. There was something in the air between you, something thick and palpable. You swallowed, keeping your breathing as even as you could.

“Your neighbor,” You responded, not entirely having to fake the tremble in your tone.

“Bullshit,” Bucky growled, his grip on your throat tightening the slightest bit, “You’ve been tailing me for weeks. Who do you work for?”

“Just because our schedules clash doesn’t mean-”

“If one more lie comes out of your pretty little mouth, I’ll make sure whoever hired you is the only one who knows your death wasn’t an accident.” Bucky was unflinching, cold hard rage burning across his features. Beneath it, though, you could see fear. So much fear. It made your heart nearly crumble.

He was scared you were here to hurt him.

“I’m with the CIA,” you finally whispered, your tone no longer shaking despite his outright threat. For some reason, you knew he would not hurt you, “I’m here to watch out for you, make sure you’re safe.”

Bucky’s grip on your throat lessened the slightest bit, and his brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of why the CIA would surveil him. Not giving him a chance to speak, you continued, “And I’m pretty sure the person who hired me would come here and beat your ass himself if you killed me.”

You paused, nodded your head to the side slightly and said more to yourself than him, “Well, he’d try.”

“Who hired you?” Bucky repeated, his tone less harsh than before, but just as dark.

You took a beat to consider your options, but conceded defeat with a sigh, “Sam Wilson.”

Being so close to him, you could see every emotion that flashed through his face. As you watched him work through anger to frustration to annoyance, his grip on your throat loosened until his hand was just resting against your neck.

“Unbelievable,” Bucky grumbled, pulling his hand off of your neck and stepping back in one swift motion.

You let out a full breath, bringing a hand up to touch your throat where his metal hand had just been. You felt suddenly cold without his body heat by you, but it was a cold that you welcomed. If this was how he was going to thank you for trying to help him then you couldn’t wait to be away from him.

You looked over to see Bucky a few strides away, his phone pressed to his ear and his hand on his hip. Before you could speak to him, whoever he was calling must have picked up, but you didn’t have to guess at who it was.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bucky suddenly exploded, his jaw tight. Whatever Sam said didn’t appease him because his exasperation only intensified.

“You Sharon Carter’ed me!” Bucky gritted out, “Steve was clueless so he didn’t notice until she was on his doorstep with a gun, but did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“Sharon Carter’ed?” You mumbled, confused. Shaking your head, you took a step closer to Bucky, “Listen, if you’ll just give me a minute to explain,”

Bucky stopped you, pointing in your direction, “No, you don’t get to talk here.”

Shock crashed over you as he continued to argue with Sam over the phone. Indignation flared within your chest and you sputtered for a moment, trying to comprehend the fact that he had just shushed you in your own apartment.

“Nuh uh,” You interrupted, anger flaring hot in your veins as you stormed over to Bucky, “This is my apartment and you do not get to waltz in here, choke me out, then tell me I can’t speak.”

“You choked her out?” Sam shouted on the other side of the phone, so loud even you could hear it. Bucky’s eyes were hard as he dropped the phone to his side and took a step closer to you. He was menacing when he wanted to be, and right now, towering over you with a quiet sort of anger, he was. If only you scared easily.

“Oh really?” He nearly whispered, his anger flooding down at you. You could see him getting more frustrated the longer you stared him down right back, your chin tilted up and your gaze as leveled with his as it could be considering his height and stature, “You’ve been spying on me for weeks and now I’m the one invading your space?”

“I wasn’t spying on you, I was looking out for you. If you haven’t noticed, your friend is a little more than worried about you!” You fired back. You heard Sam saying something on the phone, but it was still down by Bucky’s side.

The two of you were staring each other down, that same thick tension in the air. Not thinking about the consequences, you reached down and snatched the phone from Bucky’s grasp and turned it on speaker.

Bucky looked at you in pure shock, as if he couldn’t believe you’d actually just taken the phone from him.

“You’re on speaker now, Sam,” You informed.

“Finally,” Sam sighed over the phone, his tone surprisingly even and patient, “Buck, you gotta understand where I’m coming from. You don’t answer anyone’s texts, you don’t check in, and I know for a fact you’ve had one or two unwelcome visitors at your door.”

“I can handle myself, Sam,” Bucky gritted out.

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to! I know that it’s hard with Steve gone, so-”

“No, you don’t know.” Bucky’s voice was final, and Sam paused, not seeming to fight with his statement. Bucky stared down at the floor, his arms crossed over his chest.

You couldn’t help but stare at him. There was a sadness in those words, one that nearly shattered your heart. Your anger towards the super soldier softened the slightest bit.

“You’re right, I don’t,” Sam conceded, “But I’m trying to reach out here. We don’t have many people left, man. I don’t want to lose another friend.”

That seemed to soften the edge of Bucky’s frustration so deeply that even the frown set into his face disappeared. In its place was resignation.

“I’m not here to intrude on your life,” You chimed in, making Bucky glance up to you, “I’m just here to make sure you’re safe.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Bucky grumbled.

“I’m not your babysitter,” You assured, “And trust me, after tonight I want to spend as little time around you as you do around me. So, let’s make a deal. I keep to myself and you don’t break into my place and try to kill me in my sleep.”

Bucky hesitated, his eyes surveying you closely. On the phone between you, Sam piped up, “And you have to answer my texts.”

Bucky groaned, running a hand through his short, dark hair before shaking his head. After what seemed like an eternity, he sighed in defeat, and you couldn’t stop the small smile of victory that tugged on your lips.

“Fine,” He gave in, his eyes turning up to lock with yours, “But if I see you tailing me one more time, deal’s off.”

“No promises,” You responded boldly, your heart pounding strangely as Bucky took a menacing step closer to you.

“Then no promises about breaking in,” He shot back. The two of you glared intensely at each other until a voice called out from the phone.

“Alright you two, knock it off,” Sam ordered, sounding so incredibly tired, “Now can I please go? You caught me right in the middle of my beauty sleep.”

You chuckled softly, a smile ghosting your lips again, “Bye Sam,”

You ended the call and handed the phone back to Bucky, who you found already staring at you. You couldn’t place the look in his gaze, but it seemed akin to disdain, so your smile dropped.

“How did you even get into my apartment?” You asked. Bucky kept his arms crossed over his chest, making his biceps bulge against his long-sleeve Henley.

“You tell me, you’re CIA,” He shrugged, looking too smug, “Or should I call Sam back and tell him he sent a novice to babysit me?”

“Stay out of trouble, Barnes,” Was all you said back, your jaw held tight.

“Have fun with your dishes,” Bucky dryly responded, brushing past you without another word towards your door. Frustration bubbled up within your gut, and it took every ounce of your patience to not turn and yell right back at him. So, taking a deep breath, you turned and watched him open your apartment door.

He paused and glanced back over at you before he was fully out, “And stay out of my way. I’m doing this for Sam, not because I need your help.”

Then he slammed your door and left.

Taking all of your energy not to scream, you let out another sigh and put a hand to your forehead. Gone was the distant, polite neighbor. You had failed epically, but you couldn't from here on out.

Bucky Barnes was going to make your life hell, and you already dreaded every second to come.

|||

Over the next month, your nods and hello’s in passing turned into grunts and, if you were lucky enough, the occasional insult you could fire back at.

In short, you loathed Barnes.

Looking back, you couldn’t fathom how his handsome features had drawn you in when you first met. Sure, he was still stupidly attractive, but now it was more frustrating than it was something to fawn over.

You still did your job as best you could, but you counted the days until Sam could come up to New York and take over the mission for you.

Currently, you were mulling over ways to subtly infuriate Barnes more than you already did as you walked back to your apartment complex from your run. You tried to get out and run at a park nearby a few times a week, but considering how much you hated running, you’d missed a few weeks in the process.

Today, though, you just had to go. You needed to clear your head after you bumped into Barnes this morning and he informed you that somehow, the potted plant hanging on your balcony “accidentally” ended up on the ground five stories down.

As you walked back into the cool lobby of your apartment building, you glanced up at the stairs that sat right beside the elevator. You paused for just a moment, considering if you should be healthy and take the stairs. That moment was swifter than you’d like to admit as you turned towards the elevator only to find the doors closing.

Against the protest of your legs sore from your run, you jogged over to the elevator, “Hey, hold the doors!”

As you approached, you saw a hand shoot through and stop the doors from closing just in time. As they opened back up, you sighed in relief, an easy smile on your features, “Thanks. I-”

As you stepped into the elevator, your words died. As you and the person who had held the elevator for you locked eyes, the both of you groaned.

“You have got to be kidding me,” You grumbled at the same time as Bucky Barnes.

The elevator doors shut, closing you into one of your worst nightmares—the two of you stuck together in a confined space. The air was heavy and the tension high, an uneasy silence settling in the air. Your chest tightened slightly and your body tensed up, almost as if you were waiting for something to happen. Deciding to be civil, you looked over at Bucky and offered him a cordial smile.

“Had a good day so far?” You asked, your voice strained.

Bucky just shook his head, “If you try to make small talk right now, I will throw you into the elevator shaft.”

Your smile dropped instantly, replaced by a grimace, “You are so violent, you should really talk to your therapist about all that pent up anger.”

“I hate you,” Bucky grumbled.

“Well that makes two of us.”

Almost as if on cue, the elevator comes to a grinding halt. The stop is so sudden that it jolts the box, making you gasp and grab onto the railing along the wall opposite Bucky.

“What the hell?” Bucky grits out, walking up and pushing the button to your floor repeatedly. When that doesn’t work, he pushes the emergency button only to have no response. That button must have been broken too.

Realizing suddenly your predicament, you brought a hand to the bridge of your nose, “This is not happening.”

Of all the times for the stupid elevator to break down, it chose now? When you were stuck inside with the one person in the world who hated you the most?

“Hello?” Bucky called out, banging on the side of the elevator.

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s gonna fix it,” You criticized, shaking your head at Bucky.

“Well what else are we supposed to do? The damn help button won’t work,” He fired back.

“I know you were born almost a century ago, but we have these things called cell phones and they do this magical thing where we can call for help.” You pulled out your phone and showed him the emergency call screen for show. Shaking his head, Bucky grumbled something about “insufferable” under his breath as you called for help.

While you were on the phone with emergency services, you explained your situation only to be told the fire department was caught up and wouldn’t be able to help for another hour.

“An hour?!” You exclaimed, already planning how you were going to beat the hell out of the management team for not fixing the stupid elevator.

“I’m sorry, that’s the best we can do,” The emergency operator apologized. Suddenly feeling guilty for you outburst on the poor worker just doing their job, you sighed.

“No, don’t be. It’s not your fault. Thanks for the help,” You amended, your tone softer this time. After hanging up, you slipped the phone into your pocket.

“Well, looks like we’re stuck here for a while so get-,” Your words halted abruptly when you looked up and saw Bucky opening the doors of the elevator by force, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting out of here,” He gritted back, shoving open the doors easily. You almost laughed when he was met with a solid brick wall. With a smug smile, you tilted your head at the soldier.

“You were saying?” You sweetly taunted. He shot you a death glare as he let go of the elevator doors, allowing them to shut back.

“It’s gotta be an easy fix,” Bucky mumbled to himself, walking back to the wall opposite you and beginning to bang on the side of the elevator.

You gasped as the elevator box began to tremble under his hits and you lurched forward, grabbing his bicep to stop his assault, “Stop! You’re gonna send us plummeting straight to the basement.”

“Well then maybe I’ll get lucky,” He grunted, shaking off your hold and going to hit it again. This time, real fear hit you.

“If we drop, you’d make it unscathed,” You began, and Bucky didn’t even look at you.

“Exactly, so what’s the-”

“I wouldn’t.” Your words are softer than even you’d expected, but it managed to halt Bucky’s assault on the side of the elevator. He glanced back at you, and in that moment you understood exactly what hung in the air unspoken. He was a super soldier, you were a normal human.

He couldn’t respond before the elevator gave a sick jolt.

You gasped, your knees nearly buckling from the fall. Before either of you could react, the elevator was careening down in a free-fall. You barely had time to scream when Bucky’s strong arm was around your waist and tugging you close, pressing you between the elevator wall and his body. He held you in a death grip, locking you against him and effectively saving your life.

Luckily, just as quickly as the fall had started, it stopped with a brain-shaking halt.

The silence that followed was thick, and you didn’t realize you were gripping Bucky’s shoulders until your mind finally was convinced you weren’t going to fall to your death. Coming to your senses, you felt your body pressed tightly up against Bucky’s and looked up to see him staring down at you, his brows drawn together and the hate in his eyes missing.

It was then that you realized you could no longer ignore the tension that was present whenever he was near you, because in this position it was overwhelming.

The moment was over as soon as it had begun. You were shoving him off almost as soon as he was letting you go. Breathless, you shoved Bucky’s shoulder, “What the hell, Barnes? You could have gotten us killed!”

“Then you would have failed your stupid mission,” Bucky pointed out, only making you angrier.

“You are infuriating,” You seethed, holding your hands out in exasperation, “Are you trying to get me to quit? Are you that insistent on shoving everyone else away?”

Bucky shook his head, his jaw held tight and his blue eyes on fire. He was staying silent, shutting down again like he often did. That only made you angrier, but a part of you yearned to get closer, to prove to him that you weren’t going to leave him.

Once again, as if on cue, the elevator began to move again with a jolt. You let out a breath of relief, your anger turning into exhaustion. Just as the elevator stopped, this time at your floor, you got off first, Bucky close behind.

“Fine, give me the cold shoulder,” You called out to him as you approached your door beside his. You fished out your keys and stopped, looking over at him as he ignored you and worked to open his door, “Do what you have to, but I’m not leaving you.”

Bucky froze, turning to look at you. Something in his gaze stirred your heart, but you kept your gaze strong and unflinching, “I’m seeing this mission through, whether you like it or not.”

Then you opened your door and went inside, leaving Barnes out in the hallway, still frozen with his keys in his door.

|||

That night, you couldn’t get to sleep.

You tried everything—sleeping supplements, reading, counting sheep. Nothing worked. Your mind refused to settle down, running over your elevator encounter with Bucky over and over again. The way he seemed to stall when you said you weren’t leaving him, the way he had grabbed you the instant the elevator dropped, the way you could still feel the burn of his arm around your waist.

The way being held by him had felt so infuriatingly right.

You covered your face with your pillow, willing yourself to forget what you just couldn’t seem to. You didn’t have to try long when the sound of something scraping on glass caught your attention. Slowly, you pulled the pillow off of your face and listened closely, the silence of your apartment settling over you like a blanket.

Maybe you had dreamt the noise. Maybe Bucky really was getting to you head and it was making you cr-

There it was again.

You sat up this time, your brows furrowed as you swiftly got out of bed. With silent feet, you crept to your window and pulled down one blind just enough for you to peer out into the dark night illuminated only by the haze of streetlights below.

Nothing. Nothing, nothing…there.

In the murky night, your strained eyes caught a glimpse of a rope hanging down off to the left of your window. Towards Bucky’s apartment. Looking a bit harder, you saw another, and then another. Then, now that you were listening, you began to hear the soft thuds of shoes against brick and iron and glass.

Someone was going to break through his window.

Suddenly vaulted into action, you jogged out of your room, grabbing the gun you kept on your nightstand as you did. You didn’t stop to consider the fact that you were only in a large t-shirt with no pants on. The only thing you could think about was Bucky sleeping next door while those intruders busted into his windows. In a matter of seconds, you were out into the hallway and pounding on Bucky’s door.

“Barnes, let me in,” You hissed, your voice low so as not to wake the neighbors. When there was no response, you pounded your fist against the door again. The sound mocked the repetitive thumping of your heart within your chest, its beats not only for the fight to come or the sudden burst of energy.

“Come on!” You pressed, in the middle of another round of knocking when the door flew open. On the other side, a very pissed and very shirtless Bucky stood, his muscular arm barring the doorway.

“This better be good,” Bucky grumbled, his voice closer to a low growl.

If this were any other time, you would have taken a moment to appreciate the sculpted plane of his body or even to notice the blanket strewn on the hardfloor indicating he didn’t sleep in a bed. You didn’t worry about any of that, though. Instead, you shoved past Bucky as soon as that door was opened, your gun raised.

“What the hell are you-”

Bucky was cut off by the shattering of his window.

You had four rounds fired off before the first two intruders could set their feet in the apartment. The blasts were muffled by the sound suppressor on your gun, but they found their targets with no less force or deadly precision.

“Shit,” Bucky cursed, the sound of his dog tags clinking as he sprinted over to the window just as the third and fourth intruders touched down. This time, these two made it down, the bullets lodging in the wall or their vests.

Then Bucky was on them, his metal arm catching one by the throat while he kicked the absolute shit out of the other, sending the intruder flying into the wall. The plaster cracked behind him and you shoved your gun into your waistband, no longer able to fire without risking hitting Bucky.

As Bucky incapacitated the intruder he had by the throat, you made sure the one he kicked stayed down. As the attacker staggered to his feet and rushed you, you dodged his clumsy hits easily and landed a crushing uppercut to the underside of his jaw. The sound of his teeth snapping together was sickening, but you were unfazed.

As the large attacker stumbled back, you rushed him and slid to the ground. You wrapped your legs around one of his and tugged, bringing the large invader crashing to the ground with a force that made the floor shudder. Moving quickly, you maneuvered yourself on top of the downed intruder and whipped out your gun, holding it directly at his head.

Suddenly, the apartment was silent except for the panting of both you and Bucky. You glanced up to see Bucky standing over the invader he was fighting, his bare chest heaving with breath. Probably more out of shock than exertion, you figured.

Turning your gaze down to the one pinned beneath you, you held the gun steady, “Who do you work for?”

The man smiled up at you, his teeth full of blood, “You’ll have to kill me,”

“Okay,” You said simply, moving the barrel of your gun to his shoulder and pulling the trigger.

The invader let out a strangled cry of pain at the nonfatal injury, his body writhing beneath you.

“Let’s try this again,” You gritted out, pushing the gun closer to his chin, “You tell me who you work for, or the next shot goes into your brain.”

“He’ll kill me for telling you,” The man nearly sobbed.

“Who’s he?” Bucky growled, staring down at the attacker mercilessly. When he didn’t respond, you clenched your jaw.

“Either die now for not telling us, or die later with a chance of making it away. Your choice.” Your words rang through the room as both you and Bucky stared down this terrified intruder. A pang of sympathy ran through you that was quickly smothered because in the end, he had come after Bucky.

And for some reason, that made your vision bleed red.

“Kingpin,” He finally cried, his eyes shut as his blood seeped into Bucky’s floor, “Kingpin sent us to silence the Winter Soldier.”

You had to fight to keep the shock from your features long enough to whip the butt of your gun across the blubbering man’s face and knock him out. Once he was silent beneath you, you stood slowly and looked over to Bucky. His jaw was clenched and his eyes holding that same haunted look they often did.

“I had a run-in with Kingpin as the Winter Soldier,” Bucky muttered, his eyes trained down on the floor where the four intruders were, “I managed to get past his defenses, tore through them like paper. What I found nearly sent him to prison for good if Hydra hadn't cut him a deal.”

The words broke over you, making your mind whir, “So if he’s coming after you now, after all this time,”

Bucky looks up at you, his blue eyes nearly knocking your bravado out, “Then that means he’s got something going on he wants to make sure no one finds out about.”

You took a moment to process the implications. Kingpin had something big going down, not that he didn’t always, but now it was more personal. Now, it involved Bucky, which meant it involved you.

“I’ll get this mess cleaned up,” Bucky sighed, running a hand through his short, dark hair, “Go back to your apartment.”

That was it? Not so much as a thank you?

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “That’s one way to thank someone who just saved your ass.”

“You didn’t save anything,” Bucky gritted out, taking a step closer to you in that intimidating way you found he often liked to, “If you hadn’t come by, I still would have woken up and taken those guys easily.”

“Are you kidding me?” You exclaimed, gesturing around to the mess, “I had two of those guys out before you were even fully awake, Barnes! Just admit I helped you,”

He was so close to you that you could barely reach out and you would be touching his bare skin. The temptation was strong, stronger than you’d like to admit. It was like he was a magnet and you a compass, and for the life of you, even when you wanted nothing more than to run away from him, you couldn’t stop yourself from being led right back into him.

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Bucky muttered, his voice low and making your stomach take a sudden swirl. “I don’t need your help.”

His eyes darted down to your lips, and then lower before returning to your gaze. It was then that you became fully aware of your lack of pants. Your cheeks heated slightly and you felt your stomach go taut from his attention, but you clenched your jaw and held your place.

“Clearly, you do,” You echoed back to him, refusing to back down. After staring off at him for a few more moments, you let out a frustrated groan and stepped back, snapping the tension in the room as you shoved your way to the door.

“Why do I even bother with you?” You gritted, stepping over a body, “I got up in the middle of the night and risked my life to help you and I don’t get so much as a-”

“Thanks,”

Bucky’s voice was so quiet that you almost missed it, but you had heard it. You froze in your tracks, your body going still except for your speeding heart as you slowly turned back around.

“What?” You whispered, unbelieving what he had just said. Bucky shot you a pointed glare, but let out a long sigh, some of the anger draining from his face. He looked tired, so incredibly tired.

“Thank you,” He repeated, the words cutting straight through your anger, “I know I can be difficult, it’s just…I’m not…”

He struggled with the words, his voice no longer flooded with frustration or annoyance. You spent a moment peering at the soldier, taking in the fact that he indeed had slept on the floor and noting the dog tags that hung around his throat.

Bucky Barnes was haunted by his past. So haunted, you guessed, that he was shoving away everyone in his life to make sure nothing bad could happen again. You still were infuriated by him, but you couldn’t say that you hated him.

In fact, you couldn’t begin to think if you ever really did. Or if maybe that hate was just a cover for the growing attraction you felt towards him, for the…

Ridiculous, you scolded yourself.

“It’s okay,” You finally announced, your words softer than you intended them to be, “I get it.”

Somehow, you found yourself offering him a sad, soft smile that made the hard edges of his face soften.

“You’re a lone wolf, I get that.” Your words made his jaw twitch, “And I’m not gonna tell you how to heal. You already know that answer. So, when the time comes that you’re ready to not do all this alone anymore, I’ll be right next door.”

Something changed deep within Bucky’s gaze, something that would have made you stay if you didn’t turn and walk towards the door. As you did, you felt the thumping of your heart. Your words had not just been an offer of help for this Kingpin situation. No, they had been more. An offer of help for anything, and you hadn’t realized you had meant them until they had come out.

Now you were left wondering for the rest of the night when exactly you had stopped hating Bucky Barnes.

And why you had the suspicion that you never hated him at all.

|||

As the dawn broke the next morning, so did your common sense.

No matter how magnetizing Barnes was, you had to keep your distance unless your mission directly required you to get close. You didn’t know how deep your…not hatred…ran, but you weren’t willing to find out. It could compromise this mission, and most dangerous of all, it could compromise Bucky.

You had to keep your head in the game. So, the next week or so was packed with you spending the day actively avoiding Barnes in the same way you had purposely collided with him at first. During the nights, you poured over documents and case files concerning Kingpin. You tracked his movements, hunted down where his men crawled back to after their missions, watched his cover businesses with a close, keen eye.

Kingpin was an intimidating mobster and could rule his forces with an iron fist of fear, but he wasn’t necessarily the brightest businessman. He was good at covering his illegal tracks, but not great. That was why you were able to catch the whispers around the upcoming charity gala a local socialite was hosting.

Word was, Kingpin and his men would be at the gala to finish working out a business deal with an associate. The same business deal, you suspected, that had him lashing out at not just Bucky, but several other known adversaries to his empire across the whole of New York.

So if Kingpin would be there, so would you.

As you finished getting ready for the gala and stood in front of your mirror to make sure everything was perfect, your mind strayed to the super soldier next door. You hadn’t seen him in over a week, not since that night where you saved his life. Even now, his apartment was silent.

You let out a long sigh and adjusted the contours of your dress and felt for the weapons beneath it. The floor-length number was deceiving to anyone with a keen eye, exposing parts of you that would normally hide weapons. Your thigh on your dominant side was almost fully exposed with a slit, and your bodice provided no way to get to a weapon if it was stored there.

You were a professional, though. Where you hid your weapons, no one would see until it was too late.

As you made your way out of your apartment, being sure to take the stairs this time, and then climbed into the ride you had waiting for you outside, your mind played through a million different ways this night could go.

Best case would be you catching wind of whatever business had Kingpin so wound up with no altercations in the meantime. Worst case…well, let’s hope you didn’t have to use those weapons you so painstakingly hid.

After a drive that wasn’t long enough, you clambered out into the star-lit, diamond-encrusted evening. The event hall was elegant as you walked in, decked in lavender and silver and crawling with New York’s most elite. In a crowd like this, you knew it would not be hard to find a man as large as Kingpin.

The longer you spent canvasing the gala, the more your worst case scenario started to play out in your head. As you had feared, Kingpin wasn’t here, not that you could see. Odds were, he sent someone in his place to do the negotiating. Now you had to find some way of finding that-

You gasped as your shoulder bumped right into a firm chest. You had been so busy scanning the room that you hadn’t been looking where you were walking. A warm, calloused hand gripped onto your elbow to keep you stable, and the way the touch made your brain fog should have been an indicator of who this man was.

But you did not think of it until you glanced up, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t…what are you doing here?”

As your gaze connected with Bucky Barnes, you saw the same flash of disbelief and then annoyance run through his crystal blue eyes.

“Are you serious, doll? You can’t even give me one night out without following me?” Bucky muttered lowly, his hand still around your elbow, holding you close.

Your chest skipped at that word, that nickname he had called you, but you ignored it and glared right back up at the man, “You know, and this may come as a shock to you, but not everything in my life revolves around following you,”

Bucky scoffed, tilting his head at you. Suddenly, you were fighting to overcome how stunning he was in the all black suit that he wore. His alluring gaze seemed to draw you in again, and you knew you had to get away from him.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, sweetheart.” Bucky assured, his tone like pure narcotics to your soul.

You let out a short laugh, “Trust me, I know.”

He shook his head, licking his bottom lip as he held your arm and started pulling you towards the exit, “It’s time for you to go.”

“Hey, you cannot just tell me what to do!” You muttered, pulling your arm from his grasp and coming to an abrupt halt. He gritted his jaw as he turned and looked down to you, but you beat him to the punch.

“If you’re here for the same reason as me, then Kingpin’s men are out here somewhere carrying out a business deal that could be huge. This could be our only chance to stop it.”

“Our?” Bucky repeated, and you stared at him indignantly.

“That’s what you caught from all of that?” You exclaimed, huffing out a breath, “Look, whatever is happening is big. If we don’t stop him, who will?”

“I said before, stay out of this. Go back to Langley and report your mission as a success, and leave me alone. These men are dangerous, don’t make this your fight.” Bucky’s words weren’t as angry as before, there was something in them, something almost desperate.

You held his gaze, taking a step closer, “Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve dealt with plenty of dangerous men.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked, almost taunting you as he cocked his head at you.

Your heart was racing, your skin was on fire and he wasn’t even touching you. Maybe leaving was the best idea.

You caught something out of the side of your vision, and looked over towards the dance floor. There you saw one of Kingpin’s associates you’d been tracking all week step out onto the dance floor with a woman you’d never seen before. As he pulled her into a waltz, you knew immediately that this was a business dance, not pleasure.

“There, 11 o’clock,” You whispered, turning your gaze back to Bucky as his gaze flitted towards the direction you gaze. He nodded once.

“That’s them,” He agreed.

“Come on,” You urged, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the dance floor.

“Woah, woah, I don’t dance,” Bucky protested, but let you pull him nonetheless. You cracked a half-smile as you looked back at Bucky, and you noticed the way something in his gaze shifted at the sight of your smile.

“Well tonight you do.”

As you pulled Bucky out into the slow dance alongside a few dozen other couples, you noticed the way his lips tipped up ever so slightly. The sight of that smile…it made your heart miss more than a few beats.

As the two of you joined the fray, Bucky tugged you into him so swiftly that you let out a gasp. Expertly, he guided one hand to the small of your back and grabbed your hand with the other. In a matter of moments, the two of you were dancing, and you looked back up at the soldier in wonder.

“I thought you said you don’t dance,” You mused. Bucky smiled, then turned his gaze to you.

“I don’t, doesn’t mean I can’t,” He informed.

In that moment, with your hand in his gloved metal one and him smiling down at you like that…it was enough to make you forget anything before this, before now, before him. The two of you danced, and for a moment both of you forgot why you’d joined the dance floor in the first place. Forgotten was business and missions and danger, the only thing left in the world was his hands on you as you danced.

You could hardly breathe as he led you around the dance floor, and you certainly couldn’t take your eyes off of his. You weren’t smiling anymore, but neither was he. You didn’t smile because you knew. In that moment, held in his arms and dancing like the two of you had been practicing this step your entire life, like you had been made to dance together, you knew.

You knew that no matter what unfolded in the days and weeks to come, whatever became of this mission, Bucky Barnes had ruined you. For no longer could you dance with anyone else. Not when you knew this, knew him.

He had ruined you in this moment, and for the first time in your life you understood why the Moon never left its orbit. The Moon was so enthralled with catching even a glimpse of the Sun that it was willing to bear the black of night if that’s what it took to bear the Sun’s rays.

Bucky Barnes had ruined you, and now you could never leave your orbit either.

“Doll, I-”

Whatever Bucky was going to say died as the two of you suddenly found yourselves dancing right beside Kingpin’s associate. That was the snap to reality that you needed, and you forced out1 the outrageous thoughts that had been plaguing you.

Thinking quickly, you pulled out of Bucky’s hold and stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder. This position let you inconspicuously listen in to what it was that the associate was saying to his business partner, and Bucky quickly caught on as he brought his hands to your waist and held you close.

You’d like to say that eavesdropping was the only reason you did this, but you’d be lying. Being held by him set your skin on fire, as if you’d been touched by lightning and survived. You needed this, you craved this, with his hands on your waist and his breath on your neck. But you had to focus right now, you had to hear what the associate was saying.

You forced your brain to switch into operative mode, forcing yourself to focus only on the conversation beside you.

“-depending on how much your boss is willing to pay. Timeliness like that is going to be extra,” The woman spoke.

“Money is not an issue, trust me,” The associate assured.

“Well then,” The woman responded, sounding pleased, “1.5 for the weapons and an extra 1 for the time bump. Do we have a deal?”

There was a pause, a consideration. Your heart sped up more than it was already racing. Weapons. An arms deal that Kingpin would no doubt use to spread onto the streets, to put a tighter noose around the neighborhoods he already kept under his thumb. And over two million dollars just for weapons? This was the biggest deal you’d seen up close. This could plunge New York into a deeper chaos than it already was.

“An even 2 and we have a deal,” The associate managed out, his tone taut.

“Then I will see you next week. And your boss had better be there, or the deal’s off,” The woman spoke with finality. And then there was silence, nothing but the waltz and the normal clamor of the gala.

Pulling back, you turned your gaze up to Bucky, whose gaze burned down on you with a certain clarity to his blue eyes.

“Got it?” He mumbled. You nodded, your eyes wide with excitement.

Smoothly, Bucky led you right off of the dance floor, offering his arm to you. You took it, making sure the two of you were walking in the direction opposite the associate. When you were mixed enough in the crowd, you spoke quietly, your tone flooded with vigor.

“Sometime next week, two million for an arms deal,” You informed. Bucky let out a sharp breath, his gaze forward just like yours as the two of you walked.

“A trade that big…”

“I know,” You whispered in response, your heart thundering. You stopped walking, pulling Bucky to look at you, “I could figure out a day, time, and place. Then, together we could crash their party with an army of SWAT and CIA hiding out nearby. We could keep two mill worth of weapons off the streets and put away Kingpin for a while.”

Bucky turned his gaze from you, his jaw clenched. You furrowed your brows up at the man, you were so sure he would be all over this mission. So why did he have that look in his eye?

Without looking down at you, Bucky finally spoke, “Like I said, there’s no we. I’m taking you back to the apartment and that’s where you’re gonna stay until this is over.”

You flinched back, so struck by his sudden change in demeanor that a shot of pain went through your chest. How could he be so cold after what happened on that dance floor? You couldn’t have been the only one to feel that…

“I don’t understand,” You breathed, indignation rising in your chest, “Don’t you want to take out Kingpin?”

“I do,” Bucky responded, finally looking down to you with that cold, shut-off look in his gaze that you knew all too well, “But not with you. You’re going home.”

He let go of you and turned, walking towards the exit of the gala. Sputtering, you followed after him, storming behind him into the brisk night.

“Are you kidding me?” You exclaimed as he gave the valet his ticket and they ran off to grab his car, “What happened to working together? This is my mission, Bucky and I’m not just going to give up on it.”

Bucky turned on you, his gaze boiling with something that wasn’t quiet anger, but felt a lot like it, “I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. Stay out of this one.”

You could see the valet bringing up the car and you knew that once we were inside, he would shut down. This was your last chance.

“Whether you want my help or not, you are getting it! It is my mission to keep you safe, Bucky and I’m not letting you do this alone.”

Bucky shook his head at you, muttering something about you being impossible as he caught his keys as the valet threw them to him. He sauntered up to the car, opening the door and gesturing for you to get in. Cheeks hot with anger, you stormed up and got in the car, adjusting your dress as he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s seat.

Just as you predicted, the ride back to the apartments was silent.

You knew what he was doing. He thought this was too dangerous, and he didn’t want you involved. That night in his apartment, you had seen how guarded he was to keep people from getting close. That dance, that had pushed the line and now he was not going to let you get into this mission. Frustration boiled up within you, and halfway through the drive, you finally exploded.

“This is bullshit!” You suddenly exclaimed, and you caught the way Bucky’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“We’re not doing this,” He muttered.

“Like hell we aren’t,” You fired back, turning to look at him even if he kept his eyes on the road, “I know why you’re banning me from this mission and I get it, I do. But-”

“You don’t know anything,” Bucky cut in, his voice low and almost menacing.

You laughed without humor, slowly losing your control, “You are impossible, impossible!”

Turning forward again, you raked your hands through your hair, “You are so difficult. One day you’re gonna need someone, and if you keep shoving people that care for you away, you’re gonna have no one!”

The car screeched to a sudden halt.

Your stomach dropped as you looked around the surprisingly quiet street, your heart thudding.

“What are you-”

“Get out.” Bucky gritted.

Your heart sank instantly. You looked over at him in astonishment, your eyes wide, “What?”

“Get. Out.” Bucky repeated, not even looking at you, “Walk home.”

“That’s like four miles from here, and I’m in heels!” You exclaimed. Bucky’s jaw tightened.

“You’re CIA, you’ll figure it out.”

Your heart slammed in your chest, and the words you had spit at him moments prior burned in your chest. You had crossed a line, and you knew it. You felt it, “Bucky, I’m sorry. I–”

“Get out of this car before I pull you out myself.” There was hurt in his eyes, and it made you want to die.

You had both said things to hurt the other, had both wounded each other.

As you stepped out of the car and into the night air, you realized that people could only be hurt by someone who held at least a part of them. And as you shut your door and Bucky peeled away into the night, you felt a piece of you go with him.

Swallowing thickly, you shook your head and pulled out your phone. You were already searching up a ride to take you to your apartment, but you walked as you did it. The cool night air was refreshing in a way, and you let out a long sigh, putting your phone down and looking around at the near-empty streets.

What had gone so wrong?

And so, you decided against calling a ride. Instead, you turned into a nearby, warm-looking bar and sat, drinking away your sorrows and working up the courage to make the long, lonely walk home.

|||

You were within a half-mile of your apartment, and you still hadn’t sorted through the storm in your mind.

All you knew was that this was more than a mission, and it had been for a long while.

“I gave you one job, and you couldn’t even accomplish it. One simple job.”

Your feet stalled, your head suddenly going quiet. You knew that voice. And, as you took one step closer to the alley that it poured out of and peered inside, what you saw confirmed it.

Kingpin.

In your muddled haze of a walk, you’d forgotten that one of Kingpin’s cover businesses was on the way back to your apartment. Now here you were, just around the corner of the mobster himself. Your eyes took in his massive frame hovering over a quivering man. A man that looked awfully familiar…

You managed to stifle your gasp as you recognized it as the man that gave Kingpin up to you and Bucky when he’d broken into Bucky’s apartment.

“I’m s-sorry boss, there was two of ‘em. I was lucky to make it out alive,” The man stammered. Kingpin hummed.

“You’re right, that is lucky,” He grabbed the man by his collar and hoisted him off of his feet, easily holding him in mid-air, “So tell me, what exactly did you give up to them to save yourself?”

“N-nothing boss! I would never give you or the operation up, never! I’m loyal,” The man pleaded.

You should go. You should hurry past and keep walking. But you just couldn’t, not when the man himself was standing right there and he might give up information on the arms deal you’d caught wind of.

Kingpin set the man back onto his feet and smoothed out the man’s collar, “I believe you.”

The man nearly sobbed, “Thank you boss, thank you.”

“But just an insurance policy,” Kingpin said, then motioned with one hand into the darkness of the alley. Two burly guards stepped forward, armed to the teeth.

“Kill him,” Kingpin spoke smoothly, then stepped back and held his hands together as the man begged and pleaded. Your heart thundered in your chest as the gunshot from one of the guards into the man rang through you, making you flinch slightly.

When the job was done, Kingpin walked up to his guards, “Filch reported back from the gala. Said he got the deal moved up to next Saturday. Make sure the streets stay quiet. We can’t let it get out.”

“Sure thing, boss,” The guard nodded.

Next Saturday, that gave you eight days. A smile tugged onto your lips and you were just about to move past the alley when a set of burly, vile hands closed around your shoulders.

“Well look what we’ve got here, a little birdie listening in.” The man purred, and your stomach sank to the floor.

You had to get away, and you had to do it now. You thrashed against the man’s hold, slipping your hand towards where you’d hidden a small but lethal knife. Kingpin couldn’t know that you’d heard. He couldn’t know. Your hand was inches from the knife when another one of Kingpin’s men came around the corner and grabbed your wrists in a bruising grip, yanking them in front of you.

“Hello there, pretty bird,” He greeted, and together the two men began to drag you into the alley. Sudden, blinding panic slammed into you and you knew instantly what you had to do.

If you pulled a weapon and beat the shit out of these guys like you knew you could, Kingpin would know you’d heard him and were someone to be worried about. Your best chance at making it out of this not only alive, but with the deal still set for next Saturday, you had to play dumb. You had to be a regular citizen, an innocent bystander scared of getting mugged.

And so you did.

You turned your anger into fear that wasn’t totally falsified, and you thrashed in the men’s grips.

“Please, let me go!” You begged, “You can take my money, my wallet, anything you want! Please!”

They’d gotten you into the alley by now, and darkness wrapped around you as Kingpin himself heard your cries. He paused, looking back at you and tilting his head curiously. Your pulse thundered so fast that you thought you’d faint.

“What’s going on here?” Kingpin asked, slowly walking up to you, towering over you even when he was a few feet away.

“Caught this pretty lady walking by, looking like she wanted to come say hello,” One of the men presented.

The smell of the alley nearly made you gag, the fabric of your dress already soiled at the bottom from the puddles of unknown liquid. Real fear was pulsing through you, and you let it. You shoved down the instincts drilled into you from your time in the CIA and let yourself be a citizen, a bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Please, you can have my jewelry, my money, anything you want,” You insisted, your eyes filling with tears that weren’t entirely fake.

“We’re not muggers,” Kingpin responded, his tone curious as he took you in, “What are you doing out here all alone, little bird?”

“My Uber canceled on me and I had to walk home from my party, please I don’t know what’s going on!” You trembled out.

Kingpin studied you closely, then tilted his head and said to the men holding you, “Search her,”

Panic was constricting your chest, and you shivered as the men began patting you down. You had to clench your firsts to keep from breaking one of their noses when one stayed a little longer than necessary on your breasts. There was a small breath of relief when they both stood back, having found none of your hidden weapons.

“She’s clean.”

Kingpin cracked a half smile and reached forward. You flinched back as much as the men holding you would allow, but that wasn’t enough. He grabbed ahold of one of your fists, raising it up to inspect. He looked back up at you, his gaze amused.

“You’re angry,” Kingpin mused, a smile ticking onto his lips, “You’ve got more fight in you then you’re letting on.” “Well ladies with fight who are dragged into alleyways don’t usually last long, do they?” You managed out, your eyes daring to meet his. To your surprise, he laughed.

“Let her go, boys. We’ve terrified her enough.”

You almost sobbed in relief when the men holding you let go. It worked. He was letting you go, he didn’t know. He didn’t-

That’s when you made your first and only mistake. You let your eyes travel the alley for a moment. But that moment, no matter how short, was enough. You saw the dead body of the man who had just been shot.

And Kingpin knew it.

He glanced back towards the body, then slowly back to you.

“Oh little bird, why’d you have to go and do that? I was really starting to like you,” He sighed.

Terror like you’d never known gripped you suddenly. Dread, real and cold pierced into your belly. You began to shake your head.

“No, no please I won’t tell anyone. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t-”

His massive hand gripped your jaw, cutting you off. You trembled terribly as he held your jaw and just peered at you, seeming to test you.

Finally, finally, he said, “I believe you.”

You sighed, but barely had a moment to breathe when he repeated those damned words from before, “But just as an insurance policy,”

He stepped back, letting you go and then gesturing to his men.

“Rough her up. Don’t kill her, just show her what’s gonna happen if she does decide to tell,” Kingpin stepped back into the dark alley, a smile starting on his lips, “Which I don’t think she will. Good night, little bird.”

“Wait,” You shook, glanced around at his goons who now surrounded you, “Wait, please,”

You had taken beatings before, you could do this. You could do this.

“Boss’s orders,” One shrugged, then crashed his fist into your jaw.

Then the onslaught began, and you let it happen. You let them beat you, let them kick you so hard you thought ribs cracked, let them bust your lip and bruise your cheek. You could have them all dead in moments, but you let it happen. You’d made it this far without blowing the mission to hell, you couldn’t give yourself away now.

So you stayed there on the alley floor, and you took it.

|||

By the time you finally made it to your apartment and stumbled up the stairs, you could barely stand.

Your head was spinning as you struggled to get your keys into the door. By the time you finally did, you shouldered your way in and didn’t even bother closing the door. You could barely think, barely see, barely feel anything besides the pain.

You’d taken worse beatings, sure, but it didn’t make this one hurt any less. Your breathing was labored as each breath made shooting pain pierce through your rib cage. Your dress was ripped and bloody and covered in filth from the alley floor. All you could taste was blood from the lip one of the men had split, and you were sure that if anyone were to see you, you’d look more like a walking corpse than anything else.

You stumbled over to your kitchen bar, gripping onto the surface for stability as you dropped your phone and clutch onto it. Your legs trembled from the effort of standing, and you didn’t even bother to switch the light on considering that would require more walking. All you wanted was to gather your strength, make it to your bathroom, and get all of this blood off of you.

Then you’d sleep for as long as your body would let you.

At least, that was the plan until there was a knock on your slightly open door.

You didn’t even have the strength to speak as the person pushed open the door and walked a few steps into your dark, silent apartment.

“Y/N, I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to right now, but…” Bucky paused, and the sound of his voice nearly made you sob. More than anything, more than even a bath or sleep, you wanted him to hold you. You were too tired to question the impulse.

Bucky sighed, and you could practically hear the indecision in his tone, “I turned around as soon as I forced you out, but I couldn’t find you. I’ve been pacing the entire night waiting for you to come back. I overreacted and…and I’m sorry.”

He’d gone back for you. He’d looked for you.

Your heart burned, and tears you didn’t fight worsened your already blurry vision.

You wanted to turn and run to him, you wanted to hold him and tell him that it was alright, that you were sorry too. But you couldn’t. If you let go of this counter, you’d collapse, and you knew that if you hit this floor, you weren’t getting back up tonight.

“You were just trying to help me, and I have such a hard time taking help and an even harder time letting people in and,” Bucky stopped with a sigh, cutting off his rant, “I’m stumbling through this, could you please just turn around and say something?”

If you weren’t on the brink of passing out, you’d laugh.

Bucky let out a frustrated huff, “I’m apologizing here, are you even listening?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but blood came out instead and you let out a short cough.

“Fine,” Bucky gritted, clearly trying to hold back his emotion, “I’ll just…leave you be.”

Panic disrupted your pain and you managed to brace your weight with one hand on the counter and turn towards where Bucky was already walking towards your door. He couldn’t leave. You needed him.

“Bucky,” You strangled out, your voice exhausted, “W-wait,”

Bucky froze, his gaze turning back to you with his brows furrowed. That’s when the light of the hallway broke upon you, and his eyes widened in horror as he saw the blood and dirt and bruises.

You heard him say your name like a vow, but then the world began to spin and you were collapsing.

You barely felt the thud of the floor as you slammed against it, your body bloody and broken and giving up for the night. You heard the pounding of footsteps, felt the floor tremble as Bucky slid to his knees beside you. His hands were so gentle, so heart-breakingly gentle, as he lightly touched your bruised cheek. You watched through a blurred gaze as he kneeled over you, his jaw tight and his eyes wild.

“You’re okay, doll, I got you. I got you,” Bucky promised, ever so tenderly pulling your broken body into his lap. He cradled your head with his hand, his eyes sweeping over you to take in the extent of your injuries.

“Shit,” He swore, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”

“Not your fault,” You managed, a tear slipping down your cheek.

Bucky shook his head, his jaw clenched so tight that you saw his muscles ticking. His breaths were shallow as he caressed a finger down your cheek before gathering you in his arms as gently as he could. You groaned in pain as he stood, holding you close to himself with ease. But even despite the pain, he was holding you, and that was something you never thought you’d feel again.

“I know baby, I know,” He whispered, his words soothing you through the pain. He carried you out of your apartment, careful to close the door before carrying you into his place. You felt your consciousness slipping now that you were safe. You actually had never felt safer than when you were here, in his arms.

Bucky set you down on his counter, the cool material taking the edge off of the aching of your body. Before he could clean you up or bandage anything, Bucky stood close to you, his hand staying on your cheek. You leaned into it, knowing you wouldn’t have if you weren’t half-asleep right now.

“Doll, I need you to look at me,” Bucky urged, a cold, ferocious tone to his voice that you didn’t think was for you. You managed to pry your eyes open and clash your gaze with his. In it was a cold fury, “Who did this to you?”

“Kingpin’s men,” You mumbled, and Bucky stiffened, “I caught…word of the deal, but he…he saw me. Only way to…to not blow it was to…to-”

“Play the bystander,” Bucky finished for you, and you nodded. Bucky shook his head, “You stupid, brave girl.”

You managed a smile, but the movement pulled at the split in your lip and made you wince.

“You can sleep now, doll. I’ve got you,” Bucky whispered. You nodded, letting your eyes flutter closed. You felt his hand caress your cheek, his fingers lingering on your skin.

Then, in the near dark of sleep, Bucky let out a defeated sigh.

“Oh darling,” He sighed, then there was a press of a kiss to your brow and whispered words against your skin, “How the hell am I supposed to let you go when this is all over?”

|||

“Bucky?”

Your voice rang through Bucky’s apartment, amusement heavy in your tone. He hummed in response, his back to you as he slaved away at his small stove.

Before you already sat a fresh coffee, eggs, toast, and fruit. You couldn’t help but smile. The movement pulled at your healing lip, but it didn’t hurt anymore.

“It’s been two days. You don’t have to keep apologizing,” You called out. Bucky turned around to you, holding a pan in one hand.

“I’m just making breakfast,” He tried, but you just raised an eyebrow at him. With a sigh, Bucky set down the pan, and walked over to the counter, settling his hands down on the other side of where you sat.

“Y/N, you didn’t see what I did that night,” Bucky mumbled, not meeting your gaze, “If you could have seen how you looked, all that blood…”

Your heart strung in your chest. You slept nearly an entire day after the incident, and then spent the next day being fussed over by Bucky. You had a few bruised ribs and some nasty shiners, but nothing serious luckily. In all that time, the two of you had avoided the subject of that night besides the both of you apologizing to the other profusely.

“Buck, listen to me,” You whispered, his pained gaze finally rising to yours, “That was a heated night, we both did and said things we didn’t mean. We apologized for that, it’s behind us. But what happened to me in that alley,”

You paused hesitating only a moment before you threw caution to the wind and reached across the counter, grabbing his hand. His metal hand. His eyes widened a fraction and something changed in his gaze, something that made your heart miss a step.

“What happened to me in that alley was not your fault. That one was all me,” You insisted. Bucky squeezed your hand, the cool metal soothing your skin.

“But if I had just kept you in the car, if I hadn’t overreacted like that-”

“Then we wouldn’t know when the deal was going down,” You reasoned, “And if I were you, I would have kicked me out of the car too.”

Bucky let out a low laugh, shaking his head. His thumb ran across your skin absentmindedly, making your mind muddle, “Fine.”

You raised your eyebrows, a smile dancing on your lips “So does that mean we can move on? Not that I mind you making me breakfast.”

“Don’t push your luck, doll,” Bucky warned, a smile tugging at his lips. Letting go of your hand, he walked around the counter and into his living room, walking over to his coffee table where two files sat. You swiveled around on the barstool, watching him curiously.

As if he felt your gaze, Bucky spoke again, “While you were getting your beauty sleep in, I found where the arms deal is going down. So, if we’re gonna crash that party, we better start planning.”

A thrill went through you, and you sat up straighter. You watched as he turned and walked back to you with the files in his hand. Sure enough, he handed you one of them. You opened the front, seeing the page filled with information on Kingpin, his empire, and the arms deal. You looked up at Bucky with wide, bright eyes.

“We?” You taunted. Bucky rolled his eyes, grabbing the front of your file.

“I can still take this back,” He warned. You smiled, pulling it back towards you and out of his grasp. His grumpy demeanor didn’t scare you, nor did it frustrate you like it did before.

“Too late,” You said sweetly, looking up at him as he stood before your seated frame. He shook his head at you, a half smile he tried to hide on his lips as he stepped back.

“Alright CIA,” Bucky announced, flipping open his file, “Show me what you got.”

|||

It was Saturday night, and the air was thick with anticipation.

You and Bucky sat in his car, staking out the trainyard where the arms deal was set to be going down. The walkie set before you crackled to life.

“How’s it looking?” Sam Wilson asked. You smiled at the sound of his voice, happy to have him here. Once you briefed him on what was happening, he just had to have a piece of it.

“Nothing so far,” You replied, your eyes sweeping across the darkened yard packed with parked trains, “We’ve still got some time, though.”

“I have RedWing watching from the skies, so I’ll keep you posted,” Sam informed.

“I hate that damn thing,” Bucky grumbled. You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing.

“What was that?” Sam asked.

“Nothing,” You answered, putting your hand over Bucky’s mouth just as he’s about to repeat his statement, “Tell RedWing we said thank you!”

As soon as the radio went quiet, Bucky pulled off your hand, staring at you in indignation.

“You are getting too comfortable with me,” He gritted. You shrugged, trying not to look too smug.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” You quipped. Bucky was grumbling under his breath about something, and you were just about to ask him about it when something caught your eye in the distance. You sat up, pointing towards the left side of the yard.

“There,” You announced, your tone serious, “You see it?”

Bucky leaned forward, following the direction you were pointing. He nodded, reaching forward and grabbing the walkie.

“Sam, two SUVs rolling in. You got ‘em?”

“I see them,” Sam responded, his voice all business, “Looks like it's the dealers. The weapons are probably stashed in one of the train cars somewhere. I’ll run a scan, you guys get out there.”

“Will do, comms going in,” Bucky replied.

The two of you slipped the comm links into your ears, checking your respective guns before exiting the car. You both jogged towards the first train car parked in the massive yard, getting cover as fast as possible.

“Be advised, the dealers have associates fanning out through the trainyard.” Sam’s voice crackled through the comm.

“Copy,” You spoke softly, your back pressed against the train, “We’ll take care of it.”

Looking over to Bucky, you nodded once at him before he led the way, gun raised as he cleared the corner. The two of you worked systematically through the yard. Sweeping out slowly in search of the associates. This place was a maze, making it ideal for deals like this. If you wanted a chance at taking the op down, you had to get these guards out.

You and Bucky paused at a break in the train, and this time you led as you inched forward and checked the corner. Seeing a guard standing watch at the corner, you pulled back and looked at Bucky. Without even having to say a word, you and Bucky worked together as if you’d been doing it for years.

You crouched down, holstering your gun and slipping out a knife. You took a beat to breathe before you slid forward, around the corner. The noise made the guard swivel her head, but she made the mistake of not looking down. With the deadly sharp knife, you made it to her feet before she noticed you.

Then, you whistled. A quiet, simple tone. With furrowed brows, she looked down to see you, crouched by her feet with a knife. Her brows rose and she opened her mouth to alert someone, but Bucky was on her, his hand around her mouth. That’s when you struck, slicing the tendon at the back of her heel.

Bucky’s hand muffled her scream as she dropped, and you stood in response, landing a killer blow across her temple and knocking her out. When the scuffle was over, the trainyard was silent. With a breathless smile, you looked up to Bucky.

“We make a pretty good team,” You whispered. He shot you a pointed look.

“I don’t do teams.”

You followed him as walked past the downed guard, a smirk tugging at your lips, “That’s right. You’re a lone wolf.”

Bucky stopped in his gait, nearly making you run into him. He turned and shot a glare at you, one that let you know you were getting under his skin. You held your hands up, showing him you were backing off the subject. He shook his head at you and kept walking.

“You do make a good team,” Sam intervened, making you smile triumphantly.

“Sam, I swear-” Bucky began, but you darted up, covering his mouth with your hand to silence him. He saw the guard rounding the corner a second after you did. Luckily, the guard hadn’t seen you.

Not yet, at least.

Thinking quickly, Bucky grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you up into the opening of a nearby, darkened train car. You landed inside silently and turned, waiting for Bucky who jumped in a second later. Swiveling his gaze around, he noticed the same problem you did.

The car was full of weapons. The weapons.

Not only did this endanger the both of you should the deal start soon, it also left little room for you to hide. Bucky solved that issue swiftly as he turned and urged you against a stack of explosives, his body pressed against yours instantly, caging you into the darkness and making sure the two of you were invisible.

Or, you realized with a start, making sure you were invisible.

You could see just far enough to look up and see Bucky peering down at you. His body was against yours, and his face was so near to yours that you could move half an inch and your lips would be touching. His pine and whiskey scent washed over you, intoxicating you, making you forget for a moment where you were.

Bucky seemed to do the same as his hand moved from beside your hand and he swept a thumb against your cheek. Lightning scattered across your skin where he touched, and you nearly forgot how to breathe.

You wanted to kiss him. You needed to kiss him.

Bucky’s eyes were darting between your lips and gaze, and your heart thundered in your chest. You were sure he could feel it with your bodies pressed so tightly together, and the uptick of the edge of his lips told you he did. Your lips itched in anticipation, burning even as they were kept apart from his.

Bucky’s hand moved from your cheek down to rest against your throat, just as it did that day in your kitchen all those months ago. You knew that he did it to get a better feel of your pulse, and your cheeks heated in response. His lips were nearly touching yours and his hand was on your neck and you thought you might faint.

He was totally in control of you, and he knew it.

With a half-smirk that made your knees nearly buckle he whispered, “Do I always make you this nervous?”

You wanted to banter back, to shoot a petty insult at him, but you couldn’t think of anything but his lips on yours. You wanted it so badly, and you could tell Bucky did too because the hand that wasn’t on your throat was clenched tightly, as if he was restraining himself. You nudged your chin up a fraction, stopping just short of his lips, leaving the decision up to him. Bucky moved, and when his lips were almost touching yours-

“I found the weapons,” Sam’s voice poured out of RedWing, who sat hovering right in front of you and Bucky.

You and Bucky jolted apart, the coast clear from the guard and the both of you coughing or clearing your throat.

“What?” Sam asked, his tone taunting, “Did I interrupt something?”

“Sam, if RedWing doesn’t fly away I’m gonna break it,” Bucky threatened lowly.

“What, are you mad that he’s c-”

Bucky lunged for RedWing, who turned and flew away just in time. You couldn’t help but smile, struggling to hold in your laughter as Bucky turned and shook his head, clearly wound up. When he saw the look on his face he pointed a finger in your direction.

“Not a word,” He commanded.

“Yes sir,” You teased, shoving his shoulder lightly as you passed him to inspect the weapons. What you missed as you peered into the weapons crates was the way Bucky smiled at you as you passed, a real smile unlike any of the one’s he’d given since the 40’s.

“Look at all this,” You breathed, inspecting box after box of weapons of all sorts.

“And there’s at least six more cars just like it,” Sam informed over the comm. You shook your head, picking up a rather nasty looking bomb.

“We better get a move on, Kingpin’s bound to be here at any moment.” Your words caught Bucky’s attention and he nodded, walking towards the opening of the train car and hopping out. Wordlessly, you followed. As you jumped out of the car, Bucky grabbed you by the hips and slowed down your descent, setting you safely on the ground. His hands burned on your waist, and that tension from before returned in full force.

“I had that, you know,” You informed, raising a brow at him. He just smirked.

“I know.”

Then let you go and walk away, finally letting you take in a breath. As you followed him, you shook your head.

This was going to be a long night.

|||

It took twenty more minutes for you and Bucky to clear out the guards without any of them reporting back a disturbance.

And, right on time, Kingpin and his men showed up

You watched as the massive, hulking man sauntered up to the center of the trainyard where the dealers, led by the woman from the gala, stood waiting. You stood pressed against a train nearby with Bucky against the one across from you. Overhead, Sam was waiting for your signal to move in.

It would be your job to make sure the SWAT team rolling up outside had enough time to infiltrate and secure the weapons that they could. In the meantime, you, Bucky, and Sam would ambush the deal, taking out as many operatives as you could and securing Kingpin and the Dealer.

But right now, your mind wasn’t on the plan. No, you were stuck staring at the goons who waltzed up with Kingpin. You recognized three of them as the men who pummeled you that night after the gala. Noticing your clenched jaw, Bucky followed your gaze to the men. Understanding broke over him and you glanced over to see a certain fury flood his gaze. He looked back to you, his gaze clashing with yours.

“Which ones?” Was all he whispered, low enough so he couldn’t be heard by anyone except for the comm link. You heard the edge in his voice, and maybe it was wrong, but you loved it.

“The two on his right and second to the left.”

Bucky nodded, staring down the three men. He looked back to you, “You want them?”

A smile ghosted your lips. You could see the restraint in the way his shoulders were held tensely and the whitening of his knuckles on his gun. He wanted them, but he wanted you to have the choice first.

And you fell in love, right there. It began with the dance, but it was done now. There was no going back.

“Share?” You offered, and Bucky’s lips tipped up in a smile.

The two of you turned your attention back to the deal, straining enough to hear the conversation flowing from Kingpin and the Dealer who met in the middle.

“I’m not seeing my weapons,” Kingpin noted, his hands clasped before him. The woman smiled.

“The money first. Then you’ll get your weapons.”

Your hands tightened around your gun, waiting for Kingpin’s next move. He surveyed the Dealer before nodding, turning back to his man and motioning. That was it, this was your chance.

“Now,” You whispered, and instantly the sound of bullets from somewhere to the right blasted through the air.

Sam’s distraction.

The Dealer and Kingpin snapped their gazes towards the sound.

“What the hell-”

That’s when you and Bucky swept in, guns raised and bullets flying before the group knew what was happening. Chaos broke out, but every time someone strayed from the center to flee into the trains, Sam was there to guide them back.

The scene was a flurry of bullets and knives, of yelling and screams, but in the end it was you and Bucky who were left standing amongst the group of downed guards. Of course, there were a few left standing besides Kingpin and the Dealer, one of which happened to be one of the men who beat the shit out of you after the gala.

You did not miss how one of the other men who’d beat you wasn’t just unconscious nearby, but his neck was twisted at a wrong angle with Bucky standing nearby. The last of three was lying somewhere in the mess, shot and bleeding out.

Silence settled over the scene as Sam slammed down on the top of one of the train cars, gun raised. Bucky stood by the Dealer, and you by Kingpin. The two criminals stood silently, their hands raised in submission.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” You announced, keeping your gun pointed at Kingpin. He snapped his gaze to you, and surprise flickered through it followed by a sort of…admiration that made your skin crawl, “A SWAT team is closing in on the weapons now, so the two of you are going to call off anyone else you have stationed and come with us, without a fight preferably.”

“Little bird,” Kingpin greeted, making your pulse spike. You didn’t want to look at him, but you did anyway, and you hated the way you shook as you did, “It’s not often I’m surprised, but I gotta say, you’ve got me speechless here.”

You gritted your teeth, but it was Bucky who called out “Clearly not speechless enough,”

Kingpin laughed, seeming almost at ease. He started to lower his hands and you took a step closer, your gun held strong before you.

“Keep your hands where I can see them!” You ordered.

“Okay, okay,” Kingpin complied, raising his hands up, “But I just want to say, you really shoulda thought this out more.”

You furrowed your brows, “Wh-”

You couldn’t even get the words out when three of the nearby train car doors slid open, and guards poured out. Your heart shot into your throat, and you didn’t even have the chance to shoot when twenty guns were pointed at you and twenty more at Bucky. You shot a nervous glance towards Bucky, who shared the same look.

“Sam, go,” You whispered, and he flew off without another word. He needed to get the SWAT team in here now, or you and Bucky wouldn’t make it long. On the bidding of Kingpin’s army, you and Bucky set your guns down slowly.

“Alright,” Kingpin announced, sighing as if this were just another Saturday night, “Now here’s what’s really gonna happen.”

He walked up to you, and off to the side you saw Bucky immediately lunge forward towards him. He couldn’t make it far before Kingpin pulled out a gun of his own and pointed it at your head.

Bucky froze.

“Leave her alone,” Bucky ordered, his voice dark and menacing.

“Now it’s getting fun,” Kingpin mused, ignoring Bucky completely and stepping closer to you. You clenched your fists to hide the way they shook.

“You’re gonna hop up to this train car here and get my weapons out, make sure they’re what I wanted. Then, you’re gonna call off the SWAT team, and we’re gonna walk out of here,” Kingpin said simply.

“Not happening,” You gritted out.

“Funny, I don’t remember giving you a choice,” Kingpin sighed before grabbing your arm and looking to the dealer, “Which one has the weapons?”

She smirked, pointed at the train car nearby Bucky. It was torture to be dragged past him and not be able to touch him. Not for lack of trying, either. As you went by, he made a break for you, shouting your name. It took eight men to restrain him.

Eight men, that’s how many it took to hold him steady.

And, you figured he was holding back since there was a gun to your head.

“Oh, and package the soldier up. I want to have a few…words with him later.” Kingpin ordered, and panic blinded you. You reared back helplessly, struggling against his iron grip as you had to watch the men try to subdue Bucky and get him into handcuffs.

Your panicked gaze met his, and all you could do was pray Sam was close with the SWAT team. You couldn’t rely on that, though. Kingpin was going to kill you and then Bucky.

You could die, so long as Bucky didn’t.

A plan began to spin in your head as Kingpin shoved you up into the train car.

“Now, grab a gun from in there and show it to me,” Kingpin ordered, but then gave you a knowing smile, “And don’t try anything, or I’ll have a bullet in your boyfriend’s head.”

“On our way!” Sam called through the comm, but you were running out of time. The men were already hauling away Bucky, and you had to act fast.

Turning into the dark train car full of weapons, you tried to lift a box and pretended to fail. Turning to look down at Kingpin, who still stood on the ground, you gritted, “I can’t get it. It’s too heavy.”

Maybe it was his built-in trust of you from your encounter that night after the gala, or maybe it was because he thought you were under too much emotional duress, but he believed you.

He bought it, and he hauled himself into the train car for everyone to see.

“You better not be-”

Before he could speak again or anyone could react, you’d pulled the bomb you picked earlier off of your belt and pulled the pick. Gasps and shouts rang out through the yard as you held the live explosive in your hand and made sure you stood between Kingpin and the exit of the train car.

“Y/N NO!” Bucky shouted, his voice cracking. With a bare pull of his arms, the cuffs on his wrists snapped and he made a move for you.

A handful of guns were pressed into Bucky’s head, stopping him cold. In response, you held the motion-induced explosive tighter and pushed it further towards Kingpin, who had backed as far as he could against a stack of crates. Terror was clear across his face, which brought a sick sort of delight.

“You shoot him, and I drop it,” You announced, and once again the yard plunged into silence.

Anyone who could see the situation knew you had the upper hand. If anyone killed you, the bomb would hit the ground and kill Kingpin. If Kingpin tried anything on you, you’d drop the bomb and kill the both of you. You were locked in a stalemate, and now you were going to win.

“Now, put your guns down.” Your voice rang through the trainyard, but no one acted. You lifted your brows and nodded, turning your head towards Kingpin. Panic flared in his eyes and he shouted, “GUNS DOWN! Put your damn guns down!”

You turned your head and watched as everyone did as they were told. Your eyes snagged on Bucky, who had a desperate look on his face. He shook his head, but you ignored his silent pleas.

“You, the Dealer and all your forces are going to stand down. You’re going to wait patiently for SWAT to get here,” You lifted your chin, “Or I’ll drop this and we both go.”

“You wouldn’t,” Kingpin stuttered.

“You really want to call my bluff? Go ahead, end your criminal empire in one moment of stupidity,” You dared.

Kingpin took a moment to survey your gaze before he shook his head, “You’re crazy.”

You didn’t miss a beat.

“The things you do for love.”

That’s when you heard the rustling of gear and looked over to see the SWAT team storming in, guns raised and shouting at the Dealer and all of the assorted criminals throughout the yard. Taking in a trembling breath, you looked back at Kingpin.

“Game over, little bird,” You lifted your chin, and Kingpin’s eyes flared.

“This isn’t over,” He assured.

“Sure it isn’t,” You replied easily. Well, as easily as you could with a live bomb in your grasp.

You heard the clanging of the train car and looked over to see Bucky inside, his eyes deadly and his jaw clenched tightly as he grabbed Kingpin.

“Out,” Bucky growled, throwing him to the ground outside. Officers were on him instantly, but Bucky wasn’t paying attention, instead, he was on you.

“Bucky, stay-” You warned with a trembling voice, stepping back to keep the bomb from him. Bucky wasn’t listening to you, though, He cut you off and cupped your cheeks.

“What the hell were you thinking? You could have died!” Bucky nearly shouted, but you didn’t miss the way his voice shook.

“He was going to take you, and I couldn’t let him do that,” You whispered, tears gathering in your eyes.

“So you pulled a bomb on him?” Bucky pushed. A tear slipped down your cheek and Bucky wiped it away, shaking his head at you, “Don’t ever do that again, don’t ever risk your life like that for me again.”

“No promises.” Your voice was trembling badly, and your hand was clenched so tightly around the bomb that your fingers hurt, “Bucky, I’m scared.”

You heard Sam call for a bomb squad in the distance, but you didn’t tear your gaze from Bucky. He pressed his forehead to yours, “I know, baby. But you’re gonna be alright.”

“What if I drop it?” You whispered, only allowing your fear to be heard and seen from Bucky.

“You’re not gonna drop it,” Bucky assured, reaching forward and holding the explosive over your hand.

Buck, don’t-”

He held fast, closing both of his hands around yours and the bomb, “You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

“Sam, how long on that bomb squad?” You called out, another rogue tear burning down your cheek.

“They should be here any minute.” Sam’s reply made the tension in your chest ease slightly, and as if on command, the bomb squad came running up to the train car.

Bucky’s hands were solid around yours, and his gaze was unflinching and unafraid. He had you. That thought made your heart rate slow. He had you, he had you.

“So what do you have here?” A lady asked, jogging up and hopping into the train car, looking down at the explosive. She hummed, nodding before reaching into her kit. You looked down to watch her work, new fear ripping through you.

“No, just look at me,” Bucky ordered, making your gaze snap up to his. You nodded, doing your best to hold his gaze as the woman worked on the bomb.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” You murmured, the fear making your inhibitions lowered, “I don’t think I ever told you that.”

Bucky’s lips edged up into a smile, “Well, I figured you thought so considering how fast your heart was beating in that train car a few minutes ago. Or were you thinking about something other than my eyes?”

His charm worked perfectly, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Look at us,” You mused, glancing down at the bomb for a moment before looking back up to Bucky, “A few months ago you wanted to kill me, and now we’re holding a bomb I pulled to save your ass, again.”

“No, I still want to kill you sometimes,” Bucky amended, but the words held no merit.

“Alright,” The bomb squad lady said, grabbing onto the underside of the bomb, “You can let it go now. I’ve got it.”

Your smile faded and you locked your gaze with Bucky’s again. He pulled one of his hands off and your grip on the explosive tightened. You shook your head slightly.

“It’s okay,” He murmured, nodding to you, “Let it go.”

Bucky slid his hand that was left on the bomb to yours, intertwining your fingers and slowly pulling your hand off. Before you knew it, Bucky had managed to pull your hand off the grenade. In its stead, Bucky held your hand tightly, pulling you instantly into his chest.

You let out a shuddering sigh of relief, leaning your head on Bucky’s shoulder. Slowly he pulled back, keeping your hand in his, “Come on, let’s go.”

You nodded, your fear ebbing as the two of you jumped down from the train car. In an instant, Sam was at the two of you, nearly knocking you over with a hug. You laughed, letting go of Bucky’s hand and hugging Sam back.

“You are insane!” Sam exclaimed, letting go of you and shaking his head, “Absolutely insane.”

You smiled, “Thanks,”

Sam laughed, shaking his head as he walked over to Bucky, “So not a compliment.”

After he checked in with Bucky he turned and faced the two of you.

“Good work, guys. Glad to see you’re not killing each other here.”

“Yet,” You and Bucky happened to say at the same time.

Sam smiled, “I better be off, I’ve got a mission I left to help out here.” Pausing, he looked over to you and gestured to Bucky, “Take care of him?”

You smiled, nodding, “Always.”

The two of you said your goodbyes as Sam turned and flew off. With a long sigh, you turned and began to make your way back to Bucky’s car.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I could go for some food right now.” You announced.

“Wait,” Bucky stopped you, grabbing your arm and pulling you around to face him, “What you said back there to Kingpin…did you mean it?”

For a moment, you considered playing dumb and asking what he meant. But you knew what he meant, and he knew you did. You had inadvertently said that you loved him, and because of the bomb situation you almost thought you’d make it out without having to confront it.

You held Bucky’s gaze that was searing into you, and suddenly you were overcome with that same sensation to kiss him as before. With him standing this close to you and after what you’d just been through together, it took all of your strength to hold back. The tension in the air between the two of you as he waited for your response was maddening.

“Well, I did nearly blow myself up for you so take that as you-”

“You are infuriating,” Bucky huffed, tugging you closer so that your body was flush against his. Your joking ended immediately, your pulse flickering wildly as his lips danced just out of reach of yours. His blue eyes were dark as he stared down at you, each of you daring the other to make the first move.

Your lips brushed against his as you spoke into the silence, “I meant it.”

And then his lips were on yours. His arm was around your waist, pulling you tight as his other tangled into your hair. This kiss had been brewing for months, and you could feel it. Lightning danced across your skin as he kissed you desperately, in a way that made your arms tighten around his neck to keep yourself from falling. He nipped at your bottom lip softly, then pulled away and moved to hold your face in his hands.

For a long while, Bucky just stared at you with a soft smile playing on his lips. You smiled, still dazed from the kiss.

“What?” You asked.

He ran a thumb across your cheek tenderly, “I was just trying to think back to when things changed between us. But…but I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.”

Your smile widened and you surged forward, kissing him again. Pulling back, you gazed up at him with an amused glint in your eyes.

“And when you were choking me in my kitchen, threatening to kill me, that was you showing your love for me?” You asked.

Bucky’s grin turned suave and playful as he threw his arm across your shoulders and walked with you towards his car, “Well, you seemed to like it enough in that train car.”

Your cheeks heated and you scoffed, slapping his muscled chest as the two of you walked.

“Jerk,” You laughed out, and he held you closer to him with a smile.

“I love you too.”

#angst #fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x fem!reader #the winter soldier #fatws bucky #angst oneshot #sam wilson #enemies to lovers

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actuallysaiyan · 2 months

Note

hihihi!! this is for your lovely valentines day event!! i was thinking maybe SDV Sebastian tries to plan the most romantic Valentine’s Day, but everything falls through and he has to try and improvise to impress reader! it can be nsfw or sfw its totally up to you!! :)) 💕

warnings: mentions of drinking, use of vibrator, Sebastian is a nasty little thing, Robin knows y'all are gonna get nasty word count: 1.1k pairings: Sebastian x Fem!Reader summary: Valentine's Day usually sucks for Seb, and this one is no different...except he really needs it to go well despite all his plans crumbling before his eyes.

Sebastian cannot believe how terribly this is going. After all the planning he put into today, it was just all crumbling before his very eyes. He’s been pining after you ever since the spring Flower dance, and now it’s winter and it’s valentine’s day and he had everything all planned out in the best way. Yet it just wasn’t going to work out in his favor.

The secret gift he had made for you? Somehow someone got into his room and it got pushed off the shelf. So the clay figurine of your character in Solarian Chronicles is completely destroyed. He had written you a sweet song, but for the life of him, he can’t find the notebook he wrote it in. And even the gift he ordered for you online isn’t going to show up on time.

Sebastian lays on his bed, his eyes closed tight and his breathing coming in and out quickly. He’s got just a few hours to be able to improvise for you, otherwise things are going to become even more terrible. He texts Sam for advice, then he texts Abigail. They both have different ideas for what he can do to make this work, but Sebastian begins working harder. He knows he’s going to have to figure something out. So he calls up the Saloon and he begs Gus to cook him up some sort of meal for you and him. Gus decides to do this favor for Sebastian, telling him to come pick it up within the hour.

The next thing he’s planning is to make his room a little more romantic. He changes the sheets, finds a few candles to light and cleans off the table so you both can eat there. Then he goes upstairs, looking for his mother.

Robin cheerfully helps her son plan the rest of the night sweetly. She reminds the rest of the family not to bother the happy couple, and she even gives Sebastian a bottle of champagne. He’s blushing as she hands this to him, a soft “have fun!” coming from her lips. Sebastian doesn’t even know what she’s thinking, but he knows she can probably deduce that there will be something naughty going on downstairs.

In the backyard, Seb begins picking some flowers. He doesn’t have a gift to give you, but he knows you love flowers. And once he gets a nice bouquet going, he spots Linus. The older man flashes him a soft smile, knowing that Sebastian is working his hardest to still make this a very romantic day. Despite the cold, Sebastian manages to pluck beautiful Crocus flowers and a few Holly for some balance.

Once he’s got the pretty bouquet of winter flowers, he settles them in a vase in his room. Sebastian takes a moment to look around and admire his handiwork. This bedroom was going to be the perfect setting for such a romantic evening. All that was left was for him to go pick you and the meals up. He takes the quickest shower and gets dressed in a warm hoodie and those tight jeans you love so much.

On his way to pick you up, his stomach is in knots. He’s worried you’ll be disappointed by the lack of real gifts and the way this night would go down. But when you greet him on the porch of your home, you’ve got the biggest smile on your face.

“Happy valentine’s day!” You say with a sweet kiss to his cheek.

He smiles, “Happy valentine’s day.”

You two share a sweet little kiss, and he pulls you in so close. It’s a sweet moment between two lovers, and he never wants this to end. Then he takes you by the hand and leads you towards the town center. You two stop at the Saloon to pick up the delicious dinner that Gus had prepared for you. He passes it to Sebastian, a playful wink and a glint in his eyes.

The walk back to Sebastian’s place has you so giddy. It feels like you’re floating on a cloud as you tell him about your day and he listens to you so attentively. Your heart is so full of love and happiness.

Inside his room, he pours some champagne for you and you two sit and eat such a delectable meal. Seb presents the flowers to you, which you coo over. You sheepishly give him a cute little valentine’s card you made for him. You scratch the back of your neck nervously, telling him you’ve been busy taking care of the animals and mining lately to make him anything more than that.

He smiles softly, “It’s perfect, baby.”

After dinner, you’re both full of champagne. It bubbles inside of both of you, coursing through your veins. Sebastian has you pinned to the bed, kissing you over and over. The way he holds you and kisses you makes your head spin. He presses his knee between your thighs, smirking at the way you moan from just this.

“Would you believe that when I got up this morning,” Sebastian asks between heated kisses. “That I thought everything was fucked up?”

You giggle, “Knowing you, yeah I’m not so surprised.”

He feigns being insulted, but it fuels him even more. He begins undressing you slowly, his eyes lingering on your beautiful body. Then he begins to press soft kisses to your most sensitive spots, relishing in the way you moan and gasp just for him. It’s so intoxicating to know that you react to the way he makes you feel so good. It’s something he prides himself on, and he knows he’s not going to stop anytime soon.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he grunts as he grinds against you. “I’m kind of happy this is how this night turned out.”

You mewl, “Me too, Sebby.”

He grins mischievously before reaching over for the drawer in the bedside table. You know what he’s reaching for and it makes your heart race like crazy. The sounds of the vibrations coming from the wand vibrator make your cunt dribble even more slick. Sebastian chuckles darkly.

“Cute,” he murmurs hotly against your neck. “Just hearing this thing gets you going, yeah?”

You nod your head, making him chuckle again. Then he brings the vibrator to your aching cunt, and you cry out for him. The sounds of your cute little moans make his cock strain against the fabric of his boxers. Slowly, he lets the vibrator circle around your swollen nub. Sebastian has you exactly where he wants you.

“All mine…All mine for valentine’s day. My perfect valentine.”

#bacon.writes #Sebastian sdv x you #Sebastian sdv x reader #sdv sebastian x you #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x farmer #sdv Sebastian smut #sdv x reader #stardew valley Sebastian x reader

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yveaart · 3 months

Text

mr. styles — yjh

yoon jeonghan x reader

genre : fluff, suggestive

synoposis : another year with your lovely boyfriend that you wouldn’t trade the world for.

warnings : long haired jeonghan.

“another year to us babe” you smiled at him as the tall glass of champagne you both had came in contact making a light tap of glass echoing through your ears

you both stared at each other with adoration-filled gazes, he had that daydream held within his orbs that just fills you comfort— solace.

he stared at you, his eyes occasionally panning down to what you were wearing, he wanted to make it subtle but he failed to do so.

you looked to perfect with your pearly silk dress that hugged you around the right ways. don’t get him wrong he loved you even with rags on, or even if you wear your most worn out pajamas because you fought to tell him that they were simply just comfortable to you, he still believed you look gorgeous.

but there was just a different glow to you when you fix yourself up, feeling confident and beautiful. he loves you, in all ways, in different worlds.

sitting on opposite sides of your well groomed table at the most immaculate restaurant your town had gave you a sense of distance. you didn’t want to pretend that having not to sit to him was more romantic.

having the seating placement for a couple was just too traditional and formal, for what you two had was to genuine to act like anyone else on a perfect occasion for the both of you.

you lifted your chair and placed it next to his.

“so clingy today baby” he teased you with a glint in his eyes. if this was your first date you would’ve been embarrassed, but now you can see the burgundy hue that flushed to his cheeks by the thought of you just wanting to be close to him.

“only you though” you grinned as you both fed each other playfully, he wouldn’t just feed you that easy, he’s yoon jeonghan.

your yoon jeonghan.

the dim lights and aromatic candles on your table gave the both of you ambience, reflecting the warmth on your faces.

you caressed his slicked back hair, smoothly combing through it as he stared at you in awe.

you took what you could get, he wouldn’t display too much of his love to you like this, he would rather do acts of services or just plainly make fun of you.

you think he just wants to see you embarrassed, but he liked seeing your blood rush to your cheeks and sometimes if he’s lucky he would see your eyebrows frown, or at sometimes you would just looked at him shocked.

he was happy that you were completely comfortable with him displaying every emotion and part of you that you had with him. (yes you and your 30 other personalities)

doing these things helped him study you more, at one glance he would find you in the crowd, in one glance, he knows what you’re craving, at one glance, he knows what you’re feeling, and in all of them, your eyes always had showed him that you adore him endlessly.

so just like what he’s doing now, he wants you to know, that it is you who he loves endlessly.

you continued to caress his medium length hair

“i love your hair like this” you whispered as you continued to peck his forehead.

the buzz of the liquor was making you both tipsy, the air becoming thicker as your bodies slowly rises in heat.

his hand was resting on your leg, your head laying on his shoulder as his was on yours, you both were giggling from the drunken thoughts you were whispering for the past hour, the leftover of your food running cold, but your cheeks were filled and full with laughter.

“let’s go home hannie” you smiled at him

“if that’s what you want sweetheart” he replied kissing the back of your hand happily.

you both quickly split the bill, you believe that you needed to meet halfway so that this relationship would work with balance, and being foodies, going out actually pains the wallets of an individual.

“please come again” the waitress greeted the both of you out on the exit.

“especially you mr. yoon, a haircut would suit you, and maybe someone new?” she winked at him with a hoping grin.

“ah, my wife likes my hair long, she’s gonna have to pull on it all night” he responds cockily

the lady’s move on your boyfriend almost made you burst but jeonghan’s response was truly something else.

you and jeonghan had a good laugh on the way home, reenacting the moment you exited the building.

the event slowly fading away as you and jeonghan were convinced unto having another round of red wine further pushing you both to the bliss of being drunk.

you slowly put your glass down hearing the light tap of the glass. you shifted back to your couch next to your lovely drunk boyfriend beside you.

his face looking like he’s planning to have a knock out and wake up at noon tomorrow almost made you giggle.

you brushed his hair once more, slowly shifting his head to face you. he had a crooked genuine smile, he’s drop dead gorgeous.

his little suit fitting him nicely, his face bare and sculpted and his eyes a bit droopy from spending hours outside with you.

you both happily kissed each other savoring the flavor of aged wine on your lips, and you swore it taste better when you’re sucking it off his tongue than tasting some fancy 50 year old wine.

you lightly tugged on his hair as you shifted your lips exploring your tongue within his mouth, and this action made him moan lazily against yours making you giggle.

“maybe you like me tugging on your hair a little too much, hannie” you smiled at him finally letting him lay on your lap as you massaged his scalp, soon leaving you both to pass out ready to have an eventful morning.

the truth is he loved the way you loved his hair. so expect him having it in this length for another month before he cuts it, he doesn’t want to make you sad but instead long for it— for him. and he’ll grow it by your birthday. he would never admit that he calculated his hair growth and the time to know that it’ll grow back on your birthday, but that could be jeonghan’s little secret.

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angelltheninth · 10 months

Note

How would the men of Arcane make love to fem!reader while they spend a night of intimacy together? Passionately? Sensually? Intensely? Roughly?

Sure thing Anon!

Pairing: Viktor, Jayce, Silco, Vander, Ekko, Marcus, Finn x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, kissing, rough sex, gentle sex, fingering, dirty talk, cuddles, aftercare, size difference

A/N: Love that I'm still getting Arcane requests even though the fandom seems to have died down a little.

Viktor is sensual and rough when he makes love with you. Sensual with his words, rough with his fingers and when he thrusts into you. It's the duality of him, kind of in the same way where he seems really cute and meek but is actually pretty cocky behind closed doors.

He always balances his sweet talking with the same amount of his cock hitting at just the right angle inside of you to get your eyes to roll into the back of your head. Will praise you to no end, but in between every word he will make sure he gets a good thrust in to keep you on your toes, and your back arched.

"Thought you liked it when I talked all sweet to you, darling. Was that a lie? No, no, I'm not saying you lie to me all the time, just when you really crave this dick. You should be honest, I love you and I love giving you what you want, so don't even try to tell me to shut up now okay? I know it makes you tighter when I talk."

Jayce is the most passionate guy you've ever made love to. He puts his all behind everything he does, weather that be the candle-lit path to the bedroom, the foreplay where he's on all fours and eating you our or when he has you on all fours and hammering your cunt like there's no tomorrow.

No way will you be able to even think of any other man when he shows you what he can do for you. He dedicates his all to your pleasure, his is secondary to you. In fact the most pleasure he will get is when he sees you that you're enjoying what he's doing for you, to you.

"Here's good right? Doesn't hurt? Good, with my size it can be a little tricky. All out then, fuck... been waiting for you to say that all night. Babe, I'm about to ruin you. Oh you bet, gonna make you lose count of your orgasms, I wanna make you feel the best you've ever felt."

Silco is very intense and can get very rough if the situation calls for it. He really likes to show his power over you and make every experience better then the last by making you wait, by edging you a bit longer until you come to the point where you're the one hoping on his cock when the doors slam shut.

There are few people he enjoys spending time with and you're definitely one of them, weather its you bent over his office desk, cockwarming him while he goes over the papers, or choking on his cock all day under the desk, he likes having you close and he likes when you know he's the boss.

"A break? We just got started darling. That was just two, there's still a lot more to go. If it's gonna make it easier you can rest by getting under the desk a little. If I feel that mouth, or your hand stopping for even a second you're gonna give me two more orgasms. Understood? Good girl."

Vander can get very passionate and rough but he always follows it up with a really long cuddle and aftercare session. That's something he likes slightly more then the sex itself. It's good, its really good, having your warm pussy stretched around his huge cock, but he can't say he doesn't love it how you cuddle up on top of him after.

He always prepares you for his cock but the prep can be just as rough as the sex itself since its so easy for him to get lost in the whimpers and moans that you make when he adds another finger. And then another. Your hip and thighs are sometimes bruised with a very big handprint. You don't always hide it either.

"Easy darlin', I know you're as horny as can be but you know as well as I that you can't me right away. Its frustrating? Well I'm sorry for being big, nothing I can do about it. I'll get you there don't worry. In the mean time, tell me, how was your day? You thought of me? That's very flattering, I couldn't stop thinking about getting my hands on you either."

Ekko is a very sensual lover and a bit on the calculated side as well. A lot of his plans tend to go a little astray when he sees you naked but eventually he's able to get you right where he wants you and make you feel good.

He cannot stop touching you while he makes love to you. He needs to feel your body quivering every time he jolts his hips forward and buries his cock to the hilt, every time you bite into his neck to muffle your next moan because you know how cheeky he can be and go from slow to fast and then to slow again in order to make it last longer for the both of you.

"You keep messing up my plans Firefly. I was gonna sweep you of your feet, make it all nice, romantic for you, but you had to go and make me this hard right away. I can't focus on romance like this, all the blood's rushing to my cock. Fucking gods, getting on your knees is not making it any better. Well... maybe a little bit."

Marcus is rough and intense because in all honestly he feels like he doesn't deserve what he has with you. He needs to make sure he's not dreaming, that you're real, that you love him despite all his damn mistakes, that you can handle everything he has to give.

When he really gets into it there's hardly any stopping him until he's spent and laying almost limp on top of you, kissing your neck, your shoulders, your face, almost like he's saying sorry when there's nothing for him to be sorry for. You always assure him that when you allow him to be rough, its because you want him to be, he's never hurting you unless you need him to, and he never will.

"Did I overdo it? You'd tell me if I did right? No, I know you can be my pretty painslut, I love that side of you sweetheart, you know I do. Just trying to make sure. You think you can take more? Your pussy's already so sensitive, it keeps pulsing around me, squeezing out all the cum, are you sure? One more round then."

Finn is very rough with you and is proud of all the ways he makes you whimper and moan and even cry on occasion. There is a safeword for you to use but he's rarely heard it from you so he's very familiar with your limits by now. He really likes to manhandle you and use your body as his pretty fucktoy, you're not even ashamed that you like it just as much anymore.

He was so surprised when you asked him to slap you but he didn't hold back either. He kissed, or rather licked the pain away before ramming his cock back inside your cunt with so much force your back arched off the bed and scratch his back up like he's been mauled. Good, he loves a mutual give and take.

"Oh my gods kitten, begging to be hit. I knew you were a kinky whore from the moment I saw you. Aren't you glad I helped you find this side of yourself? If you're so grateful you'll come on my cock right now. Do it! Come on, come on, let me feel that cunt sucking my cock."

#arcane #arcane x reader #viktor x reader #jayce x reader #silco x reader #vander x reader #ekko x reader #marcus x reader #finn x reader #arcane imagines #arcane headcanon #arcane smut #league of legends #league of legends x reader #league of legends imagine #league of legends headcanons #league of legends smut

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fantasyescapes17 · 11 months

Text

In Pursuit of Wedded Bliss (Updated Masterlist)

A Seventeen Regency!AU Series

It is the season- and London is full of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, waiting to be swept up in a whirlwind of romance, passion and matrimony as they each fight their own battles for happiness in London's elite society.

BEFORE YOU READ:

All installments are interlinked and take place in the same universe. The timeline can be confusing, especially if you read out of order. These are listed in recommended reading order.

The combined series word count is around 100k. Don't start reading right before an exam.

There are seven members covered in the full installments. I will not be doing full installments for the other 6 members. You can request drabbles for the other members. Please see the rules for requests here. Requests are currently OPEN.

Happy reading!

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Patience: Choi Seungcheol (complete!)

An elaborate charade- that is what your life has been for these past few years, and it has taken the help of more than one person to balance your delicate lies and secrets. Now entering your final season as an eligible young lady seeking wedded bliss, will you be able to keep up the act in order to achieve your dreams?

Part 1 Part 2

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2. Candle: Yoon Jeonghan (complete!)

You have always received the best of everything life has to offer: be it education, family, fortune or happiness. Mr. Yoon Jeonghan- one of the ton's renowned villains- cannot possibly bring you happiness of any kind, never mind wedded bliss. But can you evade Jeonghan's charms? Or will you find yourself falling victim to this clever rogue?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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3. Manners: Joshua Hong (complete!)

Viscount Joshua Hong is by far the most eligible bachelor in London. Rich, handsome, and renowned for his excellent manners and refined tastes. Young woman would kill for the chance to be the Viscount's chosen bride. But nobody can quite determine which of the young ladies he prefers, and you are beginning to have your doubts. Is the Viscount really as gentlemanly as the ton seems to think?

Part 1 Part 2

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4. Scandal: Jeon Wonwoo (complete!)

The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) was beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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5. Wings: Kim Mingyu (complete!)

Your debut in society was as spectacular as one could be, but nobody had prepared you for what came afterward. When you find yourself overwhelmed during your very first season and unable to keep up with the rat race to secure yourself an eligible husband, a curious mentor appears- in the form of notorious flirt and self-proclaimed rake, Mr. Kim Mingyu.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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6. Closed Doors: Kwon Soonyoung (complete!)

Soonyoung had made peace with his station in life. A younger son of a little-known family, he was not set to inherit a fortune and had nothing to recommend him but his bright personality. Nobody expected Soonyoung to make the match of the season. But when you- a woman with ties to the royal family and riches beyond his imagination, a Duchess in your own right- seeks Soonyoung's hand in marriage, his life begins to spiral entirely out of his control.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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7. Luck: Lee Chan (coming soon!)

A mixture of hard work and sheer good fortune had landed you a coveted position as the governess for Viscountess Hong's little sisters. But when the Viscountess' notorious younger brother returns from his time at Oxford, you find yourself treading dangerous waters. Mr. Lee Chan- with his boyish smile and passion for horses- seems determined to make your job very difficult indeed.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen masterlist #seventeen au #seungcheol x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua hong x reader #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #hoshi x reader

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 16 days

Text

the ravenous rupture

fused with the foe, chapter five

a/n: and that's it for fused with the foe! but don't you worry, our wonderful king and queen will return in both of the next instalments of the series ♡ (the release date for the next one is already up on the masterlist)

summary: “I don’t want you to think we have to have a conventional marriage, gods know we haven’t so far,” he added with a tilt of his head, “so, I just wanted to convey to you that if you ever want to be with someone else, at any degree, then you have my full support to do so.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, smut, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, love confession, crying, kissing, loss of virginity, semi-public sex, manhandling, size kink, belly bulge, dirty talk, oral, fingering, handjob, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, aftercare

word count: 3895

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Raising yourself up onto your tip toes, your fingertip still didn’t even manage to graze the spine of the tome you were trying to reach, only the tall shelf it stood on.

But just then, before you could turn to get a chair to balance on, an inked hand came into view and grasped the book for you.

“The Biology of Soil: A Farmer’s Comprehensive Study of Dirt,” Barnes dryly read the title out loud, “sounds absolutely riveting.”

“Don’t mock,” you snatched the leatherbound tome out of the knight’s hand, “it is interesting!”

“Of course, it is, your majesty,” he bit down a chuckle, “my apologies.”

A soft laugh couldn’t help but bubble out of you as you exited the library, “you know, you remind me a lot of my brothers.”

Walking at your side, he shot you a squint, “is that a compliment?”

“Well, I meant it as so, but I guess it could also be interpreted as an insult, all depending on which brother.”

Sinking further back into the plush armchair, your eyes danced from star to star as they glinted back at you through the big library window.

The full moon was so bright that you hadn’t needed to light a candle in order to make out the sentences in the open book that rested in your lap.

But suddenly, the creak of the heavy double doors to the chamber found your ears and when you twisted your head to discover who it was, your frame immediately sprung up from your comfortable seat. The forgotten tome tumbled to the floor with a dull thump as the embroidered dressing gown you wore over your ivory chemise fluttered around your legs as you swiftly stood.

“Your majesty–, Steve, I mean, Steve,” you clumsily corrected yourself, “hi, hello.”

“Evening,” he simply smiled, slowing his stride as he watched you bend down to pick the hardback off the floor.

Hugging the book to your chest, you blew out a breath, “what–, uh…” you eyed the loose linen shirt he had sloppily tugged into his trousers, “what are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged, “thought a boring novel might do the trick,” letting his fingertips kiss the ends of each bookcase as he neared you by the window, “what about you?”

“Yeah, I can’t sleep either,” a soft sigh flowed from your lips, “my mind just doesn’t seem to wanna settle down these days…”

A gentle furrow appeared to Steve’s brow, “what’s troubling you?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” you placed the book down on the round side table by the armchair.

“If it’s keeping you up then it’s not nothing,” gripping the tall back of the chair, he rested against it as he gazed at your visage in the moonlight, “come on, you can talk to me.”

The knot in your chest tightened, “no, I can’t,” and you averted your gaze to the stone floor, “I really can’t…”

“Why?”

“Because–…” clenching your jaw in an effort to keep tears at bay, you briefly shot him a glare as you snapped, “because I just can’t, alright?” squeezing your eyes shut, you quietly muttered just beneath your breath, “gods… how long will I have to wait…”

Having apparently had better hearing than you’d thought, Steve then queried, “wait for what?”

Fluttering your eyes back open, you met his gaze and uttered sombrely, “…for it to pass…” feeling your heart thump painfully in your chest just from the mere sight of him.

A low sigh slowly seeped out of his lungs before his unwavering gaze averted to the upholstery of the chair, “…I hope you know that I’ve grown to care for you a great deal. You’re a very dear friend,” he uttered with the utmost sincerity, “and as a dear friend, I wish for you nothing but the purest of happiness. I want you to experience all of the great and wonderful things that life has to offer,” his ocean eyes then drifted back up to catch yours, “don’t let our union hold you back for any of that.”

Sucking in a breath, you asked, “what do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to think we have to have a conventional marriage, gods know we haven’t so far,” he added with a tilt of his head, “so, I just wanted to convey to you that if you ever want to be with someone else, at any degree, then you have my full support to do so.”

Averting your gaze, “…is that what you want?” you dug your nails into your opposite palm, “for us both to openly be with other people?”

“I don’t want you to be lonely and depressed,” fragments of desperation resonated in his tone, “you’ve already experienced more than one lifetime of hardships and I really don’t want this to be another one. So, when you fall in love, please don’t hesitate. You of all people deserve to experience that.”

“…I–…” a shaky breath escaped you, “I can’t–…”

“…you can’t?” he echoed in nearly a whisper.

“I can’t because–…” lifting your gaze, the library around you grew more blurry by the second, “because I can’t stop thinking about you,” you revealed, “from the moment that I wake to even the dreams that possess me at night. I can not shake you from my thoughts no matter how hard I try,” as you blinked, a tear escaped and rolled down your cheek, “Steve, I wish for you to experience those very joys you speak of just as fiercely. I just want you to be happy even if I’m not the source.”

Looking as if he was scarcely breathing at all, his gaze stayed fixed upon you as he uttered, “dove, why do you think I wish that for you?” your eyes grew wide at his confession, “I don’t wanna be with someone else when you are the one I want by my side,” his fingers faltered from the grip they had on the back of the armchair as his slow steps began to carry him closer to where you stood, “not just as my queen, but as my friend, as my conscience, as my judgement, as my heart,” his eyes glistened as he then declared, “I am yours, Y/n. I didn’t plan for it, I don’t even know when it happened or how, but I do know that it’s true.”

Closing the short distance that remained, you walked up and pulled him down as you began to rise up to your tip toes. As you crashed your lips against his, it didn’t take long before you felt his broad hands glide over your waist.

Breaking the kiss, you retracted just enough to catch the beguiling look in his eye. The corners of his lips drew up dreamily just as yours did right before you dove back in.

As your fingers weaved in his beard, so did his tongue as it danced against your own, making you lightheaded as your feet began to shuffle back, though you didn’t realise that you’d even been moving till your spine crashed against a sturdy bookcase.

Parting momentarily at the impact, a soft giggle swiftly followed your initial squeak the collision conjured. As his gentle chuckle echoed your own, Steve’s palm caressed down your features before he captured your lips once more.

When the fire inside of you crackled and burned too hot for you to ignore, you pulled back, a glossy string of saliva still kept you connected a moment before you gasped, “Steve, I–… I–…”

Resting his palms over yours as they clutched the top of his tunic, he tilted his chin back further, “what?” creating enough of a distance between you to truly check in.

But how you were going to ask of him what you desired remained a mystery, no matter how hard you scrambled your fuzzy mind. So instead, you wrapped your fingers around one of his wrists and slowly guided it lower.

“Dove…” he sucked in a breath as his gaze shadowed the journey you were taking his touch on, “do you wanna–…” finding your eye, he asked you softly, “you sure you know what it is you’re asking for?”

“Yes,” swiftly flowed out of you as you nodded dizzily, “I–… I know. I read the books, I read all of them, I know how it all works,” your rushed words conjured a lovely little chuckle from the royal, “I just–… please?” your hot breathed fanned across his features as he leaned back in close, “I–… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you…” with your fingers still enveloped around his wrist, his touch slowly began to take over and to move on its own, “fantasising about what you might be like…” unhurriedly ghosting up and down the curve of your waist, “about what your touch must feel like…” each time creeping closer and closer to where you wished for him to caress, “how it differs compared to my own…” till his teasing touch ended each fluttering swoop with feather-light grazes at both the swell of your tits, as well as the lower part of your abdomen, just before he actually reached anything real, through still leaving you utterly dazed.

Leaning a forearm against the shelf behind you, he smirked, “…you think about me?”

“Every night,” you dug your fingers in the fabric of your chemise and pleadingly began to hike it up, “sometimes the sun doesn’t even manage to set before I need a moment alone… all because of you.”

As he then captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his wandering hand dipped under your thin shift before you’d even raised the hem completely. When his touch found your buzzing pearl, a whimper slipped from your lungs and vibrated against his tongue as your grip on the fabric faltered and it dropped to hang around his wrist like a curtain.

“Is this how you dreamed about me touching you?” he gazed down at you, smiling at the way you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Mind melting to ooze, you bubbled, “yes–, but also–, oh!” your brows knit together as he switched to circle your clit harder, “a-also–”

“Also how?” you could hear your want reverberate off the palace walls as he touched you, “did you dream about me kissing you down here?” holding your gaze, Steve then sank to his knees before you.

Your breaths came in ragged as you blinked down at him, “y-yes,” watching intently as he dipped his head under your gathered-up skirts. The sloppy pecks he then lavishly began to plant over your glistening petals felt like nothing you’d ever imagined, “oh, that’s–,” you let out a broken moan, “don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Throwing your head back against the bookcase, Steve’s grip buried in your crumbled clothes as his soft tongue dragged through your desperation.

Letting go of your chemise with one hand, it drifted down your hip. Enclosing his lips around your throbbing clit, he sucked down hard as his fingers joined to sweep through your mess, only parting from you for a breath, “gods, you taste so fucking good,” before he eased one digit inside your clenching cunt.

You barely noticed that it was falling before the robe you wore slipped off your frame and tumbled to a puddle on the floor, leaving you with only the thin shift and the king’s hot kisses for warmth in the cold night.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you whimpered, reaching down to thread your fingers in his honied hair as a second finger sneaked in beside the other, fucking you gently with them.

You nearly wiggled out of his grasp when his luscious laps unravelled you completely, but somehow the monarch managed to follow your every squirm till he softened his efforts and replaced them with a few soft pecks over your sensitive clit that made your whole form twitch.

Fluttering your eyes open, you met his gaze as he raised the back of his hand to wipe some of your juices from his beard.

Breathlessly, you uttered, “get up,” and as he did, you didn’t waste any time before your eyes drifted from his tender stare, “take your shirt off.”

With one hand, he reached back and tugged the tunic off of his head, swiftly letting it drop to the floor and join the fabric puddle already at your feet.

For a moment, he didn’t give in on his urge to close the short distance between you, simply stood there and let your stare study him, learn the galaxy of his flesh, every little mark and scar that told the story of his past.

With your eyes still glued to the burliness of his fuzzy chest, you uttered, “tell me again,” before lifting your gaze up to meet his, “tell me again so that I know this is real.”

Reaching out to grasp your right hand, he said, “it’s real,” stepping closer as he placed your ceremonially scarred palm over his heart, “I’m real, this is real,” his fingers on his own marked hand, which clasped over yours, gently brushed over your knuckles as he spoke, “I am yours,” he shifted again and closed the small gap between you, “I will always be yours till my dying breath.”

Sucking in a shaky breath, you watched as the moonlight glinted in the blue of his eyes, making them look like the sea on a stormy night.

“I think my heart has belonged to you ever since the dragon attack,” you professed, “though it took me a while longer before I realised what it was, why you made me feel the way that you do,” you parted your fingers against his chest, “Steve,” and let his weave in with your own, “I love you.”

Using his hold as an advantage, Steve yanked you to him till your lips crashed against his. Letting your free hand wander across his warm skin, it swiftly came down to cup the palpable tent in his trousers.

“Fuck…” he groaned lowly as you offered him a light pet.

As you shifted to fiddle after the buttons on the side of his breeches, even the aid of your other hand didn’t yield any success in undoing more than one of them. Swiftly coming to your rescue, you swore it only took him three seconds before they hung loose enough around his hips for his cock to spring free.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you glanced down at length which stood so proud it poked you in the stomach. If only you had the proper context to truly know how intimidated you should have been at the discovery of his fat girth.

Hesitantly inching your fingers closer as you stared, you asked, “can I–…?”

“Mhm,” he hummed as he slowly brought your hand the rest of the way down, engulfing his own grasp around yours and gently showing you how to touch him.

As a sinful curse flowed from Steve’s lips, his free hand drifted up to weave itself into your hair.

“Will it hurt?” you watched how your fingers failed to meet on the other side of his girth.

“I don’t know, I hope not,” his forehead rested against your own, “but if it does, then we just stop and figure something else out, okay?”

“Okay…” you hazily nodded.

Feeling his fingers flex around your own, you saw precum glint at the bulbous tip.

“It’s all for you, dove,” you felt him throb at your touch, “all because of you,” a desperate growl then seeped out of his lungs as he seized your lips in a fervent kiss, and the next thing you knew, the whole world fell out from under you as he scooped you up into his arms. When a shrill yelp escaped you, Steve simply readjusted his grip on you and said, “don’t worry, I’ve got you,” nipping gently at your neck, “I won’t let you fall.”

With your fingers still grasping his girth, the new position now had your pussy pressed dangerously close to it, so close that you couldn’t help but sweep the head of his cock through your soppy folds and drench him. Tapping your clit a few times, the instinctual drive of his hips triggered you to simply cup his length near and let him part your pretty petals and lather himself in your needy nectar. Each desperate thrust ended in an electric nudge at your pearl, rendering you to whimper shakily into the night.

But then suddenly, in the fog of it all, the very tip of him caught your entrance and slipped inside, purely because of just how wet and ready you were.

“O-oh, fuck!” everything froze as you reeled at the staggering sensation, breathlessly digging your nails into his broad shoulders and leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

“Sorry,” he hastily panted, “you okay?”

“Uh–… uh-huh,” you nodded fuzzily, shutting your eyes a moment as you caught your breath.

But then as your gaze fluttered open once more, you caught his stare and offered him a short, affirming nod, holding his eye as he slowly began to move.

Your mouth hung agape as he shallowly fucked you, barely even giving you anything but still turning you into goo in his grasp.

“Y-you’re so beautiful,” you whispered as you fluttered around him.

Gliding you’re your palm up to his cheek, moans tumbled out of you both as he gently began to offer you more. Your legs couldn’t help but twitch in his grasp as he practically split you in half with the way he eased you down on his fat cock.

“You’re doing so well,” his face crumbled up in a silent moan as you felt every detail of him slowly stretch you out, “gods, you’re so wet…”

And the next thing you knew, it wasn’t so slow and steady any longer, as the bookcase your spine was pressed against rattled at his efforts.

You thought before that just the bulbous head of him was overwhelming, but to have that tip kiss desperately against the deepest part of you was something else entirely. You couldn’t speak, you couldn't think, you could barely even breathe, just go slack in his firm hold and feel him, not just right there, but fucking everywhere, that’s how stuffed you were.

Steve’s strength wasn’t that novel to you these days, but to have him lift you up and sink you down on his cock, like you were just a leaf on the wind, still managed to amaze you.

“F-fuck,” you blubbered as you tumbled over the edge once more, “oh, fuck!” accidentally knocking a few books down as one of your arms flailed for purchase.

You barely registered the loud thud the crashing books emanated as your frame melted down into his hold. Your face buried itself in the crook of his neck as he breathlessly came to a halt, still embedded deep inside of your clenching cunt.

The sound of his breaths directly in your ear helped to soothe your tingling senses as he rested his cheek against the crown of your head.

Shifting his feet, Steve carried you the short distance over to the comfortable armchair you’d inhabited earlier. Carefully sitting down in it and keeping you in his lap, his arms silkily slid up your back and hugged you close.

After persuading you to curl out of your hiding spot by planting soft pecks all over your face, you blinked down at him, bathed in the moonlight that gushed in from the tall window beside where you sat.

Gliding a hand around to your front, Steve gently tugged on the thin string at your neckline, undoing the bow, before he pulled the shoulders down your arms till you slid out of the sleeves and the top of the undergarment crumbled to gather at your waist with the rest of the fabric.

As he pressed his lips to the peak of your tits, one of his palms accompanied the kisses. A soft whine flowed out of you as your hand slid down to where your bodies were still joined and played with your puffy pearl.

Casting a glance down, he groaned, “yeah, rub that little clit for me,” and your hips intuitively began to rock gently.

As you touched yourself, something else caught your attention as you slowly began to ride him. At the lower part of your stomach, you felt the dull bulge of his staggering size poke your palm steadily to the rhythm of your gentle efforts.

Letting your pebbly nipple escape from his lips with a pop, his gravelly timbre washed over you as you slowly rocked, “that’s it, fuck–,” his grip slid down to be firm on your ass, “that’s my girl.”

Abruptly, as if snapping out of a trance, you notice just how loud you both were being.

“Wait,” you shushed him though didn’t halt your hips motions, “we’re in the library, someone could hear us!”

“Then fucking let them hear us,” his fingers dug into your ass as he desperately took over and bounced you in his lap, manhandling you as he slammed you down on his cock hard enough for you to lose your breath, “no one would dare bother us, trust me.”

And before you knew it, your cunt clamped down one last time around his cock, hard enough to halt his efforts and milk him of all of his worth.

Weakly letting his dick slip out, your skin was practically glued to his as you plastered yourselves to each other and you sensed his hot load slowly leaked out of your sensitive hole.

As you listened to his heartbeat slowly return to normal and your heavy lids fought to stay open, a thought entered your mind.

“Hey, Steve?”

Shifting his arms around you, his soft hum washed over you, “hm?”

Keeping your voice low, you shared, “I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight…” but to your surprise, a gentle chuckle then rumbled in his chest, “what?” you lifted your head and blinked up at him, “why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just–,” he smiled, gazing down at you as if Zondür himself had divinely created you especially for him, “you really think I’d let you skip off to your room alone after all of that, like it never even happened?”

Huffing out a short giggle, you lowered your glance, “well, when you put it like that…”

“Yes,” he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, “if you want me to sleep beside you, I will,” rising from his comfortable seat, he readjusted his grip on you, twisting you to him as he hooked an arm behind your knees and at your back. As he carried you close, he began to lumber out of the library and down the hallway, concurring the short distance to where your chambers lied, “my queen, I would love nothing more for the rest of my days than to fall asleep with your head on my chest and wake up to your softness arching against me…”

Flexing your fingers around his neck, you raised yourself up enough to capture his lips in a tender kiss one last time just as he kicked your bedroom door shut behind you both.

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