Early Morning
Summary: Lance seems to have found his soft spot, thanks to you.
Pairing: Lance Tucker x reader
Warnings: Language; very vague mentions of physical domestic abuse
Word Count: 2,650 (sorry)
A/N: Here is my entry for @marvelous-fvcks’ writing challenge! My prompt was “Stay here tonight.” Note: flashback is set aside, in italics. Hopefully you all enjoy some more soft, caring Lance, because he’s my favorite. | masterlist
When you’re in love, you’re in love.
It’s a passion that consumes your being, overtaking your every nerve.
Sometimes, it makes you think you were lost before you found it.
Love is the drug of paramours, and Lance was hooked.
He had made the colossal mistake of accepting your proposition for him to move in and be your roommate, but he couldn’t stop himself.
He was in love with you, and he’d rather feel the pain of a thousand daggers stabbing his heart than go a day without seeing you.
You were his sun. Lance was simply the planets, orbiting in your universe.
It killed him to feel this way. He was notorious for being anything and everything but a man of emotions. A man subject to the whim of his heart. Yet, here he was. Subject to you. Your love.
Unfortunately, Tucker had missed out on his chance.
Soon after moving in, you confessed that you had been seeing someone for a few months. Lance was shocked; you had always spoken to him about practically everything in your life. But here you were; breaking his heart two times over.
Even with the numbing ache burning deep in his heart, Lance did everything to support your happiness. Despite it crushing his own.
He put his heart and soul into coaching and training, using gymnastics as his distraction. It helped for some time, and he was grateful. Long hours, late nights. You were rarely home at the same time, and it was a relief for him. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out before the dam barring back his feelings would break.
However, as time went on, Lance began to notice a change in you.
You began to spend more time at the apartment. You only left your room for work, or to see him. He has a name, but Lance tries his best to never remember.
You started leaving later, staying out until the early hours of the morning. As if you were avoiding him.
One day, after a few weeks of not speaking, Lance called you.
“Hey, what’s up?” You say rather quickly, trying to get off the phone as soon as possible.
“I need to talk to you later tonight. You free?” His voice was raspy, and considering the time, you assume he had just gotten up.
“How long will it take? I’m meeting Ryan tonight.” You hear him mumble something, and you roll your eyes. “Seriously, Lance. How long?”
“Not long. I don’t want to intrude on your night out.” The annoyance in his voice was bothering you, and you didn’t even know why.
“Okay, see you when I get home. Bye.”
Lance was pacing back and forth in his bedroom, his fingers running through his tousled locks as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say to you.
You slipped in through the front door, gently setting your bag by the hall table. You hung up your keys, quietly kicking your shoes off into the closet. You were silently praying that Lance wouldn’t hear you, just so you could run out once you were ready. You were grabbing your charger from your bag when you heard the floor creak behind you.
“Don’t think you can get out of this that easily. C’mon,” Lance said, waving you towards the kitchen once you turned to face him. Regretting the fact that you had agreed to do this, you follow. He sits down at the island, resting his arms on the table as he looked at you.
His stare was piercing, and you tried to shy away from it.
“What did you want to talk about, Lance? I told you, I don’t have a lot of time.” You tugged at your sleeves, clutching the soft fabric in your fingers as you looked down at your feet.
“Why are you wearing a sweater in 80 degree weather, Y/N?” Your head shot up, looking at him in confusion as you nervously pulled at the collar of said sweater.
“Because I want to, Lance. Since when do you care, anyways?” Lance sighs, shaking his head as he walks over to you. He plants himself right in front of you, his hands settling on either side of you, atop the counter.
“When did it start, Y/N?” His breath barely fans over your face, and you refuse to meet his gaze. You feel two of his fingers graze the bottom of your chin, pushing up. You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest.
“I’m being serious, Y/N. When did it start?”
“Why do you care, Lance?
“Because I care about you. Unlike this fucking asshole.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you finally meet his gaze. You’re slightly taken aback as you look at his eyes; the clear blue long gone - replaced by a stormy look of anger. Fear.
“Are we done here?” You couldn’t bare to stand there a minute longer. You stand up straighter, staring at Lance.
“Don’t go to him, baby.” You gasp, pushing him away from you.
“Don’t do this, Lance. Not again.” You walk out, heading for your room. You can hear Lance’s footsteps following you, yet you make no attempt to stop him. He’s standing right by your door, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He’s watching you, a pale pink tint dusting his cheeks as he averts his gaze once you look at him.
“Stay here tonight. Please.” His pleading voice seemed to echo in your ears as you turned your back to him. You weren’t about to let him see your tears.
“I can’t, Lance. That night… it should have never happened. You know that.” You bite down on your tongue, hoping the pain will stop you from saying everything your heart wants to let out.
The moment his arms wrap around you, you know you can’t hold back.
You choke out a sob, your back meeting Lance’s chest as he pulls you closer. He leans down, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you try to calm your breathing.
“I am going to fucking ruin him if he ever lays a hand on you again.” His words are muffled by your skin as he trails kisses along your neck, and you can’t stop yourself from breaking away to look at him.
“It’s all because of that night, you know? The reason why he’s been so…” Lance shakes his head, pulling you into his chest once more.
“You should have come to me, baby. I would have never let this happen. I waited too long, but god, I love you so damn much.” His confession rings in your ears, and you look up at him, meeting his softened gaze as he rests his hands on your hips.
“Don’t. Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it, Lance. I won’t let you do this to me again.” Your words hit him like a ton of bricks, but he knows he deserves it. After all, he was the reason you were with Ryan.
It was 2am, and you were more than ready to go to bed. Lance hadn’t come back with you from the bar, but you didn’t really mind. He was drunk, and he knew how to take care of himself.
You were settling into bed, turning the light off when you heard the front door open. Quietly groaning, you roll over to get out from under the covers, when you hear Lance speak. He’s probably brought someone home - great. You roll your eyes at the thought, turning over when you notice you left your bedroom door open. Damn it.
You wait to hear Lance pass by to his room before getting up, only to hear him stop just outside your door. The smell of tequila and vodka was strong, and you knew he probably got a drink or two thrown at him. He was mumbling something incoherent under his breath, and before you could sit up to see what he was doing, you heard him clear his throat.
“She’s an angel. Y/N is an angel and I love her. Oh shit, is she home?” He steps away, and your eyes snap open as soon as he leaves. Did he just...Lance loves me?
You hear him in the hallway once again, and hold your breath.
“No, her room is empty. Where could she be? I miss her. It’s only been, uh, a couple hours, but I miss her. A lot. I wish she would come home. I’ll tell her I love her when she comes home.” You’re waiting for Lance to leave when you feel the bed dip on the other side, and you realize that the poor fool thinks he’s in his room. He drops his dead weight on the empty side of your bed, sighing in relief once his head hits the pillow.
His soft snores begin to fill the air, and he turns towards you. He’s smiling, and you can’t help but smile too. Just as you close your eyes, you feel his arm drape over your torso, his hand resting on your back.
“I love you, YN.”
The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed. It doesn’t surprise you - Lance is always up early. You check the time, only to realize it’s almost noon. You sigh, cracking your ankles before getting out of bed. You hear voices coming from the living room, and you consider that he might be watching TV.
After cleaning up in the bathroom, you head out into the apartment. You’re stretching your arms when you hear the voice of a woman drift in.
“So funny, Tucker. When’s that sleepy roommate of yours going to leave, so, ya know?” The stranger giggles, and the bright smile on your lips falls as she and Lance come into view. They’re on the balcony, oblivious to your presence in the living room; Lance’s arms around her waist, his chest pressed against her back.
“If she doesn’t get up soon, I’m going to die.” He says, laughing as the girl in his arms reaches up, tangling her fingers in his hair.
“Not so fast, Lance. You owe me!” The pair continue laughing, and you don’t have to imagine the smile that must be plastered on his face.
He was drunk - that was it. You repeat the words to yourself as you grab an apple from the table, making your way back to your room. You toss some clean clothes on, shoving your laptop, charger, and notebook into your bag. You leave the door open - you just need to get the hell out of here. Away from the heartache.
You decide there’s no point in waiting for Lance to go to bed before you came home - he’d been blowing your phone up all day.
We need to talk, Y/N. Please come home.
That last text had been sent over three hours ago, and you had yet to respond. Standing in front of the apartment door, you can’t hear anything inside. Maybe Lance had given up. Hopefully.
Alas, you were mistaken. He was waiting in the living room, his eyes glassy as he played around with a plate of uneaten food. When you stopped in front of the tv, he looked up, his eyes looking anywhere but you.
“Well? What did you want to talk about, Lance?” You say, biting your lip as you try to stay calm.
“I know what I said to you last night, and I know you heard me.” His words are rushed, and you can’t tell if it’s because he wants to get this over with or if it’s actually paining him to say it.
“How could you possibly know? You were drunk,”
“I was sober enough to remember what I was saying. Who I was saying it to. I’m sorry, Y/N.”
“You didn’t mean it, did you?” Might as well end it all now.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t know why I sa-”
“Save it, Lance. It’s fine.” You turn, wiping away the unshed tears waiting to fall. “Just forget about all of this.”
A few weeks passed after that night before you met Ryan. In the beginning, everything was fine. He was a great guy - he even got along with Lance, which surprised you. You were finally happy, and everything seemed to have fallen into place.
Until one night.
Ryan wanted to stay in - watch movies and drink wine, and you were more than happy to accept that. Just the week before, you had celebrated your six month anniversary.
After eating dinner, Ryan suggested doing a drinking game he had found for one of your favorite shows. You agreed, since you were going to modify the rules to fit drinking wine instead of taking shots. It’d been awhile since you had had any alcohol, so you didn’t realize you were bound to get drunk rather quickly.
That’s when it all went downhill.
Ryan began to poke and prod, asking questions about Lance and why he moved in. When it came to being drunk, you had no filter. Everything came out. You told him what had happened with Lance before you offered him your vacant room, and Ryan lost it.
To say the least, he was not happy.
Since that night, he would demand that you kick Lance out, or move in with him. You refused. That only made things worse.
You couldn’t find a way out, and you knew there was no point. Ryan would find you, and you didn’t need to put yourself at risk.
Too late for that.
“I was lying.” Lance is holding you against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head. You make no move to respond, so he continues.
“When I said I didn’t mean it. I was lying. I’ve loved you since the beginning, Y/N. I was too much of an ass to admit to myself, so I lied. And I’ve fucking regretted it every minute since. I know this doesn’t make up for any of the shit I’ve done, but you have no idea what you mean to me, baby.”
You finally look up at him, your hands somehow finding their way to rest on his cheeks. Lance leans into your touch, softly humming as his eyes flutter shut for a moment. You press your thumb to his lips, slowly pulling his bottom lip down.
“I’m scared, Lance.” He meets your gaze, and it feels like his chest has collapsed in on itself as he sees the fear in your eyes. He kisses the pad of your thumb, shaking his head as he grips your hips.
“Don’t be. You have me. I will help you get out of this. You don’t deserve any of this. No one fucking does.”
The rest of the night is a haze - you were so exhausted from crying, you practically fell asleep in Lance’s arms. He changed you into your pajamas, tucking you into your bed after. He ended up falling asleep right next to you, since he was the first thing you saw in the early morning.
You rested your hand gently on his arm, tracing random patterns across his skin as he continued to sleep. You spent some time like that; peacefully together.
Just after you pulled your hand away, Lance’s arm found its way around your waist, gently pulling you towards him.
“Come back to me, babe,” He mumbles, his voice raspy and full of sleep. You smile, stroking your thumb across his cheek. His eyes flutter open, and it’s the first time you finally notice the love and adoration swimming in them as he meets your own. You can’t stop the flutter of your heart as you smile, but the look in his eyes tells you not to worry. He’s got you.
“I will.”
tags note: if you don’t want to be tagged, please let me know! I’ve added [I think] all of my mutuals, so just let me know if you’d like to be taken off!
@bladebarnes, @retroasgardian, @roamingharlem, @thesaraaaaahpfan, @avengershavethetardis, @buenostardissherlock, @storyofavengers, @imsecretlyromanburki, @cassandras-musings, @nottheopera, @coltcas, @thefridgeismybestie, @callamint, @kaaatniss, @seb-ass-tian-stan-ws, @bootypoppinbarnes, @hollycornish, @h4izel, @charliexowrite, @stevnsbucks, @thewinterswimmer, @damnlokifangirl, @barnesvogue, @sebastian-stans-thighs, @capsheadquaters, @jobean12-blog, @theassetseyeliner, @buckys-fossil @worldsroses @yikesbuckster @mjuikoli @rotisserierogers @buckyappreciationsociety @supernaturaldean67 @milychetto @shhhs3cret @avengedqueen26, @this-is-angela-blog, @ohwhatamessiam, @captain-amelia-bradley, @tasting-writers-block @raindancer2004
@redgillan @daisyskyed @minervaem @persephone-is-here-omg @thecrownedrose @sexylibrarian1 @buckyywiththegoodhair @barnres @everyrosehasitsthornton @justasunflower @aelin-blackstairs @pillarsofelmundo @lovelynemesis @papi-chulo-bucky @themanwithovtfear @nataliarxmanxva @buchananbarnestrash @a-splash-of-stucky