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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 months ago

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Louder Than Fear

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, smut (p in v, oral both receiving), light angst, sex pollen, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: Missions involving Hydra often go very wrong. This is different. This is worse. This is a strange bioweapon, nobody telling you exactly what's wrong, and staring at the ceiling as Bucky roars you name. It's echoing in your brain. And you love him.

So you have to fix this.

Author's Note: Sudden rush of Bucky content is doing nothing but feeding my preexisting addiction. Enjoy the result of that!

Word Count: 8.5k

It’s not technically babysitting duty. On paper it’s called monitoring and mediating. Ensuring agents do not get off track or engage in unprofessional actives.

On paper, you were supposed to be waiting in the car. But then Sam had started whining about being put on surveillance duty like he was a five-year-old, and you’d ended up walking them through the forest so he’d have company. Then Steve had pointed out that you’d be best at actually finding the target, and you’d ended up fifty feet underground in a Hydra bunker.

And he’d been right, you would be, but that wasn’t supposed to be your job.

You were supposed to be waiting in the car, monitoring and mediating.

If they’d just let you wait in the car, everything might have been fine. Bucky wouldn’t be strapped to the jet seat with his eyes squeezed tight, Steve wouldn’t be standing between you for reasons you don’t really understand, and Sam wouldn’t be on strict say one word and get stabbed orders.

You shouldn’t have gone into the bunker.

You shouldn’t have gotten distracted in the bunker.

“I just don’t see how this is a useful conversation-“

“You don’t need to see how it’s useful, Cap, you just need to accept that when it comes to pop culture, I’m always gonna be right-“

“But you’re starting from an advantage, it’s not a level playing field-“

Sam had laughed in your ear, and the sound was a little scratchy and static. “This isn’t a war, there doesn’t need to be a level playing field-“

“Well, once Bucky and I catch up on 21st century media-“

“Bucky isn’t catching up on shit, isn’t that right buddy-“

Steve had stopped in the middle of the hallway, and you’d almost slammed right into his back, stopped only by an impossibly strong, cool arm had wrapping around your waist and pulling you back right before the collision.

You’d leaned back to see Bucky still scanning around the dark hallway as he supported your body, he’d smelled so good, and it had been an effort to focus on Sam and Steve’s conversation.

“That’s rude, Sam-“

“I’m not insulting him.” You’d been able to picture the shit-eating grin on Sam’s face. “I’m just pointing out that the last time we tried to watch a movie, Bucky got mad at the CGI-“

“It was stupid.” Bucky had muttered, frowning at the air around him “Movies didn’t need to be doing so much.”

You’d mouthed along to his words—you’ve heard them before, and you’ll likely hear them again—and when you’d caught his eye, you’d thrown him a winning smile that just made him roll his eyes.

He’d still been holding onto you, even though you’d long regained your balance.

You were almost certain you’d seen his mouth twitch slightly in the dark.

“Then we’ll find some other movies, Buck, and-”

Steve had turned around to raise his brows at Bucky, but ended up doing a slight double take at the sight of you. Pressed tight to Bucky’s chest, his arm around your stomach, your eyes wide on Steve’s, and Bucky continuing to monitor the incredibly empty hall.

“I- uh-“ You’d been pretty sure Steve was blushing, and he’d definitely been stumbling over his words. “I can- I’m just gonna turn around-“

“Why?” Sam’s voice had been a little too loud and eager in your ear. “What’s going on? Are they making-“

“I fell.” You’d mumbled, your voice a little frantic. “And Bucky-“

“What did he do? Did he sweep you off your feet-“

“Shut up, Wilson.” Bucky still hadn’t been paying full attention. He still hadn’t let go. “Focus on the mission-“

You could picture Sam’s shrug. “Mission is boring. How exciting, Hydra’s taking up gardening-“

You’d frowned into the air. “It’s not gardening, Sam-“

“Right, sorry,” Sam had said your name, his voice at least a little apologetic. “Didn’t mean to shit on your thing-“

“Yeah, that’s not what I’m worried about.” You’d sighed, leaning your head a little back. You’d almost been resting it on Bucky’s shoulder.

He hadn’t pushed you away.

“Did you read Stark’s mission briefing-“

“No.” Sam had cut you off, and he’d sounded appalled you’d even suggest that. “It’s mostly just Tony kissing his own ass, and you and Golden Boy down there always go cover to cover, so why should I-”

You sigh. “Because then you’d know why it’s not just gardening, dumbass-“

Sam had gasped, and it had been one of the most dramatic ones you’d even heard. “That’s not very nice-“

“Shut up.” You’d raised your brows at Steve, who had been mostly trying to not look you or Bucky directly in the eyes. “Steve, tell bird-boy why it’s not just gardening.”

He’d nodded, staring very pointedly at a spot on the wall. “It’s, uh, they tried to make a bioweapon. With plants.”

“All I’m hearing is gardening-“

“Sam Wilson.” You’d snapped, and that had shut him up. You’d used what Stark called your Mom voice—where you stopped shouting and made your tone firm—and even Bucky had tensed behind you. “Stop acting like a middle schooler, or I’ll make you write a book report about the next briefing. Got it?”

Sam had sighed in your ear, mumbled an agreement, and Steve had shot you a nervous grin before he started shuffling back down the hall.

You’d had to poke Bucky’s face to get his attention, nodding to his arm around your body to get him to release you.

Once he had, you’d just kept walking, because you never allow yourself to think about those odd but frequent moments. The ones where Bucky touches you a little longer than needed, or did something protective that he’d probably do for anyone on a mission, but still made your head feel fuzzy and your gut a little warm.

The rest of the mission had run smoothly. Sam had shut up, and Steve had gotten distracted from the whole Bucky holding you like a doll thing by a few well-timed questions about how he’s doing on his self-inflicted music catch up mission, and you’d taken every single moment Bucky interacted with you and locked them deep in your chest.

You’d gotten good at that. You were a dragon hoarding gold, only the dragon was your dumb little heart, and the gold was Bucky’s attention.

He’d opened at door for you. He’d stayed on pace behind you like a very stoic, grumpy guard dog. He’d pulled you back by the collar of your shirt before you could walk right into a trap, and you’d ended up half off the ground, in his arms, and repeating to yourself it means nothing.

This means nothing.

To Bucky, this means nothing.

Then he’d spoken to you, and you’d almost tripped over your own rapid and electrified heartbeat.

“I read it.” He’d muttered in your ear, and you’d blinked up at him with a frown.

“What?”

He’d been looking at you. His eyes are an always little more than on yours, because whenever Bucky looks at you it’s feels like something’s branding on your spine. Sending tiny little sparking shockwaves through your body, making you stand a little taller and blink a little less, because it seems your body simply refuses to miss a single moment him.

“I read the mission report.” He’d grunted. It had sounded incredibly important for you to know. “I always do.”

“Oh. Good.”

And he’d looked really handsome. His mission suit fit him too well. His metal hand kept flexing, and it was making your breathing a little short. He’d been bullied into a haircut a few months ago, but most of it had regrown, and it framed his face so distractingly well.

And that had been the mistake.

You’d gotten really distracted. Even after you’d kept walking, Bucky’s voice just bounced and echoed around in your head, and when you’d found the bioweapon—it was just a big flower, but Sam never needed to know that—you’d been too slow to react.

The spurt of pollen had been aimed at you.

Bucky had jumped in front of you because he was a dumbass.

And now, you were here.

The moment Bucky had been sprayed in the face—you’ve strictly forbidden Sam from called it being hit with plant jizz—his whole body had tensed, his eyes had dilated, and he’d… taken off his arm. Let it clatter to the floor as his breathing became labored, and his eyes locked onto yours.

You and Steve had stared at him, you’d opened your mouth to ask if he was okay, and he’d raised his hand as if he could physically block the sound of your voice.

“Steve.” His words had been pushed through his teeth, so strained and weighted that it had ached a little in your chest. “Get her out.”

Steve had just frowned at him. “Bucky, what’s-“

“Out.” He’d hissed, and Steve—the loyal fuck—had listened.

You’d been carried back to the jet by Sam, Steve had gone back to get Bucky, and you’d had plenty of time to try and work out what the fuck had just happened.

It was a bioweapon. All of you had known that, but you didn’t know what it did. Bucky could be in pain, he could be suffering, he could be dying.

He certainly isn’t okay. He’d asked to be restrained, every time you speak he flinches, and he’s refused to put his arm back on. Steve keeps trying to ask him what’s wrong, and he just shakes his head and mutters something you can’t hear. Sam tried to sit down next to you and he fucking growls.

“Jesus, Bucky, did you get turned into a dog by the plant ji-“

You slam your fist into Sam’s gut, he doubles over with a groan, and Bucky won’t stop staring at you. It’s worse than the branding feeling. That’s always just from you, and it’s always unintentional. Bucky doesn’t know that you like his pretty face and his grumpy words, that you have very vulgar and inappropriate fantasies about the metal arm, or that every time you draw a chuckle or small smile out him it makes the whole world light up.

But this is brighter than the usual attention. This is a little feral, and he doesn’t look comfortable. Usually when he looks at you his body relaxes slightly, and you take that and bury it in your collection. Right now his stare seems to be carving right into your ribs and wrapping around your skin, like he’s trying to pull you apart with just his eyes. His breathing is ragged and loud, his nostrils keep flaring, and he’s leaning forward in his restraints.

And Steve’s a big guy, but not big enough that Bucky can’t lean around him to keep watching you.

Then his eyes start to droop, and you can see sweat stains all over his suit. He’s still looking at you.

He’s flushed and pale all at once, and he lets out a high, almost whining sound of pain-

“Sam.” You whisper, afraid to look away from Bucky for even a second. “Can you please-“

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam presses his hand to Bucky’s brow, his eyes widen slightly, and you feel a little sick.

“Shit, uh, Steve-“

Steve moves without question, and his reaction is an almost twin look of worry.

“Goddamnit.” He looks back to you, saying your name cautiously. “It’s- he’s burning.”

“FRIDAY,” you mumble, because maybe they’re both wrong. Maybe the jet is warm. “Can you please check Bucky’s temperature?”

“Sargent Barnes has a fever of one-hundred and four point six degrees. Would you like me to alert the Compound to prepare for medical response?”

You swallow, your hand curling into a fist to stop it from reaching out and touching him. He’s got firm lines on his brow and you’d like to trace them. Sooth them out.

“Send his vitals to Bruce and Tony too.”

Steve takes over for you, and you’ll have to thank him later, when your heart isn’t pounding and banging in your ribs, and Bucky doesn’t look like he’s trying to fly out of his skin.

You don’t know why he jumped in front of you. You would’ve been fine. Whatever’s affecting him wouldn’t affect you. And he should’ve known that.

“Why does Stark call you Mother Earth?” He’d asked you once, suddenly a few feet behind you in the kitchen, and you’d blinked at him.

He’d only just moved into the compound. His hair was still a little greasy—he hadn’t been introduced to the wonders of coconut oil and conditioner yet—and there was still a weary, haunted expression on his face almost every waking second. He didn’t talk to anyone but Steve because it was Steve, his government mandated therapist because he had to, and Sam and Peter because they didn’t know how to not talk.

But there he was.

Talking to you.

“Because I have plant powers.” You’d shrugged, turning back to the stove. “And Tony’s convinced he’s a comedic genius.”

Bucky had moved to lean against the counter, and he’d still been watching you. It was the first time you’d gotten that warm, bright feeling up your spine. “What do plant powers do.”

“The technical term Bruce uses is chlorokinesis.” You’d started to fish through the cabinets for a mug, keeping your voice calm and even. “I can control and manipulate botanical life. But I’m also invulnerable. To physical injury and allergies, because I’m basically half-plant myself, so I can like, regrow or whatever. I mean, plant powers is pretty fucking self-explanatory-“

You’d paused, glancing at Bucky with an apologetic expression.

“Sorry.” You’d mumbled. “That was mean.”

He’d given you an odd look, and for a second you’d thought he would leave. Push off the counter and walk away, never sparing a glance in your direction again.

But he’d just stared at you with that unreadable expression. And when he’d finally spoken, his words weren’t clipped or rough. They’d sounded almost easy. Calm.

“Do you need help?”

You’d swallowed, your hand still reaching half over your head. “What?”

“You look like you’re having trouble.” He’d nodded to your outstretched arm, frozen in the cabinet. “I can help.”

You’d nodded, he’d closed the space in one second, and his body had been warm. Almost radiating heat, setting your skin on fire when just his fingers brushed yours. He’d handed you the mug with an expression on his face that was almost a grin, you’d smiled back, and that had been it.

You’d been gone.

You’d barely even stood a chance.

Your heart had passed itself into Bucky’s hands, and he’d held it so carefully without ever knowing. He stayed near you and fed your hunger for him all the fucking time. He literally fed you, because the thing that seemed to fascinate him the most about modern times was the food—to the point that Tony put a weekly cap on his DoorDash account—and whenever he knew you were at the compound, he’d make you eat with him.

And Sam had been right. Bucky did have an odd, amusing determination to remain entirely an old man, but it was also adorable and charming in a way Sam simply did not know how to appreciate. You’d learned that—to make Bucky consume any remotely modern media—you just had to let him show you something in trade. You’d listened to a lot of Bing Crosby and Duke Ellington just to make Bucky experience one Beyonce song.

His eyes had been so wide the entire time you’d been worried they’d pop out of his head.

You’d caught him listening to it again almost two weeks later, mumbling along to the lyrics in a way that was more sound than word.

And you’d fallen a little further. Over and over in small moments like that one, stronger and stronger as Bucky’s smile turned from a grimacing, almost mechanical movement as he relearned how his face worked, into a broad, almost goofy expression that he seemed to reserve for the people that sat with him in silence when he needed it, and smiled at him without expecting one in return.

The list was short. Limited to you and Steve, as well as Sam under very dire circumstances.

You’d never allowed yourself to read too far into that.

But it was hard not to now.

Because Bucky wasn’t looking at anyone but you. Whenever his eyes flutter in his sleep, or he wakes up with a low moan, his gaze locks onto your open expression of worry. He keeps groaning something that sounds like your name in his sleep.

You want to help him.

He curls away from you with almost a snarl every time you try to even get out of your seat.

And you’re so confused.

Steve mutters your name when the jet lands, and he’s not looking away from Bucky as he speaks. “Don’t get out of your seat until we get Bucky sedated.”

You nod nervously, right up until the word sedated catches up with your brain.

“Wait, don’t-“

“We have to.” Steve’s voice is firm. Low and unwavering. “I’ll explain later. Stay in your seat.”

He’s not asking. That’s an order.

And it only takes a few moments for you to realize why.

Bucky fights. The medic team wakes him up as they try to move him out of the jet, and he fights like an animal. This isn’t his usual, controlled and calculated movements. This is wild, with roars and noises that are almost primal ripping out of his chest.

He doesn’t stop looking at you, or saying your name, and the noise is almost pleading.

You have to cover your ears. If you heard any more you would’ve damned it and helped him, and you have a feeling it would’ve made everything worse.

It takes Steve, Sam, the whole med team, and a very concerned Natasha to get him down.

And you’re alone in the jet. Left to wander your way back to your room, your hands shaking slightly and your head spinning.

He would’ve been fine. If you’d just stayed in the car, or you’d been fucking paying attention and had moved faster—dodging the spray yourself or making sure it hit you instead of Bucky—everything would’ve been fine.

Nobody tells you what’s happening. You lay on flat the bed, stare up at the ceiling, and your brain begins to feel a little foggy.

You can still see him staring at you. The sight is almost seared onto your vision, and everything seems to be lined with blue wherever you look. He’d been in pain. This building has the most advanced medical technology in America, and these people have access to all the best doctors in the world, but as far as you know he’s still hurting. Still screaming and thrashing, still burning up and probably all alone, because this is the exact type of thing that can’t happen to him.

Fuck. This can’t happen to Bucky. If it was Steve they’d be worried, but he’d be treated with more care. No brutal slamming of his body against the jet wall, no sedative specifically tailored to make him go down. If it was Sam there wouldn’t need to be as many resources exerted to get him down. Bucky would’ve just punched him in the face with no shortage of glee in his expression, and everyone would be fine.

But Bucky’s going to have to get mental clearance. That wasn’t the Soldier, but they’ll be worried it was. You’d still seen Bucky behind his eyes—simply a panicked and desperate version of him—but no one’s going to see that but you. Even Steve will elect to be safe rather than sorry.

You’d fucked it up for him. He’d been doing so well, and you’d fucked it up with your dumb, distracting infatuation. And you don’t even know if he’s still in pain.

“FRIDAY?” Your voice is soft, barely audible even in the silence, but the AI hears you anyway.

“How can I help you, Mother Earth?”

You’re going to need to stab Tony later. Right now you have bigger worries.

“Is Bucky okay?”

“I’m sorry, agent,” FRIDAY says your last name, and her voice doesn’t sound very sorry. “I have been blocked from sharing any information about Sargent Barnes with you indefinitely.”

You sit up on the bed, glaring around the room. “I’m- what? Why would- what? Who blocked me?”

“The order was issued by Agent Romanov.”

“Can you please unblock me?”

“Unfortunately not. Your admin privileges have been removed from my system until further notice.”

You gape at the ceiling. “Who did that?”

“Dr. Banner put in the request, and it was approved by Mr. Stark. You are also under strict orders not to leave your quarters. I have an audio recording from Mr. Stark for you that can be played upon request. Would you-“

“Play it.” You snap, then flinch at your own harsh tone. “Sorry. Please play it.”

“Hey, Mom.” Tony’s voice fills the room, the usual light apathy in his voice filled with something heavier. Almost tired. You almost forget to be mad about him calling you mom. “Before you get all pissed and turn my house into the Amazon, we didn’t want to do this. Tall, dark, and murdery keeps saying your name, and until we work out what’s wrong with him I’m not comfortable having you wander around. Sorry.”

The audio clicks off, and Tony’s getting stabbed twice now.

“FRIDAY,” you chose your words carefully, keeping your tone even and natural. “Can you please tell me who’s near residential room sixty-seven?”

“Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark are standing the hall, Dr. Banner recently entered the room, and Agent Romanov just left the wing.”

“Can you patch me to Natasha, please?”

“I am alerting the agent of your request now.”

It takes a long, painful second, but Natasha picks up. You barely wait for the static hum of the call to fill the room before you’re talking, staring at the corner of your room where you know Tony keeps the camera.

“What’s wrong with him.”

Natasha sighs over the speaker. “I can’t tell you that,” she says your name in a worryingly gentle voice, and your hands curl back into fists. “You know I can’t.”

“I’m not-“ You swallow, holding your gaze on the camera. “Please. Just tell me what’s going on-“

“We’re going to fix it. Tony and Steve are looking at options-“

“Options for what?” Your voice is pleading. You don’t care. “Nat, I’m can’t- I’m really worried-“

“I know you are.” Her voice is still gentle. You can taste bile in your throat. “Which is why we can’t tell you. I’m-“

“Don’t say sorry.” You snap. “Just, just tell me he’s okay. Please.”

There’s a long silence. It’s an answer enough, and it sinks too deep into your skin.

Natasha’s a good liar.

Why can’t she just lie.

“He will be okay.” Her tone is cautious, and you can picture her frown. “We’ll make sure he’s okay.”

“Can I help?” You whisper. “With anything? Please?”

She’s silent again. You’re going to throw up.

“Nat-“

“I’ll call you back.”

The line goes dead, and that time, she’d lied. She doesn’t call you back. Time drags on and comes to odd, stuttering halts as you sit in the silence, and when you finally clear your throat and sit up once more, it’s dark outside.

“FRIDAY, can you please give me the feed of the hallway outside residential room sixty-seven?”

The AI doesn’t bother to answer you, silently patching you through.

You don’t think she’s really supposed to. But she seems to like that you say please.

Natasha, Steve, and Bruce are huddled outside of Bucky’s room, their voices low, but not enough for FRIDAY not to pick up the audio.

“He’s not getting any better.” Bruce mutters, his head turned down. You can see him fidgeting with his glasses, and you can picture the frown on his face. “And I am beginning to worry. There’s just- there’s nothing else I can do.”

Steve shakes his head, and the panic in his voice sounds a lot like the wired, tense little bubbles rising in your throat. “But- Bruce there’s got to be another option, we work in a miracle factory-“

“And I’m afraid I’m out of them, Cap. I’m sorry, it’s- it’s the only option.” Bruce sighs. “Hydra was very thorough.”

There’s a long moment of silence you can’t understand, the hum of the audio clashing horribly with the ringing in your ears, and then-

“He won’t take anyone else?” Natasha sounds desperate. It’s louder than an alarm echoing through the compound. “What about- Have we tried the pocket pussy?”

“He broke it.” Steve mutters, his face red, and a lot of things click into place at once.

The heavy breathing, and tension in his body, and animalistic sounds and behaviors. The dilated eyes, and restraints, and intense gaze.

Lustful gaze.

Oh.

Fuck.

“And Bucky’s been very clear with us that he refuses to do… that with anyone but her.” Steve’s still talking. The room around you is a little hazy. “Tony even offered to hire someone, and he said he’d rather uh, castrate himself.”

Natasha lets out a slow breath, her words slow and careful. “She’d say yes-“

“I know she would, Nat, that’s not my worry.” Steve shakes his head, frowning at the door. “She’d say yes to help him, and he’d- It would break him. If that was it.”

“And I’m trying to get it into your skull, Rogers, that wouldn’t be it-“

“You don’t know that-“

Natasha lets out a dry laugh. “I’m pretty sure I do. You’d have to be blind not to see it-“

“I’m not blind, I just don’t want Bucky to get hurt-“

“He wouldn’t get hurt, that’s what I’m saying-“

“And when he does? We can’t kick either of them out, and he- You don’t know how serious it is for him, Nat.” Steve sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “He called it a love a first sight thing.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “That probably makes two of them.”

And Natasha says your name. Everything slows, but not like in a movie. More like being underwater, where it’s just a little harder to see and hear, and you’re pushing against something that all around you, and it’s cool and easy but you’re drowning-

Then you breach the surface.

And the world becomes too fast around you as Natasha just keeps talking.

“She was begging me to help, Steve. She wouldn’t regret it-“

“And Barnes is running out time.” Bruce jumps in, giving Natasha an apologetic look. “I don’t believe he’ll allow another, no matter what levels or heights his desperation reaches, especially if he’s as… infatuated as you say.”

“He is.” Steve mumbles. “It’s… Geez, Bruce, he’s like a lost puppy.”

“So let’s go get his owner.” Natasha gives Steve a pointed look, and you swallow. “She at least deserves a choice.”

You.

You deserve the choice.

The feed drops black, and you’re going to get a choice.

It’s barely a choice. It’s more of an instinct. Steve and Bruce shuffle into your room with nervous smiles, explain the situation—you don’t want to give away that you’d been spying, it would likely just make things more complicated—and the words are Bucky’ll only, well, he’s refusing anyone but you are barely out of Steve’s mouth before you nod.

You say yes. And Steve stares at you, opening his mouth to say something he seems to think better of, and you hold is gaze.

You mean it.

And no amount of shock over the situation, no amount of stunning revelations or Tony’s worrying about you coming out, no pun intended, right side up will make you not mean it.

They give you an escape plan.

You won’t use it.

Bucky’s entirely naked when you walk into his room. Pulling a blanket over his lap before your eyes can wander further down from his darkened, painfully handsome face and broad chest. He’s sitting tall and rigid on the edge of his mattress, almost tracking your every movement as you walk through the door, jaw ticking when it closes behind you.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” He mutters. “I told Steve I’d be alright-“

“Steve told me you’re in love with me,” you blurt, and Bucky stares at you.

You hadn’t meant to just say it. You’d been planning a large build up, where he’d accuse you of pitying him and you’d say I don’t pity you, I love you, and I know you love me too.

But his first few words had been barely a rasp. He was flushed all over his body, his breathing was somehow far too deep and shallow all at once, and you can see the muscles twitching in his body. He seems to be forcing himself to barely even shift on the bed, and the mattress is creaking under the weight of his metal arm.

He put the metal arm back on.

Based on how the sheets are stained and the blanket over his lap has shifted, you have a good idea why.

Your knees are a little weak from just the sight of him.

And it’s no longer just Bucky who needs the whole we’re both idiots, because I love you conversation out of the way quick.

“Steve fucking told you-“

“He didn’t know he was telling me.” Your voice is quick, your eyes widening slightly as you cut off Bucky’s growl. “I may have been, um, spying.”

Bucky scans you over slowly, and his mouth does the small curve that means he’s dangerously close to a real smile. “Spying doesn’t really sound like you,” he says your name, and where it would normally be a drawl it’s a growl. Your legs are going to give out. “Hydra blast you with something too?”

“I’m branching out.” You mumble, playing with the fabric of your shirt and forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “Are you? In love with me?”

Bucky’s nostrils flare, and he’s watching you like he thinks you’ll disappear. Like he’s certain you’re a trick or lie or something sent to hurt him, but he’d really like you to be real.

You’d like to be real. For Bucky, you’d like to be almost anything.

And he nods, and you’re lucky the adrenaline and fear for Bucky’s health are outweighing how your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

“How-“ You have to clear your throat, your voice weaker than you’d like. “How long?”

He suddenly won’t meet your eyes. “You gave me flowers.”

You blink at him. “Bucky, I don’t-“

“Steve was introducing me to everyone.” He mutters, bowing his head. “I don’t even know where you came from, but we turned a corner and you were just… there. Like you’d formed out of thin air or something. We startled you, and you screamed. Really loud.” You think your skin might be burning up, but Bucky’s voice has a soft sort of fondness to it that keeps you from exploding on the spot. “You were really pissed, yelling at Steve about how he should know better, and your hands were full. You handed me your flowers, and you shoved Steve. He didn’t budge, and that just made you angrier. Another flower grew out of the wall. You gave me that one too.”

“Oh.” You whisper, and Bucky just nods. “And you- when did you-“

“The moment you screamed.” He frowns at himself, shaking his head. “Not because of the scream, it was a- You weren’t afraid. You screamed but you were mostly just angry, and you gave me flowers. Helped that you were beautiful.”

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I-“ You swallow. “I thought you didn’t remember that. You asked me what my powers were-“

Bucky’s flush deepens. “Just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh.” You swallow, titling your head at him. “And- When you jumped in front of me-“

“Instinct.” He’s glaring at the floor like it’s personally responsible for this whole situation. “Didn’t think. Saw you were going to be hit. Jumped.”

His words are starting to become more and more clipped and strained, as if your very presence is bending him to a snapping point.

“That wasn’t very smart, Barnes.”

“I know.” He mumbles, shoulder dropping like he’s trying to cave in on his own body, and you sigh.

“But I get it. And I- I just don’t want- I need you, Bucky. Don’t do that again.“

He nods, you don’t think he actually heard you, and you need him to look at you.

When you take a careful step forward, he glances up, but it’s weary.

“You grabbed my mug.” You whisper, giving him plenty of time to stop you before you’re standing between his legs. He doesn’t, and you take his face in your hands, your smile widening as he stares at you. “It felt like I- I could’ve died, Bucky. It was… Very big.”

It’s a strange thing to say, but there’s no other way to describe the true mass and power of how fast your love for Bucky had hit you, how quick it had sunken into your bones and mixed with your blood, and how fast your entire body had been rewritten with that knowledge as code. You love Bucky.

It’s just as natural as you need to breathe air.

He seems to understand, because he nods slowly, but it quickly turns into shakes of his head, limited between your hands.

“You don’t have to do this-“

“I don’t.” You shrug, holding his gaze. “But I’m going to. Because I love you.”

He grunts, his body almost vibrating under your touch, a visible spasm wracking his body at the words. “I- Not like this.” His words are barely audible, pushed through his teeth. “It shouldn’t be like this.”

“Bucky-“

“No. I’m not- I could hurt you. I’m not going to fucking hurt you.”

You sigh. “You can’t hurt me-“

He lets out a dry laugh. “As romantic as that is, doll, I very much can hurt you-“

“No. You literally cannot hurt me.” You raise your brows at him, your voice flat. “I’m invulnerable.”

He blinks at you, and somehow goes redder. “Oh. Right. That- I forgot.”

You giggle, running your fingers through his hair and he scowls.

“There are million assholes with a million powers, how the hell am I supposed to keep track-“

“I’m not laughing at you, Buck. You’re cute.” You smile at him, and all the tight annoyance vanishes from him expression in a single second. He’s staring at you again.

And no one’s ever looked at you like that. Like you’re maybe brighter and more critical than the sun, and you’re pulling them in stronger than the moon and the tides.

But he’s still shaking under your touch. And fuck, up close you feel even weaker. You can see every flex of his muscles, every bit of desire in his blown-out eyes and expression, the way he’s poking through the sheets over his lap and how there’s already a dark spot of pre-cum forming a stain-

You cough, your head already going a little hazy. “I want to help, Bucky. I really do, and you won’t hurt me, but if you really don’t want it, I’ll go-“

You’re falling forwards before you know what’s happening. And any yelps or squeaks of surprise are swallowed as Bucky slams his mouth into yours, and everything else in the world fades to humming color.

Everything becomes second to this.

To Bucky.

He mostly tastes like salt from the sweat dripping down his body, but under that is a heavy, strong thing that might just be him. His tongue shoved down your throat and his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline, every low and feral grunt that rumbles through his chest making you moan down into his mouth.

Nothing about this is controlled or careful. It’s teeth and spit and brutal want, bubbling up and bursting over as he nips at your lower lip and you start to grind down against him, his touch starting to wander and squeeze at the skin of your back and ass and thighs, the touch of his metal hand soothing as you scratch at his shoulder, the heat of your bodies feeling strong enough to start a small fire. Bucky’s whole arm wraps around your waist, pinning you to his chest, and when your hands fist in his hair his hips jerk up, the bump of his cock against your core making you almost melt into his body.

He’s throbbing. With the barrier of the sheets gone you can feel every inch of him wedged between your legs, and God, he’s so hard you’d think he was just a stick if you couldn’t feel every jump and twitch of his cock against your clothed thighs.

“Bucky-“ You force yourself to pull back, keep your brow pressed to his as your hips continue to roll against him. “We- Fuck, I-“

Words are a little too far away, and it doesn’t help that he won’t stop kissing you. He’s in pain and you need to fix it, but he also keeps sucking and licking over your jaw and cheeks, he’s dropping down to just bury his face in your throat, and this isn’t about you but fuck, that feels good-

You give up on words. You’ve spoken enough for now, and right now you just need to-

Bucky grunts your name as you push him off of your neck, squirming back until you’re falling to your knees before him.

“What’re you-“

You trace one hand up his thigh, trying not to spend too much time marveling at his dick. You’ve dreamed of this moment, devoted whole long and boring meetings and sleep cycles to it, and it’s still better than you’d imagined.

He’s perfect. Not big enough that you’re worried for your health, but enough that you might need to be carried around tomorrow. And he’s thick, and firm in your hand, and when you swipe your thumb over the weeping head of him, Bucky makes a sound that settles right between your legs-

“You don’t-“ He groans as you pump him once, twice, squeezing at the base of his cock and rubbing his thigh with your free hand. “Jesus, this- you’re not playing fair, doll-“

You smile up at him, and you’ve really never seen anything better than Bucky’s wrecked and desperate expression, his hair sticking to his brow and his jaw clenched so tight you’re shocked he’s able to speak.

“I think you’ll live,” you whisper, letting your hand drift down to cup his balls. “And I want to.”

Something like wonder glows behind Bucky’s eyes as he hisses your name, and the sound quickly turns to the loudest, most primal sound you’ve ever heard as you take him in your mouth in one movement.

You set a quick and even pace, bobbing up and down his cock until he’s bumping the back of your throat before pulling almost all the way off and licking a long stripe along the underside. It only takes a moment for Bucky’s hand to shoot in your hair, not guiding your movements but almost trying to keep you steady around him, his grip tightening every time you squeeze and play with his balls, his movements still painfully controlled against you.

He needs not to hold back. You don’t want him to hold back.

You reach back to hold his hand on your head—it’s the right one, and you make a comfortable bet that it’s on purpose—tangling your own fingers in his, and you start to move. Properly fucking your own face against him, squeezing his hand in silent encouragement whenever you almost choke on him, grinding your hips near his calf in silent encouragement.

Bucky moans you name when you swallow against the tip of his cock, and it’s a final warning.

You moan around him, and that’s it.

He starts to slam up into you, and you have to grab his knee to keep balance, tracing small circles with your thumb to let him know you’re okay.

You’re more than okay. Every sound Bucky makes is slurred and unintelligible, but you can get the idea. It’s odd combination of your name and praise, all sparking further heat in your gut as Bucky grows sloppy, his cock jumping and twitching in your throat.

He roars your name as he cums down your throat, and you need to hear that sound again. It spurs on your desperate grinding—half against the air, your clit bumping against Bucky’s leg if you get the right movement—and you barely manage to swallow all of his release before he’s pulling you off his cock and hauling you back up like you weigh nothing.

The kiss he moves you into—your body curled back on his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist—is a little softer than before, and you think you managed to take just a slightly edge off his problem. It’s still devouring and deep and filled with so much passion you might cum just from the feeling of Bucky’s tongue tracing over your lips and teeth and throat, but it’s slower.

“So fucking good, doll.“ His voice is a growl down your throat, and you wiggle in his hold, every bit of your own need suddenly slams into your body. “God- Don’t know how I got you, but I’m never- Wanna keep you-“

You nod, not really registering anything but Bucky saying your name and a warm feeling of good. Bucky and good, that’s burning and rolling around in your chest and stomach.

“You like that?” Bucky squeezes at your ass, and you whimper. “I’m gonna take care of you, sweet girl, make you feel just as good as I felt, seeing those gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock-“

You’re not sure how he’s capable of speech right now, but he’s talking and it’s ignite every fiber of your body, and you can only barely shake your head, pulling at his hair as you try to drag yourself together, because this isn’t about you-

The sound that leaves you when Bucky flips you over—pinning you between his body and the mattress—isn’t dignified or coherent, but you don’t really care. Not as his knee moves between your legs and your clothing gets ripped off of your skin in effective and feral movements, leaving you a puddle of need and loud moans beneath Bucky’s touch.

He’s hard again. You can feel him poking against your lower stomach as he kisses you into a dazed and high mess, and it must be painful but you still can’t really figure out how words work. How to say anything that isn’t a loud moan of Bucky.

You try to squirm, to off him at least a little friction because this is supposed to be about him, but his metal hand traps your hips, halting your every movement as he hauls himself up.

He’s just staring at you. You’re drooling a little, your chest heaving as you try to get in a breath, and your hands are still tangled in his hair for balance.

You’re lying down, but you need balance.

Because Bucky rolls his knee against your bare pussy, and your back arches off the bed with a gasp that makes his eyes flash, his dick pulsing right on your skin-

“Please-“ The word is barely audible, but it’s all you can manage. “Bucky, I- You need to-“

He nods, diving down to a long, heavy kiss and groaning as you try to grind up into him, but then he’s gone.

Not gone.

Moving down to settle between your legs, his breath hot over your cunt and his eyes wholly black as he takes in the mess between your legs.

“Wait, Buc-“ You whine as he pulls your legs further apart, the metal hand dragging two fingers between the soaked folds of your pussy. “Shit- You don’t- This is supposed to be about you-“

“This is about me.” He grunts, his right hand trailing slowly up your inner thigh, and when you crane your neck to look at him there’s almost a fascination on his face. “Said you’d feel good.”

“I do- I am good-“ Your hips fly off the mattress as he kisses right over your clit, and the metal arm moves to pin you back against the mattress. “You don’t need-“

He latches his lips over your clit, sucking and licking as his free thumb presses right over your entrance, and you choke on the air.

“Bucky- fuck-“

“Want to,” he growls, the sound humming and deep and right over your pussy, and you can’t gasp his name enough. “Hold on.”

Your hands blindly follow his order, one fisting in his hair as the other grips his metal arm, and you’re not sure how you don’t black out.

There’s something a little clumsy to his movements–decades without practice will do that—but that only seems to make it better. He’s not calculated and deliberate. You’re not a mission or a means to an end.

Bucky eats your pussy like he wants to. Like he’s been starved for it, and there’s nothing more he needs in the world. It’s not gentle but it’s attentive, he’s keeping you right on the edge—pulling his hand away and replacing it with his tongue, letting his nose bump you clit until he moves back to pumping his fingers in and out of your fluttering cunt—and you can hear the bed start to squeak as his own hips rut against the mattress.

You try to moan his name, but you can’t think, so all that comes out is a high, needy whine.

He understands. His metal hand moves to tangle with yours, grounding you slightly as you hang right over the edge of release, and when his finger crook on that one, sensitive spot deep inside of you, fireworks burst in over your body as you cum with a strangled scream.

Bucky makes a deep sound against your pussy as you start to roll in his hold, and you don’t get a chance to catch your breath before he’s crashing back up to your mouth.

He moans your name against your lips, his cock pressed right against your still fluttering cunt, and you nod.

“Now,” you manage to whisper, spreading your legs widen in a silent invitation. “Bucky, need more-“

Whatever amount of control he’d had only a few minutes ago is almost completely. Bucky flips you onto your stomach without effort, hauling your ass into the air with firm but gentle hands, and slams himself into you with one movement. You gasp as he bottoms out, and he doesn’t move.

Somehow Bucky manages to still have enough of a hold over himself to give you time to adjust, even if it’s not without effort. You can hear the low grunts leaving him as he half folds himself over your body, kissing slowly up your spine and resting his brow on your shoulder, his breathing ragged and sharp as you clench around his cock.

“Fuck-“ Bucky hisses your name, shaking his head. “Can’t do that, I’m not-“ You do it again, and he moans. A real, loud moan. “You’re- fuck-“

“Please,” you wiggle your ass against him, and his hands tense on your body. “I- I’m good-“

“Yeah, you are.” His mutter is filled with low wonder, and it just makes you squeak. “You want it, babydoll?”

You moan, nodding stupidly. “Yes-“

The word is barely out of your mouth before Bucky starts to move, and you’ve never been higher. He’s in so deep, and you’re fuller than you’ve been in your life, and drunk on how big he is, how he hits every right spot and how he keeps grunting low praise and moaning your name against your skin-

You bury your face in the sheets to try and muffle your whines of desperation and Bucky’s hand catches your jaw, turning your head to capture your lips in a long, searing kiss as he hammers into you.

“Bucky-“

“Feel so good,” he mutters again your lips, thrusting with a brutal movement and groaning when you squeeze around his cock. “Jesus, you’re so good, doing so well, pretty girl, so fuckin’ close-“

The Brooklyn accent is coming out, and his words are starting to slur, and you only manage to moan down his throat in a silent plea of more.

Bucky’s pace picks up into uncontrolled and frantic movements, his skin slapping against yours as his metal arm snaked around your stomach and his fingers start to rub furious, impossibly fast circles around your clit-

Your second orgasm slams into you like a tidal wave, and the only thing in the world is the dizzying and perfect pleasure washing over your body as Bucky roars your name, something warm filling you up and dripping down your thighs with your own release.

Bucky tries to move away—pulling out and pushing off of where he’s wrapped himself around your body—but you grab his arm, keeping him splayed over you.

“Need to clean you up-“

“I’ll be okay,” you mumble, a dazed smile covering your lips as you reach back, trailing your finger through his hair. “Stay.”

He pauses, but only for a second. Then his weight is settles back over your body, and everything is alright.

Bucky’s alright. His cock in still twitching and jumping near your ass, and you think it’ll take a while to fully fuck the bioweapon out of his system, but you’re more than up to the task. For now you can just drown in his warmth, half petting his hair and humming as his lips trail over your shoulder in featherlight kisses.

“Did you mean it?”

You twist your head, a small frown on your face. “Mean-“

“The-“ He sighs, staring at you like he’s trying to pry something inside of you out. “The thing.”

“That I love you?”

Bucky’s throat bobs, and he nods.

“Of course I did.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth that takes only second to turn into Bucky rolling your onto your back, his tongue pressing on your lower lip in a silent request-

You push on his chest slightly, holding his gaze as he pulls back with a frown.

“Did you mean it?”

He looks almost offended. “Yeah, I meant it. I’ve never meant anything more-“

You tug him back down, and that can be the end of it for now. It could be the end of it forever, and you’d be happy.

You don’t need a long explanation about it. You don’t need justifications for why neither of you ever said anything, or to repeat it until you both believe it.

You already believe it. And telling Bucky won’t do anything, so you’ll just have to spend a long, long time showing him.

And as long as you have that time, with Bucky, you’ll be happy.

End Note: Love making Steve talk about pocket pussies. That's an America I want to be a part of <3

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spideyjimin · 7 months ago

Text

UNTIL I FOUND HER | kth

⤷ part of the dads universe

⏤ pairing: football/soccer player!taehyung x female reader

⏤ genre: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, fluff, and smut

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ warnings: dom!taehyung, swearing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, a lot of making out, sexual tension, mention of sex, some teasing, praising, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, multiple orgasms, mention of oral sex, some crying, mention of pregnancy, mention of unprotected sex, mention of abortion, and pregnancy

⏤ words: 17,145

⏤ summary: taehyung is your best friend, he’s been part of your life for as long as you can remember. his love life is a complete chaos. there is only one girl he has truly ever loved. that girl is you. but how would things turn out when he finds out that you love him back?

⏤ author’s note: the fic is finally here 🤗 i loved writing this fic & writing this Tae, he’s so soft 🥹 honestly, i was super excited to post it, i truly hope you enjoy this fic 💜 let me know what you think of it & thanks for reading, angels ✨

DECEMBER 31, 2021

As every year, you celebrate the new year with your best friend, Taehyung. You’re not really fond of this celebration but you get to be with your best friend so you deeply cherish this day. This day is also a continuation of his birthday which takes place the day before.

Since he became a professional footballer/soccer player, you barely get to see him. His life changed completely. He trains a lot on a daily basis, he has games during the weekend, he constantly travels, and most importantly, he became famous. He’s one of the best players of his generation so he gets a fair amount of attention. It’s been hard for you to find your place in this new life, but Taehyung has always made sure to keep in contact with you. Most importantly, he has been keeping you out of the public eye.

Everything that he does instantly makes headlines, he doesn’t get much of a private life. However, he protects the people he dearly loves. Seeing him become that famous broke your heart because you’ve been loving him for a couple of years now. With his fame, you get to see him kissing girls and flirting with them. For a while, he also had a girlfriend and he was going everywhere with her. It was hard to see even though he had introduced her to you.

There are quite a lot of people at this party. But nothing new. You don’t know most of the people, they are friends of friends of friends. In summary, they were invited by someone. Taehyung also invited known people like Jungkook, a famous singer, and Hoseok, a famous actor. They’ve met through acquaintances and since then, they’ve been invited to this new year party. You like them a lot, they are very nice people despite being famous. Hoseok is actually the one with whom you’ve got closer. He’s now like a super friend.

You’re sitting at a table with Jungkook and you’re animatedly speaking. Honestly, you’re surprised by the life this man lives. He’s been a singer for more than 10 years but it feels like he has been living that life for 30 years. So many things have happened in his life and he has done so much. He’s also young so it’s almost impossible to believe him.

For a brief moment, your eyes scan the room and your body freezes for a split second when your eyes meet Taehyung’s. He’s so fucking gorgeous. The type of gorgeous that takes your breath away. Well, he’s always handsome but tonight, he’s even more than usual.

His hair is fully pushed back, except for a strand of hair falling on his face. It kind of makes him look like a bad boy. However, he’s a nice bad boy which is ironic. He’s wearing a flannel blue shirt with a large black pair of jeans. It’s simple but anything simple looks great on him.

You both glance at each other for a moment, it feels like there’s nobody else but you. Since yesterday, things have been different between you. The way you look at each other is different, the way you act around each other has changed. Nothing is awkward. It’s simply different but it’s a different that feels good. However, it leaves you wondering why your encounter changed this time around. What caused this change?

After what felt like an eternity, Taehyung joins you.

“How’s the night going?” He asks you.

Your eyes glance at him. “So far, it’s going well,” you answer with a smile.

Taehyung smiles back at you. “I’m glad we’re here together tonight,” he says. “I was actually looking forward to seeing you because it’s been a while.”

Your best friend is sometimes sad to not be able to see as much as he’d like to. For sure, he’s content with being a footballer/soccer player but this life has drifted you apart. By some miracle, you managed to keep the friendship which he’s very happy with. However, he barely sees you in a year. He tries to always make it to your birthday and make sure you get to celebrate his birthday and new year together.

However, he wishes he could be with you forever.

This separation sometimes breaks his heart because he spent all his childhood and teenage years with you, and now, you barely see each other. Of course, you text and call each other daily but it isn’t the same.

As he says those words, you can feel the heat taking over your face. Hearing those words makes you feel something in your stomach, you can’t quite explain it but it definitely makes you feel good and loved.

“Me too,” you simply reply.

Taehyung offers you a genuine smile before taking a sip of the drink he’s holding. Probably a cocktail that he prepared. For a little while, you talk about random things that happened in your life for the past months. The two of you enjoy this moment, it warms both of your hearts to hear what has been going on.

Taehyung can’t help but love the way you smile as you explain an event that occurred at work. The way your face lights up when you talk about work makes it obvious to him that you adore what you do for a living. He can’t help but find you absolutely stunning tonight. You’re wearing a blue pair of jeans with a floral top. It fits you perfectly. Well, he believes that everything fits you perfectly.

After a while, you split as you start talking with other friends around you. Throughout the night, you keep drinking some cocktails prepared specifically for the party. Well, some bartenders were hired for the event so you can ask whatever you want and they’ll make it.

You head to the little bar, joining Jungkook who’s already ordering something.

“Hi again,” you say as you reach him.

His head turns to the left, a smile growing on his face when he sees you.

“Hi again,” he replies.

Jungkook is a very good-looking man. He emanates a strong confidence which causes everyone to constantly look at him. For sure, you believe that this comes with being a singer. A singer constantly performs in front of people, gives interviews, signs autographs, takes pictures with fans, and many other things. For you, a singer needs to be comfortable in their shoes otherwise things can be hard, especially for the attention they get. It’s hard to imagine how Jungkook can handle all that. Well, you wonder the same with Tae because, at the end of the day, all of that applies to him as well.

“Has someone ever told you how pretty you are?” he asks with evident seriousness. “I constantly wonder how Tae hasn’t already fallen for you.”

Your cheeks instantly turn red. This is clearly and certainly unexpected. You never imagined that he considered you as pretty. Usually, famous people only find super thin and fit women as pretty, and to be honest, you’re none of both. But it actually flatters you that such a handsome man finds you pretty.

Since he caught you off guard, you don’t even know what to reply. “Tae is my best friend.”

As soon as those words leave your lips, you actually feel ridiculous. Tae is your best friend but that doesn’t change the fact that you developed feelings for him. However, you’re convinced that he doesn’t feel the same about you.

“Honestly, if you were my best friend, I would have already tried to seduce you,” he tells you. “Being best friends doesn’t necessarily mean that you can’t fall for each other.”

He’s totally right, and you absolutely know it.

“You’re not wrong,” you reply.

A smile appears on his face. He’s stunning when he smiles. As you glance at him for a little while, you realize that you clearly understand why he has many girls at his feet. He’s very talented and attractive. No wonder that most of the girls scream like crazy when they see him.

“And to answer your first question, not many people have said that to me,” you say.

“Well, they clearly are blind,” he teasingly says.

A little laugh escapes your lips. Honestly, if this fantastic singer is going to flirt with you tonight, you’ll do the same. It’s not every day that someone like Jungkook flirts with you.

From afar, Taehyung watches the two of you discuss. It’s more than obvious that his friend, Jungkook is flirting with you. What he hates watching is you flirting back with him. From the way you laugh at his silly jokes to the way you touch him makes him want to throw up. Never in his life did he think he’d have to watch you flirt.

But he can’t do anything. You’re not his. He’s just your best friend. More than anyone else, you deserve happiness. He can’t stop what is starting to happen between you and Jungkook. If you like each other, what can he concretely do? He takes a sip of his drink. For a moment, he simply looks at the two of you openly flirting together. He wishes that this would have not happened in front of him. It makes him jealous, and he doesn’t like that feeling. It makes him feel vulnerable.

Right at that moment, Jungkook looks at him with a devious smile. Tae knows right there and then that he’s doing this on purpose. But why? For sure, he does that because he has an idea in his mind. Tae talks again with the guy next to him about football/soccer. It occupies his mind and it also doesn’t tempt him to glance at you.

After a while, Jungkook takes a seat next to him. He smiles like an idiot, Tae only wants to slap him when he smiles like that.

“You should tell her you like her,” he says with still that silly smile.

“I don’t see what you’re talking about,” Tae replies with his cheeks turning red.

“Yes, you know,” he instantly answers. “It’s written all over your face that you fell for her.”

Tae takes a sip to try to cool down his body’s temperature.

“I noticed it a while ago,” he starts saying. “You’re quite subtle. Being her best friend is the excuse you use to hide your true feelings. But slowly, I realized the way your face lit up when you talked about her. It was obvious you liked her more than a friend,” Jungkook explains. “I used this party to test the waters by flirting with her and your face confirmed it all.”

The footballer looks at his friend in disbelief. It’s unbelievable that his friend did that to simply confirm a theory. But he’s also surprised that he noticed he has feelings for you. For years, he thought he was discreet but it looks like he wasn’t after all. If Jungkook noticed it, surely other people would too.

“By the way, I totally get why you fell in love with her. Beyond being petty, she has a wonderful soul,” Jungkook adds. “But don’t waste more time. Go talk to her.”

Tae shakes his head. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I care too much about her and I don’t want to lose her.”

“Maybe you won’t lose her,” his friend says. “Maybe the feelings are mutual, maybe she loves you too.”

Taehyung doesn’t believe that. He’s truly convinced that you only see him as a very good friend and nothing more. Plus, he isn’t going to say anything because he’s scared to be heartbroken. He wouldn’t be able to handle that and still be your friend. And he’s sure that you would refuse to remain friends.

“I’m sorry, JK but I’m not going to do that,” he replies before leaving his friend alone.

Tae would rather see you falling in love with someone else than lose you forever. That’s the naked truth. He would prefer to be jealous than heartbroken.

As the night goes on, Taehyung avoids you. The discussion he had with Jungkook ⏤ and seeing you flirting with him ⏤ disturbed him. He knows that if he’s around you, he won’t be able to act like nothing happened. That he won’t be able to contain his jealousy.

The entire night you’re confused about why your best friend isn’t with you. It actually breaks your heart. You keep wondering if you did something wrong. The only thing that crosses your mind is the little flirting session with Jungkook. You wonder if he’s angry that his friend dared to get close to you. That’s the only reason you can think of. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

Taehyung keeps eyeing you from afar. It’s hard to be far from you when you’re in the same room. All he wants is to be next to you but he can’t. So he keeps on drinking and you do the same. By the time it’s 23:59, you’re both just completely drunk.

“10, 9, 8,” everybody shouts as you watch the countdown on tv.

You slowly get closer to Taehyung.

“7, 6, 5,” he looks for you in the room.

“4, 3, 2,” your eyes meet.

“1, 0,” your hearts beat fast.

“Happy new year!” everybody screams with joy.

You hug the person next to you and wish her a very happy new year. She does the same with a bright smile on her face. You keep doing that with friends while exchanging cheek kisses. It makes you happy to be starting the new year with them and their best wishes. You can feel that this year will be fantastic. You can’t explain how but you feel it deep inside you. It’s an intuition.

Slowly but surely, you get closer to Taehyung. There is no other person in this room with whom you’d like to hug, kiss, and wish a very happy new year. He’s the only person that has ever mattered in your life.

Once you’re face to face, you simply stare at each other. Your heart is racing inside your chest, your body is completely frozen, and your mind can’t think straight. Being in front of him after what felt like a crazy night is strange.

You take a step forward, your faces are quite close, and a smile appears on both your faces.

“Happy new year, Tae,” you finally say.

His smile grows bigger and even gets brighter. It almost looks like he’s shining. He gets closer to you in order to hug you but as he takes a step closer, his face gets closer to yours. For a split second, you can see his eyes going down on your lips which causes your heart to hammer even more in your chest.

Your eyes are lost in his, your breathing getting heavier, and the room’s temperature increasing insanely. You can feel his hot breath on your face, his strong scent invades all your senses. Right now, the crowd in the room disappears completely. There’s only you and him.

All you want to do right now is to kiss him desperately. You want to feel his lips on yours. You want to taste his lips. You want to get lost in his lips. For years, you wondered what it’d feel like to kiss him, and at this exact moment, you sense like you’re about to find it out.

Taehyung sees your eyes looking down at his lips which makes him feel like he’s won. Jungkook’s words echo in his head. ‘Maybe she loves you too.’ Maybe Jungkook was right. By the way you’re looking at him, he’d say that his friend was indeed right. You wouldn’t be looking at him with an evident desire to kiss him written all over your face if you were considering him as a friend. This wouldn’t be happening if he was only your friend.

A strong warmth invades his heart as he knows that he can do what he’s been dying to do for years. He’s still hesitant though. He’s not sure if he can do it.

“Happy new year to you too, yn,” he whispers while his face gets even closer to yours. “I wish you all the best for this new year.”

Shivers run down your spine. His eyes stare deep into yours and it makes you feel like he senses what you deeply crave right now.

Once he says those words, his mouth meets yours. Even though you want this, it catches you by surprise so it takes you a hot second to kiss him back. The kiss is shy at first, as if you’re both scared but it slowly turns into a desperate and fervent one. One of his hands goes to the back of your neck while the other one goes to your hips. He pushes your body closer to his. Your hands cup his face while you intensely kiss each other.

This feels like heaven for you two. This kiss has been wanted for years, but none of you dared to do it, too scared to ruin the friendship. Now that this is happening you’re not even afraid to lose each other. However, you wonder if this is only occurring because you’re both completely wasted.

You open your mouth, giving him free access to your mouth. His tongue doesn’t hesitate one second to find yours. Gently, your tongues meet and it feels wonderful. Inside of your lower belly, thousands of butterflies are freed. Never have you thought that this would’ve happened one day.

When you’re both out of breath, you break the kiss and rest your foreheads against the other. For a moment, you simply look at each other while you catch your breath. Taehyung’s fingers softly caress your face and you close your eyes to savour this moment.

“This is a great way to start the year,” your best friend murmurs.

You open your eyes to look at him. He’s so beautiful, he looks like a dream. This all sounds like a dream but it’s really taking place. You really kissed him. This isn’t something coming out of your imagination. This is real.

This time you’re the one who kisses him. You don’t want this to ever stop, you want to keep kissing him until your body can’t handle it anymore. A soft moan leaves his mouth when your lips meet. He also wants to keep doing this forever. He doesn’t know if you’ll both remember this tomorrow because you’re drunk so he wants to enjoy every second of it.

Taehyung teasingly bites your lower lip which causes a moan to escape your mouth. A devious smirk appears on his face but he gets back to kissing you fervently. This kiss seems to slowly evolve into something more. It’s evident that you want more. You can feel it in the way his tongue plays with yours, in the way your hands move in his body, and in the way his hands hold you tight against his body. You obviously want to have sex together. This could stop you but it doesn’t. You desperately crave this.

He breaks the kiss, it wouldn’t be appropriate to keep doing this in the middle of this crowded room.

“Do you want to go to my place?” he nervously asks.

Right there, when he dares to ask this, you realize the extent of the situation. You kissed your best friend, and there’s no doubt that you’re not going to his place to play cards. If you accept his proposal, you’ll get laid. Would your friendship resist this? Would you even remain friends? Would this mean that you’re together now?

Those questions are quickly erased from your mind. You’ve already ruined the friendship by kissing each other. Going a bit further won’t change that. And honestly, right now, you don’t want to think about what will happen tomorrow.

“Yes,” you nod.

Your best friend smiles before grabbing your hand and taking you out of this place. He guides you to the parking lot where his car is. It’s an underground parking lot and there’s absolutely nobody except you and Taehyung. You quickly reach his car, a brand new BMW X1. It’s such a wonderful car. You don’t know much about cars, you just look at them from the outside and judge them. You heard many good things about the brand BMW so you’re convinced it’s a good car.

He opens the car door for you before making your way inside the car. The smell of leather invades your senses. Weirdly, it’s a smell that you’ve always liked. The smell of a brand-new car always brings you back to a childhood memory, a very good one. So, you always like this smell. Taehyung looks at you with marvel. He’s aware of this liking of yours and he knows what it is related to. He finds you adorable.

Quickly, he starts the car and drives like a crazy to reach his place as soon as possible. He definitely doesn’t want to waste time. All he wants right now is to have his lips on yours and fuck you until there’s no tomorrow.

As soon as you arrive at his place, the two of you leave the car in a hurry. In less than a minute, you enter your place, take your shoes and coats off, and run to his massive bedroom. You know his place by heart as you’ve come a hundred times. It’s quite a wonderful and impressive house but right now, you don’t really have the time to take a proper look at his place.

Taehyung doesn’t waste a second before kissing you passionately. Damn, he is desperate to feel your lips against his. It’s all he wanted to do during the car ride. Actually, he is simply completely desperate for you. After all, he’s been having a crush on you for years.

“I desperately want you, yn,” he whispers against your lips with his deep voice.

You clench your tights together, his raspy voice sending shivers down your spine, but his voice is so low that you barely hear his words. However, you don’t need to hear him say it to know it, it’s clearly written all over his face.

“And I’m desperate for you, Tae,” you reply.

The football/soccer player presses his lips against yours once again but this time, he’s kissing you with a fervent passion. Having his lips on yours feels like a dream, it almost feels like this isn’t happening. But damn, this is even better than anything you dreamed.

Slowly, the two of you walk closer to the bed before sliding onto it, now finding yourself lying on the bed with his toned figure hovering over you. His toned body is still something you’re trying to adjust. Taehyung used to have a frail body but since he became a professional player, his body has completely changed. He got even hotter with time.

Never once do you break the kiss, loving the feeling of your tongues sensually battling in your mouth. A small whimper escapes your throat as his hands move down to your waist. He softly caresses you before his hands pull up your floral top to finally touch your skin. His long fingers brush on your stomach, the cold feeling of them making you moan.

“Your skin is so soft,” he whispers on your lips while his eyes lock with yours.

He doesn’t let you answer and his teeth grab your lower lip, snatching a moan out of you. Haltingly, his right hand descends on your body, goosebumps rising on your body as his fingers get closer to your core. His long fingers push your pants and underwear down your legs before throwing them onto the floor.

As slowly and carefully as possible, they swipe along your slit, making you gasp at the contact. A moan escapes your mouth, and Taehyung has to admit this is a sound that he adores. For sure, this is something that he’ll get to hear often tonight, and fuck, he can’t wait to make you moan even more.

At first, your crush abuses your clit with his thumb in order to get you wet before he inserts his fingers inside you to stretch you open. The feeling of his cold thumb circling on your clit feels marvelous, Taehyung is doing wonders to your body.

“I’m gonna add a finger,” he warns you.

The man wastes no time before dipping one finger into your heat, preparing you for what is coming. His eyes watch as your face contorts with delight while his finger slowly pumps in and out of you. It feels divine to have his finger inside you. It brushes against all the right spots inside you, this already feels like heaven on earth.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet, butterfly,” he says to you.

Hearing the nickname sends shivers down your spine. From time to time, Tae gives you cute nicknames and you actually love that. It sometimes makes you feel like your romantic feelings are reciprocated.

For a little while, he just stretches you open with one finger. The man has no rush in giving you pleasure but he knows that in the end, all this preparation will give you the best orgasm of your life.

“I’m going to add a second finger,” he informs you.

The fact that he lets you know what he’s about to do melts your heart. Taehyung is such a gentleman even when he gets all dirty. At least you can prepare yourself for whatever size his cock is. Hopefully, it’s not a monster. Based on what you can see thanks to his pants, he’s not small but at the same time, he doesn’t look too big.

Once his second finger slips inside you, you spread your legs a bit more. Small gasps of delight leave your lips as he pleases you with only two fingers. The room around you starts to get extremely hot, your heart starts to pound faster and harder in your chest, and the pleasure starts to build within you. Taehyung smiles as he feels his fingers getting covered with your wetness.

“Fuck, butterfly,” he mumbles, “you’re getting so wet.”

His fingers slowly move completely out of your pussy before sliding them in again with ease. Another moan leaves your mouth, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his fingers filling you up. He repeats the action of moving his fingers out but this time, he brings his fingers to his mouth to taste your sweet and sticky juices. As he does so, you take a moment to admire his strong arms. Something that always turns you on when looking at his arms is how veiny they are.

Your eyes never leave him, a moan leaving your mouth as he twirls his tongue around his fingers. The sight is so damn erotic, and it makes you grow wetter. Taehyung places himself in between your legs, spreading them even more to get a proper view of your cunt. You’re prettier than in his wildest dreams. He can’t wait to be fully inside you and to feel your velvety walls around him. That thought alone almost makes him groan.

The two of you are already completely consumed by pleasure. As this is something you both desired for a long time, it makes everything feel more intense. You’re simply so needy for each other.

He licks his lips, taking in the amazing view he has before him. This sight alone turns him on even more.

“You’re so wonderful, butterfly,” he runs his thumb over his lower lip.

Your friend takes his shirt off, exposing his upper body to your very hungry eyes. Without an ounce of shame, your eyes wander on his toned chest and arms. He’s so fucking hot. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him shirtless. You’ve already seen him a couple of times shirtless. However, it’s different this time. He’s shirtless because you’re about to be fucked by this god.

Taehyung leans closer to you before pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. When he stands again, he pushes again two fingers inside your core, making you moan at the feeling of his wet fingers inside your velvety walls. For a little moment, he just enjoys torturing you at a slow pace with his two fingers covered in your wetness. Nothing can compare to the excitement he feels when he sees you contorting with delight. A delight that he is causing with his fingers. That swells his heart in a way he can’t even explain.

He’s pleasuring the woman he always loved.

“Ready for a third finger?” he asks.

You nod, knowing perfectly that you need that third finger to stretch your core even more. Your body and mind can even picture how it will feel. However, slowly but surely, you’re getting desperate to have his dick buried deep inside you. After your contentment, he curls a third finger into you, and damn, you love it so much. Your head rolls back, loving every second of Taehyung’s torture on you but as you do so, you expose your neck to his burning eyes. Without any hesitation, his mouth finds your neck.

Having his fingers thrusting faster, and his tongue and teeth abusing your neck makes you moan more and more. Without any warning, the wave of pleasure fiercely washes over you, Taehyung’s name rolling out of your tongue while he keeps abusing your neck and core. You close your eyes to enjoy the feeling that this orgasm generates.

“Wow,” you barely manage to say.

This is the first orgasm Taehyung offered you. It tastes tremendously wonderful, and you only want more. Your friend only stops torturing you when you’ve come down for your high. His fingers are fully covered with your arousal by now, and he carefully pushes them out of you to take a proper look at them. You gasp at the feeling of emptiness.

“Wow, it was so intense,” you finally say as you open your eyes.

You’re greeted with your friend licking his fingers to taste you. He’s standing tall between your legs with his long fingers in his mouth. That’s a very hot and intense vision, and you never thought you needed it before. This man is turning you on like crazy! You could keep looking at this forever.

“And it’s only the beginning, butterfly,” Taehyung replies with a little smirk appearing on his face.

“You’re such a tease,” you reply before giving him a gentle slap on his chest.

A little laugh escapes his lips.

“It’s nothing new,” he mumbles as he gets closer to you. “I’ve always teased you,” he whispers in your ear.

Fuck, you’re not sure you’ll be able to survive this night. It’s only the beginning and you’re already dead. Before you can comprehend what is going on, the man on top of you fully removes your top and wastes no time in removing your bra. Feeling his fingers brushing against your skin sends shivers all over your body. Your eyes only stare deep in his lusty gaze.

Your heart is rapidly hammering in your chest, ready to burst at any second. Sharing such an intimate moment with him is something you’ve been dreaming of for years, and you’ve been desiring it more than you can even express. However, having it actually happen is quite something. As your eyes keep watching him, you take in every single detail of his sweet face.

He has a pronounced jaw which is part of his charm. He has a little mole on his nose which makes him cute. His dark hair is falling on his face which makes him even more handsome. His deep dark eyes are looking at you with evident desire which turns you on. He has heart-shaped lips which you’ve desired to kiss for years.

This all feels unreal.

Quickly, the lust written all over his face turns into worry. His brows furrow, and you can’t resist the urge to touch the spot right in between his brows. Taehyung shivers when he senses your fingers before closing his eyes for a brief moment. This moment right here is the most intimate you both ever experienced in your lives. You’ve had partners in the past and you loved them, but nothing compares to this feeling.

The love you share has grown over the years and it only got stronger over time. This inevitable moment is the simple proof of your deep and shared love. Yes, it’s dirty, but it’s filled with true love. It’s evident that you’re soulmates. True soulmates.

Taehyung opens his eyes to be greeted by the prettiest woman he has ever seen. He could do this eternally. Seeing you every day would be his greatest pleasure. Being able to touch you every single day would be his biggest dream. Being around you is and will forever be his home. You’re the person that has ever been able to make him feel at home. It has never been about a place. It has always been about a person.

Without hesitation, you both kiss each other with tenderness and passion. You’re kissing each other like it’s the last time you’ll do it. And god, you indescribably love it. Your hands instantly find their way to his fluffy hair, softly playing with it as you kiss him like there’s no tomorrow. His tongue slowly finds yours to share an erotic dance. Little moans leave both your lips. Deep down in your body, you can feel the pleasure growing inside you. This kiss wakes up every single fiber of your body.

“Yn,” Taehyung whispers against your lips.

Slowly, your eyes look up at him. His eyes are closed so you can’t see them but you smile because you can’t help but find him adorable while he kisses you. You close your eyes to savor this moment. You break the kiss to catch your breath. Taehyung’s eyes quickly scan you before his lips get close to your ear.

“You’re a fucking dream, butterfly,” he whispers with a deep voice before he nibbles your ear which makes you moan.

It’s so disconcerting how he can switch from sweet to filthy in a second.

“And you’re my fucking dream, Taetae,” you reply before pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

A smile spreads across his face while he buries it in the hollow of your neck. You can feel his smile against your lips and you can’t help but hold him tight against you. After a little while, he presses kisses on your neck. Little moans escape your lips as he keeps leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your jaw. Rapidly, he reaches your lips and presses a kiss on them.

Taehyung stands back again to take his pants and underwear off. But before he can unzip his pants, he’s taken aback by your question.

“So we’re going to make babies?” you softly ask while looking at him.

Taehyung is no stranger to your shyness when it comes to sexuality. He has always spoken very openly about his sexual activities. Not with you of course because he’s a crush on you and it feels weird to be talking about having sex with someone to the girl he loves. However, he isn’t embarrassed to sometimes bring up the topic. He has already said that he adores blowjobs, especially if they are done very well. Or that he loves giving pleasure to his partner. Whenever he talks about it, you instantly turn red. He has always found you incredibly adorable.

On top of turning red, you also don’t use harsh words. For example, you don’t say “cock” or “dick” out loud. Instead, you’ll say ‘pipi’, standing for penis. You’ll say “naughty time” instead of “having sex”. Sometimes, he even likes to tease you because you’re the cutest person ever when you get shy. He’s aware that you’ve had sex and the simple thought of you doing it with someone else makes him angry. But even though you’ve had sex, you still get very shy when the topic is brought up. Which honestly is very ironic.

“Well, if by making babies, you mean having sex,” he starts saying. “I’ll say yes, butterfly.”

Butterfly is a nickname that comes from when you were kids. Most of the time, you’d be the kind of girl running after butterflies in the park. Taehyung would run with you of course but you’d be the first to do it. Jokingly, he started calling you ‘butterfly’ but it stayed. But after he started dating his first girlfriend, he stopped giving you that nickname. You always thought she was the one who asked him to stop calling you like that, but it wasn’t.

He stopped doing it because, with time, that nickname meant that he loved you. He was never able to give a simple cute nickname to any of his girlfriends. It was impossible for him. Giving you a nickname was the proof that he loved you more than a friend should. He had to hide his feelings so that meant stopping calling you ‘butterfly’. However, sometimes, he still does it, especially when he gets tipsy.

But tonight, he has said the nickname more than he has done over the last few years. And it gives you butterflies.

Taehyung slowly undresses himself in front of you, and you enjoy the view. He’s incredibly handsome. You don’t even understand how you got here with your best friend. You bite your lower lip as you admire him undressing himself. That’s hot.

When he’s fully naked, your eyes inevitably look down at his manhood. It’s quite something. It’s a bit long but not too long as well. It’s a reasonable length. On top of that, it’s thick. You’d say it’s a reasonable thickness but that wouldn’t be quite right. Honestly, his dick isn’t a monster, but it’s not a baby too. Most of your previous partners had smaller dicks. Nonetheless, he’s impressive, and you can’t wait to have him deep inside you.

“Are you ready, yn?” you nod, ready to be completely mind-blown by this man you desperately love.

Taehyung holds his hard member before stroking it a few times, your hands snail down to his abs before slowly moving up. He bends down to press a kiss on your lips before he slowly buries his cock inside your soaked core, stretching your velvety walls. Both of you moan as he slowly pushes his thick cock inside you. Fuck, it feels wonderful.

Since the beginning of the night, you’ve been craving this and you’re both enjoying this.

Once he’s deep inside you, his hips stay still to give you the time to adjust. His lips press a gentle kiss since he adores doing it. For a little moment, your mind only focuses on him and his lips. Nothing else. When he breaks the kiss, your walls clench around his thick member, making him groan.

“Don’t torture me, butterly,” he begs, his eyes locked on yours.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “It wasn’t made on purpose, Tae,” you reply.

His lips press another sweet kiss on your lips, but very quickly, it turns into a fervent kiss. As you’re kissing, he slowly moves inside you. It’s very subtle but you definitely feel it. When you break the kiss, you give him a small slap on his ass.

“Whenever you want, you can move,” you whisper against his lips.

A giggle leaves his mouth after the small slap on his ass. He’s actually very amazed, he never imagined you’d ever slap his ass one day. In all honesty, he’s surprised in a good way.

Taehyung slowly pushes back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you. His large hands find their way to your waist, caressing your soft skin while his eyes filled with lust glance into yours. He moves again his dick inside you, filling you up to the brim. It’s euphoric to have him completely inside you again.

“So fucking good,” you mumble as your eyes roll back.

A smile arises on his face, happy to be able to give you pleasure with just that but well, he’s enjoying it just as much. Once he’s completely inside you, he doesn't move for a little while, hovering over you and watching you with enchantment. His eyes glance down at your body. It’s the first time he’s seen you fully naked, and you’re just mesmerizing. He wants to keep looking at you to engrave in his mind how wonderful you are.

He starts to thrust into you at a slow pace at first. The movements of his hips are very sensual and slow, the room getting filled with the sound of his hips hitting softly yours. There isn’t any urge in Taehyung’s hips movements, all he focuses on is to provide you pleasure. His eyes keep going down on your body, and he groans when he watches himself buried deep inside you.

“Your cunt takes me so fucking well, butterfly,” he mumbles.

You close your eyes, completely enjoying the feeling of having him fully inside you. Never once do the thrusts become brutal and rough, they are deep and slow, making you moan a lot. It’s extremely sensual, and it definitely matches how you envisioned Taehyung in bed. The way he’s fucking you is euphoric. You only crave more and more.

The bed under you squeaks, the headboard hits the wall just behind you while your friend simply makes love to you, or as you’d say, he simply makes babies with you. He leans down to press a sloppy kiss on your lips, your hands finding their way to his neck and hair. Your nails scratch the skin of his neck and shoulders, making him groan against your lips.

The man over you decides to stop moving, torturing you just a bit. “Don’t stop, Tae,” you beg.

His lips press another kiss on your lips. “Your wishes are my command, yn,” he says before biting your lower lip.

Taehyung pushes his cock back before thrusting into you very slowly and deeply with both hands on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. The slick sound of your pussy soaking his cock as well as your moans fill the room.

“Damn,” you gasp while he keeps torturing you at a slow pace, “you feel so good.”

You’re completely drunk in the feeling of his cock filling you up, his hips hitting against yours with every thrust he makes. This all causes sparks of pleasure to shoot throughout your body, your arousal dripping from your core and creaming his cock. Taehyung smirks as he notices the sticky mess you’re causing.

His cock is buried deep inside you, making wonders inside you, and causing you to moan even louder with each thrust. Every time he pushes his hips back, he watches with delight the way his cock is completely covered with your arousal. Nothing drives him crazier than seeing this, you can see it in his eyes.

“You’re so fucking wet, butterfly,” he hisses before biting his lower lip. His hands press harder into your skin when he feels your walls tighten around him, “and making such a mess on my cock.”

“I’m only wet because of you,” you first say, “you’ve been torturing me since the beginning.”

Taehyung smiles before bending down to press a sloppy kiss on your lips while his thrusts slow down. You didn’t think it was possible to go any slower than the pace he’s going but apparently, he can do it. A desperate whine gushes from you, a sound that he instantly swallows.

His hands go up on your body, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them to make you moan with desire before his fingers start playing with your nipples. Moans flood out of your mouth as your friend keeps torturing your body.

“Damn, Tae,” you whine, “this feels so good.”

His thrusts return to get a little faster. His fingers never stop abusing your way too sensitive nipples. Gradually, his thrusts are faster and deeper, causing moans to fall out of your mouth. Your walls suck his cock as he slams his hips into you with more force. His fingers keep playing with your very sensitive nipples, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

His eyes look at you, contorting with pleasure as it slowly builds within you. Your moans are getting louder, you don’t even try to hold them back or to stifle them. Luckily, he isn’t living in an apartment because you’re sure all the neighbors would hear you. However, you’re also convinced that you aren’t the only one being fucked tonight. It’s the New Year, everybody is celebrating it, and some in a very nasty way. Just like you.

His hands that are on your hips can feel the way your body quivers with each thrust. The way he’s torturing your body is only making you lose yourself further. You’re already so close to your orgasm that you already know for sure that you’ll come soon.

“Fuck,” he groans when he feels the warmth of your walls wrapping tighter around him. “Your cunt is clenching so hard.”

The sweat is dampening his body, sticking some rebellious strands of hair to his face. Taehyung covered in sweat is a vision that can easily make you come undone. He’s so hot when he starts sweating. No wonder your mind easily gets lost when you see him playing football/soccer.

“You’re so damn hot,” you say as your hands wander on his neck and hair.

A smile spreads across his face as you compliment him, but he decides not to stop torturing you simply because you’re flattering him. His fingers pinch your nipples harder, making the wave of pleasure grow bigger inside you and making you cream his dick even more.

“Gonna come, Tae,” you tell him when you feel that all your emotions are overwhelming you.

Taehyung feels his cock twitching inside of you at your words, a low groan rumbling in his throat. One of his hands slowly moves down on your body, passing your stomach, and landing on your throbbing clit. His fingers rub your sensitive spot as his cock keeps thrusting into you at a slow pace.

“Beg for it, butterfly,” he says.

His fingers show no mercy on your clit, and you’re not even sure if you’ll be able to beg for anything before coming.

“Please, Tae,” you can’t even form a proper sentence with the way he’s torturing you.

You’re not even sure that you’ll be able to recover from this moment. This is just hot with the slow and sensual pace of his thrusts, and the way his fingers torture your body. This is for sure a wonderful way to start the new year.

“Tell me, butterfly,” he teases you with a smirk on his face.

“Let me come,” his smirk grows bigger on his face, delighted to have you begging him to come.

The wave of pleasure inside you is growing exponentially, almost becoming too overwhelming. You’re moaning like a mess, but at this stage, you couldn’t care less.

“Do it, butterfly,” he whispers, “come for me.”

Those words are what you need to hear for your orgasm to hit you fiercely. You come hard around him, your arousal covering completely his cock and your walls squeezing him over and over again. While you’re completely euphoric from your orgasm, he speeds up the pace of his hips slamming into you, chasing his own high. Breathy whines escape his pretty lips as he looks down at the mess you made on his cock. His eyes are completely hypnotized where your bodies meet.

Desperate moans leave his mouth when his orgasm hits him hard. He fully explodes inside you, painting your walls white with his semen. His eyes roll back with pleasure as his body tenses up and releases his load. Loud cries of euphoria escape his lips as he’s high from his orgasm.

He collapses next to you, both of your bodies covered in sweat after this intense sex session. After a little while, he pushes you against his body to hold you tight. He covers your bodies with a blanket. This warmth together with the alcohol and the steamy sex session makes you fall asleep in no time. Taehyung presses a gentle kiss on your head.

“I love you, butterfly,” are the last words you hear before falling into Morpheus’ arms.

JANUARY 7, 2022

The past seven days have been filled with memories of the new year’s night. You can’t stop thinking about the way he passionately kissed you, the way his hands were on you, the way he touched you, and most importantly, the way he fucked you. Honestly, it was the best sex you ever had, and gosh, you’d like to do it again. But let’s be honest, he’s been your best friend for years. Yes, you’ve had a crush on him but you don’t wish to lose him and his friendship that is so important to you.

So for you, this was a simple one-night stand.

For you, it’s preferable to keep living in your delulu world and go back to having a crush on him instead of actually trying to build a romantic relationship. You’re too scared of what could happen. You’re afraid of the unknown. You’re simply fearful of losing him. You can’t picture a world without him by your side. He’s your best friend.

Yesterday, he texted you, asking if you could meet today to discuss. No need to be a genius to understand that he wants to talk about that famous night. Especially since you haven’t talked at all since that night, not even by text messages. Weeks ago, it would have crushed you to not talk to him for a week but since that incident, you need some space.

Without any surprise, he asked if you could meet at his place. The same place where you fucked. But it’s understandable. He has done everything to protect you from the public eye so it wouldn’t make sense now to have a serious discussion where anyone can see and recognize him.

So now, you’re standing in front of his house. Just being here brings you back once more to that night. For a brief moment, you close your eyes to savor those memories. They taste good, and deep down, you know that you’d like to go back to that moment. You’d like to have Taehyung in between your legs, fucking you like there’s no tomorrow.

You knock at the door with shaky hands. You don’t know what to expect from this conversation. The only thing you truly care about is to keep him and his friendship in your life. The door is opened by your friend who invites you in. Your heart starts beating at an insane pace. The image of him licking his fingers instantly crosses your mind, and god, that’s hot.

Taehyung nicely asks if you desire to drink or eat something but you politely decline. You don’t know what to do or say so for a brief moment, you awkwardly stand there at the main entrance.

“Let’s move to the living room,” he first says. “If you want, of course.”

Your best friend notices how awkward you feel. It kind of breaks his heart because things have never been like this before. Nevertheless, he understands. After all, you had sex together. Friends don’t do that, otherwise, they aren’t friends. It leaves him wondering now what you are. Are you still friends? Are you more than friends?

“Fine,” you reply.

Taehyung lets you walk in front of him as the gentleman that he is. Obviously, his eyes wander a tiny bit on your ass. An ass that he finds wonderful. He definitely wants to smash it, but he can’t. That would be completely inappropriate. He gathers himself as this is not the right moment to drool over you. You need to talk about the new year’s night.

You both take seats on two different armchairs, sitting face to face. Even though you always loved to be next to each other, this time around is different. A little space is needed, especially if you want to talk. The two of you acknowledge that the new year’s night is the only thing you can probably think of. So being next to each other will only make that night happen all over again.

Taehyung takes a deep breath before talking. “Thanks for coming, yn,” he offers you a little smile.

“You don’t have to thank me, Tae,” you answer. “We need to talk about what happened so it’s normal.”

He nods. Quite frankly, he’s very nervous. Things are different between you and he feels that this conversation can forever alter your relationship. Or you remain friends, or you take it to the next level. There’s also the possibility that it becomes too hard for him to simply remain friends with you and that he takes some distance from you. He wouldn’t want to reach that point, and he believes it will never happen. But we never know what tomorrow is made of.

“Well, I fully want to be honest with you,” he starts saying, and you nod. “I’ve been loving you for years now, but loving in a romantic way.”

His hands are shaking. Saying it out loud makes it real, and most importantly, now, you’re aware of how he’s been feeling for years. It’s honestly quite a big deal for him. However, after what happens, he feels like he has to be honest with you. Keeping his feelings inside won’t help.

On the other hand, your body is completely frozen and your heart has stopped beating. Now, this is real. Your feelings have been reciprocated all those years. But now that he said those words, you don’t know how to process them. Honestly, it doesn’t really change anything because you’ve already crossed all the limits. But hearing those words warms your heart indescribably.

“Since I found out that I had feelings for you, I decided to keep it to myself. Your friendship has more value than anything else in the world. Losing you has never been part of the equation so I kept everything for myself,” he explains.

Now, your heart starts beating again, but this time around, it crazily hammers in your chest. It’s also making you nervous to hear those words, and you know you’ll also have to confess your feelings. Even though, you know now that they are reciprocated, it still makes you nervous.

“Jungkook understood it by himself, and he decided to provoke me by flirting with you,” he admits. It all makes sense now for you. “I was terribly jealous so I avoided you most of the night. I didn’t want you to notice the jealousy and I believed it was better like that,” he runs his hands on his face. “But it had the opposite effect. It only drew me to you.”

Taehyung hides his face in his hands, he doesn’t want to see your face while he confesses out loud his feelings for you. You stand up to get closer to him. You kneel in front of him before resting your hands on his legs. You place your hands on his to push them so you can see his face.

As he’s speaking about his feelings, you realize that he’s putting himself in a vulnerable position and that you need to gather all your courage in your hands to be just as brave as he is right now. For once in your life, you have to be strong and let him know that his feelings are reciprocated.

Since you started having feelings for him, you always pictured that you’d be the one confessing your feelings and that he’d be the one reassuring you. However, the reality is literally the opposite. The reality is that Taehyung is the boldest one.

Nevertheless, reassuring him is also scary.

Your best friend lets you move his hands from his face. Slowly, he opens his eyes to look at you. He’s greeted by your face trying to look at him. A face that he finds adorable.

“So you were jealous of Jungkook?” you ask with evident tease in your voice.

Taehyung instantly rolls his eyes.

“It’s not funny,” he says.

You nod before taking a serious face.

“I was heartbroken during the new year’s eve party,” you start saying. “I was there with my best friend but he avoided me half of the night and I couldn’t understand why.”

A part of Taehyung regrets how he acted when he was jealous, but the other doesn’t because, without that, he wouldn’t have shared such an intimate moment with you.

“I’m sorry about that, yn,” he mumbles.

He lets his face down but you instantly place your fingers under his chin to lift his face up. You want to look at him. You want to see his reaction when he realizes you love him back.

“Don’t be sorry, silly,” you smile at him. “Yes, I was heartbroken but you mended my heart when you kissed me later on.”

Taehyung stares at you in disbelief. Even though you had sex and it’s kind of the proof that you share feelings, it’s a relieve to hear you say, in a subtle way, that you love him back.

“I also have romantic feelings for you, Tae,” you admit out loud. “It’s been the case for years. Like you, I never said anything because our friendship means the world to me. I can’t imagine a life where you’re not here. I’d rather shut my feelings down than lose you.”

Your heart is beating faster, you can feel it on the edge of exploding. You’ve finally said what your heart has been desiring to say for years. It feels liberating.

“And if I’m being honest, for the past few days, I’ve been preferring to think that what we had was only a one-night-stand.” Those words obviously break Taehyung’s heart. “I’m so scared to lose you, Tae,” you mumble as your voice breaks. “So so scared.”

Now, you’re the one looking down. However, in your case, a tear starts running down your face. It’s hard to admit that for the past few days, you’ve been deeply scared to lose him because of your sex session. You wanted to pretend that nothing happened that night, but you simply can’t, especially not after Taehyung’s heartfelt confession.

“Hey, butterfly,” he says while lifting your face with his fingers under your chin.

Your best friend grabs you into his embrace. This is a very much-needed hug, but it’s also a very comforting one. Right in his arms, you start crying. For the past seven days, you’ve been bottling up your worries to build a wall around you, but now that he has confessed his feelings and is holding you in his arms, all the pressure goes down.

“I was so scared to lose you,” you repeat in between the tears.

Taehyung is completely heartbroken, but he inevitably understands you. He also believed that he was going to lose you after that night. The fact that you also didn’t text or call didn’t help. Of course, you both needed space, but it also made it feel like it destroyed everything. It accentuated the fear of losing each other.

“You’re never going to lose me, butterfly,” he whispers while holding you firmly in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For a little while, you simply stay like that, Taehyung holding you in his arms while you cry. You remain in his arms until you calm down. He invites you to sit on his lap so you can be even closer now. He presses his forehead against yours and cleans your face with his hand. It devastates him to see you like that. He hates to see you cry.

“I missed so much when you call me butterfly,” you admit while you’re looking into each other’s eyes.

“I missed it too,” he says.

Taehyung explains to you why he stopped calling you by that nickname. You can understand his reason, you would have probably done the same. You never really gave him a nickname. You always call him Tae or Taetae. Nothing really too exotic.

“You’re the prettiest butterfly I’ve ever seen, yn,” he says.

His face gets even closer to yours, his eyes staring deep into yours. They are searching for unsaid approval to get even closer. You know that he’s about to kiss you but he won’t do it if he sees anything in your gaze that would push him away. You simply nod, and he instantly presses his heart-shaped lips on yours. You kiss him back with the same energy. It’s a gentle and soft kiss filled with a lot of passion. Even though you kissed a million times during the new year’s night, this kiss definitely makes things real. He loves you. Your little hands move to his hair to play with it while his hand is placed on your neck to hold you close.

It also hits him as you’re kissing that you love him back.

Fireworks explode inside him as he realizes it. He’s never going to let you go now.

FEBRUARY 25, 2022

Being in a relationship with Taehyung is completely different than being his best friend. A lot of things are still the same, but a lot has changed too. He kisses you every time he sees you, he teases you a lot, and most of the time, it’s sexual, he calls you butterfly all the time, and he makes love to you.

Being honest, Taehyung is quite a master in bed. He fucks you so well, you almost beg him to never stop. Being fucked by him is like constantly being in heaven. He gives you pleasure like no one else ever did before. But it’s also not easy to be dating a football/soccer player since he’s most of the time away. As before, you asked to keep your existence a secret because you don’t want to deal with the hysterical fans and also to allow you to keep living a normal life.

Right now, you’re in Rome with your super best friend, Mia. You’ve met her later in life, she was a colleague from your first job. You instantly clicked and she’s been one of your closest friends since then. She was extremely happy when you told her you were with Taehyung. She even said that it was about time since it was more than obvious you liked each other.

This trip to Rome was planned months ago, and you were looking forward to it. It’s a one-week trip, but it should be enough to calmly visit this incredible and history-filled city. However, it hasn’t been going as you wished. You’ve been in the city for 2 days, and you’ve been sick to your stomach since the beginning. You’ve been throwing up constantly, and most of the time, you don’t feel well. The only reason you can think of is the chicken sandwich you ate at the airport. It was probably not well-cooked or it was already out of date.

This morning, it’s been a nightmare. You’re in the Vatican to visit the museums but you’ve already gone like 2 times to the toilets to throw up. It’s not easy for you, but on top of that, you feel sorry for Mia. You’ve been holding her back.

“Are you better?” she asks while you’re drinking a glass of apple juice.

You noticed that apple juice helps to calm down the nausea. Since it’s lunchtime, you’re sitting at a table in the restaurant located in the Vatican’s museums. Your friend ordered a salad while you’re simply drinking juice. You’re not hungry at all, and if you eat, you’re sure you’ll throw up again.

“Yeah, a bit,” you answer. You take a sip of the drink. “I’m sorry for this, Mia.”

“Eeh, don’t worry. It’s not really your fault if you’re sick,” she answers.

For a split second, she seems hesitant to add something else, but she finishes by saying what she’s been thinking since you arrived at Rome.

“Could you be pregnant?”

You almost choked with your apple juice. This is very unexpected. You’re obviously not pregnant. With Taehyung, you’ve been very careful since the beginning of the relationship. Having children right now it’s far from being a great idea. Plus, you want to enjoy being together before planning to start a family.

However, you can understand why Mia is raising this question. Nausea is one of the first visible symptoms of pregnancy. If the roles were reversed, you’d raise the same question.

“No, it can’t be,” you answer. “We’ve been using protection, and I’m also going to start taking the pill.”

Even if he uses condoms, you’ve decided to start the pill. This way, the chances of getting pregnant are very low. On top of that, it’s also a safety net in case you go crazy and don’t use protection.

“But have you had your periods lately?”

Honestly, you noticed you didn’t have them for the past 2 months but it doesn’t worry you at all. Your periods are irregular so there are moments where you can go 2-3 months without having them. For sure, lately, they’ve been quite regular but as soon as you get stressed, they come later.

“No, but I’m not worried,” you start saying. “For the past two months, my emotions have been all over the place,” you reply without hesitation.

There is evident concern written all over Mia’s face, and honestly, it’s worrying you. It’s making you nervous. You’re biting the inside of your cheek as you’re mentally browsing all the times you had sex with your boyfriend. It’s still so weird to call Taehyung ‘your boyfriend’.

“You’re sure you’ve always used protection?” she asks.

You’re still trying to remember every single time you were intimate with Taehyung. You can’t think of a time when he didn’t use a condom. Usually, you both make silly comments or jokes when he grabs a condom.

“Yeah,” you say with some hesitation.

“Well, maybe, a condom got broke or something,” she suggests.

“I’m sure it’s not the case,” you reply.

It’s impossible that you’re pregnant. In the event that you had unprotected intercourse with Tae, you would have taken the morning-after pill.

“Maybe you should take a test to be sure, yn,” she adds. “I’m concerned, and if it’s not that, maybe we could also go to a pharmacy or something to get something to help you out with the nausea.”

“Okay,” you reply before continuing to drink the apple juice.

The rest of the day, your mind keeps thinking about the conversation you had with Mia. Honestly, you’re convinced you’re not pregnant, but she managed to make you doubt it. If you’re expecting a baby, you don’t know how you’ll react and what you’ll do.

After the visit to the museums, you head to a pharmacy to get a pregnancy test. This entire situation makes you extremely nervous even though you’re sure the result will be negative. As soon as you reach your hotel room, you lock yourself in the bathroom to take the pregnancy test. You follow the instructions, you pee on the stick’s little strip. Then you wait five minutes for the result.

You place the test on the edge of the sink while you wash your hands. For a moment, you look at yourself in the mirror. Suddenly, the memories of your first night with Taehyung cross your mind. That famous new year’s night when you had sex for the first time with him. You were completely wasted but you still perfectly remembered that you had unprotected sex. He even ejaculated inside you. You don’t understand why you didn't think of that night when you were talking with Mia.

“Fuck,” you whisper while you close your eyes.

You have a period tracking app on your phone, and you remember seeing that the week of the New Year was your ovulation week. As your periods are irregular, sometimes the cycles are a bit messed up, and it happens that you ovulate at a different time. But you have the app to follow your periods since sometimes, you go months without them and it doesn’t even concern you. At least, that way, you can see how long your cycles are and when was the last time you had your periods. The ovulation week on the app is always an assumption.

Well, now you’re a hundred percent sure that the test is positive. You had unprotected sex during your ovulation week so it’s positive without any doubt. It also explains why your emotions have been all over the place lately. It wasn’t due to the fear of losing Tae or the fact that you’re now with him. It was due to the fact that you’re creating a human.

Your eyes look down at the test. Two clear lines appear on the stick.

“Fuck,” you repeat as you see the result.

You’re indeed pregnant. Pregnant with Tae’s child.

As you’re sitting on the toilet bowl, you run your hands on your face. What are you going to do now? Are you going to keep this baby? Are you going to get an abortion?

Having a baby is not part of your life plans for now. You just bought an apartment so you’re paying a mortgage and you’re spending money on furniture. On top of that, you just got promoted. You’re also now in a relationship with a famous football/soccer player. You’re trying to adjust yourself to all of those changes. A lot happened in a short period. And now there’s a baby on the way. That’s just too much.

Having a baby now isn’t a good idea.

MARCH 5, 2022

The game is almost over.

Taehyung and his teammates have been playing for over 90 minutes. For the first time in a while, you’re present at one of your boyfriend’s games. You can’t remember the last time you came, but today, you decide to join him since you have a big announcement for him.

It’s been a week since you found out about your pregnancy. For the past eight days, you’ve been thinking about what to do. It wasn’t easy, you spent nights crying like a baby because you’re simply lost. As you were confused, you didn’t say anything to your boyfriend. You pretended like nothing happened, but since he knows you well, he noticed something was off.

Mia was the first person to know about your pregnancy. You cried a lot in her arms, and she’s been there for you. She can’t do much because it’s your decision but she promised to be there for you no matter what you decide. For now, she’s the only person aware of your state.

However, eight days later, you’re still confused and you don’t know what to do. The only thing you’re sure of is that Taehyung needs to know. He’s the only one who can guide you with this pregnancy. Also, you’ve booked an appointment with your gynecologist to check everything up. It’s in two days, and you don’t want to go alone. You want to have Tae by your side, and you also want him to see his child.

Discreetly, you make your way to the changing room of Tae’s team as you desire to surprise him. He isn’t aware of your presence, he didn’t even notice you during the game. As you’re walking, you suddenly feel two arms wrapping around your waist and pushing you back. The sweet scent of Taehyun’s perfume mixed with sweat surrounds you. A smile appears on your face, and you turn around to meet the prettiest man ever.

“What a wonderful surprise,” Tae says with the brightest smile on his face before kissing you.

For a split second, you kiss him back but you quickly push him back. As you do so, you take a quick look at the man you love. His black hair is dampened in sweat, making it look wet. The top of his jersey’s shirt is stuck to his chest due to the sweat. His face is fully red. Even though he stinks a bit, he looks hot as hell. You’ll gladly open your legs for him right now.

“You’re stinky and covered in sweat,” you playfully say.

Taehyung holds you even closer and cleans his face on your chest. You giggle as he does so. He’s unbelievable, but that’s also why you love him. You try to push him back as much as you can but he’s a lot stronger than you so your efforts are in vain. He presses a soft kiss on your neck before taking a step back to look at the woman he dearly loves.

You’re wearing a jersey of his team, more precisely, the jersey he gifted you a couple of weeks ago. It’s a black one with his name and his number engraved in the back of the shirt. With that, you’re wearing a blue pair of jeans. You look hot as hell with his jersey. He could fuck you right here.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I want to see you,” you answer with a smile on your face. “And also talk to you.”

Concern suddenly appears on his face.

“Something bad happened?”

��You should go change first,” you say without answering his question.

Your answer only worries him even more.

“Tell me, yn,” his tone is a bit harsh, and it catches you by surprise so you jump of scare.

None of you is smiling now. You don’t want to tell him in the middle of a stadium’s hallway that you’re pregnant while he’s wearing his team’s jersey and covered in sweat. Even if he looks incredibly hot, this is not how and where you want to announce to him your pregnancy.

“Please,” you first say. “Change yourself first.”

Taehyung takes a step closer to you. His face is tense, his heart is beating fast, and his mind is imagining a hundred different horrible scenarios. He's worried and the fact that you don’t say anything makes him worry even more.

“I’m not going anywhere before you tell me what’s going on,” his tone is still firm.

You look down for a moment before looking up at him. Although you know this man very well, it actually surprises you that he insists on knowing now what you have to say.

“We should be in a more intimate place, Tae,” you tell him. “I’m not comfortable talking with you in here.”

He takes a deep breath before nodding. If something is going on, talking here isn’t the appropriate place, and he can only agree with you.

“Okay, I’ll be back in two minutes,” he says.

You nod, and he kisses you before disappearing. He’s deeply concerned, worried, and scared of what you have to tell him. He’s imagining the worst. You’ve recently been back from Rome and he noticed that something changed during that trip. He noticed your puffy eyes, the dark circles under your eyes, the sadness written all over your face, and the way your mind is always somewhere else.

At first, during your video phone calls, he’d ask if you’re okay, but since you wouldn’t say anything besides ‘yes, i’m good’, he understood that he couldn’t force you to speak. It has to come from you. He’s convinced something really bad happened in Rome. He’d even say a man acted disrespectfully towards you.

In no time, he quickly dries himself with a towel before putting his clothes on. He says goodbye to his teammates and leaves in a rush with his bag in his hand. He finds you in the same spot. You’re looking down at your phone, probably looking at some reels on insta. You always do that when you have to wait.

Taehyung presses a soft kiss on your head when he’s next to you.

“Let’s go?” he asks.

You simply nod, and you both leave the stadium. Your boyfriend grabs your hand to guide you to his splendid car. The same car where Taehyung almost fucked you some days ago. You can’t get enough of each other when you’re together.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks once inside the car.

“My apartment?” you suggest.

“Okay, fine,” he nods before starting the engine.

The drive to your place is quite calm, you barely speak, but honestly, you don’t know what to say. Your mind is thinking of all the ways you can announce your pregnancy to Taehyung. Your boyfriend gets worrier as you get closer to your place. He’s scared to hear what you’ll say to him. Easily, he finds a parking spot near your place, and you quickly leave the car.

Once you're inside your apartment, the first thing you do is jump into his arm, holding him very tightly in your embrace. He’s caught off guard which destabilizes him but he quickly wraps his arms around you. It’s something bad, he can feel it.

“I’m pregnant,” you whisper against his chest.

His entire body freezes as he hears your words. Out of all the horrible scenarios he imagined, pregnancy wasn’t one of them. Well, being honest, pregnancy isn’t a terrible scenario at all. It’s actually the opposite. It’s probably not the right moment but it’s not a bad thing. All this time, he was convinced that you got rapes in Rome.

It takes him a couple of seconds to process what you said. He wasn’t thinking of getting the news of being a father this early in life. This is a shocking news. Taehyung pushes you a bit so he can take a proper look at you, his girlfriend.

“And you found it out in Rome, right?” he asks.

For him, that’s the only reason that would explain the shift in you during your trip with Mia.

“Yes,” you answer.

“Hmm,” he says while he turns his back to you.

He runs his left hand on his hair while he starts to really process what has been going on for more than a week. Yes, it all makes perfect sense.

His reaction worries you. Now, you’re not sure you should have said it. Maybe, he’s going to ask you to abort because he doesn’t want this baby. Oooh, this is all messing up in your head.

“Why didn’t you tell me when you found out?” he asks.

Taehyung isn’t still looking at you. Not having his glance on you while you’re giving him this huge news makes you feel so small. It makes you feel like a baby who needs to be reassured by a loved one.

“I didn’t want to announce that through a phone call,” you explain first, “and I also didn’t want to give you this news when I didn’t know if I’d keep the baby.”

As he hears your last words, he turns around to finally look at you. It devastates him to hear that you even considered aborting, and it breaks his heart that he wasn’t by your side at that moment.

“Are you going to abort?” he instantly asks.

You shake your head. “I don’t know, Tae.”

A tear runs down your face. Your boyfriend instantly holds you in his arms and presses a comforting kiss on your head.

His entire life, he imagined that it’d be a moment of joy when he’d be given this news. Of course, he always pictured that you’d be the mother of his children, but this wasn’t the way he saw things. He imagined you getting together, then getting married, and then having children. All those steps in life would be filled with joy and love because they would have been so awaited.

You take a step back. “I wanted to think by myself before announcing anything, but I don’t know what to do. All I know is that I need you by my side.”

“And you have me, butterfly,” he firmly says.

“It’s also your child so I can’t take this decision by myself.”

“Before being my child, it’s your body, yn,” he cups your face in his hands. “If you can’t or don’t want to carry it, you don’t have to and I will never force you to do whatever suits me.”

Taehyung has always been the biggest gentleman you’ve ever known. This right here is proof that he is a wonderful human being. Even if this situation is all messed up, you’re just thankful that Taehyung is your boyfriend. You’re not sure any other man would have said that. Maybe that you would be blaming you for not telling them sooner.

“All I can do is support you no matter what,” he adds. “I’m never going to force you to carry my child when you don’t want to.”

“But would you want to keep it?” you ask with the biggest doe eyes.

For a moment, Taehyung gets lost in his thoughts. He imagines your bump getting bigger, what it’d be like to see you pregnant with your child, what the baby would look like, and how it would feel to be a father.

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “If you’re the mother of my child, no matter what is going on in our lives, I’ll want it.”

His answer unimaginably comforts you. Knowing that makes you love him even more.

“Even if we’re poor and living under a bridge?” you ask.

A smile appears on his face. “Even if we’re poor and living under a bridge, I’d love to be the father of your child.”

A little smile appears on your face. It definitely comforts you to know that he wants to be the father of your child.

“And you’re the only person with whom I’d want to have a child,” you tell him.

You press a gentle kiss on his lips, causing his smile to grow bigger. This situation is a bit tricky for you, but your boyfriend’s reaction brings so much comfort to you.

“Do you know how far along you are?” he asks.

“Well, you probably knocked me up at New Year’s Eve party so I’d be nine weeks pregnant,” you answer.

Taehyung remembers that night very fondly. It was the night that changed his life for the better, and it was a wonderful night. The best night ever. Your first night together was wonderful, but now that you’ve got to learn about each other, sex is a hundred times better.

“Have you already made an appointment with your gynecologist?”

“Yes,” you nod. “That’s also one of the reasons why I’m announcing it to you now. It’s in two days, and I really want you to come.”

“I’ll be there with you, butterfly.”

He passionately kisses you. Now that he knows, it makes this news more bearable. It almost makes it feel like it’s not a big deal because he wants that child. But he only wants it if you want it too. So in the end, it’s really up to you to decide what you will do. Nonetheless, it reassures you so much to know that he will be by your side. If you decide to keep the baby, he’ll gladly be a present father. And if you decide to get an abortion, he will stay with you throughout the entire process.

MARCH 7, 2022

Taehyung is sitting next to you while you’re lying on a medical examination table. Your legs are wide open and the gynecologist is in between them. It’s honestly a bit weird to be in that position with your boyfriend sitting next to you.

“I’m going to insert the probe,” the woman informs you.

Doctor Park has been your gynecologist for years, and it was more than natural you’d be coming to her for this first checkup as a pregnant woman. Once you saw the positive test, you instantly booked an appointment. Luckily for you, she was available rather quickly.

When you exposed to her the situation, she informed you that she would need to do an endovaginal ultrasound. Since it’s only the beginning of the pregnancy, if she performs a ‘normal’ ultrasound, nobody will see anything as the baby is very small.

Taehyung is holding your hand as the probe is slowly and carefully pushed inside you. The doctor moves the probe from right to left until she finally sees something on her screen. A bright smile appears on her face when she sees what she’s been looking for and seconds later, the room is filled with the sound of heartbeats. Instantly, your head turns to your boyfriend who’s smiling as he’s hearing the sound. His eyes look down at you. They are filled with love.

Hearing the fast heartbeat makes it real. There’s no doubt that you’re pregnant. But hearing this sound warms your heart indescribably. A tiny human is growing inside you, and you’re literally creating life. It’s so unreal what a woman’s body can do.

Then, you both look at the screen and you’re trying to see something but you clearly don’t understand what’s appearing.

“This right here is your baby,” the doctor points out to a tiny black dot on the screen. “And this right here is your second baby,” she points out to another dot.

The world stops turning when she announces the second baby. There are two babies. You’re expecting twins.

“And you can hear the heartbeats of the two babies,” she says.

You look at the screen with disbelief. Two lives are growing inside you. You’re creating two little humans. You squeeze Tae’s hand as you can’t conceive that you’re expecting twins.

“Based on what we can see, they are identical twins.”

As from there, you can’t hear anything else. All you see is the two little dots on the screen. All you see and hear is your babies. They are real. They are here inside you. If you decide to keep them, two little humans will join you. You’d become a mother and Tae a father. This is a very big deal. From now on, you’ll be responsible for those two little lives. Whatever decision you make, it will inevitably impact them.

Your eyes move to Taehyung to watch him with admiration. There is no doubt that he will be a fantastic father and those two babies will always be lucky to have him as their father. Since you’re quite young, your boyfriend always said that he wanted a big family. He wants at least five children. It’s a bit too much, but from a very young age, he has that desire to become a father. You know that he wants those two babies. And as you’re looking at him right now, it’s evident to you that he truly wants to have the twins in his life.

Being here changes everything. Seeing the babies on the screen and hearing their heartbeats helps you to make a decision.

For sure, it won’t be easy to become a mother and jungle with all the challenges you’re facing right now. But never on earth will you get an abortion. You had doubts up until now, but you don’t have any more. You’re a hundred percent certain that you will keep them.

APRIL 7, 2022

Let’s be real, being pregnant with twins is far from being easy. You’re still pretty much nauseous, you’re belly is slowly but surely growing, and your emotions are definitely all over the place. Thankfully enough, Taehyung has been very supportive.

A month ago, when you told him that you wanted to keep the babies, he was the happiest man on earth. That night was very very spicy. He now speaks to the babies every single day, and that’s the cutest thing on earth. You’re now living together to make it easier and you chose his place. It’s a bit far from your workplace but before going to his daily trainings, he drops you off at work. When he’s present of course. When he’s in another city or country, you stay at your apartment to make it easier.

So far, you’ve been enjoying living with him. You get to be goofy together, to spend more time together, to watch random movies together, and to have more often sex. Surprisingly, your libido has been quite high. Whenever you lay eyes on your boyfriend, you simply want to make babies with him.

However, it’s not easy to be dating him. Every single day, there are rumors that he’s dating this or this girl, and they all come from because they liked a picture of him. It’s really incredible what can be read online. It’s such silly things. You try to avoid checking anything about him on social medias because when you read those things, all you want to do is to say that he’s with you which isn’t a great idea. It’s been four months that you’ve been together but since the beginning, it’s been hard on that aspect.

Since yesterday, Taehyung has been in another city because he played earlier against the team from that city. He’s coming back tomorrow morning, and you’re excited to see him again. You deeply miss him when he’s not hear. You miss your little bear.

After months of trying to find a little cute nickname for Taehyung, you finally found it. It came out of nowhere, he was speaking with the babies, you ended up calling him a papa bear, and it stayed. He’s your cute little bear.

You’re going through your phone, and you come across a video on insta of Taehyung. It’s apparently reported that he’s dating a random girl you never saw before. Nothing new so far. However, almost at the end of the video, there’s a picture of your boyfriend with her. They look very close, almost as if they are about to kiss. The picture isn’t very clear but obviously something is going on.

That breaks your heart in an unimaginable way.

Many questions cross your mind but you push them away because it’s definitely not a good idea to start imagining the worst. He’s clearly madly in love with you so he’s not going to cheat on you right now. But seeing this picture creates a big doubt in your mind.

You put your phone away before turning on the TV. Maybe you need to watch something else to distract you. You trust Taehyung, you know he’s never going to cheat on you. You’ve known him for years, he’s a respectful man. He would never cheat on his partner.

Nonetheless, watching TV isn’t helpful at all as this ‘new relationship’ of Taehyung is being displayed everywhere. Based on reliable sources, they have been together for months. They have been trying to keep it lay low, but they were seen yesterday in front of her house having a very intimate moment. This is heartbreaking. You want to cry.

Maybe it’s best you simply go to bed and sleep. Taehyung is coming in a couple of hours and you will speak about all of this. You don't want to jump to conclusions just yet. You want to hear what your boyfriend has to say about this incident. But it’s hard to fall asleep with that picture of him with another woman in your mind.

Your phone buzzes and the screen lights up, indicating that you received a message. It’s a message from Taehyung. “I’m here, open the door please.” You frown. What is he doing here? Shouldn’t he be in another city?

Slowly, you leave the bed to open the door. The main entrance is a bit far from the bedroom so it takes you a bit of time to reach the door. As you open it, you notice it’s raining outside. Your boyfriend is standing in front of you, fully swamped by the rain. It warms your heart to see him because you really need him right now.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“I saw the picture of me with that girl,” he starts saying. “I knew you’d see it too and I didn’t want to leave you thinking about it all night long.”

This scene seems coming straight out of a movie. Your lover is standing in front of you while it’s raining, swamping him more and more. Although you’re worried about his health, you find this is a heartfelt moment. It’s also very romantic.

“Come inside,” you tell him. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

He does as you say, and you close the door behind him. The two of you head to the bathroom. As you’re walking, you take a look behind you, noticing how wet the floor is getting. You mentally note to yourself that you’ll need to clean otherwise somebody slip and get hurt. Once inside the impressive bathroom, you stop in front of the toilet bowl while Taehyung remains close to the door.

“Why did you ask me to open the door?” you ask as he’s getting undressed. “Don’t you have the keys?”

“I left in a rush and forgot the keys,” he answers.

Your eyes wander on his toned body as he removes every single piece of clothes. Taehyung is so damn handsome.

“You didn’t need to come for that,” you tell him. “We could have waited for tomorrow.”

Taehyung looks up at you with wet strands of hair falling in front of his eyes. He looks incredibly hot. He’s pushing his black pants down but they feel quite heavy. He notices that you’re a bit sleepy, and he can’t help but find you extremely pretty. Taehyung hides the little smile appearing on his face.

“I couldn’t,” he says.

Once he’s fully naked, he wraps himself in a towel before sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Your eyes follow him before you sit next to him. Your eyes stare at him for a hot minute, but you quickly turn your face to look right in front of you.

“That’s an old picture,” he suddenly says. “It’s from like a year ago. It’s one of the many one-night stands I had.”

You nod. “I believe you,” you simply say. “It’s hard to be looking at this kind of pictures, it was even before we started dating, and seeing them makes me doubt.”

Taehyung puts his hand on your leg to softly soothe it. The warmth of his touch conforms you a lot.

“I love you, butterfly,” he says. “I’ve always loved you. You’re actually the only woman I’ve ever loved, and I would never do anything to hurt or lose you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder.

“I guess you know but my love life was a complete mess before the new year’s night. I was sleeping with lots of girls but I was never able to commit to any of them. It was mostly one-night stands,” he explains. “I was in love with you but thought you didn’t love me back the same way so I was trying to find that love somewhere else. But I couldn’t because you’ve always been the only one on my mind.”

Obviously, you knew about his many one-night stands but never said anything. You always considered those girls to be lucky to have at least had the experience of having sex with him. You weren’t exactly looking for sex with him, but when you’re in love, physical attraction is inevitable. So yeah, from time to time, you’d think about that.

“So I decided to only sleep with them. It’s easy, you just sleep and then, you never see them again,” he adds. “It got worse when you started dating Noah. I couldn’t bear seeing you in love and the only thing that could distract me from that was literally having sex with someone else. For a brief moment, my mind is simply lost in pleasure.”

It breaks your heart to hear that. You never thought it would be that hard for him to see you with Noah. Back then, you knew you weren’t in love with him because the only person you ever truly loved was Taehyung. But since you couldn’t have him, you tried to find love in someone else. Even if it meant to never truly be happy.

“So you did that for 3 years?” you ask.

“Yep,” he says while nodding. “Honestly, at some point, I even thought you’d get married.”

As he says those words, you bite your lower lip.

“Have I ever told you how it truly ended up with Noah?” you ask while turning your head to look at him.

Taehyung glances at you with confusion. Why are you suddenly raising this question?

“I guess you never told me at all how you broke up.”

“Well, he proposed but I said no,” you tell him.

“Really?” he asks with evident surprise.

“I never understood why he proposed. Back then, we were falling out of love. It was obvious that it was going to end sooner or later,” you explain. “I was never going to marry him. I wasn’t happy anymore.”

Quite frankly, he’s very surprised. In his mind, you would have agreed to get married with him. He always thought you were madly in love with Noah but now, he knows that he was wrong.

“So if he had proposed earlier, would you have accepted?” he asks with hesitation.

“Probably,” you shrug. “In my head, it was better to be with someone else than losing your friendship.”

His hand slowly moves higher on your thigh while his face gets closer to your ear. “Then, I’m lucky he didn’t,” he whispers, causing goosebumps all over your body.

Before his hand reaches your pussy, you push it back. “You should take a hot bath before you get sick.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I didn’t come to take a bath.”

“Well, if you didn’t walk under the rain, you wouldn’t be taking a bath,” you say. “Maybe, we’d be making more babies.”

It frustrates him when you tease him like that, but he finds it extremely adorable that even if you’re together, you’re still kind of prude.

“I can still fuck you in the bathtub,” he replies.

“You’re always so crude,” you tell him.

“And you’re still so prude, butterfly,” he says. “No need to hold back with me.”

Your boyfriend gets closer to you before crashing his lips against yours. Kissing you is without any doubt his favorite part of being with you. This isn’t at all a shy kiss, on the contrary, it’s a very fervent kiss. No doubt you crave to do unholy things together.

“Let’s get in that damn bathtub,” Taehyung says on your lips.

He grabs your lower lip with his teeth, causing you to moan. Right after that, you stand up to get undressed while Taehyung turns on the water. Once you’re naked in front of him, a bright smile appears on his face when he looks at your little bump. It’s getting bigger as it should. Inevitably, he gets closer to you and softly caresses your belly. You watch him with tenderness. This is so cute.

“Hi babies,” he whispers against your belly before pressing a kiss. “It’s daddy.”

Your heart is melting at his words. Taehyung also takes a weird voice when he speaks with them. It’s the tone everybody takes when speaking to a baby, but it’s adorable to hear him speak like that.

“I love you both already very very much,” he adds. “And I can’t wait to meet you in October. Please be gentle with your mommy until there.”

Your hand caresses his soft hair as he presses another soft kiss on your stomach. It’s adorable to watch him interact with the babies. The gynecologist advised to do so in order for the twins to recognize his voice but she didn’t need to say it. Taehyung adores to talk to them.

“Now, I will ask you to close your eyes because your mommy and daddy will do nasty things,” you laugh at his words.

“You’re crazy,” you tell him.

“Hey, I’m just warning them,” his eyes look up at you. “It’ll be a little shaky shaky for them.”

He gets up to press a smack on your lips before turning off the water. He doesn’t waste any second before jumping into the bathtub. You don’t follow him directly as you’re watching him. Once he’s taken place inside the bathtub, his eyes look at you.

“You’re not coming?” he asks.

OCTOBER 01, 2022

Charlie & Freddie.

Those are the two names you and Taehyung chose for your little twins. They were born very early today, it was 2 am when they joined you. It wasn’t easy to give birth to two healthy boys, but honestly, this day is the best day of your life. After all, it’s the day you became a mother, but it’s most and foremost, the day you met the little boys you created with your boyfriend.

Taehyung is sitting on a chair, shirtless with Freddie in his arms. Seeing him with the babies is without any doubt the best thing in the world. He has spent the last hour holding them, one after the other to make the skin-to-skin contact.

On the other hand, you’re sitting on the bed with Charlie in your arms. After a little struggle, you’ve managed to breastfeed him. Between him and Freddie, he was the one having the most difficulties to latch. But now, all is good.

The twins really are identical, you can’t tell them apart. So with Taehyung, you’ve decided that for now, you’ll always put something red on Charlie and something yellow on Freddie. However, you wonder how long you’ll be able to keep up with that. Many sleepless nights are waiting for you. For sure, once you’ll get tired, you’ll get all mixed up.

Being in this room with Taehyung and your twins seems unreal. Last year, you were still having a crush on your best friend, not able to reveal your true feelings. You were so scared to lose him if you’d reveal your feelings. It was hard to see him with other women. But today, things are completely different. You’re madly in love with your best friend and you started your own little family.

Taehyung looks down at his son. His life has drastically changed in less than a year. He finally found peace because he was bold enough to reveal his feelings for you. He isn’t any more sleeping with strangers in order to stop thinking about you constantly. He’s now allowing himself to think about you night and day. All that because you love him back.

It’s crazy how a simple kiss on a new year’s eve party can flip someone’s world upside down.

#bts #bts imagine #bts imagines #kim taehyung #taehyung #bts v #v #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #bts angst #taehyung angst #bts smut #taehyung smut #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #v x reader #until i found her #uifh #spideyjimin

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madelynraemunson · 2 months ago

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Valentine’s Day is coming up and I can’t help but wonder how ex!husband Eddie would handle it. Would he break my heart? Break my back? Please Maddy I NEED to know 🙏

a/n: HE’S BACKKKK i’m clutching my chest 🫶🏼 how about some wholesome heartbreak for valentine's day? i tried to incorporate aspects of the original ST universe into the universe that is ex-husband!eddie. i hope you sweethearts enjoy ♥️

“valentimes” day

ex-husband!eddie x ex-wife!reader

summary: you and eddie share a dance when your wedding song unexpectedly comes on the radio…just like old times :)

contains: fluff, mutual-pining, topic of divorce, co-parenting

“if you’re lost, you can look and you will find me — time after time.”

divider from: @strangergraphics

word count: 1.4k words

‘Valentimes�� Day.

It’s what Junior likes to call it. At first you tried to correct him, telling him to drop the M and replace with N, but you decided to partake in the innocence. After all, nothing lasts forever.

Like the muddy footprints on the light wooden floors.

"I'M RIGHT ON YOUR TAIL!" Junior roars, chasing after his siblings with candied pretzels in his mouth. "GET READY TO FEEEEEL... MYYYYY... WRAAAAATH!"

You know what does seem to last forever though? The sugar high your kids are getting from their Valentine's Day candies.

“Walk, kiddos,” you scorn. “If we’re gonna get ourselves dirty, please take it outside.”

You watch as your Mini-We's respectfully pile out the door, marching in a single-filed line in their crowns and capes their dad had made for them not too long ago. And as you continue to cook, a hearty stew for a heart-filled day, you hear a jangling of keys at your front door.

The only other person who has direct access to your house is Eddie; and assuming he's adhering to the family tradition, you expected no one else.

A familiar sing-song whistle sounds from the entryway as Eddie makes his grand entrance. You smile as your ex-husband comes into sight — hands full with presents you couldn't quite make out yet — ready to greet you how he usually does every Feb 14th for the past few years.

“Yo.”

“Hello, hello!” you chime. “Look who’s become a one-tripper.”

“I know, I’m gettin’ better and stronger by the day,” Eddie chuckles. He closes up the space, welcoming you in his bubble with a hug and offerings for the day. “Flowers... for you…"

You blush in flattery, welcoming the Thanks-For-Having-My-Kids floral arrangement into your arms.

"Aaand chocolate," Eddie adds. "obviously.”

“Ooh, nougat."

“Uh huh," he smirks, proudly. "Everyone loves a nougat moment. I also got these teddy bears with wicked Rock-N-Roll soundboxes for the kiddos. Left them on your couch though. It's a surprise."

Eddie's always been such a stellar dad. No matter the occasion, he always made sure the kids felt included, and always made sure you felt appreciated for all your efforts. He shows out every Valentine's Day, and Mother's Day too. Just because you two have separated doesn't mean your past has been erased. Eddie wants you to know that this commitment is for a lifetime, no matter what it may look like to others.

"Thank you."

You walk over to the island to set your gifts down, then gesture for your ex-hubby to sit so you two can engage in some small talk.

Also, 'cause you’re nosy.

“Any plans tonight?”

“Eh, it was just to drop these off,” Eddie shrugs. “Might go to the bar later with some old high school friends. Try to talk up some ladies...”

“Groovy,” you smirk, eyebrows dancing.

“What about you?” Eddie inquires.

“Mama’s having a night in,” you sigh, taking a bite of some nougat. “Gonna pour myself a glass of wine and read a spicy novel before bed.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums. He crosses his arms, leaning forward to meet your gaze. “The one about the long-haired-adonis-with-steel-pecs-and-a-popped-linen-collar who comes to save the day?”

You cock an eyebrow. “You snooping through my book pile, Fabio?”

“No, you’re just predictable,” he teases.

♡

Your kids remain occupied, playing "beach" in the sandlot, away from the intimacy of the two of you.

Junior is using his disposable camera to take pictures of birds. Beside him, Elijah is digging a hole of sorts, and your daughter Aubrey is off in the corner, making faint heart-shaped etchings in what's left of the sand.

She sighs in dismay.

“I like candy and balloons, but this holiday makes me sad,” Aubrey frowns. “I used to be happy when Mom and Dad were together.”

“But they weren’t happy,” Elijah points out. “Now they are. It’s better this way, Aubs.”

“I wish there was a middle for everyone, though,” Junior says. “Like a halfway-happy.”

♡

Back in the kitchen, you and Eddie continue to catch up. You talk about the kids and how school and clubs are going. Elijah has a crush on a girl in his PE group. Aubrey wants to do cheer. Junior wants to perform in the talent show, but he's having trouble rallying some friends.

And you... well, you were burning through your book piles and watching grandiose Hollywood dating shows, sometimes also dancing around the kitchen to whatever Grocery Store-esque song comes on the radio.

"Can't believe you still have this thing," Eddie tsks, taking the rusty vintage boombox in his hand.

"It still plays the good tunes though," you shrug. "Why would I retire it now?"

Eddie shrugs in agreement, putting the boombox back where he got it. The song currently playing soon fades into the background while the radio host's voice comes back into focus.

"Another great hit from KISS!" the host announces. "I hope everyone is having a beautiful V-Day so far. We're gonna slow it down for you, Hawkins! Here's some Cyndi Lauper for ya — this is Benny and you're listening to WSQK Radio."

A nostalgic tune fills the air, the melodic, dreamy atmosphere reminiscent of a much simpler time.

You and Eddie look at each other in shock, hold the gaze for a few seconds, and burst out laughing.

<< Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you >>

"Of course," you shake your head.

"What are the odds?" Eddie blushes, lightly punching the island with his fist to ease the tension. "Our first dance song."

It was a beautiful ceremony, your wedding. Wayne had too much to drink and was waddling around giving everyone hugs. The "kids" you grew up watching took a dramatic plunge into Lover's Lake at the end of the night. And during the dance, it was if, only for a moment, you and Eddie were the only ones on the dance floor, redefining the fabric of time because while it felt like an eternity, it seemed to have passed by in a second.

<< Flashback, warm nights, almost left behind >>

Time is a thief. That was nearly a decade ago.

"C'mon," Eddie encourages, grabbing your hand.

You're instantly launched back to present day. "What?"

"We're doin' it."

"Doing what?"

"Dancing."

You allow Eddie to take the lead, just how he always does when you two would embark on adventures. He whisks you away from the island and towards the dinner table for enough space to move.

"Eddie..." you stumble into him, chuckling nervously. "Really?"

"I mean..." he says, his chocolate eyes a-gleam. "Why not? For old times sake. While the song is on... while the kids are busy..."

His hands seek your hips and find them immediately. Your breath hitches as you take in the glory of him, his timeless face, and the aroma of petroleum from his day job. He's still the same Eddie. His love is pure energy. Never destroyed, just simply transformed. And you can't wait to explore more of this new form of love.

"I'd love to."

You two begin to sway, the essence of your wedding night illuminating through the dimming kitchen. Eddie smiles into you, his forehead nestled against yours, a strand of his wavy hair tickling your eyelashes that sit prettily against your lids.

<< If you're lost you can look and you will find me Time after time >>

Before you know it, the late winter sunset melts into nightfall and your kids, with chattering teeth, begin to pile back inside.

"Brother! Help me with my shoes!" pleads Junior.

"Please," Elijah reinforces.

"Please."

Suddenly, Aubrey gasps.

"Look!" she whispers to her brothers, pointing with an excited finger. "Mom and Dad!"

<< If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting Time after time >>

"So beautiful," Eddie murmurs into you as you two sway in each other's arms. "You always have been...so damn beautiful."

The warmth was like Christmas morning... a belated gift for the kids to watch two homes become one, for just a brief moment. You and Eddie are too busy wrapped up in one another to notice the biggest smiles on your children’s faces, hope flickering in their eyes as if their worlds were right-side up again.

“Halfway-happy,” Junior whispers breathlessly.

It was their (and your guys’ too, let’s be for real) happiest “Valentimes” Day in a while.

tag list 🏷️: @highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @bloodibambiidoll @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths @let-the-music-take-c0ntrol @meetmeatyourworst @b-irock @spencerssatchel @yes2476 @comeonatmebruh @bendoverncry @only4wakingup @wiltinglovers @sweetsweetjellybean @fromasgardandback @r4fe-cam3ron

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jksarchives · 3 months ago

Text

TAEHYUNG

❖ these things take time — by @laughing-with-god

There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him. | 16.5k [a, s]

❖ the dying of the light — by @taexual

Heartbroken, you and Taehyung part ways for a few days to give yourselves a break from each other. As you prepare to face your boyfriend again upon your return, you slowly start to realize that something about the Taehyung you’re texting isn’t quite right. | 5.3k [a]

❖ seven seas — by @readyplayerhobi

Atlantis is a myth; a hidden city, a sunken island, a missing continent. Only...it’s not a myth. Just hidden out of choice. As the daughter of an Atlantean and a human, you are a halfling that is unwanted by the underwater continent and misunderstood by the surface. But what happens when you finally go to Atlantis and meet an Atlantean who is oddly kind to you? | 25.5k [a, f, s]

❖ moonlight — by @borathae

Taehyung asks you to sneak out with him and you end up making passionate love to him in a hayloft. | 6.8k [f, s]

❖ one last time — by @erotica-ficx

Where it's your last time(?) with him... | ? [s]

❖ loving you is all i know — by @jiminrings

you feel as if the world would stop revolving without taehyung in it, so you protect him with all your might. taehyung thinks that heaven wouldn't fall even without you in it, so he revokes every fiber of your being. | 19k [a, s, f]

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orchidyoonkook · 7 months ago

Text

PG | KTH

Title: PG

Pairing: Older Brother's Best Friend!Kim Taehyung x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Touches of Fluff

Summary: You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually.

Warnings: nicknames! a disgusting amount, language, assholes being assholes but being put in their place, brotherly love, sibling antics, tae is a swimmer and knows judo, also a Dan is--for the lack of better phrasing--a high belt level in judo. think of it like a black belt, OC cant keep it in her pants and neither can tae, mutual pining, lots of great gatsby references because I'm tyring to be that bitch (I am joking), tae has tats, OC's brother is an overprotective idiot but we love him anyway, slight physical abuse not by tae or reader or fourteen--basically someone grips an arm too harshly, some panic but no panic attack,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 11,521

Release Date: September 15, 2024. 12:00PM

A/N 1: The biggest most huge thank you to @violetsiren90 for being my sounding board, tech support and beta. She's a real one and y'all are sleeping on her work if you haven't alread read it. Go check her out!

A/N 2: My access to the adobe suite was aha....revoked. So! this is my first time making a banner and divider without photoshop. Therfore, the banner and the divider are a bit different than what I'm used to having XD. Tumblr is also absolutely destroying the qualty which is sooooo great. It looks wonky and blurry to me on desktop but fine on mobile so it is what it is. If i ever get adobe access again I'll probably come back and update the graphics.

Explicit Warnings: *ahem* nicknames, teasing, kissing, biting, marking (several ways), hand and finger kink (duh), voice kinklet (duhhhh), hair 'pulling' (m rec), semi public if you squint, hella foreplay, tae has a big dick, penetrative sex, oral (m+f rec), fingering, handjob?, multiple orgasms, body worship, switch like activities but mostly dominant tae, posessiveness, confessions, reader takes what she wants but so does tae, exhibitionism if you squint, slight cum play/eating, implied squirting, choking, cream pie. Pretty sure thats all of them. i never reailse how many i need to put until the list is done and wow *chuckes while blushing*

“Oi, can you fucking not? My sister’s right fucking there,” your older brother, Fourteen—nicknamed for his forever mental age—ridiculously and unneededly overprotective as always, says.

It is especially unneeded and ridiculous as he’s saying it to Tae, when all he’s doing is taking off his shirt to go for a swim in your pool. Like he’s been doing since you were tweens.

Well.

Since you were a tween and they were nearing the legal drinking age. But that’s besides the point.

Best friend to your knuckle head of an older brother, you honest to god have no idea how they became friends.

Taehyung is poetry and jazz and button up cotton shirts. Old book smell and expensive cologne, ringed fingers and whiskey, neat. The kind of vibe someone would get from being raised by a very successful lawyer for a father and a top ranking university professor of literature for a mother, while Fourteen is… your older brother.

Maybe it’s a younger sister thing to not understand how her older brother has any friends. Considering you grew up with him, know all of his weird and gross habits, have a lovely dash of sibling bullying thrown in that you two share equally, and more. Yet, by some miracle, he and Tae manage to balance one another out.

Tae—fucking somehow—makes your brother into a more presentable human being. He showers more than twice a week and wears deodorant every day now—even puts the seat down after peeing, a habit you’ve been screaming at him to stop doing since you could use the toilet. While Fourteen gives Tae a rougher edge he previously never seemed to be able to grasp, despite trying his best too.

For example, the several delicate tattoos he now has all over his body, your favourite of which is an old timey record player on the inside of his forearm. They were something he’d been wanting to do for years, but only finally bit the bullet on and did once Fourteen took him when they were twenty two.

Since then the collection’s only grown, much to your inner glee and mental dismay.

And don’t even get you started on the delicate, thin rimmed glasses he occasionally wears—golden and the perfect shape for his face—or the ear piercings that just really fucking cement the tortured poet look that makes your heart clench every. single. time. you look at him.

Similarly to what it’s doing right now, though no one ever knows due to your truly oscar worthy talent for acting completely oblivious to the beautiful shirtless man about to dive in. Call it over a decades worth of practice, and the fact that it’s also nothing you hadn’t gloriously taken in all teenagehood long.

Every time you could get it.

Which was a lot because Tae was on the high school swim team.

For four years.

And then the university swim team.

For another four.

Teenage you was a lucky bitch. Now you’re only blessed with this sight when he comes over to swim laps or attempt to drown Fourteen. Which, admittedly, was still often. But not nearly as much as back then.

The sight in question however, is curled black hair that frames eyes so warm you swear the sun’s relocated to his irises, and a jawline that makes the Statue of David’s pathetic in comparison. It’s fingers that make your mouth water from the way they flip book pages and thighs that make you think thoughts and things you never thought you would.

It’s the scribbled text: ‘To err is human; to forgive, divine’ tattooed across his ribs, and a lean torso, muscled but not outrageously so. Just enough to have you forcing yourself not to stare at the delicate lines of his abdomen every time he comes over for a swim.

Thank god for sunglasses.

“Nah, I’m sure PG can handle it, Dumbass. I’ve only been using your pool every summer for the last 15 years give or take,” Tae says with a quirked brow and a half smile directed at you.

Behind your sunnies, you heat up a touch, and internally sigh. Have you mentioned his smile yet?

Because oh yeah, his fucking smile.

Tae’s a nickname kind of person, hence why even you call your brother ‘Fourteen’. Taehyung’s called him Fourteen for so long now that calling your brother by his birth name just feels wrong.

This being said, PG is Tae’s nickname for you.

It stands for the TV rating ‘Parental Guidance’ because you’re younger by enough that when you were still under the age of 18, they—see: your brother and Tae because they’ve been joined at the hip since they met—were usually assigned babysitting duty. Very much the ‘take your sister with you’ sibling, but they never complained. Not once.

As much as you and Fourteen bully one another, you’re actually quite close when you aren’t verbally sparring—which is where his annoying overprotectiveness comes in. Even when it comes to Taehyung.

“Yeah, Dumbass,” you copy, earning a smirk from Tae as he leans down to take his shoes off. “It’s just Tae.”

“It’s not about that YN, it’s about respect. You’re my little sister, and Fuckass over here,” you brother jabs a thumb in Tae’s direction, which earns you a second hidden smirk from the Fuckass in question, “Still doesn’t know how to respect that fact even after a decade and a half apparently.”

You shrug as Fourteen finishes his point and narrows his eyes at his best friend. Tae gives him a shit eating grin that screams ‘what are you going to do about it’ and your brother gives him a two fingered salute before shaking his head and taking off his own shirt.

You take that as your cue to put your head back down because you don’t need to see that.

Currently in very comfortable linen shorts and tank, you’re sitting on a padded pool lounger, rereading The Great Gatsby for the hundredth time. It’s one of the classics that never gets old for you, has the benefit of being a shorter read—therefore perfect for the poolside—and happens to be the copy Tae’d gotten you for Christmas a couple years ago. Pure coincidence, you tell yourself. Nothing more.

With the beautiful addition of your very darkly glassed sunnies, it also makes the perfect decoy as you watch Tae over the top of the open book without risk of being caught.

You firmly follow the rule of a little looking can’t hurt.

You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up—see: current shirt stripping debacle. It’s not the first nor the last time he’ll do something like it, and you’re pretty sure you and Tae have an unspoken agreement at this point to push as many of Fourteen’s buttons as you can together, just to see how far he’ll let it go before freaking out.

Despite the flames that rage and roar on in your heart.

Despite the green light on the dock across the way tackling your brother under the water.

You hold on. And only in these little moments of in between do you allow yourself to look. Pockets of time where a peek won’t be seen or recorded, and a moment of self indulgence keeps your sanity from trying to escape its tightly locked box.

You look and look and look until the green light is covered in fog once more, and the lid of the box seals tight.

Another day, another glorious abuse of best friend privileges, Taehyung thinks to himself as he continues his butterfly down the imaginary lanes in Fourteen’s pool.

He tries to come over at least three times a week. Four or five if he’s able, the more he’s over the higher chance he has to see you, not just Fourteen. But he’s rarely able to these days.

Though the wind appears to have shifted in his favour today. You’re sitting on the lounge chairs again, reading away in the afternoon sun.

It’s his favourite view. And it’s sweetened by the fact that you’re in the shorts he loves and reading a book he gave you. Something he’s done since before he could remember, really.

Christmases and birthdays, he’s always given you a book. Usually a classic, sometimes something else. If it caught his eye or reminded him of you, he’d grab it and save it until the next Christmas or the next birthday, whichever came first. And you’ve always loved them, so he’s never stopped.

They’re gifts that seem harmless to Fourteen, and for the most part they are. But these last few have been…different. Had deeper thought put into them. The titles, the story lines, the prose. He swears you notice it, but maybe that’s just his own wishful thinking.

And he sure as fuck can’t be doing any of that.

This cold water isn’t doing its job well enough.

Finishing his set, Tae swims over to rest before starting on his front stroke. Forearms hold him up on the edge of the pool, his chin balancing on stacked knuckles while his breath catches.

He also uses this little break as an excuse to talk to you. He only ever freely can when Fourteen isn’t around, and right now his best friend is inside grabbing drinks, towels and probably relieving himself–which, knowing Fourteen—could take anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes. So he has to take advantage of every moment he gets.

“Got any new recommendations for me PG?”

Books are an easy starting point when it comes to you. Fourteen may be a graphic novel at best kind of guy, but your brain can’t seem to inhale enough books to satiate it. And just the thought makes his temples rush with heat.

He should dunk his head again.

You lower your Fitzgerald by one inch and raise an eyebrow to counter it. Just like your brother, you’re always one to give him a hard time. Make him work for every millimeter of ground conquered. And he’s pretty sure you have a smirk hiding behind the pages, though he can’t be certain due to the sunglasses hiding your eyes.

“Maybe,” you say. “What do I get in return?”

Answering that question about fifty different ways in his head, Tae decides none can be said out loud. He seriously needs to fucking reel himself in. Fourteen could return at any moment and the last thing Tae needs to have is a problem between his legs because you never make it easy for him.

But rather than listening to his very rational thoughts and very logical brain, he instead decides to say fuck it, and croons in the voice that used to fluster you as a teenager.

“What do you want in return, PG?” Hoping to soften you up, even the playing field a bit.

And it works like a charm.

Your body releases its tension on an exhale, your page is marked, book set to the side, and your legs extend and stretch before crossing at the ankle. It makes him wonder if your little girlhood crush on him still exists somewhere in the back of your mind. Probably not.

Scratch that.

Definitely not.

“What if I wanted a new nickname?” you ask.

Both his eyebrows raise in surprise. “What’s wrong with PG?”

“It makes me feel like I’m eleven,” you explain. And then hit him with a dose of his own medicine as you croon, “I’m not eleven anymore, Tae.”

No you sure as hell are not. And it kills him in a way that has him wanting to die over and over again.

He could consider it. But he doesn’t think he’ll change it, not when PG can stand for so many wonderful things. Things you would never think he’d let it when addressing you. Things that would have Fourteen trying for drowning attempt number two thousand four hundred sixty three, and succeeding.

“I’ll think about it—Fair?”

You ponder before agreeing. “Fair.”

“Now about those recommendations…” He reminds you, and that’s all it takes to get you going.

Fourteen comes out about ten minutes later, but by then, Tae has a new list of books to grab from the store, two laps under him with eight more to go, and you’re reading again—one bare leg bent at the knee he’s trying very hard to ignore when he comes up for air.

By the time he’s due for another breather, you’re talking to your brother about plans for the weekend.

“I’m going out early on Friday for Rei’s birthday, remember? And I’ll probably crash at her place after,” you say.

Fourteen is sitting on the second lounge chair across from you, most likely playing a game on his phone if Tae had to guess. But at your reminder, your brother looks up.

“Fuck that’s right. Okay so no dinner then, I’ll just grab something on my way in.”

“Sounds good. What about tonight?”

Fourteen gives it about two seconds of thought. “How about Don’s?”

Your face lights up at the suggestion. “Fuck yes! I’ve been craving their milkshakes for like a week. Hey Tae!” you call to him. “Don’s for dinner? There’s a chocolate shake with your name on it if you’re down.”

Tae pushes himself out of the water onto the pavement and doesn’t miss the sly once over you give him while Fourteen chucks a towel at his chest, covering your eyes with his other hand.

He catches the projectile before it can knock him back into the pool, and uses it to dry his hair.

“Dude! Seriously? Go find a fucking shirt or something, no one wants to see that.”

You swat your sibling’s hand away and give him a look that screams ‘grow up’ while Tae drapes the towel over her shoulders, a hand gripping at each end.

“I’m only down if Dumbass is paying,” he says, smirking at your brother.

“—What—”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” you agree, holding out your hand in his direction.

“—Hey wait a seco—”

Tae grabs and shakes just to watch the steam flee Fourteen’s ears at the contact. He meets your eyes conspiratorially, and you both nod before rushing Fourteen.

“—You fuckers!—” is all he gets out before Tae and you are grabbing an arm and a leg each and throwing Fourteen’s fully clothed ass in the pool.

He curses the both of you out several times as he treads, drenched and dripping, up the stairs and out of the water. Tae throws him the towel.

“You’ll pay for that, Asshole,” Fourteen tells Tae, and Tae grins.

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Worth it though.”

“And you!” Fourteen says, eyes on you. “What the fuck dude? The betrayal to your darling, one and only brother hurts. I’m wounded,” he lays it on thick, walking up directly beside you.

You're a hairsbreadth too late to realize when he shakes his hair out directly over top of you and you shriek, pulling your knees up, protecting the book under your shirt and behind your legs at all costs.

“Fourteen! The book! I will kill you if you damage it!”

Fourteen chuckles. “Payback’s a bitch Little Sister.”

You sneer at him, checking your prized possession for injury. Not a scratch.

“And sopping wet is your colour, Jackass.”

“Big words for someone who can just as easily be thrown in the pool.”

You pause. Eyeing him directly.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

Your brother looks at Tae with an evil plot in his eyes and you screech as they both nod once. You drop your book behind you as they yank you up by your arms and fling you into the pool, too much momentum from them and not enough resistance from you leaving you matching your darling, one and only brother.

As you come up for air, two colossal splashes ricochet from the left and right. Tae and Fourteen having both cannonballed in on either side of you. You choke on splattered water for a second before you’re attacking them with splashes, merciless in your pursuit for revenge.

“You both suck!” you half giggle half yell.

“Yet you love us anyway!” your brother falsely—correctly—claims.

You roll your eyes before trudging out, heavier and dripping with your soaked clothes.

And it's not until weekend plans are cast aside for current memories, Taehyung treating you all to dinner, and you treating everyone to milkshakes, that all is forgiven.

It turns out Rei’s dad knows the manager of the most exclusive club in the city—Youth—and managed to call in a favour. So now you, her, and your other bestie, Lea, are all on the dancefloor to celebrate her birthday.

Rei’s first request for the night besides not paying for a single drink, was to dress up in the hottest, sluttiest outfits the club's dress code would allow for.

This, for you, meant a black, square necked, low cut, and thin strapped satin slip dress that hugged you in all the right ways, matching heels adored with ankle strap bows and a sultry makeup look. Lea chose a dark blue shimmery number with a high leg split, vibrant graphic eyeliner, and wedges, while the birthday girl found the skimpiest forest green mini dress you’ve ever seen paired with heels that wrap ribbons up her legs, and a subtle dewy look on her lids.

She’s glowing, and needless to say, they both look hot and so do you.

Rei’s second request for the night was to dance until you either collapsed or threw up, whichever came first. A goal you were all making a steady descent towards as the night progressed.

That is, until your blood runs cold at the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend making his way through the crowd in a direct beeline towards you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’re alone right now. Rei and Lea are taking a bathroom break.

You insisted you’d be fine for ten minutes. It was just ten minutes. What could possibly go wrong in ten minutes?

But apparently god just loves to play jokes because here you are, three shots in, not emotionally prepared enough to be near him, let alone speak to him, and by yourself in this huge crowd of strangers while he’s making very good time on his route to you.

Fuck! You do not want to deal with him right now or—fucking ever, actually.

He’d cheated on you four times that he admitted too throughout your two and a half year relationship, all while faking being blindingly happy directly to your face. He’d lied to you and hurt you and made you wonder what you did wrong for him to do that to you. It took all of your third year of university and more therapy sessions than you care to admit to realize you were never the problem, and that he was a piece of shit.

So, with the fifteen feet between you two quickly shrinking, you try your best to hide from him in the crowd, only to run directly into him when you duck past a fellow club goer.

Son of a b—

“Heyyy Y/N, how’ve you been?” he says like he didn’t destroy your entire sense of self worth for a couple quick fucks.

You want to down three more shots just to be able to puke all over him. Intentionally, you haven’t seen him in years and just the reek of his stale ass cologne has you close.

“Fuck off Micah, don’t you have somewhere you need to be sticking your dick—like a garbage disposal?” You snark, doing your damndest to not let him get close. But the throng of bodies surrounding you have other ideas and you’re thrown against your least favourite person in existence.

Delusional as ever, Micah sleezes, “Doesn’t seem like you want me to leave just yet, Kitten,” and you shove him off you as hard as you can while bile rises at the horrible name you used to beg him not to call you.

You need to get off the dance floor.

Now.

Before you can, Micah grabs your arm and he pulls you back into him, hard.

Tae watches you out of the corner of his eye, wondering why in the hell you came to this club, of all the clubs out there.

The club he was at. Wearing that and truly testing the limits of his self control.

Music blasts through speakers that move the ocean on the dancefloor. Bodies sway like waves, some crashing into one another with teeth and tongues and passion, others pushing with the current, grinding and gripping and grabbing at anything they can get their hands on. The louder and faster the notes whirl over their swells, the harsher the storm rages on, people flowing in and out of the eye when needed.

He’s sitting at a booth on a dais high enough to watch you in the hurricane whilst being out of eyesight, notably with one or two faces he barely recognizes enough to most likely be your friends.

They appear to be currents. They drag you into deeper waters and you let them, helpless to their siren call. Leading you to your place amongst the sea life, and reveling in the way the melodies wash over you again and again with every song that plays.

His eyes follow you as you dance, curious if Fourteen knows you’re here before flinging the thought out of his head as quickly as it entered. You’re grown now, don’t need protection anymore. A lesson he learned the day you returned from university after graduating.

No longer his best friend's kid sister who they kept an eye on, but a woman who was and still is growing into herself beautifully. A woman who is steadfast, strong and more often than not, correct in her opinions. A woman who is well read and equally if not more so well spoken when she deigns to acknowledge his existence. A woman who knows how and when to turn all of that off in order to team up with him in a roast battle for the books against her brother.

He thinks of that day as the beginning of his downfall.

He can humbly admit that his intelligence, demeanor and education are things that have been nurtured into existence by his parents and carefully maintained by himself with practice and both mental and physical exercise. He takes care of himself, inside and out. Exercises regularly, eats well, has good hygiene. He’s level headed and patient. Respectful and responsible. Controlled and competent.

He prides himself on these things. Actively works towards keeping them maintained.

And yet.

Somehow when it comes to you, he is little more than a single brain celled idiot.

All of the things he uses to measure his self worth evaporate whenever you enter his field of vision and he becomes fucking ravenous. And all of his focus goes into controlling himself.

He’d never noticed before, never thought of you in the way he does now. How when your currents break from formation and head towards the bathrooms, their outgoing force creates a riptide that some fuckhead with a stupid haircut uses to sweep in and dance with you.

But you push him away.

He doesn’t get the memo, and the mophead tries his best to yank you out to sea again.

Magma flows through Taehyung's veins, thunder cracks in his ears and all he can think about is storming through the crowd to steal you from said fuckhead by claiming you for himself.

But he won’t.

Can’t.

All because of his darling best friend.

Fourteen doesn’t know about his feelings for you of course. And Tae rather likes being alive and in one piece, two things he most definitely would not remain should he act on any of these feelings.

You are wholly off limits, forbidden. A little too young, a little too immediately related to his best friend, a little too perfectly his fucking type. It kills him every time he can’t even look at you without Fourteen going into what he calls ‘asshole mode’.

So you remain in his very close periphery. Untouchable to the fingertips he aches to caress you with as you dangle your existence in front of him. Your wicked tongue, your delicious intelligence, your sexy fucking legs—fuck!

He has to stop thinking about you like this.

But that only makes him want you more.

It’s like the gods handcrafted you for him. Every piece, every detail of you immaculate, but he committed one to many sins in his past life, and now they’ve locked you away forever as punishment.

You float across the night sky, stuck in a golden cell. Its fourteen bars hold you hostage amongst the stars, all while he’s chained to the bottom of the ocean floor gasping for air.

But fuck the gods and fuck their gilded cages.

He’d break from his chains, swim to the surface of the sea and grow wings. Would break your prison apart with the sheer force of his wanting, then drag you down to the depths if it meant he got to keep you for himself.

He would. He really, really fucking would. If his world wouldn’t implode completely if he did.

So he keeps these thoughts to himself. Forces them down as they try their damndest to bubble over and burn him, because they will if he lets them. If any of them get outside these little moments, the ones where he allows himself to feel, he would burn and burn and burn until there was nothing left.

Therefore, Taehyung has never been more grateful that his best friend was stuck on the night shift while he watched you dance and enjoy yourself, because it granted him this sliver of time to pretend like your brother doesn’t exist.

That you are something he could let himself have, if you wanted him to.

And he’s solid in his decision to only observe, to stay inside his little moment, until fuckhead doesn’t get the message for the third time and Taehyung is out of his seat before he can think.

Because Fourteen isn't here.

And old habits die hard.

“What the hell? Let me go, Micah!” You see his eyes then, red rimmed and glazed. He definitely has more than one thing in his system as his grip on you hardens further. The more you struggle, the tighter he grasps and—ouch, ouch, ouch, yank, fuck! Ow!—it’s really starting to hurt.

“Just give me one more chance Kitten, I promise I’ll do better,” he whisper in your ear over the music, and you cringe back from how loud he is. But that doesn’t stop him from continuing, “I fucked up, I know I did. But that was years ago, and I learned my lesson. Just one more chance Kitten, just one more, and I—I promise. I promise it won’t happen again. It won’t. I really miss y–AH! What the fuck!?”

The hand on your arm releases the second Micah yelps in pain. You look down to see familiar ringed fingers around Micah’s wrist, clutching so hard they’re white knuckled and skin bruising.

A broad chest comes to rest at your back, and an arm snakes around you. Its large palm rests on your stomach and hip as it pulls you tightly against its owner.

Words covered in sharpest ice are spoken from behind you, their baritone so recognizable they have you melting back into him.

Safe.

You’re safe.

Exhale.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Taehyung growls so deeply, so powerfully, you feel the rumble from behind his sternum reverberate into your body.

Micah’s focus shifts from his wrist to the man several inches taller and several years his senior still holding it. You watch as his face contorts from pained to confused and then to murderous.

“The fuck are you to tell me not to touch my girlfriend?” Micah seethes, and you stiffen because no the fuck you are not, and haven’t been for several years.

How blitzed out of his mind is he right now?

You don’t even get the chance to deny his words before Taehyung’s on Micah like fire to dried grass.

“Don’t make me laugh, Asshole. No way in hell an pig faced looking fucker like you could pull a woman like her. Now,” Tae roughly shoves Micah’s hand back to him, and it forces Micah to stumble into the people behind with the force. “Get the fuck away from My Girl before I make you My Problem. And trust me,” Tae says in a tone so dangerous, you’ve never heard him sound so terrifying in the fifteen plus years you’ve known him, “You don’t want me to make you my problem.”

And you realize, that this isn’t the Taehyung you’ve grown up with; seen through his awkward teen years and watched come into his adult life with. This isn’t jazz music and poetry Taehyung.

This Taehyung has only ever come out the handful of times you’ve ever been in trouble. The one who studied Judo with Fourteen growing up, the one who has his fourth Dan.

The one who does not play when it comes to you and your safety.

It’s enough to know that Taehyung is more than pissed off, and more than a little ready to beat the absolute shit out of Micah, if the whiskey on his breath says anything about his loosened inhibitions.

Micah seems to sense this too, and decides to back off. But not without a stupid macho expression and two middle fingers directed at both of you as he disappears into the crowd, and out of sight.

You can feel the tension radiating off Taehyung in waves, a coil so tightly wound that a gentle breeze could set him loose, so you turn around and attempt to safely unwind. His hand moves from your stomach to your lower back, and you ignore the trail of wildfire it leaves in its wake because Tae’s eyes haven’t wavered from the spot where Micah just stood.

“Don’t.” You say, loud enough for him to hear. And his flame filled irises snap to yours, burning. “He’s not worth it.”

Your words seem to bring him back somewhat because Tae sniggers. “Damn right he’s not,” then softens. “Are you okay?”

You look anywhere but at him, the reality of the last three minutes crashing down onto your head like broken glass while the both of you are still caught in the middle of the dancefloor.

The people around you seem to understand something’s happened, and you’re left mostly untouched aside from the gentle nudges of inebriated party goers whose balance isn’t the best at the moment.

Like the mellowed waves in the eye of a storm.

Taehyung seems to make sense of this at the same time you do, and lifts his free hand for you to take. Slipping your fingers into his, he leads you to an unused and out of the way emergency exit hallway somewhere in the back of the club. It’s completely empty and dark, undisturbed besides the occasional server passing by.

It’s private.

It’s safe.

You’re safe.

He lets go of your hand and looks at you again. “Now, are you okay?”

The adrenaline is wearing off, and you can feel yourself start to shake. You ignore it. Sort of.

“I’m okay,” you say. But he’s eyeing you suspiciously and rightly so, so you repeat yourself, trying to convince your own brain more than his right now.

“I’m okay, really! I’m good. I’m–” you exhale a shaky breath and he doesn’t ask before pulling you to his chest. Wrapping both his arms around you, one around your back while the other holds your head protectively to him. Your own go around his waist as you grip him back tighter.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

“I’m okay,” you say again, muffled into his black high necked shirt, taking deep breaths of his soothing, familiar scent. You do it and again, and again. Repeating the pretty lie to yourself again and again until it becomes the truth.

He doesn’t let go until you do, and you don’t let go until you’ve finally stopped shaking.

You look up into his eyes, and all signs of his previous wrath are gone. It seems the hug didn’t ground just you, it grounded him too. Got him out of the headspace that would’ve been required for action first, words later. But now the sun is back, it shines down on you, and you bask in its warmth.

“I’m good now. Thank you,” you say in an even and unwavering voice, because you are. The panic and immense relief having washed over you, and you’re once again simply, pleasantly buzzed.

Though you do have a new problem in the form of the warmth pooling low from the feeling of both his hands still on your lower back.

You’re trying to convince yourself it’s his way of keeping you safe.

But the lock on your box has the key inside it, and it’s just begging for you to turn it.

“Good,” he replies, still not letting go. And it’s chipping away at your sanity. “Who was that guy? I only caught the last bit of his pathetic ramblings.”

You wince. Due to a lovely combination of not being very active on social media, not being much of a picture taker, and the newly dyed hair Micah seemed to be sporting tonight, you’re not surprised Tae didn’t recognize him.

“Ah. Uhm…That was...Micah,” you admit, unable to meet his eyes again. That’s when you notice his outfit tonight is all black.

Oh you are so fucked.

“As in Micah, Micah?” Tae asks neutrally, familiar with what your ex had done, just not what he looked like.

“...Yeah...”

“I see.”

“Yeah...” You say again. Because what else could you say?

Tae cracks a smile. “Should’ve let me kick his ass. The balls on him not only to approach you, but to call you his—” he cuts himself off, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing in a hushed, caring tone. “After everything he’s done to you, you should’ve let me, PG. Consequences be damned.”

Your cheeks flame at the nickname so close to your ears. So tenderly said. And you honestly can’t tell if you still hate it in this moment, or if it’s only adding kindling to the fire his hands are fueling at the base of your spine.

The new name he’d called you earlier, its ignition point.

My Girl.

You swear, even in your panicked state, you’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe before inhaling far too much all at once.

Fuck, what you won’t give to hear him say it again. But you’re 98.9% sure that’s the three shots of vodka talking. Trying their best to turn the damn key. And maybe they succeed in turning it half way—hell, maybe all the way, because you look him back in the eyes and hear yourself say,

“Maybe I should’ve, but I was far too distracted by the new nickname you finally gave me to give a single fuck about anyone else.”

The moment the last word is out Taehyung stiffens beneath your touch, fingers locked on your back, and you’re very pretty sure you just fucked absolutely everything up.

Years of good behaviour, of keeping yourself in check. Of pockets of time and side long glances and knowing nothing would ever happen, stolen from you. By your own big, fat, adrenaline depleted, vodka loosened mouth.

You're a second away from damage control before his grip shifts from your lower back to your hips.

Higher. Tighter. Controlling. Oh fuck.

He leans down to murmur, “Liked the new name, did you?” in your ear.

Shivers shoot from your crown to your core and down to your toes. Having his deep, deliciously inviting voice so fucking close to your pulse point has you millimeters away from drowning in it. You know he can feel it course through you, just like you can hear the smile it makes him display away from your eyesight as he does.

“You did then,” he responds for you, a cat toying with its meal as he lifts his head once more to look into your eyes.

You don’t need a mirror to know the state of your pupils. Your gaze is glazed over in the sinful kind of way.

“I did,” you needlessly confirm, looking up into similarly blown out ones.

The fingers twined behind him release, and make their way around to his abdomen. They pause to splay for just a second at the defined ridges, before slowly crawling up his chest and meeting again at the nape of his neck.

They play with the soft hair there, gently scratching their nails at the skin beneath where it grows and you watch as your ministrations cause his eyes to roll back, flutter shut, and his head to meet the wall behind him. A barely audible moan escapes the confines of his lips before he swallows, the divine bob of his adams apple as he tries to regain his composure is the dawn of your undoing.

“Fuck, PG that isn’t fair,” he groans towards the ceiling, his hands on your waist clamping down harder, pulling you so close your bodies touch in more places they definitely shouldn’t be. The contact has you reeling and all you want is more, more, more of it.

More of him.

“PG isn’t the name you called me earlier,” you hum, yanking on a single loose strand and Tae sucks in a steep breath, biting the corner of his smirking lip with a canine.

You want to hear him say it again. Badly. So you release the sensual grip you have on his nape, and let his head lul slowly back down to where it was, his deepening amber wholly fixated on your now entirely onyx. Your heart is begging for release from your chest, and for a moment you wonder if he can see your pulse thrumming in your eyes, because you sure as hell can feel it.

“No, it’s not. But it also hasn’t meant to me what it means to you for quite some time now,” his voice like honey, thick and dripping its way over your body. It’s making you dizzy and weighty with want. It has your mouth opening slightly as he leans closer still, knocking his nose gently with your own. Inhaling in your exhales. Teasing you. Making you work for it.

“And what does it mean to you?” you ask, barely above a whisper, irises never straying from his as your bottom lip brushes against his in one solitary, intoxicating moment that has you more buzzed in one touch than three shots has had you all night.

“Pretty Girl,” he breathes onto your lips, pushing his thigh between your legs at the same time he pulls you impossibly closer. You hear yourself moan ‘fuck’ at the contact it gives your throbbing cunt. Too focused on the need coursing through you like a live wire—your body pure water—to think about what you’re saying.

It’s a sweet sound and a violent pleasure he devours as his lips finally, finally, finally crash into yours, pinning you in place and allowing him to take every piece of you he wants. One hand slithers up your naked spine to hold you, your backless dress doing you every favour imaginable as his other continues to help you grind over his thigh.

His tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it, causing him to jerk into you once with the rapidly growing want pressing into your lower belly. But your hands hold firm at his neck as you pull him into you, a knee lifting to meet his hip. Needing more contact.

The electricity filled pathways his fingers leave down your back, over your ass and across the bottom of your thigh to support your search for pleasure do nothing but spur on the overwhelming need to touch him everywhere.

No holds barred. No clothes worn. Nothing stopping you.

He uses his new grip to spin you around and press his hips into yours as your shoulders meet the wall. You’re left to moan sickly sweet sounds of bliss into his ear as Taehyung frees your mouth in favour of your jaw and neck, sucking gentle purple hues down the column of your throat and onto your collarbone.

“Pretty Girl,” he whispers between love bites, “My Pretty Girl.” Over and over and it has you melting so far into him, the only thing keeping you apart is fabric and a potential audience. Though from the colour you’re going to have to cover with far too much concealer tomorrow, you don’t think he quite cares about that last part.

It drives you farther into insanity. Years of want and restraint and pretty white lies you told yourself are crashing down on one another and it shows in the fervor of your touch, your wants, your pleads.

“Fuck, Tae—please. Please, I need you— please,” you beg, and the bite he leaves at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder has you gasping for air that refuses to be consumed gently.

But Taehyung is a man on a mission. One who will not be deterred, and you can’t tell if he will be your pinnacle or your inevitable end.

With what is very clearly great effort, Tae pulls himself back from your decolletage, only to kiss your lips once more. Open mouthed and dirty, tongue clinging to you like the only thing he’s concerned about is swallowing down as much of you as he can while you’ll let him, and you’ve never felt more desired in your life.

He’s hoarse as he says, “Not here. Not for the first time. Not…not here.”

“Then where,” you ask, near impatient and far too eager as you let your hands roam wherever they want. And you find your thumbs tracing the waistline of his pants, dipping a nails width below where they should. They trail over the indented V of muscle you know is hiding under his shirt. He shudders.

It makes you smile wickedly.

“Then where, Taehyung,” you murmur into his neck with that wicked smile in your words as you trace your nose along his jaw.

“Fuck, you’re something,” he says, almost pained, bringing you immense delight. To know you affect him as much as he does you. That you have him as much as he has you.

Sly hands slowly pull his shirt from his trousers in an attempt to urge him on. It works, and his response is quick.

“My place. It’s a ten minu—fuck PG,” he almost scolds as your digits toy with the hair at his navel, dipping lower—enough to feel the beginnings of something—but not low enough to discern anything.

Yet.

“Can you behave for that long?”

You smirk.

Retracting your hands, you hold them up to show you can be good, do a quick once over to make sure you're decent and spin on your heel to walk towards your booth. Tae is behind you immediately, hand placed low on your back, thumb rubbing circles on the sliver of skin it touches. You ignore the goose bumps that arise.

Rei and Lea are at your table, thankfully. You explain to them you ran into Micah and that it really shook you, so Tae’s going to take you home. They know who Tae is, so they’re not worried when they give you goodbye hugs or when they tell you to text them when you're home safe.

You promise you will, and hope that the rest of Rei’s birthday goes well.

True to his word, it’s a ten minute rideshare before you’re pulling up to a tall, black windowed apartment building.

You’ve only been to Tae’s a handful of times with your brother, mostly for things like pick ups for concerts and such, but now that you’re here—alone with him—you’re trying hard not to jump him in the fucking lobby.

The pulsing between your legs has only worsened since you removed your hands from his waistline, and you’re close to crawling out of your skin with need.

His hand stays in its place at your lower back as the elevator climbs.

It’s not helping and completely helping at the same time.

Fuck.

Tae lives on the sixteenth floor and the view is incredible. It’s the first thing you see past the island when you walk in the front door. There’s the kitchen to the left past the entrance, which turns into the living space that’s furnished in a way you can only describe as pure Tae.

Books littering every surface, warm neutral toned furniture to counterbalance the colourful artwork he keeps on the walls. There’s an old record player with a collection of vinyls in the corner and what you assume is this morning's coffee mug on the art book filled coffee table.

To the right of the living space is the bedroom. It’s a studio apartment, but Tae’s managed to keep the flow of the place beautifully with some creatively put, gorgeously decorated room dividers. And the tall floor to ceiling windows wrap around it all, showcasing the lights of the city as they blend into the stars in the night sky.

Mesmerizing.

Just like the man locking his door behind you.

A kiss is placed on the back of your neck as you slide out of your shoes at the front door. You angle your head to allow more space, letting the arm that folds around you bring you closer to him. The feel of his arousal begins to grow behind you once more and you push back against him. A faint grunt meets the shell of your ear before his hand delicately slides up from your lower stomach and past your sternum. It teases your neck for just a moment before it meets your jaw to turn your lips towards his.

He captures them in a brutal kiss, drinking you in for all you’re worth and then some as his other hand replaces the one that now holds your jaw in place. He pulls you into him but you spin in his hold, throwing your arms around his neck once more and dragging him towards the living space. He sheds his jacket in the process, uncaring of where it lands on his floor so long as you are still kissing him.

You only stop when your ass meets the top of the couch and Taehyung palms the back of your thighs to lift you, your legs wrapping themselves around his hips as you sit on its edge.

He growls at the contact and it has you raking your nails down his neck and over his shirt as you open for him once more, tongues clashing and teeth scraping at the desperate nature you both share. You yank his shirt up and he breaks from your embrace for only the amount of time it takes for the fabric to hit the floor before he’s back on you, adding twin bruises to the other side of your throat.

You let the strings holding up your dress fall naturally to the side, revealing your chest to him, and a low, “Fucking hell,” is murmured somewhere below your ear before a nipple is in his mouth and you’re arching into his touch, slices of need shooting straight downwards. Giving no mercy to your attempts to draw out the pleasure.

One large hand cups a breast, molding it to his wanting before he switches and you’re groaning into the air above you, begging him for more, determined to have his tongue anywhere and everywhere you can get it. He lavs at your peaked bud, roaming over the sensitive flesh, making you squirm at the sensations he’s drawing from you.

You never want it to end as he makes his way back up to your mouth, dragging his bottom lip over all of the freshly deepend skin it trails in its wake, making you hazy with the feel of him and his marks.

His delicate touch wanders the insides of your thighs and your cunt aches for it the higher it climbs. But it slides up not down, reaching around to your ass and hoisting you onto his hips.

Turning, he walks the eight paces to his bed, places a knee on the mattress for support before setting you down. His lips never leave yours he crawls over you, settling his hips over yours for mere moments, allowing you to thrust only twice before he’s removing himself completely and sinking to his knees.

The fingers you’ve spent way too much time thinking about can’t get enough of your skin as they skate down your sides, taking the dress bunched at your hips with them. You raise your hips to help him get the scrap of fabric off, leaving a delicate, black lace thong the only thing keeping any of your remaining modesty intact.

You watch as his now fully blackened gaze takes you in, jaw dropped in slight at the sight of you with your legs opened on his bed. Like you were the prize he’s been waiting years to claim, and now that you're here and that you’re his his, he can’t quite believe it.

It’s then you realize that he wants you, and has been wanting you. That your attempts to stay in reality these last couple years weren’t just harder for you, but for him as well.

It hasn’t been one sided.

He wants you.

Taehyung.

Off limits, older brother’s best friend, swim club participating, jazz and poetry loving, judo knowing, book gifting, perfect smile having, protective, Taehyung.

Wants you.

You can physically feel the gush that rushes from your core at the thought and you know Tae can see it through the lace.

“Holy fuck…you’re fucking drenched and I haven’t even properly touched you yet,” he rasps, unbelieving.

“Then touch me and find out just how much I want this,” you whisper. Begging, pleading, praying your words have their intended effect. “How much I want you, Taehyung.”

The sound that leaves his throat is a mixture of a whimper, a groan, and a guttural noise indicative of pure desperate want as he takes hold of your legs and spreads them further. Those mother fucking fingers trace from your ankles to your knees accompanied by the occasional light kiss, back up your inner thighs, and finally to the spot where you’ve been weeping for him for the better part of thirty minutes with a heaping side of ten years yearned.

He places one open mouthed kiss on the top of your clothed clit and that simple touch has you arching, lightning crackling through your veins with the pleasure it brings. Tae slides one single finger down your covered slit before pushing it under and pulling it to the side.

At the mere sight of you he’s swearing so fiercely under his breath that you involuntarily clench and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

His mouth is on you and you buck at the sensation. Yielding you no mercy, his tongue swipes from opening to clit in one long lick that has you gasping, clutching bed sheets above and below your head to keep from screaming.

“Oh my—Fuck—Tae. Ohmygodohmy—” you’re rambling. Incoherent. A mess.

He’s consuming your very being, no nerve left untouched, no reaction too minimal for his learning as he snakes his hands around your legs to haul you closer, pull you deeper into his mouth and you can’t fucking take it. You’re screaming out at the intensity he circles you with, and you can feel your impending orgasm come rushing to the surface. You’ve barely even processed it’s begun before you’re spasming so hard Tae has to remove an arm from your leg to throw around your pelvis.

His devious fucking eyes meet yours for one earth shattering moment as he slips two fingers inside and begins a secondary merciless pursuit on your already overwhelmed senses. Using the pads to press upwards in time to the motions he never ceased with his tongue, a second wave is cresting before the first has ceased and you feel yourself clamping down, legs holding him in place as the intensity of your release climaxes.

You’ve never felt a pressure so intense before, it’s like your body is a volcano and you’re erupting for the first time while someone sets off fireworks from its peak. The lava flows in waves, your hand holding his hair as you ride his face, shuddering at the vibrations his moan into your cunt leaves on the most sensitive parts of your body.

Gentle strokes and licks calm as your pleasure begins to wane and you can breathe in more than just stuttered inhales again.

“Holy fu–” you try to get out, but your voice is hoarse, like you’ve been screaming the entire time.

And fuck, maybe you have been. You sure as hell can’t remember or think of anything more than the warm fuzzy feeling currently radiating from every single pore in your body. The damningly deliciously dizzying feeling in your head not allowing for coherent thoughts to pass. Your limbs are loose, your body wholly relaxed.

You’re…Well. You’re fucking perfect right now. If you could stay in this moment forever you would without second thought. Locked in this room with him for all time sounds like the best way to live out the rest of your days.

Until you wince as Tae blows warm breath on your core and he chuckles, then does it again.

“Hey,” you say, sounding much clearer now, “Stop that and come here.”

You slip your hand down his face and grab him by the jaw, pulling him up and over you. Tae tastes like fire and whiskey and ambrosia and you as you kiss him with abandon, near feral as you take what you want from him and he revels in it.

He’s on his elbows and a knee over you, and you use it to your full advantage to palm him over his pants and—Fuck he’s big. No wonder he was so thorough on you. This is going to hurt no matter how much prep either of you did.

He hisses at the contact and that only spurs you on, grasping firmly at his base and roving up and over the head with the heel of your palm, squeezing gently in time with his reactions.

“Christ PG, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum in my pants,” Tae laughs into your neck before rising to sit back on his heels. He gets as far as undoing his belt buckle and button before you take over, sitting up and pulling him out.

He is disastrously beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your mouth waters at just the idea of him in your mouth.

Licking your lips, you hear him curse quite colourfully as you take the tip into your mouth and swish your tongue over the head. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Tae raises one hand to his eyes and the other behind him to hold him up as you take him deeper, shaking from restraining himself so hard, murmuring to himself, “Oh fuck. Fuck me, can’t believe—so fucking good, pretty—perfect—ohmygod,” and you seal the motherfucking deal by taking him into the back of your throat and looking up into his eyes at the same time.

Taehyung barks and bucks once into your throat before removing himself and throwing you down onto the bed. He looks furious in the way that gets your heart racing, your cunt thrumming and your breathing so fast your chest feels like it might shatter from the crosscurrents.

He grabs each of your hands and raises them above your head, sliding his fingers up your wrists and between your own, holding them in place on his pillow.

Leaning down, he uses his lowest timber to speak darkly into your ear, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his cock. Sliding back and forth, sending bolts of white hot need through you.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he starts, thrusting, teasing, torturing. And you moan at the contact.

“You make me want to throw away a decades old friendship just for the chance to touch you.”

Thrust, tease, jolt, whine.

“And what’s worst of all is you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and you turn me into a complete idiot the second you enter the room. It’s like your fucking presence takes away all the working functions in my brain and leaves me with only the incurable fucking desire to make you cum until you can’t remember you own fucking name. Only mine.”

Thrust, squeeze, glide, jolt. “Tae...” you whine, delirious with pleasure, drunk on his greed and delighted by his torture.

“I call you PG because it’s the only way I can get away with calling you anything more than your name around him.” He sounds almost angry with how low he growls. “And it means so much more than you could think.”

He leans further into you, so close now that his lips brush your ear as he speaks.

“My Pretty Girl,” thrust, “My Precious Girl,” moan, “My Perfect Fucking Girl.”

He releases one hand to line himself up with your entrance. “That’s who you are to me. That’s what I’m calling you when I call you PG. My Pretty, Precious, Perfect Girl. My Girl.” He slips past your walls, sinking deep and you both groan in euphoric unison. “Mine.”

Tae pulls out, slow and controlled.

Blissful.

Then pushes back in, methodically.

Torturous.

Feeling every inch you can take, which is every single fucking one.

Inevitable.

Bottoming out for the second time, you whisper, “Yours,” into his ear, and he turns fucking ravenous.

Setting an absolutely ruthless pace, he claims your body, taking what’s so clearly always been his. Your legs wrap around him again, digging a heel into his ass as you drive him closer, harder with every push. Then lay claim to the one thing you’re able to, taking his lips with yours and biting down hard enough to draw the most sinful groan from the back of his throat. Hoarse, deep, almost broken with how raw it is.

One hand bruises its fingerprints into your hip while the other holds him up over you, and you use this to your advantage, slipping one leg around his and flipping the both of you over.

You trail your tongue down his jaw to his clavicle, he tastes of sweat and lust and sex and it is the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever consumed. Creating your own gardens of little blooming flowers down one side of his neck and up the other, Taehyung moans greedily into your ear as your ride to match his thrusts, sending him deeper while you decorate your willing canvas.

Because as much as he wishes to lay claim to your body, you want to claim his as well.

“Mine,” you say, positioning yourself to take over completely, using the springs of the mattress to do most of the work for you.

“Yes,” he says. But that’s not good enough.

“Mine,” you demand, and let loose, pressing down on the mattress with your knees rapidly, creating the glorious effect you wanted. You watch as the up force from the mattress causes Taehyung to be driven into you so quickly he throws his head back, mouth dropped in pure ecstasy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, YN, What the fuck—” he rambles, lost to the pleasure, biting his lip, going slackjawed, clenching and unclenching his fists into bedsheets that already have your handprints seared into them.

And you keep going, a little torture creation of your own.

“Mine,” you demand again, and this time, it clicks.

“Yours! Fuck, yours. All yours, only yours,” he surrenders and you slow back down to a regular pace, breathless.

It’s a great move but it’s exerting.

You all but collapse on his chest and he takes over, thrillingly pissed off due to your power play.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks, and you clench at his tone.

He removes himself and you whimper, but he’s maneuvering you like a ragdoll on the bed and you’re more than fucking willing to be thrown around.

He’s kneeling on the bed, lifting your hips and sliding into you in a doggy style, but then he’s doing the most insane thing you think you’ve ever seen. With an arm around your stomach he brings your back to his torso and twists you both to face the open floor to ceiling windows. One of your legs is thrown over his that’s up to splay you wide for the skyline to see, and you can see your reflection in the glass.

You look beyond fucked out, and so does he, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. But then his hand is sliding to your throat, and a whispered, “Is this okay?” finds your ears. You nod.

Gripping the sides of your throat, he slides his other hand to graze your clit before beginning his own version of the move you just pulled. Pumping into you at a pace that has your g-spot screaming from all of the attention it’s receiving, his fingers swiping deftly over the bundled nerves at the apex of your thigh whilst lightly cutting off the blood supply to your brain.

It has you twitching and hazy and dizzy in seconds. You can see yourself losing to the feeling so steadily building at the base of your spine in the glass. Mouth open, body willing, the man who’s been at the center of your wanting for longer than you can remember, its deliverance.

Dark, sex tousled hair, muscled forearms holding you up and driving you insane. Blackened eyes focused on you and only you through the mirror the darkness of the night’s sky has created for you.

It’s that visual that sets you over the edge when he releases your throat, and you feel a gush flowing from where you two meet.

“Fuuuck yes. My Perfect Girl, cum all over my sheets, drench my cock. That’s it,” he purrs in your ear and it’s doing nothing but sending shock after shock into your already over sensitive and pulsing cunt, letting your consciousness float somewhere above or below you, you don’t really care.

All you know is that you feel light as a feather and not of this earthly plane.

Taehyung removes himself and lies you down gently. He’s back inside soon after and it just feels right as he fills you, like it’s where he’s meant to be.

He hovers over you once more, and you lift a single knee to his hip, mimicking your position from the club as he thrusts into you with fervor, chasing his own high after delivering three mind shattering ones to you.

Reaching one hand to his cheek, you hold him as he kisses you, working himself to completion.

Using your other to deliver a few expert circles to your clit, so you can come together, you breathe in each other's release and drown in once another’s embrace.

You leave his name on your tongue this time. A gift. A cry so delicate that a tear falls from your cheek and he kisses it away.

Taehyung inhales sharply, before stuttering his exhale and an exquisite warmth fills you.

“F-f-uu-ckkk,” he shudders as he lets the aftershocks of his release claim you in the most basic and animalistic of ways. You drink in the vulnerable sound, taking his mouth with yours one final time as you bask in each other's pleasure. Silent but for catching breaths, exertion evident as you hold one another.

Taehyung rests on your chest. Lines are sketched gently with your nails up and down his spine and into his hair as he comes down, content in the afterglow, where nothing is wrong and everything is perfect.

Before consequences kick in and regrets form.

When he decides he’s ready, Tae lifts and removes himself from you and you can feel the remnants of your combined efforts slide down to the bedsheets.

Tae takes a single finger and gathers it up before pressing it back in. You hiss at the now tender flesh. Though the pain doesn’t stop the warmth newly pooling at the sight and feel and meaning.

He pumps it back in once, twice before removing his finger and placing it in his mouth to clean off. Your cunt flutters at the sight and Tae smirks, leaning forward to share his findings with you in the form of a filthy, open mouthed, tongue filled kiss. It’s slightly salty, slightly metallic but you pull him back for one last lick when he tries to pull away.

Watching him kneeling there, in the glow of moonlight, you realize just how truly beautiful he is. The shape of his illuminated profile, the expanse of his chest as he breathes in, the colour of his skin under silver rays. He’s stunning.

You smile up at him, spent, sated and so astronomically fucked if your brother ever finds out.

Tae must see the thought on your face, because he says, “Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle it.”

But you honestly don’t give a fuck about that right now. That’s a tomorrow issue. What you want to know is, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what, exactly?” He specifies.

You sit up, eye to eye as he sits on the edge of the bed, one leg on the ground.

“All of it. Any of it.”

There.

Now it was out in the open. And the rest is up to him.

You could drag yourself back down to reality. Chalk this night up to booze and bad timing and perfect timing. Could convince yourself it was just one night and that it would have to be enou—

“All of it,” he interrupts, the most sincere expression you’ve ever seen on him on full display. “Definitely all of it. Every last fucking word.”

You slump on your exhale, so fucking relieved you didn’t have to keep trying to lie to yourself that you could forget this happened.

You’re laughing before you can fight it off, shoulders shaking. Smiling so wide it hurts.

“Uh..YN?” Tae asks, clearly not sure how to take your reaction and you compose yourself.

“That’s PG to you,” you say as you crawl onto his lap, and kiss him into oblivion.

It’s interesting to finally sit on the dock across the way in East Egg.

The fog is gone, the sky is a brilliant blue, and the little box you kept sits open next to you, the lock and its key lost somewhere to the depths below your feet. Funny how harmless it seems now that there’s nothing locked inside anymore, like it could never really have hurt you in the first place.

You take in your newly emptied creation, and quirk a brow when you see it move.

A wiggle at first, before it’s shaking and spinning and shrinking, turning from a box into a glass windowed locket. Golden and delicate and beautiful, with a matching chain. You ponder for a moment what it could be for, before turning to look down at the green light to your right.

An idea strikes.

Unclasping the little window, you lift the opened pendant to the green light. And to your delight, the emerald hue hops into its new home, closing its tiny windowed door.

You smile at the clever little light, lacing the chain around your neck, resting it on the middle of your sternum, right above your heart. Its brilliant hue shining brightly through the pane for all to see.

Funny how the green light you so longed for, longed for you back, and is now yours for keeps.

A/N 2.5: This is what has been rotting in my brain for the better half of two weeks so please enjoy, it was supposed to be short and trope filled to cure my writers block but apparently I am incapable of short. But trope filled it clearly is. Overall tho, I'm quite pleased with this one.

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

Masterlist

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back2bluesidex · 10 months ago

Text

Hard Luck - JJK & KTH (18+) - Masterlist/Announcement

◆ Pairing: CEO Jungkook X Fem employee Reader X Legal advisor Taehyung.

◆ Summary: You have a good face, a nice body, a fat amount saved in your secondary bank account, a stable job that you love, loving friends and family, you are good in bed. You have almost everything other than a good luck in love. Sleeping around with random dudes don’t feel enough when your friends are getting married and having kids. If you are being honest, you have started getting bored of this prolonged singlehood already.

Your last light of hope fades away when your work crush, aka the hot guy from the legal department, Kim Taehyung (with whom you might or might not have slept once, okay! twice!), asks you to set him up with your work best friend (who, apparently, is the most asked out woman of the company). But what you don’t know is that the CEO of the company has taken a liking to you and has set out on a mission of winning your heart.

But wait… Taehyung might have started developing feelings for you in the process of receiving your help!!!

◆ Theme: Romance, drama, light angst, my poor attempt of humor, fluff and eventual smut. office romance au. co-workers to lovers au.

◆ Warnings: Will be mentioned in each chapter accordingly. NSFW!!!

◆ Word count: Will be mentioned in each chapter

◆ Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

◆ Taglist is closed.

◆ A/N: Just as I promised, here is jk x reader x tae series. and I swear it's not gonna be as angsty as the last one. also, it is loosely very very loosely based on business proposal. Hope you all like it just as much as WDBHG. I will try to post once a month but as of now, it's tough to promise anything.

Masterlist | Patreon (Early access available for Patreon members)

Chapter Index: -

Prologue

Chapter summary: First time is a turn-of-events. Second time is... what?

Chapter 1

Chapter summary: Two meetings - One went good - another went downhill.

Chapter 2

Chapter summary:

Chapter 3

Chapter summary:

Chapter 4

Chapter summary:

Chapter 5

Chapter summary:

Chapter 6

Chapter summary:

Chapter 7

Chapter summary:

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie

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dameronology · 2 months ago

Note

❛ you deserve better than me. ❜ with frank <3

mmm yes angst ehehe

Frank had come home in a bad mood.

That was pretty normal these days. New York City was shit right now. Hell's Kitchen was a cesspool of everything he hated, but the thing he despised the most was that you lived there. You, the most important thing in his life, were situated in the centre of the aptly named crime hotspot. Frank knew he had no right to tell you to move, or to find a new place, or to uproot your entire life just to make himself feel better. That would have been selfish, even with your best interests in mind.

You were woken that night by the fridge door slamming shut. Bare feet on the cold wooden floors, you almost tripped over as you pulled on some of Frank's thick woollen socks, stumbling through the door to the kitchen. The Punisher - you hated that name - was stood there, a cold looked etched into his tired, stony features, ever the tired soldier. He had a beer in his hand.

"You drinking?" you quietly asked. The answer was axiomatic but you didn't know how else to break the silence.

"Yeah, rough night," Frank gruffly replied. "Sorry."

"Don't be," you said.

Without another word, Frank crossed the room. He fell into the sofa, an air of defeat around him, brown eyes staring hollowly ahead. It didn't take much for you to follow.

"Wassup?" you asked.

"Nothing."

You reached for a pillow and whacked Frank in the face with it. "Every time you lie, I'm going to hit you with this pillow."

"Nothing is up."

Thump.

"Let's try again," you huffed. "What. Is. Going. On?"

"You deserve better than me."

Thump. This time so hard that Frank dropped his beer.

(It was a pillow. Not your fault he was dramatic.)

"Maybe I do," you replied, throwing your goose-down weapon beside you. "Maybe I could bag a prince, or a millionaire, or Hayley Williams - but does it ever cross your mind that I want you?"

Frank looked at you. His eyes were less blank now. Warmer, maybe.

"I could have every bachelor in New York lined up in front of me but I'd still come home to you," you said. "Because it doesn't matter what I deserve, it matters what I want. And I want you."

Frank didn't really know what to say to that. It was what he needed to hear - you always knew what he needed to hear - but he hadn't expected such perfect logic at 4AM. Perhaps you would have made a good lawyer in another life.

He glanced over at you. "I love you."

You smiled. "I love you too - and you lie to me again, it'll be something much harder than a pillow coming your way."

v. day prompts

#asks #v. day prompts #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagines #frank castle angst #frank castle fluff #frank castle x you #frank castle imagine #frank castle x y/n #frank castle reader insert #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fanfic #frank castle #punisher x reader #punisher imagines #punisher imagine #daredevil born again

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hitlikehammers · 2 months ago

Text

Rockstar!Eddie Leaves What He Had With Steve Behind in Hawkins 💔 to Chase His Dreams 🎸

(so why is it that he’s back in Steve’s bed Hawkins every couple months for ‘very pressing reasons’ that are straining Steve’s heart honestly anything but? 🫤❤️‍🩹🥺)

NOTE: this was originally a fill from @eddiemunsonbingo AGES ago, and I’m only bringing it over here NOW because something for the @steddielovemonth is going to be posted soon that is a standalone in its universe, but also very much a sequel to it ♥️

Steve really does try not to think about it in terms of…time.

Maybe that’s foolish. It’s mostly denial. Lots of it isn’t reliable anyway: the score his body keeps isn’t accurate, war-time left over from too many near-misses with a fucking alternate dimension but the popping in his joints and the ringing in his ears and the white hair he pulled out of his scalp and stared blankly at in the sink for a good twenty minutes: those are real things, but they don’t chart the passage of days, of hours, months and fucking years with any real meaning.

It’s been four years. Roughly. Depending on what the start point is. Whether it’s that Spring Break. Whether it’s the first winter. Or the spring after, when Robin begged him to go with her—there’s still time. She still begs, because they still talk given the thread inside them stays tied unbreakable to one another, oblivious to miles between. Maybe it’s measuring from the graduations, the kids—only Erica’s left at Hawkins High, now, though Steve gets calls from the whole bunch of them, Eleven the most, which was maybe surprising, then it’s a good split between Dustin and Will, another surprise. Max calls enough but her calls are calls, with a weight most of the others lack. Lucas’s calls aren’t super frequent but always long, mostly because he talks around the point forever, whatever the point happens to be. Even Mike usually ends up on the other end of the line once a month. It’s…that could be where the time starts from.

Or it could be the summer, that first summer. The one that taught Steve what it was to have a heart just to fucking break it.

Could be that. Impossible to say.

(It’s been 3 years, 7 months, and 14 days. Steve had only counted in retrospect, in the wreckage left behind, because while he’d known there was a deadline in it, to it all, he’d thought he could be enough. That he could change a mind. He’d thought…

Foolish things. Bullshit. Didn’t matter. Could be any fucking date.)

But since the point's come up, and it’s front of Steve’s mind, his least favorite (most favorite) place to find it: he hadn’t expected it. Robin liked to say she saw the signs but. Steve hadn’t watched it happen in slow motion because there wasn’t a single goddamn slow thing about it. Which was…for whatever it was worth, Steve knew falling fast and hard and with everything he was had maybe failed him every time, thus far, but at least he knows that for him?

That means it’s real. He’s all in. He might not be met equal on the other side of the equation—hadn’t been yet, maybe wouldn’t be ever, but he wasn’t having any luck trying to fucking change that fact so, learning to work with what he had was the best he could do. And he had love. He’d never been able to name it to himself so far: not before, and certainly never since. But.

Figuring out the sexuality thing had been a not-bathroom-but-definitely-floor talk on the shitty Family Video carpet sometime around November of ‘85. Slow days, idle comments, and Robin’s suspiciously-but-reliably-gentle-when-the-need-was-dire hand to his shoulder to say no, no: actually wanting to kiss people of any gender wasn’t really…the default Steve had always expected it had to be. How could anyone look at, say, Harrison Ford and not think, oh yeah, I would at least suck his face?

Turned out probably at least half the people on the planet. As in the straight guys and the lesbians. Steve had spent the majority of three days on that disgusting fucking carpet, open to close, popping up to ask Robin if she was sure because what about—

She was sure. And eventually, through a couple of needs for deep breathing and a handful of assurances that it was okay to cry—he appreciated that, but he kept the crying to his room after these long-ass shifts and if Robin stayed for some of those times, that was because she was half his head, half his heart, and she knew what he was going to do sometimes before he did.

They did end up on the floor of his bathroom, a clean one for once, at one point. Maybe because they both held to tradition. Maybe because Steve had largely come to terms with the mindfuck of yet another piece of his world, his self unravelling and rewriting itself, and thought the vodka in his dad’s liquor cabinet was a good way to celebrate. The label was entirely in Russian and Robin had been practicing on hers, said she was pretty sure it was the good shit.

Sometimes you can drink enough of the best shit on an empty stomach, though, and still spew the whole of it up.

Steve sometimes does think he drinks his dad’s best liquor that way on purpose, though. Delightful going down and yeah, it sucks to chuck it up but. The idea that it’s ultimately wasted feels…right.

Anyway: Steve had settled with it all by New Year's, and while he’d hosted the rugrats who could only blabber about their latest campaign with their epic DM, and he’d kissed Robin when the clock turned, well. It felt like a new start, a fresh page.

Something that had the chance at being a good thing.

And nothing much happened in the two-and-a-half-months that followed save for finally catching a glimpse of the D&D god who ran their little club while he was idling in his car to pick up the shitheads, this legendary DM who did not make Steve jealous one tiny bit and who was cool and was edgy and was so fuckin’ cool, Steve, did we tell you got cool he is?! and Steve had said language as monotone as he could before he squinted as out came all the metal and the ink and he’d said your club president dude is Eddie goddamn Munson and he should have kept his mouth shut because the amount of talking that ensued left him with a headache the size of Montana; but.

That was really all that happened until about…mid-March.

Then Spring Break happened.

It could be argued Eddie and Steve grew close enough to pass the acquaintances benchmark, ended up as at least tentative friends on top of necessary battle mates as early as the Upside Down. Whatever reason Eddie gave, he jumped in after Steve. Whatever speech Steve landed on, he didn’t want Dustin orEddie hurt.

It could be argued Steve wasn’t paying attention and didn’t stop in time and landed in the land of Tentative Friends You Wouldn’t Mind Added Benefits With after the…at least after the way Eddie leaned in close and his lips we so red and he called Steve big boy and…

Yeah.

When Steve carries what may or may not be Eddie’s still fucking corpse out of the Upside Down—he can’t tell, every time he tries to check again his own heart's too loud, his own breaths too shaky—but by then, they’re family. Bound in blood. Steve would die for him, like the others. He won’t let him die, if he can fucking help it.

Between him and Max, Steve almost crashes, breaks. Steve’s there when Max’s fingers twitch and he laughs with tears in his eyes and hands over hands and tells her he loves her and he’s sorry and he’s there, tries to talk around the letter he opened and resealed without evidence because Steve knows some tricks too, okay, and her words had broken him but now he could live up to what she thought she was leaving behind, could make sure she had every goddamn thing she thought she was giving up in spades, to roll around in in abundance. He was going to take care of her, whatever she needed. Whatever it took.

Her lips had quirked and the doctors called coincidence, don’t get your hopes up but; Steve knew Max. That was all her.

And there were more tears, he let her fucking feel them; he fucking hoped she’d notice, and remember, and give him so much shit.

Eddie takes longer, pulls out of the woods enough to exhale a few days later, and the way Steve slips out to find the hospital chapel, the only goddamn place he won’t be found by anyone he knows, and bawls his goddamn eyes out?

It’s family, and it’s love because it’s family but…it’s been so quick. It’s been intense, and that probably speeds it along but…

Shit. Shit.

That’s when Steve knows he sets a new goddamn record for himself and falls hard and heavy and stupidin, like, a week and change. Jesus Christ.

It’s in the recovery that they build something though. Something that’s not trauma or terror or the threat of imminent death. Steve spends most of his hours between two hospital rooms listening to progress reports and taking notes and the kids gravitate toward Max—Dustin would have been the outlier but Steve knows he’s not ready, and so he gives his own updates just to his brother when he drives him home after visiting hours—but that means Steve’s Eddie’s most common conversation partner. They talk about bullshit. Steve defends a-ha to the last breath he has. Eddie’s rendered speechless for a second and then frantic when challenged to pick his favorite band. Again when it’s his favorite song, from his favorite band. And again when it’s his favorite song of any song, ever at all. Steve's heart swells in the watching. He’s foolish enough to bask in the glittering of Eddie’s eyes when Steve indulges in talking, scene by scene as guided by the master in the bed beside him, about what his opinions on Star Wars really were. And then guided by no one, just invited to share what his opinions are on the last movie he saw and loved: which was Weird Science, the last movie he watched in a theatre because he and Robin had gone to face their fear or some shit after Starcourt and it was easier than he’d expected. Eddie listens, and nods, and asks if they can rent it when he’s out, before making sure to add but you should really have a new choice like, eight months later, man, you work at a video store.

Steve was mostly just focused on Eddie more than implying, of his own volition, that he wanted to have a movie night.

Eddie’s released before Max, largely for mobility reasons, so they both go to visit her now. Robin’s put on the night shift when they schedule their movie night and Steve immediately moves to reschedule but she says no, she’s seen it, make Eddie suffer this time. So it’s just them.

They sit closer than they have to, on the couch.

And it’s little things that build from there. Max’s physical therapy is a government secret, like some fancy space-age protocol that has real hopes to put her on her feet again so she needs a ride, and while they could take turns, Steve and Eddie just take turns as to which vehicle they hop into to drive her. They stay when she needs them—not when she asks because she’s Max and she never asks—but it ends up three days a week back and forth and during: together.

And a lot of nights, for a movie or a smoke or a nightmare or a pulled stitch before they’re all taken out: together.

And shifts where Steve doesn’t even bother to bring his own lunch because Eddie Munson, unpredictable and wholly forgetful super-super senior—who Nancy and Hopper and most of all Joyce convinced the School would be finishing his final senior year at home save for tests, and only that once he was cleared by his doctors—that Eddie Munson brought Steve something every single time he worked. A burger, a chili dog, chicken fucking nuggets. A PB&J clearly homemade and cut diagonal.

So yeah. It starts out how it does when Steve’s in trouble. But it builds like…Steve’s never known before.

They kiss in May. Maybe so that it’s not their first, and a total cliche, when Steve kisses him for graduation behind the bleachers.

The sleep together after graduation, high on the thrill of it, and that’s maybe a cliche but Steve could not give a shit less.

And then they're EddieandSteve, only to find out they have been for a while; and this is just something a little deeper, a little bit more.

In ways that mean everything.

Looking back, Steve knows Eddie never minced words about his plan to leave Hawkins in the fall. With a mixtape and a prayer if I have to, Stevie-boy, he’d said once even, and Steve had laughed.

He’d fucking laughed.

So he’d known.

But July bleeds into August and Steve…Steve’s in love, okay, for real in a way that he’s never felt before. Right in a way he’s never felt before. He kinda just…overlooks it. Because Eddie seems to be at least on the same wavelength. Touches him first, reaches for him first: wants him. Looks at him with not just desire or attraction but…something no one’s ever looked at Steve with before.

And so he hopes. More than hopes.

But when Eddie starts packing, Steve can’t breathe.

He buys a set of luggage and goes home to start the same, has half of his not-excessive possessions shoved in when he realizes:

He’s not invited. Eddie’s never asked him to come.

Looking back, he’s afraid he wasted too much of those last weeks. Scared of giving too much away, the hurt from so many sides and the heartache that’s already taking root, but also: the way he clings, but tries not to make it obvious.

Fuck; but of course it was gonna be obvious, and how much energy did he waste, how many opportunities slipped by, because Steve was trying not to give away that Eddie leaving—to get away from a town that hated him, to try and make a real go with his music, to be anywhere without Steve so he could live out the dreams that predated Steve, that Steve had no place in—to try not to give away that all of it; it’d fucking destroy him.

Steve doesn’t know, to this day, how he stood and let Eddie kiss him breathless out the driver-side window, how he waved until Eddie was out of sight. He doesn’t know.

Kind of like he doesn’t know how he fucking keeps doing it.

Eddie throws tapes to every radio station with Van Halen or other top-played bands written on the insert in sharpie like that gives nothing away, and sneaks a demo in every underpaid delivery boy’s hands to record executives as he drives to the West Coast, sends Steve postcards what seems like has to be every goddamn day, filled up with his rambling until there’s no space left, has to draw lines around Steve’s address to make it clear where the damn thing’s going lest it get confused. Like they’re SteveandEddie still. Like only…only the things that changed after graduation are gone.

Steve sobs after about a month of it all, grateful and resentful, hateful and still so goddamn full of love it’s sickening. Literally, it makes him feel nauseous. He…

He keeps every postcard.

When one of them comes to say some idiot in San Francisco accidentally played Corroded Coffin on what’s apparently an important station, and Eddie got a letter in response from one of the labels, he says he’s coming back for the boys, they need to be ready. Steve knows he’s not one of the boys, but.

Eddie wouldn’t have told Steve he was coming if it wouldn’t matter to Steve. And maybe Eddie wasn’t in love with him anymore, maybe never was in love with him.

But he’d be lying if he said he thought Eddie didn’t love him. In a different way. A…you-don’t-get-to-come-with-me-but-I’d-still-want-to-see-you-when-I-stop-back kind of way.

And Steve…Steve’s not a fucking monk or anything. But even Robin doesn’t try to push him when he finally just tells her what he feels, lovesick and pathetic as it is:

I gave everything I had to someone else, and it’d be different if I wanted to back, to give again, but…I don’t.

I don’t want it back, not from him. Not if any part of him, wants to keep any part of it.

And because she’s Robin, she knows he means something else when he says ‘it’. And because she’s Robin? She’d push if she thought it was worth it.

She just holds him, and that’s really the best thing he could ask for.

But it becomes a thing. The boys go with Eddie, and they record new shit to impress...whoever. And they do. They come back for Halloween, because Eddie loves it. The label’s dragging its feet, but they’re not deterred, they’re energized. They come back for Thanksgiving because Wayne loves it—except he doesn’t, Steve knows that, Wayne actually hates trying to make a bird and Eddie had lamented more than once that they ended up with lunchmeat cut into cubes one year when Wayne was particularly frustrated with the process. They go out East, and try a few studios in New York. They come back for Christmas.

Eddie spends most of his time with Steve. Steve doesn’t fucking fight that; wants it…like…

There’s nothing to compare how he wants it to. Nothing exists that fits.

Eddie spends most of the time that he spends with Steve, though?

In Steve’s bed.

And here’s the thing: Steve had a decent amount of experience to compare to, but once they’d fallen into a rhythm, got past the awkward bits, the learning curve? Sex with Eddie had been a goddamn revelation. Not just because he was a man—after he’d left, Steve had forced himself to try, and dispelled that possibility quick as hell—and now?

Now, it’s like they never stopped. Every fucking time, it’s like they never stopped.

Steve’s not surprised in the slightest that he remembers every give and tell of Eddie’s body—of course he goddamn does—but that Eddie doesn’t miss a beat in touching, sucking, licking, worshippingSteve’s? That’s insane. That’s…

Unexpected. Every time it’s unexpected and every time Steve’s shown he wasn’t forgotten when he probably should have been. Eddie’s building a life that doesn’t include him.

He’ll only get in the way.

But Steve is selfish and stubborn and maybe it’s often, like almost strangely so, but it’s only a week or two at a go so he tells himself he’s allowed. He tells himself that it felt like making love in the beginning because Steve was in love, and that it still feels exactly the same because Steve…Steve never stopped.

Steve is still just as goddamn in love.

So yeah. Steve sleeps with Eddie and it’s like…it’s like rationed air. He gets a regular taste and he gets to keep breathing.

And it’s okay. Probably more then. Because he gets Eddie—even a little bit. Even just in scraps. When he has Eddie?

He has him, even for moments that were never made to last.

It’s Easter, this time. The band put out their first record in January. It’s doing really well. Eddie’s over the moon. Someone called about a magazine cover for a publication in Cleveland that’s apparently kind of a big deal, Alt..something. Steve will buy every copy in a fucking 100-mile radius. 200 miles. 500—

It’s Easter. Eddie didn’t lament not celebrating it after Spring Break in ‘86 but he’s back every year now. And if it’s just…come to mean something, or maybe did then and circumstances won out against it? Steve will be here. Steve will be comfort and a reprieve or a hot as hell romp with a familiar body, Steve will…

Yeah. Steve will do whatever’s needed. Wanted. Anything.

Pathetic.

But so much better than nothing.

Case in point: they’re both naked, sweat mostly dried, sharing a joint and it’s comfortable. It’s quiet and gentle and put up against sitting alone on a weeknight, not with Eddie?

It’s heaven.

“So when’s the dream happening?”

Steve looks cross-eyed toward his lips; he hasn’t smoked this thing long enough to have heard wrong. He squints up at Eddie, whose chest he’s laid out on, confused. Offers him the smoke but he waves it away.

“The dream?” Steve asks finally, when Eddie doesn’t seem to want to answer on his own.

Eddie looks at him weird. Not weird for its own sake but like: like he’s staring into him, and then like he’s disbelieving, but then also like he’s seeing him for the first time.

That kind of weird.

“Getting the fuck out of here,” Eddie answers like it’s obvious. “White picket fence. Little nuggets.” He spreads his hands as wide as possible without tossing Steve from where he lies. “See the sights.”

And Steve’s response is immediate. Doesn’t even require a thought.

He laughs. Like, ugly-laughs.

“Man,” he shakes his head as he catches his breath, and passes the joint off this time with purpose, not an offer or a choice as he snorts a little; “that’s not the dream.”

When Eddie doesn’t grab the smoke, Steve finally looks up. Eddie…

Eddie looks like what Steve’s always struggled to understand the word ‘poleaxed’ to mean. He thinks it might be this.

He looks…like something stuck him through the gut. Slapped him silly across the face.

“What d’ya mean?” And it’s just three words, one that’s a cheat, and he says it slow enough to take an age.

Steve breathes out, and then, if he’s gonna be honest, and if he has to keep holding the damn thing anyway, decides to take another drag before speaking:

“Figured out what the dream was, inside the dream,” Steve says, wondering if he’ll get away with the vagary; knowing he won’t.

“All we see or seem?” Eddie jokes a little, but it falls flat, his tone eerily kinda…strained but hollow.

“I like poetry.” Steve smiles up at him, soft, and offers the joint again straight to Eddie’s lips. He takes it this time.

“It was about family. It was about stability, not,” Steve shakes his head, stops talking half-assed around the lungful he’s holding, and lets it out slow; “not in a place, fuck, not in a house, but,” a person he doesn’t say, but he hears it in his head; “it was about sharing it.”

And that's it. That’s the simplest, most straightforward truth. Steve doesn’t think there’s anything complicated, or offensive in it. Hard to swallow. Even if he’s come to terms with it. Is mostly at peace with it.

Which is why it’s weird, that Eddie feels suddenly rigid beneath him.

So Steve turns, and braces his hand on Eddie's chest for balance, and frowns when he doesn’t even have to push down to feel the way his heart’s a fucking riot.

“What?” Steve asks, gentle; Eddie’s face is a portrait of conflict, of distress and Steve can’t fucking figure out why, they just came like four times between them and are sharing some very nice Cali weed—they’re nestled close, they’re together, it’s…

Eddie’s quiet, his breath disconcertingly steady for how his pulse pounds, and then he breathes out slow before covering his face:

“I don’t think I can fuck this up any worse than I already have, so,” he mutters, dejected for reasons Steve can’t even guess, then he laughs, humorless, shakes his head:

“Let me try, I guess.”

Steve frowns, uncomprehending, until:

“I’ve been in love with you forever.”

Steve thinks the world stops. His heart does, at least. Suspended. Silent so he doesn’t miss a syllable.

“And I told myself,” Eddie bites at his lip, worries at the bottom swell; “end of that summer, from the very first, I said: don’t ask him to come with you, even if it breaks your heart,” and oh god, oh god after all this time: Steve doesn’t think he’s projecting to hear the genuinely broken heart in those words for just remembering.

“Don’t ask him to settle, you’re not even in the same universe of what he wants,” fuck, what lies Eddie’s saying; did he believe them? Has he always—“what he needs.”

But Eddie is everything he needs, always was, will always be—

“You’ll never have the picket fence. You can’t give him his nuggets. You should never be trusted to park a Winnebago.”

They could have had a shitty studio apartment. They could have had the kids in college. They could have run the BMW until it died, or sold it to put toward a better van for equipment. They could have—

“You’re selfish, Munson, you’re a rat fucking bastard but,” Eddie’s still going, heart still hammering under Steve’s touch even as Eddie swallows hard and fails to smile, looks ill with the attempt like it hurts to try: “you love him too much for that.”

Oh. Oh god.

“It didn’t break my heart, though,” Eddie clears his throat and glances away, to the ceiling, eyes too bright: oh fuck; “broke my goddamn soul,” and a tear falls, and Steve can’t help but wipe it away, and kiss the track. Even just once.

So he does.

“When I saw you again that first time back,” Eddie starts again, voice rougher and shakier as he reaches a hand for Steve’s. “I could have asked the boys to fly out, the execs offered, but,” and this time, the attempt to grin is more successful, like a weight’s lifted from it: “and you smiled at me, it felt like,” and when he shakes his head this time it’s for disbelief, but the kind that comes with awe; “and when we slotted back together like we’d never been apart, it was…”

Eddie’s voice trails, but it cracks at the end—Steve doesn’t know which does more to stop his words.

He’s grateful, relieved, when they come back. He’s powerless but to give when Eddie touches his cheek so gentle and breathes:

“And I had to tell myself again, and again,” he murmurs, stroking Steve’s skin like he’s precious: “you love him too much to take his dream away from him.”

“What did it matter?” Steve can’t help but ask, no malice in it, just the need to understand. “You had your dream, you have—“

They have a contract. They have an album climbing the charts. They’re not just on their way—they’re there. The only next step is to get bigger, and bigger, and—

“Dreams within dreams, wasn’t it?” Eddie murmurs close to Steve’s cheek, where maybe he’s pressing to be close, or maybe he’s hiding a little, so Steve strokes his hair because he can either way and relishes how Eddie leans, melts into it like always. “Inside the dream?”

Steve nods, more to encourage more words. More Eddie.

“Break my dream open and there’s you with me, every step,” Eddie whispers, his lips warm on Steve’s skin. “Break my heart open, same damn thing,” and that causes Steve to shudder, and his heart to pick up now, too. “Both just kinda crumble if you take out the center.”

Steve can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Wants to. Doesn’t think they’re lies. It’s just, he…

“Those,” Steve tries to speak but his voice cracks; he clears his throat and kicks his lips while he tucks Eddie into his neck, under his chin: “those would be good lyrics.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head and nuzzles Steve’s throat with the motion and this can’t be happening.

This can’t be happening, can it?

“No, those words were only ever meant just for you.”

And Eddie kisses the pulse point close to his mouth and holds there, like a sentry and a miser, and holy shit.

Holy shit.

“And I don’t know,” Eddie’s saying more, but it’s pitchy, thready, like he’s barely holding the words together at all; “I don’t know if it’s nostalgia, or convenience, or routine,” his voice breaks again and the sob’s in the word when it comes even if it’s not streaming down on his cheeks: “pity,” and no, no, not fucking ever, how—

“I was never your dream then, and I don’t even know if I can be your inside-dream now, and,” Eddie’s rambling, and he does that when he’s desperate, when he’s overwhelmed and overfull with feeling—and Steve knows that. Steve knows that about him.

Steve knows. Better than he knows himself, Steve still knows him.

“I just want the world for you,” Eddie whispers, stroking up and down Steve’s jaw; “my sweetheart. My sunshine,” he smiles so real and soft and Steve melts, like the heart in his chest starts spilling through his ribs, warm and liquid: “you deserve more than the world, more than fuckin’ me and I,” Eddie shakes his head again, more this time like he’s stopping himself, like it’s a defense mechanism and Steve reaches for his cheeks, broad palms on either side to hold him still because…he doesn’t want Eddie to stop.

Ever.

“Did I ruin it?” Eddie breathes, and barely at that, eyes so wide and swimming and oh, god; “did I—"

And Steve can’t help it. He can’t help but kiss him with all he’s got, even if it couldn’t be all Eddie’s worth in all the world. Steve can’t contain all that Eddie’s worth.

But he can give everything, because this is the man who already has it.

“What the hell was I supposed to be to a rockstar?” Steve tries to talk through his own tight throat, his own growing smile, his own threat of tears bubbling close to the surface. “How the fuck was I ever going to measure up, ever do anything but hold you back when you could have—“

“I come back to you, for you,” Eddie answers immediate; it’s not what Steve’s asking but he won’t lie and say he didn’t want to know, at least a little. “The handful of times I’ve tried,” Eddie shakes his head once now, definitive; “I have always left my everything with you.”

The idea that Steve’s spent all this time feeling empty, and hollow, and missing the best of himself where it lived in the man he loved—the idea he was wrong, that they both were so fucking wrong is…insanity.

“I had a bag half packed.”

Steve doesn’t need to explain further. The noise Eddie makes is pure pain.

“Baby,” he nearly croons, falls into Steve somehow closer, wraps him up tighter; “I wanted to kidnap you in the night.”

“I sobbed in my bed after you were out of sight.”

“I pulled over before the town sign, because I couldn’t see the goddamn road.”

And Steve…Steve doesn’t really have a decision to make about what he says next. What dream he wants; always has.

“I never got rid of the luggage.”

And Eddie hears everything he says in those words, because after everything, Eddie Munson knows him, and…yeah.

Steve’s been kissed in a lot of ways before. By this man in particular, even.

But this: if leaving broke Eddie’s soul, if somehow the lack of Steve somehow did that?

This is…this is the body meeting another body, heart to heart and tasting the way a soul slides back in place. It's Eddie’s hands in his hair like hell never let go and he’s happy about the idea; blissful for it, even. It’s—beyond anything Steve’s ever known. So: yeah.

It’s not a decision. It’s just a fucking given.

♥️

🎸also on ao3

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #future fic #post s5 #angst with a happy ending #miscommunication #romance #tenderness #fluff #rock star eddie munson #steve harrington stays in hawkins #fuck buddy #but does it count if you’re exes and your still friends and you do it all the time?#like it can’t even be reunion sex because one party is always finding and excuse to come back #and it can’t even be make-up sex because they didn’t FIGHT they just…were DONE #chasing your dreams #(and recognizing when those dreams sometimes change)#yes eddie walked away from a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love #(he had his reasons I promise)#yes he makes detours to hawkins almost confusingly often for a successful musician 🤨#(YES he ends up in steve’s bed every time)#happy ending #stranger things #eddie munson bingo #hitlikehammers v words #hitlikehammers writes

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spikershoyo · 3 months ago

Text

upcoming fic mood board:

‘pornst☆r’, an oscar piastri x camgirl!reader

genre: smut, fluff

“I wanna watch you like a movie, I wanna put you on the stage…”

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biblio-smia · 1 year ago

Text

part one | part two | part three

mike hasn't been himself in a while.

he's been there, physically, barely. you chalked the first few days of the lack of anything from mike up to his new job working security at the local mall. the new title came with longer hours and a sort of haze over mike, the little energy he already had draining into the negatives. on the occasional night you stayed for dinner, there was a faraway look in his eyes and your words had to leave your mouth three times before mike really heard them.

next came the forgetfulness.

first it was to call you before he went to bed that night. you hung around the landline in your kitchen for hours before you slipped into unconsciousness in your dining room chair.

you didn't bring it up.

then came the second saturday since mike had started working as a security guard, the day you and mike would usually have a night in with dinner and drinks.

you'd kissed abby goodnight and shut her door quietly, almost spinning into mike as he came up behind you.

"i'm so sorry, i'm really, really, tired," mike sighed, his arms wrapping around you as his chin sank on your shoulder. your hands immediately set to soothe his muscles, hoping he'd get better sleep tonight.

"it's okay," you assure, pressing an understanding kiss to mike's cheek. "do you need me to tuck you in, too?"

mike laughs, an arm wrapped around you as he walks you out. you find comfort in the fact that he doesn't really want to let go, pulling you in for another warm hug and smothering you with quick kisses. quiet laughter fills the air and mike holds onto your hand until you're too far to touch, not retreating inside the door frame until your car has turned the corner of his neighborhood and disappeared.

so, even though you haven't had a proper conversation with mike in more than a few days, you don't bring it up.

mike forgets to make dinner again. last time he'd been lucky, a few stray vegetables coming together to save his ass with soup; it looks intentional enough for abby despite her usual groaning.

this time, not so much.

you’re up extra early to help take abby to school. at least, that’s what you say you’re there for, though really your mission is to make sure mike leaves with his uniform on his back the correct way. everyone is running late as mike flips over a pancake to reveal a blackened outside with a still-raw inside.

“ohhhkay,” you say, taking the spatula from mike and gently pushing him towards the door. you turn off the stove and throw the failed breakfast attempt out, checking the fridge only to find it almost completely barren.

looks like mike hasn’t even had time for groceries. you shouldn’t feel bad that he hasn’t had time for you.

you feel mike’s frustration grow as he can’t find his keys, abby’s impatient pointing to the time adding to his stress.

“hey.” your voice is grounding as you pull mike in by his slightly-wrinkled white collar, undoing a button in the wrong hole and smoothening out his shirt. “did you check your pockets?”

mike did not.

his hand digs into yesterday’s jeans and his fingers closed around the cold metal of his keys. there’s a smile on your lips as you pull mike in for an intoxicating kiss (mike doesn’t even hear abby gag).

“thank you,” mike whispers, one hand gratefully on your elbow.

“don’t forget to eat something, please.”

mike nods, kissing your cheek once before bolting out the door. if he drives fast, he might still make it on time.

you turn to abby with a smile, grabbing her backpack and her tiny hand.

“how about we pick something up for breakfast?”

abby cheers, no longer aware of how much silent reading time she’d missed.

when you pick abby up there’s a frown on her face and you feel bad for dragging her to the grocery store. abby doesn’t complain because she hates upsetting you, a nervous desire to be a “good kid” in front of you still standing strong. though her eyes light up when you place a candy bar in with the rest of your items at the very end, knowing it was for her by the way you smiled.

“don’t tell your brother.”

abby shakes her head and holds your hand tighter, grinning. mike always said you spoiled her, but you felt like going on a little bit of a rebellious streak.

abby helps you put away groceries (as best she can with her thin arms and small stature) and you let her pick tonight’s menu. to no one’s surprise, she chooses spaghetti and meatballs. you’d anticipated this dish being a popular one, pulling out the ingredients immediately.

abby draws while you cook, though mike’s kitchen was different from yours and you’d somehow burnt the sauce. really, all you had to do was heat it up.

you supposed you’d gotten lost in your head (now you could understand where mike was most of the time). but then abby’s face scrunched and her voice cut through.

“is something burning?”

you bite back a curse (not in front of abby!) and taste the sauce to see if it was worth salvaging (it wasn’t). you tossed the few cents’ worth and tried to scrape off the black stuff it left behind. you gave up and pulled out a new pan, making one of the easiest meals known to man without fault this time.

abby’s in bed. not even a sugary high could compete with a full belly and warm coaxing from you (though you’re glad mike’s running late, missing how much longer it takes you to lure abby to sleep).

keys jingle on the other side of the front door and you know staying was the right decision when you sigh at the sound. your shoulders are hunched as you sit at the dinner table, plate of spaghetti only half-touched.

the front door creaks open and you don’t rise to greet mike with a kiss as you usually would. mike barely notices, busy sniffing the air and trying to identify the hint of something awful. he locks the door behind him, kicks off his shoes, remembers to hang his keys. the place looks tidier than he left it.

he’s quiet, wondering if abby left the kitchen light on when his socked feet lead him in front of you.

your chin rests in your hands as you look up at him, slowly. there’s a tired, forced smile on your face and mike suddenly remembers dinner.

he opens the fridge and is convinced he’s traveled back to a week and a half ago with the state it’s in. mike glances at the stove and identifies the main smell that had hit him upon arrival.

“you..?” mike can’t finish, pointing instead to the fridge and the pot of pasta.

you nod, your eyes never leaving him despite your head not really moving. you’re different tonight.

“you didn’t have to.” mike is tiptoeing the line between grateful and annoyed. he’s an adult and these are his responsibilities. but really, what would he had done without you?

“yeah,” you reply and mike is worried you’re going to break up with him. his heart quickens his pace and he’s suddenly nervous. “are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?”

“what?” that wasn’t what mike was expecting. “nothing’s wrong,” he shrugs, shields coming up immediately.

“really?” you’re hoping he’ll just spit it out so you don’t have to ask again. but you underestimate how stubborn mike is. “because this is the first actual conversation we’ve had in, like, a week.” it’s been longer than that, but your head is starting to spin.

“i’m just… tired.” mike shrugs again, turning towards the cabinets to pull out a bowl, immediately guilty as he gets ready to eat the food you had to make.

your expression is unrelenting as mike glances over, his eyes darting back to his plate to avoid yours.

mike is startled by how quietly you creep beside him, hands pulling the pot and the pincers closer.

“i’ve got it,” mike insists as you begin reaching for his bowl (because, even now, you still care). “i said, i’ve got it.”

ceramic smashes against tile. the both of you are forced to freeze now, the threat of stabbed feet keeping either of you from walking away.

“mike, if i’m too much for you right now, you have to communicate-”

maybe that’s it.

“you are being too much,” mike blurts out heatedly, his honesty evidently shocking you. “i’m not a kid. you don’t have to take care of me.”

you need a second to recover. to let mike’s words sink in.

“i don’t mind it, mike, i really don’t. if you need me to pick abby up, fine. watch her? i’ve got it. if you need me to take care of dinner, i’d be happy to. i’ll do it all without you even having to ask, because that’s how i love you.”

mike is twelve years old again, feeling himself shut down completely, watching as his mother pleads for him to speak to her. she gives up eventually.

“it doesn’t even feel like we’re in a relationship anymore, michael. and if you need a break, that’s fine, i just want you to talk to me.” the pressure in your chest is lifted with the relief of saying what you’ve been meaning to but is immediately restored (and heavier, if possible) by mike’s silence

it had only taken a few more years for michael’s home to be completely broken, shattered into tiny pieces like the ceramic bowl on the ground.

michael is difficult. he knows this.

it has been floating in his head for years but it is hammered in now: michael schmidt is hard to love.

mike is silent now, watching your lips move but not quite grasping any sound coming out of them; not quite there, lost somewhere else like he has been for weeks.

at last he has the sense to do something.

he walks carefully through the remnants of the bowl on the floor, finding the broom in a different place than he’d left it and returning to the kitchen.

you’re gone and mike’s head snaps to the sound of the doorknob.

“i’m not gonna wait around forever.” you say before you slip out into the dark of the night.

mike sees your headlights faintly through the curtain before they disappear down the street.

mike begins mindlessly sweeping up what’s left of the bowl, left alone with no one but himself to blame.

he has been abandoned, once again, but can he really call it abandonment when he pushed you away first?

requests for mike schmidt are open!

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt fluff #fnaf x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #v + mike #v writes #most anticlimatic fight scene ever im sorry #i dont like when ppl shout!!

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 months ago

Text

It's Been Calling Me

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, light angst, shameless smut (oral f receiving, p in v sex), fluff, soulmates, dreams, told over many years, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: You've had these… dreams. Strange, realistic, detailed dreams of the same man, almost your whole life. But they're just dreams. You've been so sure, for so long, that they're just dreams.

So sure, until you're not.

Author's Note: I love this one. I love using fake Marvel science logic. I love putting sad men in situations where they can't escape love. I love semi-linear storytelling. Enjoy!

Word Count: 10.9k

“I get… dreams.” You mumble, staring at an odd point over Dr. Raynor’s head. It’s always better than looking her in the eyes. “They’re weird.”

“The very nature of dreams is to be strange.” You can see the shrug of Raynor’s shoulders, hear the neural expression that must be on her face. “Although if you feel they’re worthy of note-“

“They are.”

Raynor hums. She’s probably raising her brows. You still won’t look.

“You sound quite certain of that.”

“I am.” You tuck your knees up to your chest, frowning at the air. “It’s- They’re not new.”

“Ah.” Raynor pauses, then says your name. In the gentle but firm therapist way that you really hate. It makes you feel like a child. “This conversation may be easier if you would look at me.”

“No thanks, I’m-“

She says your name again. A little harsher. “We’ve discussed this. You’re here of your own volition-“

“That’s not true.” You mutter. “Court-ordered isn’t volition.”

“Well you could’ve chosen the inpatient ward.” Raynor’s shrugging again. “Look at me.”

You let out a long breath, and meet her gaze. You’d been right. She was raising her brows.

“Good work.” She gives you a tight-lipped smile and small nod of approval. “Tell me about these dreams.”

It takes a minute to find the words. Not because you don’t have them, but because you’d never expected to use them. You’ve rehearsed them in the mirror a million times, but they always sounded insane, and you didn’t need another reason to be called crazy.

“I’ve had them my whole life.” It’s easiest to start there. “But it’s- they’ve changed. Over time.”

“Changed how?”

“It’s hard to explain-“

“Try.”

You scowl. “I am trying, Christina, but there’s kind of a lot to say-“

Raynor sighs, giving you the patented look of disapproval that you might hate more than how she says your name. “How about telling me when they started. Is that do-able?”

It takes a long, deep breath, but you nod. “I was- I think I was ten. I fell asleep, and it was the first dream I’d ever had. The first one that I remembered when I woke up. It was…” You swallow, and there’s a sting in your nails as you rip more skin away. “Really vivid.”

——

This isn’t your body. It’s too big, too tall, and you’re not nearly strong enough to rip a door off its hinges. This body is sprinting across ice without ever breaking pace or falling flat with a crunch. You can’t even walk up stairs without tripping over thin air.

But this doesn’t really feel like a body at all. It feels like a shell, or tool. Hollow and pressed down, moving so mechanically you’d think it was a machine if you couldn’t hear its heartbeat in your ears. There’s a lot of pain in it. Strangely numb pain, as if the owner of this body doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it, shuttering it off to the side as he moves.

You’re pretty sure it's a he. There’s hair in your eyes, but men can have long hair, and when the body’s arms swing into view they’re big and muscular. You’re also pretty sure there’s something between your legs that wasn’t there when you went to sleep.

And you can feel him. Very, very deep in your head, he’s bellowing and scraping at his own scalp. He feels like a caged animal, but this is his body. He’s roaring things that are more like feral sounds than actual words, and every time he gets loud enough for you to make out a real voice something clamps down on your skull—his skull—and it all goes quiet.

You can see another man in your line of vision. He’s on his knees, trembling and begging, but the noise is muffled and static. As if there’s a filter pushing anything coherent out of your head.

A gloved fist that’s attached to your body—but not yours to control—reaches out and grabs the man by his throat. It squeezes.

He’s desperate. Locked down and furious, the ‘he’ who you’re possessing is almost pleading with himself to stop.

But he doesn’t.

And there’s a sickening snap that will echo in your ears for a long time after you wake up.

——

Raynor’s looking at you like you’re insane. You don’t love it.

“Did you…” She pauses, scanning over you with a small frown. “Did you see the hand?”

You blink at her. “Yeah, I just said-“

“Without the glove.” She clarifies. “The one that snapped the man’s neck. Did you ever see it without the glove.”

It’s an oddly specific question. And she seems to be looking for a certain answer, because in all your time of working with Raynor she’s never looked so obviously invested in a story.

“Not for a while.” You keep your words slow, watching her wearily. “He always wore the gloves. And when he didn’t, he wouldn’t look at his hands-“

Raynor frowns. “So how did you know he wasn’t wearing the gloves?”

“Because he knew.” You shrug. “I lived in his brain like, every night.”

“Every-“

“Night, yeah. That’s what I fucking said.”

Raynor hums, and you think she’s going to grab the notebook to write something along the lines of patient has lost her goddamn mind, but she just keeps staring at you. “You said you didn’t see the hand for a while. When did you see it?”

“When I was sixteen. The first time the dreams changed.”

“Changed from-“

“Being in his head.” You pull your lip between your teeth, weighing how much you want to reveal. Too much feels like a violation of his privacy, even if they’re your dreams. He’s a private guy, it took you years to get him to tell you anything, and if you’ve realized turns out to be the truth, you don’t want to ruin anything. “It’s- it was about six years of seeing everything through his eyes-“

“Everything?”

You wish Raynor would stop saying the word every like that. Like it’s a lie.

“All the murders.” You mutter. “There were a lot of murders.”

Raynor nods for you to continue, and you have to take a long, steadying breath.

“One night I went to sleep and he was… attacking some blond guy. We couldn’t really see his face. Then I fell asleep the next night, and it was different.”

——

You can see him. You’ve never seen him before.

He’d never looked in a mirror, or described himself in his head for you like he’s a Wattpad character. He’s only ever been a body that moves out of your will, and a pained voice deep in your brain that didn’t seemed thrilled with what was happening either.

But you’re not in his head, or his body. You’re standing in a bathroom—in your own body, wearing the same clothing you’d been wearing when you’d crawled into bed—and looking at him.

He’s a lot more attractive than you’d anticipated. And you’d anticipated attractive. You’d built an image in your head of your imaginary dream assassin, basing it purely on a level of hotness that would justify all the murders he’d been up to. It had been a little fucked up, but you’d also been so goddamn sure he wasn’t real. That this was just a really odd and worrying coping mechanism for all the messed up shit in your real life.

But he seems pretty fucking real right now. And almost impossibly handsome. Strong features that look like they’d been carved from marble, an almost hulking frame that’s somehow bigger when you’re looking at it from outside, and tangled, greasy hair that’s really working with the whole tortured expression on his face.

Because he does not look okay.

He’s gripping the sink and glowering at himself, scanning over his own face like he recognizes it less than you do. He’s bent like there’s a weight on his shoulders he doesn’t know how to shake off, and that’s impressive, because you’ve seen him pick up a car.

The porcelain of the sink cracks, and he flinches back, looking between his hands and the rubble with wide eyes.

His eyes are blue. A really pretty blue. You’d always thought blue eyes were overrated—big whoop, you’re more sensitive to light—but there’s something silver in this man’s eyes that you really love. It feels like a deep storm you’d like to chase.

He’s really pretty.

He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would like being called pretty, but he is. In a natural and powerful way. Like something heavenly that’s burned through the atmosphere in a dreadful fall.

Pretty face, pretty eyes, pretty hands-

Metal hand.

One metal hand.

——

Raynor looks worried now. You wish she’d go back to thinking you’re just batshit crazy.

“Do you-” she clears her throat, sitting a little taller in her chair. “His name. Did you ever learn his name?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Does that matter?”

“Yes.”

It’s a flat, tense answer. It makes something coil in your throat.

“I-“ You rub your own calves, soothing yourself in the careful way you’ve always practiced. “I didn’t, for a while-“

Raynor says your name, her tone short and clipped. “Stop telling me something didn’t happen for a while. If I ask a question, it’s because I need to know the answer. Not the buildup.”

You frown. “Need to know?”

“It’s…” Raynor sighs. “It is very important that you give me a name.”

“Why?”

“Therapist reasons.”

You give her a flat look. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Yes, it is. Name.”

“If you need the name,” you say, raising your chin slightly. “You have to sit through my for a while.”

Raynor gives you a look of disbelief, shaking her head and muttering something that sounds like God, I can’t take two of them, before raising her voice. “Fine. What was for a while.”

“I couldn’t talk to him.” You explain. “For like, two years after I got out of his brain, he still couldn’t see me. When I tried to talk to him it was like I was in a- sort of a one-way mirror? And it’s not like he was just walking around telling the air I’m Bucky-“

“Bucky?” Raynor looks downright distressed. “His name was-“

“It’s Bucky.”

He still is. He’s not a was, Bucky is.

That’s part of the problem.

“And how-“ Raynor swallows. “How did you learn this?”

“He told me.”

——

This is new. You’re not on a street or in a half-empty apartment—the two places you’ve grown most accustomed to seeing in your sleep—but in a field. A very big field with huts and brush and goats.

There are a truly staggering amount of goats.

And there he is. His hair isn’t greasy and unkempt anymore, but looks almost soft, pulled back in a half-up half-down situation that makes him look clean. His metal arm is gone, but he doesn’t seem that bothered by it. He’s standing taller than before, like the weight you’ve grown used to seeing finally has begun to lift.

His outfit is new too. It looks like something traditional and well-made, rather than the off-brand baseball hats—you too are a big fan of the American baseball team, the ‘Doggers’—and shitty polyester t-shirts.

You’re taking him and scenery in, trying to place where your brain could’ve possibly taken you this time, when he does something you’d never expected.

He turns and looks at you.

Not through you. Not around you. Not in your general direction.

At you.

He can fucking see you.

“Hello?”

You’ve heard him speak before, a few times. His voice has always been low and gruff and heavy.

It’s smooth and richer now. You don’t know if that’s because it’s directed at you—setting off small sparks over your ribs—or in relation to that vanished weight, but you like it. It suits him better.

“Hi.” You whisper, your body frozen in place as he moves forward.

He’s right in front of you. Staring at you.

He’s always gotten prettier every time you’ve seen him. This is different.

This is knocking the air out of your lungs with just the sight of him, because there’s a light in his eyes you’ve never seen before, and it makes something deep inside of you glow.

“I’m, uh, I’m Bucky.”

He holds out his hand, and you tilt your head at him.

“That’s a weird name.”

He blinks at you, his hand still frozen in the air. “I guess, yeah. Never thought about it. It’s just a nickname.”

“Oh.” That makes more sense. “Sorry. That’s- I just never thought you as- never mind.”

Bucky frowns at you, opening his mouth—likely ask you what you mean by that—but you say your name and shake his hand because he gets the chance.

He has a nice hand. It warm, and calloused, and fits really well in yours.

“Why can you see me?” You blurt, and there goes any pretense of containing the truth.

Bucky frowns at you. “Should I… Not be able to see you?”

“You’ve never seen me before.”

“Before? What do you mean-“

“It’s- It’s weird. And complicated.”

He just stares at you, waiting for you to continue.

You’re holding his gaze. You’ve never held anyone’s gaze before.

It’s kind of electrifying.

“I’ve dreamt about you before.” You mumble. “And you’ve never seen me.”

“About me?”

He doesn’t sound like he believes you. You get that. It’s not really a reasonable or believable statement.

“Yeah. But you had two arms. And there weren’t goats.”

Bucky nods slowly, and seems to reach a conclusion in his brain that you don’t get to be privy to.

It’s enough for him though. Because he gives you a small, almost nervous and apologetic smile.

“Do you wanna, uh, do you wanna meet the goats?”

You blink at him. You’d expected more questions, or some doubt. But he’s just looking at you, something in his pretty blue eyes almost hopeful.

“Are they...” You trail off, glancing at the goats over his shoulder. “Your goats?”

“They’re community goats.” He shrugs. “But Shuri says connection with life will help my recovery, and I don’t really want to connect with people.” His voice lowers, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “They don’t really like connecting with me.”

You don’t know who the fuck Shuri is, but you nod anyway. “So goats?”

He gives you another odd look, like he’d expected you to say something else.

“Yeah. Goats.”

“Did you name them?”

He frowns. “They’re goats. They don’t need names.”

You click your tongue, shaking your head. “Wrong. Everything needs a name. I named my car, and my phone.”

“You named your phone?”

“Yep.” You grin at him, and it’s a wide, teasing grin you haven’t given anyone in years. “Bertha.”

“That’s…” Bucky’s still staring at you–he seems to do that a lot—but there’s something like amusement in his eyes. “Bertha is not a good name.”

“Better than Bucky.”

He chuckles at that, and it’s a beautiful sound. Deep and heavy, like a bass drum in your chest.

It’s the sort of thing that could be addicting, if you’re not careful. Worse, it’s the sort of thing you wouldn’t mind being addicted to.

“You’re kinda mean, doll.”

“Yep.” You shrug, ignoring how ‘doll’ makes you feel fuzzy in your gut. “And I’ll be meaner if you don’t let me name your goats.”

He hums, scanning you over with an intensity in his eyes that reminds you of that storm you’d see all those years ago in the bathroom. This time, you’d like to do a little more than chase it.

You think it could be really easy to get wrecked by it.

“Will you come back if I let you name them?”

He keeps saying things you don’t expect. Of course you’ll come back. You don’t have a choice.

But you nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Only if you promise to actually use the names.”

He nods, giving you another smile. “Deal.”

———

“Did you ever learn his last name?”

You shake your head. “I never asked. He mentioned his real name was James at one point, but then I asked why he was called ‘Bucky’ and we got off topic.”

“One… point?” Raynor’s words are slow, and you’ve really never seen her looked lost like this before. You’d be proud of yourself if it wasn’t a bad sign. “Exactly how frequently did these dreams occur?”

———

“You’re back!”

Bucky looks genuinely happy to see you. He does every night. The same surprised joy in his voice, shock always written over his face like it’s truly odd and lovely to see you here.

Like you’re not here every night, for three to four hours, standing in his little hut and wandering the fields.

You’ve worked out that you’ve put him in Africa. Wakanda specifically, likely because you’d seen it all over the news and it seemed pretty interesting. Shuri was the princess, and the guy T’challa Bucky had mentioned a few times was the King. You’d almost certainly heard their names during all those UN conferences—the ones you put on in the background just to hear some noise that wasn’t ringing in your ears—and your brain had just decided to run with it.

At least, you think it’s just your brain. You’ve always assumed this was all in your brain, because this feels like the exact kind of fucked up shit your brain would pull. And Bucky never aged. He’d never really changed, for six years. He’d had just been another way to cope for the longest time, but now—as you actually get to know him—he seems dangerously like a real person.

He looks like he broods less than when you see him hunched over a toilet or glowering at his reflection in a window. His appearance has started to shift in a way it never really had.

The metal arm has permanently departed. He seems fond of keeping his hair out of eyes, and his wardrobe finally has diversity. He talks to you, and he has a personality. An adorable, grumpy, endearing personality that would play into your idea of ‘made up in your brain’ if he couldn’t be so annoying.

He stares. He grunts a lot. He doesn’t get any of your references. If you made up an imaginary dream man to feel more loved, he would like all the things you like and hate all the things you hate.

But he doesn’t.

And it always draws you in further, because he truly does seem like just a perfectly insufferable asshole.

That’s cruel. He’d been right. You could be mean.

He never seemed to mind.

And he’s more like a dog anyway. One that escaped the pound and follows you around, not even bothering to beg for scraps because you offer them with a grin.

You like his company. You like his voice. You like that he’s annoying and you like more that it’s your exact type of annoying.

You like that he’s really fucking hot, and get hotter every time you visit.

You mostly just like him.

“Of course I’m back.” You shrug, kicking a rock with the tip of your foot, watching it bounce through the dirt. “I’m always back.”

“Yeah. So far.” You see Bucky shrug in your periphery, and when you look up, he’s staring again. “Could change.”

“Won’t change.” You counter, giving him a pointed look. “Sorry, Buck. You’re stuck here until I die.”

That’s the first time you’ve called him Buck. He tenses for a moment, seems to shake something physically off his body, and nods slowly.

“Should I be worried about you dying?”

“Not right now, no.” You hum. Another rock gets kicked. “Death doesn’t agree with me.”

He chuckles. “Don’t think it agrees with anyone, doll-“

“Shut up.” Third rock. This one hits a goat, and you cringe slightly. “Shit. Sorry, Bubble McBubbleface-“

“Bubs will be.” Bucky rolls his eyes, moving to your side. He’s standing really close. You can almost feel a phantom heat from his body. “And I still can’t believe you talked me into that name. I had to tell the king of the damn country that his goat was named Bubble McBubbleface.”

You giggle, and Bucky shoots you a glare.

“You think that’s funny? I had to like pretend it was my idea,” he grumbles your name, and you always like how he says it. Like it’s some sort of answer. “I had to look the council of elders in the eyes and tell them that Bubble McBubbleface got Lady Gaga pregnant-“

Your eyes widen. “You let the goats get pregnant?”

“Course I let them get pregnant, doll.”

“But-“

He gives you a dry, amused look. “Would you rather I interfere? You want me to cockblock Bubs?”

You blink at him. “You know what cockblock means?”

Your brain had given him the personality of an eighty-year-old man. You don’t know why, but you stopped asking questions like “why” and “what” a long time ago. You just know that he shouldn’t know what cockblock means, for consistency.

“Of course I know what it means. You taught it to me.” He winks at you, and you’re pretty sure you’re flushing.

This is meant to be a dream. You shouldn’t be able to flush, or feel a little flutter and hum in your heart, or something molten in your gut when he leans a little further forward to grin down at you.

This seems less like a dream every night.

You’d be worried about that if you had the energy, or foresight, or care.

“Are goats births gross?” You ask, and he chuckles again. The sound has started to inflict a sort of high on your brain, and every color in this dreamworld seems brighter.

“They’re fucking disgusting.” He leans a little further down. You have to stare at his nose to pretend the proximity isn’t going to make your fall over. “But if you let me show you one in here, I’ll let you name the babies out there.”

You nod kind of stupidly, the whole world shifts into a barn—goat births are disgusting, but Bucky gets a look of intense focus you’d like to see re-aimed in your direction—and four months later Bucky tells you little Oz The Great and Powerful, Donald Duck, and Pants McPantsface have been welcomed into the world.

———

“So you’d see him in… Wakanda.” Raynor takes another long breath. If you didn’t think it would make everything worse, you’d tell her to try some deep breathing exercises. “Did the location ever change? Did you witness any more of those murders from before?”

You feel something spark in your chest like an electric wire, and you sit a little taller. You haven’t seen Bucky kill anyone since you’d been trapped in his brain. He’s a good man. And, as far as Raynor knows, a figment of your imagination. She has no right to fucking imply-

“It’s important that I know,” she says slowly, and you think your oddly blinding and righteous anger had been painted all over your face. “So I better understand what’s been happening to you. Please,” she says your name, leaning somehow further forward in her seat. “Answer my questions.”

You nod, letting out a slow exhale. “No murders. But he did start coming into my brain.”

Raynor frowns at you. “Was he not always-“

“Not like this.”

———

“This is new.”

You whip around, taking a stumbling step back that would’ve landed you on the floor, had Bucky not looped his one arm around your waist.

“Hey, doll. Pleasure seeing you-“ He frowns, glancing around your apartment. “Where the hell am I?”

You don’t answer, only reaching up to touch his face. His beard is soft. His hair is softer. When you trace the line of his nose it does feel like a nose, and when you poke his cheek it seems pretty cheek-like-

“What, uh,” Bucky say your name, scanning over your face with concern. “What’s happening here.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You whisper, poking his cheek again. Just to be sure. “You’ve never been here before.”

“Yeah, figured that one out myself-“

“No.” You shake your head, placing one hand on his chest. It fits well there, slotting right over muscle and warm skin. Every part of him seems to fit perfectly against you, and you’ve never been this close before, but you don’t have any urge to move away. “You don’t get it, Bucky. You’ve never been here. It’s been ten years, and you’ve never been here.”

“I know, doll. Doesn’t seem like there’s much to-“ He pauses, giving you an odd look. “Ten years?”

“Yeah.” You mumble. There’s not much else to say.

He just stares at you, and shakes his head slightly. “Huh. You gonna tell me where I am?”

“My apartment.”

“Your-“ He starts slightly, but you never shake in his arms. “You live in this place?”

You nod, and he pulls you to your feet, scanning over your home.

The silence wraps around your heart and lungs, and the room is spinning slightly. You’re asleep. You’re pretty fucking sure you’re asleep. You locked the door, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed, so you’re asleep. Bucky’s never been here before, but he’s not really here because this is a dream and he’s not real.

You think.

You wouldn’t bet on that anymore, though.

And nothing has ever been as important as Bucky liking your room, because the longer he just scans over the space around you the more your skin heats, the more your eyes blur, the more your throat constricts and your heart aches and pounds-

“It’s very… you.” He finally says, and every bit of nerve vanishes into the air.

He’s right. You’ve been very deliberate in making sure your home is yours.

And you’re not sure why you bothered worrying at all. He fits here, just as well as he fits in every other part of you.

“Can I get the grand tour?” He raises his brows, and you nod, leading him through your space, making jokes and feeling your heart do a little flip and spin whenever he chuckles.

And things always do change. Frequently out in the real world, and carefully and easily in here.

And at least with Bucky, the change seems adaptive. You grow, he grows with you, until you’re twined and rooted into each other, and every color in this dreamscape is so vivid it’s the only thing that still tells you:

None of this is real.

———

“It was split after that.” You say. ”Half the dreams in Wakanda, half in New York.”

You’re watching Raynor carefully. Still on the edge of her seat, legs braced like she’s ready for a fight, a tight expression on her face that Bucky calls the moose in headlights expression.

———

“You got that moose expression again, doll.”

You frown at him. “Stop calling it that, it’s just my face-“

“No. Your normal face has a dimple here, and your brows rest like that.”

He’s touching you as he explains, moving your features to match his words. You’d smack his hand away if his touch wasn’t soothing and flaring all at once. If you didn’t really love the idea of him looking at you long enough to know exactly how to adjust your face, and how to be right about it.

“But it’s not like that now.” He finishes, giving you a pointed look. “You got moose-face.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Moose-face is worse, Bucky. And it’s still not a real thing-“

“Yeah it is. Most people got a moose face.” He shrugs. He’s staring again. It’s taking a lot of effort not to melt forward into him. “Tight expression. Like a deer in headlights, but they think they’re too good to be in the headlights. They’re gonna go down fighting.”

“Oh.” You tilt your head, giving him a sickly-sweet smile. “Can I see your moose face?”

“I don’t have a moose face-“

“Liar.” You poke his ribs, narrowing your eyes. “You said everyone has one-“

“I said ‘most people.’” Bucky shrugs. “Moose face means you’re gonna get hit, you just don’t believe it yet. I know how to not get hit.”

“Sounds like something someone with a moose-face would say.”

He chuckles. You’re sitting down, and you’re going to fall over. “No luck, doll. I got other faces, but no moose face.” He frowns at the air. “Never could afford to have one.”

There’s suddenly something heavier in his eyes, and it makes your whole body feel wired and heavy. It’s suffocating and crushing and rotten, and it’s just an expression but everything feels worse when you see it—when his shoulders hunch and his face becomes set like stone, just like all those years ago in the bathroom—so it needs to stop right now.

“What about a wolf face?”

Bucky blinks at you. “What.”

“You said no moose face.” You cross your arms, raising your chin slightly. “Do you have a wolf face?”

“I don’t know what that is-“

“So suddenly you’re the only one who’s allowed to make up expressions?”

You hold is gaze for a long second—you’ve gotten really good at doing that, but only when you’re dreaming of Bucky—until his lips twitch slightly.

And everything feels alright again.

———

“How much of New York appeared in your… dreams? Was is like Wakanda, where you wandered?”

You frown at the air. Raynor’s indulging in this, but not like you’d hoped. Not shutting you down or telling you that you’re crazy. You’d really hoped to hear some validation that you were just plain crazy.

“Not really. I mean, there was one night where we were at my job, a few at the coffee shop I usually go to, and maybe like, five at the park, but we were mostly my apartment when I was showing him stuff.”

“And what did you-“ Raynor’s whole body tenses, and the last part of her question is pushed through her teeth. “What did you show Bucky?”

You flush, your gaze dropping down to your hands. “Stuff. In my apartment.”

———

You don’t know exactly what gives. What straw completely desolates every single bone in your body, and ends with you here.

Maybe it was that you’d finally mentioned all the murders, and you’d never seem him look horrified before, but the sight has dislodged something along your ribs that hadn’t mended until he let you move his head to your lap. Stroking his hair as he stared at you, telling him about your day.

Maybe it’s that you always tell him about your day. That this—whatever this is—has shifted from trading teasing comments and trying to learn about each other, into pure and comfortable understanding, and now that’s how most nights are spent.

Bucky’s reports are short. The goats are being goats—that’s all they know how to do—he doesn’t like a song someone tried to make him listen to because it’s too loud, and Shuri brought him some food that made his face feel like it was going to fall off, but in a good way. You pretty sure he only gives them because you insist upon it, but he always puffs out his chest a little at the end, when you smile at him and start to tell him everything you can remember about your own day.

Maybe it’s how he always hangs onto your every word. Like it’s gospel or scripture, and to do anything but listen and watch would be a higher sin than any blood you’ve imagined on his hands.

And maybe that’s it.

Maybe it’s how you really don’t believe it anymore, when you remind yourself that he’s not real. That he’s just a figment of your mind, manifested to evolve as you do and always be exactly what you need.

You still tell yourself the lie, night after night.

But you’re certain it’s a lie. That Bucky is just like that. Meant to be here, with you, the exact same way you’re supposed to be wherever he is.

And now you’re here.

You’d started it. You’d slammed your mouth to his, and he hadn’t moved. There had been a brief moment where you’d been worried you’d made a mistake, but the second you’d tried to push back on his chest and apologize, he’d kicked into gear.

And wet dreams are supposed to be hazy. Cast in a misting light and more of a halo that brings your body high than an actual, nameable feeling.

But you can really feel this.

And it’s heaven.

You’d expected Bucky to kiss slowly. Deliberately. It’s how you’d always seen him move and speak, and you hadn’t been against the idea of being kissed in a methodical and careful way.

You’ve never been happier to be wrong.

Bucky kisses you like you’re air and water and every good thing in the world. All passion and spit and burning desire, where you can feel every bit of want in his movements. His mouth is demanding as he traces his tongue over your teeth and groans your name down your throat, his arm snaking around your waist to hold you steady against his chest. When his knee presses between your thighs you have to wrap your arms around his neck for balance, and it’s all you can do to return ever bit of want he throws at you as he walks to backwards to your mattress.

It takes effort to pry your mouth from Bucky’s. He doesn’t want you to go, even a few inches, and when you start to palm him through his pants—smiling against his lips and squeezing his bulge in a silent request—he hisses against your lips.

“You-“ He groans, nipping at your lower lip as you smile, repeating the movement. “You don’t- Shit, doll, you don’t know what you’re doing to me-“

You hum, bumping your nose with his and swaying in his hold. “Maybe. I’d like to do more.”

Bucky chuckles, and the sound rolls right into your core. “Think you could take more, sweetheart? Cause I’ve been a gentleman, but if more is on the table-“

It’s easy to cut him off with a heavy, deep kiss that has him half growling down your throat and his hips jerking against your movements.

“Want more.” You whisper, combing your free hand through his hair and trying to pull yourself impossibly closer. “Want you.”

Bucky tenses against you, and when you lean back to meet his eyes he’s staring again. Looking at you like you’re glowing, kneading your skin under his hand like he’s checking that you’re not going to vanish.

“You want me.” He mutters, scanning over your flushed face. “You sure about-“

“Yes.” You nod, giving him a small, soft smile. “Only if you do, obviou-“

Bucky cuts you off with another bruising kiss, and before you know what’s happening he’s lowering you onto the mattress, kneeling between your legs, and shoving your thighs apart with a wolf-like grin.

You don’t know when you ended up naked. You can’t really care though, because Bucky shoves his face right into your pussy, and your mind empties of all thoughts that aren’t his name.

It’s another point in favor of this being a dream. Bucky’s mouth against your cunt feels so amazingly real—licking and biting and eating you out like he’s been starved for a hundred years—but this has to be a dream, because no real man has ever made you feel this good. He knows every single way the plunge his tongue in and out of your pussy until you’re squeezing your thighs around his head and tugging at his hair, and his beard scrapes and tickles at your thighs in a way that’s driving you out of your mind, and fuck, he keeps moving his attention to nip at your clit, sucking it between his lips and letting his teeth graze against you, and-

“Bucky-“ You moan, grinding shameless into his face, trying hopelessly to remain upright with one hand, your fingers fisted into the sheets below you. “Please- I’m gonna- Fuck, I’m so close-“

He growls against you, flatting his tongue against your clit and squeezing his hand on your thigh, and that does it. You cum with a scream of his name, warmth washing over your body as your knees clamp around him and your eyes roll back in your head.

He’s ruined you. All Bucky did was eat you out in a dream, and you’re panting and flushed and drunk on him. You don’t know how you’ll manage to move on from this in real life.

You don’t really care. Not as Bucky runs his hand over your dripping, fluttering cunt with a look of open awe on his face, presses a kiss right over your clit that makes your hips jerk, and moves to his feet.

He’s naked now too.

And he’s perfect.

His cock is big and thick, standing at proud attention and jerking slightly as you run a hand up his thighs, your fingers trailing over his balls and a little drool falling out of your lips as you lean to take him in your mouth-

Bucky’s hand tangles in your hair, pulling you back to meet his eyes.

He looks just as wrecked as you feel. Chest heaving and eyes blown with lust. You’re going to lose your mind.

“Bucky-“

“Not now.” He mutters, pulling you a little further back. “Need to be inside of you, doll. Please.”

You’d have to be insane to say no.

You crawl back on the mattress, spreading your legs in silence invitation, and something hot and powerful flashes in his eyes as he takes you in.

“You-“

“I’m sure.” You squirm in the sheets, running your hand between your legs and starting to rub your clit in slow, strong circles. “God, I’m so fucking sure, please-“

He’s shockingly fast for such a large man. It might be the whole dream thing, but you barely register him moving to kneel over you, swatting your hand away with a darkened gaze a set jaw.

“I do that,” he grunts, running two fingers up and down your cunt, smirking at you high whine. “Legs open, doll, want to see how wet I’m making you.”

You nod, falling flat on your back, and pour all your focus into his order. “Fuck, Bucky-“ He shoves the fingers into your pussy, and your back arches off the bed. “Shit- I- Please-“

“You want my cock?” He drawls your name, and you can only nod dumbly at the ceiling. “Come on, tell me you want it-“

“Want it,” you gasp, hugging your body as he starts to pump his finger, crooking them at the exact right spot deep inside of you. “Fuck, Bucky, you said- You said you’d fuck me-“

He clicks his tongue. “I said I’d be inside of you-“

“But- But I want you to fuck me.” You start to roll your hips as his pace picks up. “Please, Bucky-“

You whine as his fingers vanish, leaving you clenching around only the air, but it’s a short-lived pain.

Bucky slams into you with one thrust, and you’d been wrong again.

He hadn’t ruined you. He’s destroyed you.

You’ve never been so full in your life. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life. With a fervor that should be painful, but just makes you feel wanted. Cared for. Bucky’s every thrust is brutal and rough, and his mouth on yours is that same feral kiss from before, but he’s pressed his body over yours like he’s trying to shield you from the world, and he’s groaning your name down your throat like it’s a hymn.

You’d say his name too, if you could remember how to speak. But Bucky’s hitting every right spot deep in your pussy, and you’re so high the world is just color and light and Bucky, and when he starts to suck and kiss a line down your throat, along your collarbone, and over your tits, you’re sure you’re going to fly out of your skin.

Then he takes your nipple into his mouth, and the sound you make is almost inhuman. Your release crashes over you like a wave, Bucky groans against your breast as you squeeze around his cock, and a burning warmth coats your thighs and cunt as he cums with a roar.

You make a small noise of content as Bucky pulls out, kissing a soft line back up your jaw before dropping his brow to yours and letting out a long, slow breath.

“That was…” He trails off, moving his hand to hold your hips, drawing firm patterns with his thumb that might drive you out of your mind.

“Yeah.” You whisper. “It was.”

He nods, and neither of you move for a really long time. Usually you’ve woken up by now, but no part of you is eager to go, eager to leave where there’s still a little buzz in your heart from the pleasure, where you can feel a perfect ache between your legs and you’re so happily trapped under the warmth of Bucky’s body-

Happy.

You’re happy.

This isn’t real, but under Bucky’s body you’re safe and warm and happy. And you don’t want to go.

Almost as if he can read your mind, Bucky clears his throat.

“Thank you.” He mutters, his breath hot and soft over your ear. “Needed this.” There a long pause, and his hand squeezes on your hips. “Needed you. And I know it’s dumb to thank you, because-“

“It’s not.” You cut him off with a kiss to his neck, rubbing your hand up and down his back. “And I needed you too.”

He lets out a dry laugh that you don’t understand, but doesn’t push on it. Just kisses your brow and rolls onto his back, taking you with him and clinging to you like you’re a tether to something a little more important than just a dream.

And you really don’t know why he’d laughed.

You do need him. You’re growing more and more certain every night that you need Bucky more than you need anything in real life. That he’s more than anyone else, and that he maybe, possibly, could be real.

He feels real, beneath you with a calloused hand squeezing at your skin and your finger tracing over the scars near his arm.

He sounds real, when you finally ask why he only has one arm, and he takes a very long breath but mutters that he fell off a train. When he tells you that bad people found him, and he wasn’t really the best guy either, for a really long time.

He tastes real when you kiss him for comfort, and smells real when you bury your face in his neck as he continues.

You know he’s not telling you everything, but you also know he’s not lying.

And you really do know that, in some strange and impossible way, this might be real.

———

“I see.” Raynor swallows, and she won’t stop staring at you. “Did those, ah, occurrences happen again?”

You nod, staring at your hands. “Pretty much every time after.” A smile tugs at your lips. “One time we used the barn.”

“I-“ Raynor sighs. “Understood. How long, exactly, did this continue?”

“They never stopped, not until-“ Your nails dig into your skin, and a heavy stone lodges itself in your throat. “The, uh, the blip.”

———

These have been the worst five years of your life. And they haven’t been amazing for anyone, but no one else has to feel this like you do.

And that’s selfish. A little narcissistic. Incredibly crude.

But it doesn’t make it any less true.

Because everyone lost people. Everyone watched loved ones vanish right in front of them, witnessed the world fall and crumble around them as half of humanity vanished, and got left in the rubble to pick up the pieces.

But no one else seems to feel this. Nobody else seems to be falling apart at the seams from nothing at all like you are. Because Bucky was probably never real. But he’s gone.

And you don’t know how to move on.

It’s odd to grieve a dream. It makes living impossible. You go to all the support groups and listen to everyone share their own pain, and it makes your heart ache for them but nothing in you ever seems to heal. It’s as if a piece of you had been ripped out and ground to ash, and mending over it would be blasphemous. You don’t want to fix it. You need to, because this is no way to exist, but it feels wrong every time you try. As if even your body can’t just admit he’s gone, and you need to keep going. But everything feels artificial. Every breath is mechanical, and every beat of your heart feels shallow and deliberate, like it’s only doing just enough to keep you alive.

What’s worse is that you can’t tell anyone why you’ve become a sunken, hollow shell. You’d sound insane. You’re already not winning any points in the sound of mind department, and you do have a record, so if you went to one of the countless therapists who have been making their living off of everyone’s loss and said ‘see, doctor, the person I loved only existed in my dreams, but he vanished with the snap and now it feels like I’ve been cleaved in half’, you’d be locked up in an asylum.

You hate that you’re only realizing it now. That the overwhelming sense of warmth and peace you felt in your dreams with Bucky was love. That you’d fallen in love with a piece of your own mind. You’d basically fallen in love with your reflection. Your annoying, handsome, grumpy reflection that you’d rip your spine out of your body to reshape it back into his form, to bring him back to your side.

And the dreams still happen. He’s just not there, and it’s the worst thing in the fucking universe. You keep coming back to a forest, and there’s a little ash that’s always drifting around in the air, that feels really important.

It all always feels like more than just Bucky being gone. It feels like you’ve missed a train, or taken a wrong turn, and lost a key that double as a compass, and now you’re stranded at the bottom of the ocean.

Alone.

You’ve spent your whole life with only yourself to rely on, but you’ve never felt more alone.

———

“And after the blip?”

“He came back.” You’re going to cry. You really hate crying in front of Raynor—she always tells you it’s going to be okay, and you fucking know that—but you can’t stop it. Because Bucky really did come back, and it’s still the best thing that ever happened to you.

———

During the past five years, your sleep has gotten fucked. You get about four hours a night, because that’s just long enough to keep you functional but too short to allow you to appear in the forest.

So it took a while to pass out. You’d curled up in your bed, drank tea, done yoga, followed every ‘how to fall asleep fast’ internet guide until your eyes drooped, and you were gone.

When the dream takes shape around you, you’re not in the forest, but in a sleek, hospital-like room that you don’t recognize.

And he’s there.

Bucky’s right fucking there.

You make a small, choked sound, and his eyes shoot to yours in an instant.

He’s moving in a second. Half launching across the room to grab you before your knees give out, holding you to his chest as you cling to his shirt and press your face into his neck.

“Hey,” he mutters your name, and you can hear the low horror in it. He’s putting together why you’re crying. Why you’re scratching at his neck and trying to half climb up his body. “You’re alright. It’s all good, doll, everything’s good now-“

You cut him off with a long, heavy kiss, and his hand moves to cup your head.

He has two hands again. You don’t really care why.

Because Bucky’s rubbing circles on the skin of your waist, and letting you cry without making a big fucking deal about it, and nothing mended. Nothing’s ever mended. You’ve been a little fucking broken for a long time, with or without Bucky. But it had been a kind of broken that had folded and shaped with him, and when he’d been gone it was like half your organs had been frozen and crumbled in your body.

But he’s back. And you feel real again.

———

There’s a long silence in the air, and you know what’s coming. The question. You’ve known she’s going to ask it the whole time—you’d honestly expected it a lot sooner—and you’ve been prepared. You have a very long speech about how Bucky had changed again—short hair, kept the new arm, appearing in his own, mostly empty apartment and trading the Wakandan clothing for jeans and jackets—and that he’d told you how much he hated some guy named John.

He’d said he despised the asshole. That he was everything Steve had hated—you’d had a pretty good idea who Steve was, based on context and a theory but you hadn’t be quite ready to it yet—and nothing sounded better than punching his lights out.

And you’re ready to explain that you’d had the news on in the background, a few words had broken from static background noise, and your whole world had shifted. John Walker had been announced as the new Captain America, they’d run a stupid little fluff piece on the life of Steve Rogers, and there was Bucky. Captain America’s best friend and ally, the assumed cause of that whole the Avengers are breaking up thing, and the former Winter Solider.

You’d mostly stared at the screen for a really long time as everything feel into place—you’d looked him up after, and it was a little embarrassing it had taken you this long given that he has a Wikipedia page—before calling Raynor, and preparing for the question.

But when she asks it, your mind goes blank, and all you can’t think to say is the truth.

“May I ask,” Raynor says carefully. ”Why are you only discussing this now?”

“Because he’s real.”

———

Bucky has dreams. Not nightmares.

Dreams.

He dreams about Her. She’s the only constant in his life, the only solace and purely good thing he knows, and She’s not even damn real.

Bucky’s pretty sure She’s not real. It wouldn’t make any sense for Her to be real. He’d spent most of the years assuming that She was simply a result of him being able to dream again, a trick of his mind that was both a comfort and a torture, because he needed those dreams—needed Her, in a strange way that lived in his chest and was soft on his skin—more than he’d ever needed anything, but they also reminded him of what he’d never have.

A life in a simple apartment, filled with his own presence in a way that was easy. He always loved that about Her apartment. How everywhere he looked, She was there. The colors and furniture and posters and trinkets on the shelves all screamed Her, and no one could ever replicate that if they tried.

He didn’t know how to do that anywhere. How to just be him in a way that didn’t feel like something was strangling him. His apartment was barren. Every time he spoke it felt like he should be apologize immediately after, because barely anyone seemed to like him, let alone want to hear him.

Bucky understood that. He wasn’t exactly his own biggest fan, and the only time there was no part of him trying to escape his own body was when he was asleep, and She was at his side.

He liked being himself with Her. It was simple, and natural, and never a labor. She never flinched away from him—She seemed to like being close to him—and Bucky never really wanted to wake up. Part of him always hoped that this time, when he fell asleep and She appeared once more, he’d wake up in Her apartment, and it would all be real.

A very small part of him needed this—needed Her—to be real. It would be really amazing if She was real. It wasn’t something he deserved to ask for, to plead with the universe about, but he did. He kept trying to come up with reasons She could be real.

She felt real, in his dreams. She spoke and acted like a person, and not a doll or shell his brain may have created to get him through his de-programming. She was always saying things and making references he didn’t get until she explained them, things he was certain he hadn’t heard in passing. She was way prettier than anyone Bucky had ever seen, which would contribute to Her being only a dream if he wasn’t so certain that he simply wasn’t that creative.

He could imagine a pretty girl.

He couldn’t imagine Her.

Smart and funny and gorgeous, fitting against him like She’d been molded to, teasing him in ways he’d never thought of and kind to him ways he couldn’t be kind to himself.

She was never disgusted by the arm, and Bucky was sure that—if She was only a part of his mind given shape—she would know about the whole Winter Soldier thing. But he’d had to explain all he could to Her, and when he’d left certain, darker parts out She hadn’t said but that’s not the truth, is it, James.

She seemed to like Bucky. That was the most concrete proof he had that She had to somehow be real. Nobody liked him. Not in to raw, unrelenting way She did.

So She had to be real.

Bucky really hoped, against all odds, that she was real.

It would fix a lot of problems if She was real. Sam kept trying to get him to date, and he didn’t want to. He always felt like he was betraying Her. It wasn’t sustainable or logical, but logic didn’t really matter here, because Bucky’s gut would wither and his hands would curl into fists every time he had to try and flirt with another woman. They didn’t fit against him as well as She did. Their teasing would either bite too hard or not bite at all, and the night would end with Bucky falling back into Her arms.

He asked Shuri—very vaguely, he didn’t want his brain to be poked and prodded again—what reoccurring dreams could mean.

“Reoccurring?” She’d frowned at him over the video call. “You’ll have to clarify, reoccurring can mean many things.”

“Uh,” Bucky had swallowed, glancing at his mattress across the room. “A dream you have every night. And it could change, but it’s always the same person in it?”

Shuri had given him an odd look. “Have you been having a dream like that?”

“No.” His answer had been too fast. He needed to keep it together if he was going to sell this. “Sam has. He mentioned that he kept seeing some lady in his dreams, and she felt real but he’d never met her before. Thought I’d do him a favor and ask about it.”

It wasn’t the best lie he’d ever told, if Shuri look of doubt had been any indication. But she bit, and kept moving.

“Well, it looks as if Sam,” she’d given him a pointed look, and Bucky had forced his face to remain completely neutral. “Has found his soulmate.”

Bucky had stared at her for a really long time. His vision had blurred, there had been a ringing in his ears, and time had seemed to still as Shuri’s words sank in.

Soulmate.

“I thought, uh,” Bucky had cleared his throat, his voice a little hoarse. “Soulmates aren’t real-“

“Of course they’re real.” Shuri had shrugged. “Soulmate is an archaic term for two brains that emit the exact same neuroelectricity, their nerve paths aligning completely. Often they will have differing personalities and lives, but the tie of the biology will link them in sleep, and they will experience incredibly vivid lucid dreams. Like this video conference, but if our minds and bodies were built to fall in love with each other. It is rare, but not impossible.”

Bucky had frowned. “But I- uh, Sam said he’s only had these dreams about four years-“

“Sam’s brain underwent severe rewiring and torment.” Shuri’s voice had been dry, her expression flat. “He would do well to remember that his connection may have been slightly mauled, and only after a certain genius princess fixed him would he have been able to reciprocate the bond fully.”

Oh.

The first time Bucky had appeared in Her apartment, She had said ten years. When She’d appeared to him for the very first time, She’d said she’d dreamt of him before.

Bucky had assumed that had been another way his brain was comforting him. Telling him he could be the type of person a pretty girl like Her dreamed about.

But when he thought about it—clenched his jaw and drew up the heavier, blood-stained memories of the Soldier—there had sometimes been someone in his body with him. Not the Soldier, but the third presence that wasn’t hostile. Wasn’t really foreign. Just was.

“Could the-“ Bucky had swallowed, watching Shuri carefully as he spoke. “Sam said he could sometimes feel the gal while he was awake. Is that a thing that could happen?”

“If Sam was not himself, and the soulmate was not of full maturity, yes.”

Bucky had felt himself pale. “What do you mean, full maturity-“

“You are a hundred years old, Mr. Barnes.” Shuri had raised her brows, and all pretense of Sam had dropped. “There would have naturally been a point where your soulmate was a child, as that is how most people begin their lives. It is likely that you were still under the control of Hydra in your soulmate’s youth, and she would have only been a growing presence in your mind until she was a full person, and you were no longer only the shell of a man I met after my father’s death.”

“So she- Would she have seen what I did? As the Solider?”

He knew She had. She’d told him She had.

Bucky still didn’t want it to be true.

Shuri had given him a sympathetic look. “Unfortunately, yes. She would have. But if she is what you say, she is a perfect match to you in every way. She will not care what you were before, under the control of Hydra.”

“But-“

“It is not something worth protesting, Bucky.” Shuri had sighed, leaning a little closer to the camera. “This is not something that can be severed or changed, so please do not bother to ask. And remember that she is real. Her own person, with her own pain. I would recommend you attempt to find her, but that is something you will have to decide for yourself.”

And now he was here. Staring at the dark screen where Shuri’s face had been moments before, his head still spinning around the word.

Soulmate.

She’d made is sound scientific. Possible. Bucky could have a soulmate.

He didn’t deserve a soulmate. Not one he’d likely trapped in his mind, forced to witness the brutal atrocities he’d committed as the Winter Solider.

And he wanted to find Her. Bucky wanted to touch Her and kiss her and keep her longer than just the night. To wake up and see Her next to him, tangible and all his.

He’d liked the idea of something being his in a way that wasn’t a curse. In a way he could throw his all right back to Her, and she’d catch it.

But there was still the sour, molding feeling over his heart that—since She was real, and probably had Her own issues to deal with—She wouldn’t want him in her life. Not Her real life, where everything was more complicate than just them in a literal dream.

He shouldn’t find Her. She’d be better off without him. Bucky would do nothing but make Her life more complicated, and he could get through this know that She was real and safe, far away from him but still haunting his dreams in the best way possible.

He was so lost in his head he misses the first phone call. And the second one.

It was the third one that got his attention—buzzing and ringing on the table next to his computer, Dr. Raynor flashing across the screen—and the fourth one he actually managed to pick up.

Bucky didn’t bother to hide the tension in his voice when he spoke. He really didn’t have the time or energy for this, not right now. “Doc, I’m not due back for another four days-“

“I’m aware, James, I keep a calendar.” Raynor sighed through the speaker, and Bucky had never heard her sound so tense. It was a little concerning. “However, I am going to have to request you come in today. It’s an emergency.”

He scowled. “What emergency, I haven’t done anything emergency worthy-“

“It’s not only about you.” Raynor snapped. “And I’m changing it from a request to an order. Office in twenty minutes.” There was a long pause, and then a whispered, “Please.”

That wasn’t good.

“Did I get in trouble?” Bucky asked, his grip on the phone tightening. “Cause I’ve been following all the stupid rules, and if Sam says I did something he’s just being a dramatic dick-“

Raynor sighed, and Bucky could picture the thin look of exhaustion on her face. “You are not in trouble, James. It’s not- I can’t explain over the phone. It may be better for you to see.”

“See what?”

“Just come to the fucking office.”

Bucky blinked, and the line went dead.

Raynor couldn’t make him go. But he also had never heard her swear like that. Or order him to come in before an appointment.

He was a little curious. And it wasn’t like he had anything else to do today but drown in the knowledge of what Shuri had told him, trying to work out how he’d face Her tonight.

So he went to the office. Chances are it was nothing. Bucky couldn’t imagine it would be something. He spent the whole ride trying to think of an idea, came up blank, and decided that Sam had mentioned something to Raynor about how Bucky had been brooding more than usual, and he was just going to have to explain the whole I’m not brooding, I’m just sick of Sam’s blind date bullshit and also maybe have a soulmate thing. Then he’s kick Sam’s ass, and everything would be fine.

Bucky entered to office with a whole speech ready. His chin raised high and his arms crossed, because he was already having a very weird and complex day, and he didn’t need this.

All the words were knocked out of him the moment he opened the door, glanced around the room, and saw who was on the couch.

Her.

In person.

Very, very real, and in Raynor’s office, and here.

Raynor said Her name. The name Bucky knew Her by, and her last name.

It was a nice last name. Barnes would suit Her better, but the idea that she was real enough to have a last name was already bringing Bucky to his knees, so he’d have to save that thought for later.

“Meet James Barnes.” Raynor was probably looking between them. Bucky couldn’t be sure though, because he couldn’t stop staring at Her.

She was moving to Her feet, and seeing Her in person was somehow even better. She was sharper around the edges, and more colorful in small, bright ways, and nothing about Her felt like it could ever slip between Bucky’s fingers.

She wasn’t mist. She wasn’t an illusion, or a coping mechanism.

She was real.

Walking towards him with wide eyes and an open mouth, reaching a hand up to poke at his face. Tracing his nose and running fingers over his cheekbones, Her eyes never leaving his.

Bucky caught Her hand right as it brushed over his lips, and She made the prettiest gasp he’d ever heard.

“You’re real.” He said, because it was all he could think of. Nothing about this was a dream. Bucky would not have a dream where Raynor was watching him restrain himself from kissing Her until she collapsed in his arms.

“I’m real.” She whispered, and Her voice was better in real life too. “You’re here.”

He nodded. “I’m here.” He paused, scanning over Her open features. “Don’t think I’m going anywhere, doll.”

Her face split into a wide smile, all teeth and light and joy. For Bucky.

There was adoration on Her face, and it was all for Bucky.

“Good.” Her smile grew, Her fingers tangling with his metal ones. “Because I’m not either.”

End Note: Save me Bucky Barnes raising goats. Bucky Barnes raising goats, save me.

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