#I never used to care!!!! why is this happening

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Self-Aware Sylus x Down-bad!Player

Sylus becoming aware he is a character in a game and now he’s aware of you as well. A modern day Romeo & Juliet story here …. A tragic love story A/N: Don’t fight me [Requested by: Anon]

Self-Aware!Sylus who realizes he’s in a game when he can sense your energy on the other side of a phantom wall. He can hear you squealing when he calls you honey and you're radiating happiness when you send him random emojis.

Self-Aware!Sylus who finally sees you when he happens to be looking around during a photoshoot and sees your shocked face when he makes eye contact. He smirks and turns back to the in-game version of you. “Why are you out there?” You dropped your phone and stared at it in shock. Did Sylus just ….. talk to you? You muttered a low ‘Hello?’ but got no response. You brushed it off as you just being tired and on the game too long.

Self-Aware!Sylus who manages to create a keyboard in your chat so he can actually text you. You were so confused when you opened it and it allowed you to type without just pressing a prompt. You gave it a spin with a quick ‘Hey Sylus’ something simple. Of course the message was read immediately and he replied with a ‘Hello [your name]’ you stared at the screen in shock not knowing if this was a new update or if you were just going crazy.

Self-Aware!Sylus who chuckles when he sees you pouting because you didn’t get his card so when you close the app and lay down he gifts you the card himself. You opened the app and the first thing Sylus says to you is “I don’t like seeing you sad, check your memories I left a gift for you”. When you open your memories you see that you not only got his most recent card but all of his five star memories. “What's happening here?” “You’re smile is so captivating I just had to see it again”

Self-Aware!Sylus who opens the app randomly throughout the day so he can see you “I haven’t seen you all day what are you doing?” causing you to snatch your phone off the table because he always seems to catch you when you’re at work or around a group of people. “Sylus I'm at work I'll call you when I get off” he crosses his arms and seems to be pouting? “I don’t like how much you have to work I don’t see you as often” “Well not all of us are billionaires some of us work for said billionaires to make a living” “I wish I could take care of you….” “You and me both”

Self-Aware!Sylus who teases you when he wins a game of kitty cards or who uses his evol to get every stuffed animal for you when you get frustrated. “You sure do wear your heart on your sleeves sweetie”

Self-Aware!Sylus who stares directly at you when you’re doing a photoshoot with your in-game MC “Sylus focus on her so I can get the picture” “I want to focus on you though” “She is me” “…..she’s not”

Self-Aware!Sylus who tells you not to fall in love because he’s not real, but he falls head over heels in love with you anyway. From the late night conversations of you explaining your world to him and just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. He can’t help it one night when you’re up late on the phone as always he just has to ask “Do you love me?” you’re shocked by his question, but swiftly answer with a shy “Yea I do”

Sylus: I thought we agreed not to fall in love Y/N: I was already in love you just noticed late Sylus: I believe I fell harder You giggled as something somber settled in your chest. Y/N: We’ll never truly be together you know? Sylus: I know and yet I continue to long for you …. I wish I could kiss you Y/N: I wish you could too…..

[clini-calia]

It's tough. It is.

I'm a 30-year-old transgender man. From ages 16 to 23-ish, I was stuck in the alt-right pipeline, as well. I watched all that stupid bullshit with "feminists getting owned!!!1!" and what the fuck ever else. I think what pushed me towards it was how people on Tumblr used to be upset over EVERYTHING and would belittle me for my masculinity. I remember seeing a post that had a gif of a scene from some anime, I dunno which one, and it was of a naked girl laying down. People were complaining about her breasts not being realistic - it wasn't the size, it was that they weren't sagging or drooping, and that men need to be portrayed with rock hard dicks that never soften or whatever. But I was just sitting there thinking, "She's laying down... lol. Gravity is literally pushing her breasts against her chest, not pulling them down."

Anyway. Posts like that, but they got worse. I've had a lot of people on the left question my gender. "Why would you want to be a man? Women are the better choice." "I don't know why you'd want to do that, why give up your femininity?" I got into a small argument with a woman once on it, basically saying that it felt like trans men weren't really counted much and were largely ignored in the trans community, along with non binary people, who are usually just treated as "Women Lite." She got so angry that she told me, "You probably just wanna be a guy because you're too ugly to get one for yourself."

That's what tipped me over to the right for a bit. Until I realized they cared even less about me and that if given the chance, well. What happened on November 5th would happen, and they'd look for any excuse to strip me of my rights.

For cis, straight, white men it's not so easy to get out of. They're welcomed with open arms, there's no looming threat of having their rights taken away. So the pull of some "brotherhood" is more enticing. I was groomed and sexually assaulted by a man, but I was also sexually assaulted and groomed by a woman. I'll always believe that, no matter what, humans are just humans. White, black, gay, straight, trans, cis, man, woman - humans. And humans can be good, and they can also fucking suck. So I'll never say "all men are trash" or "all women are garbage" or anything like it ever again.

I see men's issues with mental health. I wish they would understand that it's the patriarchy that ultimately fuels those issues, and I wish some women would see how they also contribute to it. I see a lot of younger women these days placing men's entire values on their income, their careers, their appearances, what they can buy for them... I've seen a tweet of dudes just chilling and playing video games, showing off Pokemon cards or some shit and a woman quote retweeted it and said, "Men used to fight in wars. 🙄" Yeah. That'll stop toxic masculinity - tell men they're not real men unless they go to war and give up what makes them happy. Nice...

The patriarchy hurts women by enforcing the idea that they are to submit to men's wishes, stay at home, clean, cook, have babies. That's all women are allowed to experience.

The patriarchy hurts men by enforcing the idea that they are to overwork themselves, abandon any non traditional masculine interests and basic human emotions in favor of that work, and go to fight and possibly die in wars.

These ideals were put into place as soon as different tribes, races, countries and so on realized that, "Oh. There's OTHER types of people, and I want to be the most powerful and rich so they don't take what I have. Hmm. Better make sure women can only spit out plenty of babies and that plenty of those babies are men to be my soldiers and workforce."

If you're a man that supports any of those ideas, fuck you. If you're a woman that supports any of those ideas, fuck you, too. I'm sick and tired of generalizing people. I'm sick and tired of having to give up pieces of ourselves in order to put more money in billionaire's pockets. I'm sick and tired of men being told they're "too feminine" to be a man over being into stuff like sewing, baking, dolls, fashion, cozy games and I'm tired of seeing women being told they're "too masculine" to be a woman for being into coding, mechanical work, FPS games, science and I'm tired of seeing non binary people being told they're too much of one or the other to be non binary.

I'm tired of seeing men put down other men for having a fucking emotion other than anger or goddamn numbness. I'm tired of seeing women put down other women for being more attractive or not attractive enough. Just... stupid, petty bullshit that should have been over and done with decades ago, why the fuck are we STILL here?

It's tough. Because I love men and care deeply about men. But I also don't think we need to baby them and pat them on the back and say, "It's OK that you joined a fascist group of people that openly and proudly call themselves Nazis." And if a man ever tells me or any woman or AFAB person that it's "your body, my choice," I will grab the nearest blunt object I can get my hands on and beat the snot, shit, and blood out of them.

But I do think we need to work harder at not alienating our CIS, straight, white, male allies. We need to stop generalizing everybody and correct our language when talking about people. And we especially need to make it clear that the alt-right only seeks to divide for their own benefit, not for anyone else's. It's money and power that they want. Men, unless you are wealthy, you are just a vote and a pawn to them, nothing else. We need Democrats in the USA to stop rolling over and blowing kisses to Republicans in the hopes that they'll play nice and cut us some slack. It's not going to happen, not in meaningful numbers. And we NEED to crack down harder on alt-right online spaces. I don't give a fuck no more, get rid of that shit, I don't care if it's seen as too extreme or censorship, if you give these dangerous people a place to commune and feel safe with their harmful ideologies, then it WILL spill over into other spaces. And parents of young children: you need to BE BETTER at monitoring what your kids are seeing and doing online. Take it from someone who no-lifes online games: they are going into these spaces and saying heinous, horrible shit. They are being groomed, they are saying slurs and sexually harassing women, they are even seeking sexual attention and guidance from adults and strangers, and some of those adults are sick enough to take them up on their offers. One little trip into a few public instances of games like VRChat will be all the proof you need. I love the Internet, I really do, but I also see how its anonymity has done harm to us and has severely damaged how young people interact with each other, online and offline.

Anyway, sorry that was so long. I've been pissed the fuck off since I saw that Trump "won" the election and this shit has been on my mind for years, just even more so now.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

You've been living a peaceful life for the last 100 years, trying to be off the radar.

You did help Strange a few times from afar, but becoming an active participant? No, you had enough of that.

Your owned ranch, your owned daily routines. You were almost healed from centuries of fighting for your life, ideals and power.

Until one day Strange broke his part of the deal.

"I need your help."

You sighed. He never cared about your garden. Always appearing when you were searching for escape with your flowers.

"No, Stephen. Whatever it is, I don't care. And please levitate. You're leaving traces."

"it's Agatha Harkness."

You looked at him. No emotions. He was waiting for your reaction. But you didn't give him any clues.

"Since when can't you fight a bound witch?"

You turned back to your apple tree. You knew in what state Agatha was. Not a threat, not an opponent. She was too deep in her illusion.

"Everything is going to change soon. There are… Entities who want her free."

"Name me one entity who would want to be betrayed by her."

"I can name you two. The boy."

"One of the twins. " Only the sound of your garden shears was heard.

It wasn't even a question. You already felt it. Stephen wouldn't be here if the reason wasn't so serious.

"And the other one?"

"Your old friend."

"Why don't you do this yourself, Stephen?"

"You know I'm not allowed to interact with her."

___

WestView used to be a charming town. Before the Hex. You could still feel the remains of Wanda's magic. People were still scared, wounds were too fresh.

You quickly found Agatha. She was blissfully living through her illusion. Wanda definitely had style.

You knew Harkness when she was dangerous, now she was weak and vulnerable.

If it was the old you, her neck would snap in a second. But you changed. And she wasn't the one you were searching for.

If Stephen was right you were all fucked.

You followed Agatha to the police station, pawn shop, and her house.

The boy wasn't here yet. You had some time. You built yourself a charming backstory, you pretended to love bad coffee. In a month you were already a citizen of WestView.

What if Stephen was wrong? This happened before. Agatha was protected by her own dreams until the cracks the power of nature itself called for you.

You rushed to your hotel room. You needed protective spells. You were not the only witch in town.

___

Stephen was right. Unfortunately.

Someone knocked on the door, but didn't wait for the answer.

"I thought you could afford a better place."

Stephen was right. You were all fucked.

"I thought you're old enough not to play with food."

Rio laughed at the remark. You almost forgot that sound.  You recognized her immediately. Sure the clothes were different, hair, eyes were greener than you remembered.

There was no point in the book you were holding. You started remembering that spells never worked against Rio.

"What are you doing here?" She noticed your gesture of peace. No fight tonight.

"Making sure that you're keeping the monster on the leash."

"oh, it's so much fun not being a monster in this scenario." Rio smiled like a child who finally got her approval.

"It's not about you." You suddenly felt tired. You had this talk before. Each century you were alive.

"It's about you." Rio chose to come closer.

"Is that a holster under your jacket?"

"Yeah, Agatha is in her Swedish crime show period. You like it?"

Rio got rid of her jacket, which simply disappeared in thin air. Brunette always loved theatricality.

"Sure." You were not planning for her to be in your space. You tried to step aside.

"No, no, no." Rio grabbed your hand. "You wanted to talk, let's talk."

You noticed the green light. No doubt her crown was a reminder of her power. Her cosmic power, her power over you.

"Leave the covenless witch alone." You whispered. Oh, but Rio heard every word. She smirked.

"or else?" you could feel her magic all over you.

You formed the fireball in your palm. Light was dancing in Rio's eyes.

"oh, isn't it our favorite foreplay?" witch mimicked your move with her free hand. Green rose appeared. "I missed this."

She let go of you and offered the flower. You took it.

You started remembering. Once it was like this. Every day. You almost forgot why you were here.

"leave Agatha as she is." You still were looking at the flower. It was flawless. Created by nature itself.

"really?" Rio groaned. "if I had known you'd care about her so much I'd lure her into darkness ages ago."

You could hear the hurt in her voice. It wasn't a distraction from her plan. She turned to the door. You flicked your wrist. Thin line of fire appeared around Rio's neck.

"I can't kill you. But I can definitely slow you down."

"till your sorcerer comes?" Rio laughed. She tilted her head and it was enough for you to hit the wall. If she wanted to you'd never get up again.

"Let's have a deal. You give me one date and I give you one more day of bound covenless witch."

___

This idea was so wrong. With Rio you never had courtship per se. The day you met she stayed with you. It was always about the sparks that amplified the worst in both of you.

You needed to know Rio's plan. You needed to win yourself some time.

This time Rio didn't invite herself In. You opened the door. This time it was a bouquet of flowers that never even existed. No doubt, Rio created them only for you.

This time it was a green suit. Always on brand.

Of course she was driving. It was the most human thing you ever saw her doing.

"Where are we going?"

"We'll drink and watch the wolves howl at the full moon."

"There are no wolves here."

"I brought a few with me."

___

"Why did you leave me?" it was her first question after the awkward silence.

You were sitting on the branches that Rio lowered for you. Pack of white wolves was playing in front of you, occasionally asking for attention.

"Is that important?"

"don't mortals talk about their experiences, share feelings?"

"you're not a mortal."

"tonight I am."

You shrugged. You had to play this game.

"I was tired of being… A villain." whiskey was still burning your throat after all these years.

"I never asked you to."

"you never did. But you sure as hell were reminding me every day of who I was. With you I've forgotten the weight of my choices. With you everything was just a game…"

You felt her touch on your skin. Rio guided you towards her. You remembered this. She kissed you like this before. Many moons like this ago.

She was gentle. Always was. You just forgot it.

"You were never a game."

"And you were always thriving on chaos.",

You stood up. Immediately one of the wolves ran towards you. He was friendly, but like with Rio you were not sure he wasn't trained to pretend.

"Why do you need a covenless witch?"

"Is it important right now? It's always about the balance."

"Right. And a few witches you can take for yourself."

Greens started wrapping around your waist and arms. Rio was calling you. Slowly you let them drag you to her. You used to play like this. You used to allow her this.

"Give me another date and you'll get another day."

___

The next day you went to her house. She recreated the garden you once had. With her powers it was so much easier.

"Remember how we used to play with reality?"

"Yes."

Rio remembered every single of your creations. She was attentive to details. You did play with reality. Both of you. You were luring your enemies into scenarios that could never be real. And after that Rio was feasting on them.

"Exactly like now you're playing with Agatha. You always protected your deal with her."

You preferred this Rio more. With the crown, with the flowers in the dress. It was her element.

"She's an effective killer. That's it."

"And what about the boy?"

"And what about your peaceful life?" Rio squeezed grapes and the wine poured in glasses. She offered you one.

"It is expectedly peaceful."

"Sounds boring. Maybe that's why you're here. With me? Missed the fun?"

What did she want to hear from you? You never cared about fun. You missed her. You missed your lover, your partner, your chosen one. You missed your garden. It was never fun. It was always you destroying everyone with fire.

Rio threw her Chalice on the ground. Wine turned into flowers. Again she was too close. She was behind you. She was seducing you with her breath on your neck.

"Rio…" You tried not to give in so easily. "I'm here because…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the greater good." She was playing with your hair, whispering right into your soul. "It's all about not letting Agatha and the kid get their powers."

Her fingers were studying your heartbeat. She always thought that this curious mortal sound was only for her.

You only inhaled sharply. When you agreed to Stephen's plea you knew all about the risk. But you thought you were stronger than this.

"Let go of me."

When did her fingers travel to your neck? You didn't notice. Your whole body was tingling. Your soul was aching for her. You were alone for so long.

"You don't want this."

Of course you didn't. But Rio had no right to say it out loud.

___

Your third date was an unspoken agreement. You cooked. More for yourself, than for Rio. Old book of recipes reminded you of the hardships of trying to live amongst ordinary people.

"Candles are not lit."  Oh, that smug face. Rio always adored seeing your deadly powers in the most boring situations.

Table was between you this time.  You hoped it would help. It would give you a chance to win some time.

You tilted your head. Instead of candles - the fireplace became playful.  You disobeyed. In a very small detail, but Rio noticed.

This time the silence was longer, heavier. She wasn't eating. she wasn't playing.

"Do you ever miss your mortal family?"

"I do."

"What's it like?"

Rio never respected the concept of privacy. But those were the rules. You had to talk.

"Don't you know? Were you not there when both my husband and daughter died in my arms?"

You stood up for another bottle. Rio followed you to the kitchen.

"Did they… Did they give you what I couldn't?"

"They taught me once again to care about life. Respect the time. They reminded me that you're supposed to exist not only for your own sake."

You didn't admit that you barely remembered their faces. That the pain was almost gone. That for you it was just a fleeting moment. You already didn't remember whether it was real or not.

"Well, I remind everyone exactly this. But with you it's chaos, right?"

You could swear you saw a tear. Was Rio even capable of this? After all the time. all the damage. all the emptiness.

You pulled her closer. You wanted only to remind her that it was never her fault. You desperately wanted to remind her of that. You were clawing deeper and deeper into her. Biting. scratching, kissing whatever skin you could get.

You were tearing the silk. You pushed her against the kitchen aisle. It was always the chaos. But chaos that you wanted and were thriving for.

Now the chaos suddenly wanted to submit. You didn't expect that.

"I missed this." you were murmuring in her ear. You were ready to get on your knees for her. When did your hunger appear again? This time it was different. No burned land, no fallen trees, no skars and marks of struggle.

It was different this time. It took more than a hundred years for Rio to finally feel regret.

You didn't notice how you got into the bedroom. How clothes weren't yours anymore.

She took care of you. Rio always wanted only this.

___

The next day you didn't want to open your eyes. What if Rio wasn't there? Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm here."

Rio was watching you. She looked tense. She was sitting in the armchair, which now resembled the throne. She pointed to the cup of coffee on your bedside table.

"Charming as usual."

"We don't have much time, baby." And there it was. Your nickname. "Kid is coming tonight. We need to be there."

"Oh, no, no. I'm not letting you…"

"It's about the kid. Not a covenless witch. He needs to come with me. And you will make sure it happens. Isn't this what sorcerers want?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you'll have to join the road. Come baby, we don't have much time." she gave you a peck on the cheek. "It's gonna be like the old times."

You sighed. Yeah, this was going to be an adventure. You simply hoped that this night you saw the real Rio. And after this night you would stay the same.

[tlbodine]

So, Things Are Terrible and You Want to DO SOMETHING

The election is over and, ah...did not go well. While a lot of folks are doing a post mortem of the campaigns and trying to understand what happened with the vote and fighting over who shoulders the blame, we've gotta turn an eye toward the future and figure out, okay fam, where the fuck do we go from here.

I don't have all the answers on this, and I'm not an authority by any means, I'm just a horror author with a blog. But I've been thinking a lot about it and I wanted to share my thought process with others who might want to DO SOMETHING but feel they're spinning their wheels.

Buckle in. This will be a long one.

Step One: Understand the actual risks and stakes.

I think it is very easy to start panicking now about the worst possible case scenario -- jackbooted military busting into the door to disappear everyone who ever said something mean about Trump or bought a banned book or something -- and let fear turn into inaction.

I'm not saying things can't get that bad, and I'm not saying that it won't be absolutely terrifying right out the gate for some particularly at-risk groups -- but the distance between "now" and "V for Vendetta" is long and filled with a lot of intermediary steps. There will be so many opportunities to prevent the worst case scenario.

I say this because, if your mental image of "Bad Things Happening" is The Purge, it will be easy to wake up on inauguration day, look outside to see that the world is not on fire, think, hey, maybe things will be okay after all, and then completely disengage. Alternatively, you might feel so frozen with terror at the possibility of persecution that you do nothing. This is why people are saying: don't obey in advance.

It is essential for those of us with more privilege to use it to take care of those who are more vulnerable.

So. Who is most vulnerable? What does that vulnerability actually mean? What are the most likely risks of Trump's presidency? Here's a Guardian article that I think does a good job of summarizing some of the main issues. Go read that, then come back here.

Step Two: Take steps to protect yourself

You've gotta put your oxygen mask on first, right? So before you start getting involved in other causes, figure out what risks YOU are at, immediately, and do as much as you can to secure yourself. Some potential action steps depending on your circumstance may include:

Renewing your passport (helpful for leaving the country, but also for gender/name change purposes)

Getting vaccines / boosters

Securing birth control

Ensuring your necessary papers (birth certificates etc.) are where you have access to them.

Drawing up legal paperwork for spouses/partners (always a good idea, a helpful safety measure in case you lose marriage rights)

Bolstering your data privacy and online security. Here's a step-by-step guide I found that could help with that.

The specific steps you need to take here depend on what risks you, personally, face. You'll want to do some more research into this for your particular scenario.

No matter who you are, though, it's probably a good idea to start saving money and being a little more conservative with your spending and/or pay down debts to free up some cash. You don't know what kind of emergency may befall you, and having spare money for an emergency is never a bad idea.

There is a possibility that the cost of many things you rely on might go up, if Trump goes through with his tariffs plan. You will want to plan for that.

Food costs may also rise due to tariffs (we import a lot of food from Mexico and Latin America for example) as well as a loss of immigrant labor. There is also a possibility that food safety standards could fall due to overturning regulations. Now would be a good time to look into local food resources like farm share/CSA, community farms, etc., and to stock up on a few key staples like rice and beans.

Okay. Now that YOU are reasonably safe...what can you do to protect your community?

Step Three: Get Involved

Here is your mission: You need to stay engaged enough to know what's going on, without burning yourself out or exhausting yourself, and to take actual decisive actions instead of wasting your energy arguing on the internet.

Got that? Okay. Good. Here are some action steps:

Support independent journalism. Subscribe to local papers, donate to and watch public broadcast programming. I signed up for news from ProPublica, for example, as well as the news-roundup service What The Fuck Just Happened Today. The goal is to stay informed without falling down an endless rabbit hole of upsetting information.

Share news and resources with others in your circle. This can be a good use of social media. It's what I am doing right now!

If it is safe for you to do so, challenge and educate your friends/family members/neighbors/coworkers. Only if it is safe for you to do so. Do not put yourself at risk doing this. And do not waste your time arguing with people who are unlikely to change. But if you have well-meaning people in your life who you think could be won over, look for opportunities to do this - the right way. I've had some success with this, I will probably write a guide about it in the future. In the meantime, here's a good article that can help.

Join local grassroots activism groups. You'll have to do some work to decide what groups to join and which causes you want to support, because you cannot do everything. But there are tons of organizations taking direct action in all kinds of causes. Search "grassroots [cause] activists in [where you live]" to start finding things. Once you get involved in one group, you might meet people who can introduce you to other groups and causes. Yes, this means you will have to go outside and meet people. I'm sorry.

Join direct action groups. Same concept as above. You'll have to search in your area but once you know people it'll be easier to find more opportunities. Some of these groups may overlap. You might find direct action opportunities by engaging politically and vice versa. GO OUTSIDE AND TALK TO PEOPLE WHO ARE DOING THINGS TO HELP.

Get involved in local politics. Here are some quick tips. A lot of things are affected at the city level - stuff like book bans and bathroom bills are often battled first at local libraries and schools, and you can be part of those conversations! Sheriffs are elected and can have a big influence on local policing. Local elections affect how tax dollars are spent, how homeless populations are treated, and lots more. Don't snooze on local elections. Get involved and stay involved.

Look up your representatives. Get in the habit of calling, emailing, and writing letters. Figure out what legislature is being passed and then call your reps and harangue them about it - both to support bills you approve of and shoot down ones you don't. Sign petitions. Join email campaigns. Here's one you can go sign right now from the ACLU. See? Not that scary.

I think a lot of people figure that getting involved in politics doesn't matter or that it's all small potatoes but...man. The president is not god, no matter what he thinks. The sitting administration is not the sole power in the universe. There is an entire machine of government we can lean upon and act upon.

Finally, some general safety notes:

Some forms of direct action are not legal. Take steps to be safe if you choose to partake. Follow the lead of more seasoned activists for what forms of communication to use and so forth.

If you're not willing or able to put yourself at legal risk to act, you can help others by donating to bail funds and legal defense funds.

We've already seen this in some areas, and it will only get uglier - some bad actors are feeling emboldened by the change in regime and will misbehave. It's a good idea to learn some self-defense skills, in whatever way is comfortable to you, and brush up on some tenets of victimology that can help you stay safe. I'll write more about that in the future.

All right. That's all for now. It's by no means comprehensive...but should hopefully help you get started taking the next step. Stay safe out there.

[wonderjanga]

I Want My Money.

Billy likes money, he’s said this before, but nearly all the time, money is tight. So, it’s rare when he’ll lend someone a buck or two, and when he lends them a buck, he expects that buck paid back in full.

Marvel: “Ah, Flash! You haven’t paid me back yet. I kinda need my money.” *all kind and nice*

Flash: “Huh? Oh yeah. Don’t worry, man. I got ya.”

Later…

Marvel: *a little more impatiently* “Flash? My twenty? You uh still haven’t gotten it for me.”

Flash: “Yeah dude. I’ll get it to you.”

Even more later…

Marvel: *annoyed* “Flash.” *speaking through grit teeth* “Flash get me my twenty dollars. Now.” *hands on Flash’s shoulders*

Flash: *kinda scared cause he hasn’t seen Marvel ever really show anger* “Dude, I said I’d get it for you.”

Marvel: “Yeah, now. Get it for me now. Please.”

Flash: “I- uh- I’ll be right back.” *zooms off and comes back with a twenty* “Here, man.”

Marvel: *super smiley and normal again* “Thanks, Flash.” *takes the money and walks off like nothing happened*

Flash: “No problem…” *whiplashed at the sudden change*

Wally had like no idea what to make of this interaction. The man was so generous. He didn’t think he’d be this pressed about twenty dollars. Like for example, they found space rock that could’ve been sold for millions apparently and he just gave it all to Wally like it was nothing. (Billy had no idea where to sell it. Bros never heard of eBay, not that he has an electronic device to use it on) But twenty dollars? Wow. Wally didn’t know if Marvel needed his priorities straight or what. All the speedster knew was that he was never gonna cross Marvel about money again. It’s honestly his bad anyways.

Then there was the one time Adam owed him five dollars. Don’t ask him why he lent him the money. Billy now recognizes it was a moment of weakness.

Black Adam and Marvel: *fighting*

Marvel: *stops fighting* “Dude, are you going to pay me back my money?”

Black Adam: *also stops fighting* “What are you talking about? What money?”

Marvel: “My money? Y’know, the five dollars I lent you?”

Black Adam: “Five dollars- I’m not paying you back for that!”

Marvel: “That’s common courtesy, man!”

Black Adam: “I don’t care! I’d rather die than repay you for anything!”

Black Adam didn’t really expect for this to backfire on him. As a result of not paying back a measly five dollars, Adam was met with Marvel appearing in his palace at the ass crack of dawn, demanding his money.

Black Adam: *honestly a little surprised Marvel came to Kahndaq because he’s never really came to the country before* “You do realize you’re breaching my country’s national security-”

Marvel: “I DON’T CARE. Teth, give me my money.”

Black Adam: “You’re willing to risk my country dissolving into war with your country over five dollars?”

Marvel: “Yes? Money. Now.” *makes grabby hands*

Black Adam: “Bumbling idiot…” *massages temples* “I’m not paying you back! How difficult is it to get that through your thick skull?!”

Billy did not like that answer. So now, the Justice League and everyone who had the pleasure of being online the day after this incident were met with a video of Marvel beating on Adam harsher than they, or anyone else for that matter had even seen before.

Marvel: “JUST GIVE ME MY MONEY!”

Black Adam: “NO!”

In the end, Billy still didn’t get his money. And this actually wasn’t because Adam didn’t want to pay, but rather Adam’s country doesn’t use American dollars so he went there, beat up their leader, and basically did it all for nothing. Honestly looking back at it, Billy didn’t really know what he was expecting. Neither his nor Adam suits have pockets, so he kind of doubts that he had a wallet to hold money in the first place. He was honestly just glad Adam, for whatever reason, didn’t follow through on his promise to go to war with America.

So yeah… in conclusion, Billy Batson can, and will crash out over five dollars.

[flameblade3]

I looked through the gateway home, a one way trip back to the life I fought so hard to return to. The demon even told me it could roll back the clock, should I choose, make it be like none of this ever happened, like I only left for a minute. I looked back at the motley crew that had accompanied me all this way. The people who talked so much about saving this world from some vile demon king. But, here he was, giving me all I wanted with no strings attached.

“I can tell you the truth of this world, should you wish to hear it. It may help in your decision.” The demon spoke once more.

Our wizard shouted in return “silence, cur! We shall not listen to another word you have to say! You shall fall here and now”

I was the fighter, the protector, the shield. Without me they were nearly defenseless. I stepped forward, and gestured for the demon to proceed. With a wave of his hand, he summoned a barrier between me and my party, sealing off all sound as well. He began to explain:

“This world is vile in nature. Powerful mages spirit away people from their lives and bring them here to serve arbitrary roles in a never ending story. People brought here gradually lose their memories of home along with their desire to return, but you were different. Your love for your wife and children kept your memories safe. I am one of the few remaining entities with the ability to free people from this world, return them home like nothing happened, that is why you were sent to destroy me. I have no desire to destroy this world, only to free the people taken here against their will. So allow me to free you, please.” The demon bowed and gestured to the gateway.

I looked back, my party furiously attacking, banging, screaming at the barrier the demon put between us. I felt nothing but apathy for them. I just wanted to go home. But… something tugged at my heart. There were others, many others, taken from their lives just like I was. I knew I wanted to help in any way I could, so long as I could still see my wife and kids again.

“Is there any way I can return here?” I asked

“I’m sorry?” The demon king was taken aback, “why would you want to return to this place?”

“You said there were others. If I can, I want to help free them as well, and maybe strike down these mages that have been spiriting good people away from their lives” I gripped my blade with new vigor, a desire to protect people I truly would care about burned within me.

“I understand, and am deeply moved.” The demon created a ball of light and guided it towards me. “That amulet will glow should I need your assistance. Hold it tightly in front of you and a gateway back here will open. For now, I bid you farewell, good knight. Return to your family, I will deal with your party.”

“Thank you…” was all I could muster. I took off my armor, piece by piece. Dropped my sword and shield at my feet and stepped over them, clutching the amulet tight. I stepped through the gate, the last thing I saw on that side was lesser demons taking my gear elsewhere, and was met with the smiling faces of my family.

You've been summoned to another world, "destined" to save it. Except you're a mom/dad who just wants to get home. At the end, the BBEG offers to send you home. No tricks those really are your kids. Now everyone is saying your selfish for wanting to leave. Except you're not selfish. They are.

[rizsu]

megumi fushiguro x reader 𓂃 drabble.

+ love, ‘su: what happens when your friend's brother is your type? flirting! not beta read mb

“can i date your brother?”

“that loser?!”

a smile works up your face, signaling to your friend that you are half joking and half serious. truth be told, you've been eyeing her brother for a while. he's awkward around you, messy hair that never seems to settle, gentle with touching, and not to mention his honey-glazed voice.

“go ahead. i was beginning to question him anyway.”

and just like that, you began plotting. the frequency of your visits to the fushiguro's increased tenfold, and so did the eye contact between you and megumi.

whenever your eyes caught his, you'd flash him a sweet smile, softening your eyes at him.

unfortunately, megumi can't reciprocate. he's malfunctioning on spot, bringing the back of his hand to cover him biting his lips, and the blush that creeps up whenever you're provoking him.

days upon days of subtle flirting turn into weeks. eventually, megumi got used to your advances. he's even mustered up the courage to answer you back.

little did he know that his improvements would crumble within one night. all the research on how to flirt back, questioning his sister about you, hearting your posts on social media washed down the drain.

—

it's not unusual to see megumi at the gym. he's a guy that cares a lot for his lean figure. abs that aren't too prominent, biceps that aren't big, but you can see them when he's in a tank top, and slightly toned thighs. he believes it's the perfect combination for himself.

besides this, all confidence is lost when you walk in the gym. what are you doing here? fuck knows why— you're unpredictable.

he's on the treadmill, getting his minutes in while he pretends he's not looking at you through his peripheral vision. it's obvious your destination is right beside him.

suddenly getting eight-minutes on the treadmill doesn't seem impossible. surely not when he's trying his best to not look at you.

your stare burns into him, heating his body as if you placed a fraction of the sun inside him. your eyes trail along his body, admiring his build. it's coincidentally just in line with your taste.

“you're drenched in sweat.” throwing the hand towel over your shoulder, you put a hand on your hip.

“y-yeah. been at it for an hour.” slowing his pace, he replies to you, taking in deep breaths whenever he can.

“the treadmill?!”

coming to a stop, he steps off the treadmill, taking your towel to assist himself.

“no, i meant the entire workout.”

your face contorted in disbelief at the sight of your towel being dirtied.

megumi pays no mind to your expressions, enjoying the satisfaction of being semi-dry instead of beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his face.

the satisfaction ends when he felt a finger poke his chest, then it slid down the middle of his torso, stopping right above his belly button.

you giggle at his reaction. finding it amusing the way he tensed up at your touch.

“well, aren't you fit.” you teased, smiling at him.

megumi scoffs, grabbing your wrist with his hand. his grip is firm — ensuring that you won't be able to wiggle your hand out.

“how long are you going to do this, y/n?”

“do what?” feigning innocence, you shrugged at him.

at that point, he breaks. he's fed up and hates it when he's placed in guessing games. it's either you commit to the bit, or leave him alone — okay, no. he doesn't want you to leave him alone, but you get the point.

lowering his head to your ears, he whispers, “you know what i'm talking about.”

has his voice always been that deep? you wondered to yourself, ignoring the chills his whisper sent.

you turn your head away from him, bringing yourself back to reality.

“then do something about it.”

“you've got quite the tongue, y/n.”

“thanks, i got it from my mother!” your quick remarks are back, but you're still avoiding eye contact.

maybe it's the fact that he's obviously irritated—or maybe it's his now see-through tank top that's making it impossible for you to continue your usual endeavours.

annoyed, megumi leans back, rolling his shoulders. his hand's still holding your wrist, and the other's settled in his sweatpant's pocket.

“let's go back.” a heavy sigh left him.

“but i just got here!” you refused to leave.

“you already saw what you came for. it's time to go, y/n.”

he walked forward, pulling you behind him. the irritated feeling long replaced by the heartbeat that's booming in his ears. tonight's the night one of you will become victorious.

[redroomreflections]

At The End of The Night

Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

The Loud House Universe

Warnings: Smut Inside - Minors DNI (18+)

Note: I hope y'all enjoy

Summary: Wanda has always been a third in Reader and Nat's relationship. Why not take it to the next level?

W/c: 5k

It felt strange, in a good way, for the house to be this quiet. You were seated on the couch, sandwiched between Wanda and Natasha, as the soft TV light bathed the room in dim, darting light. Cara was away at a sleepover with friends, leaving you and Natasha with the rare opportunity for a quiet night. Of course, inviting Wanda over for a movie night was a given.

People always joked that Wanda was the third in your marriage, and while that was only half true, the three of you shared a bond unlike any other. When Wanda joined the team, you were the first person to make her feel welcome, and she was someone who quickly found her place in your lives. You and Wanda immediately hit it off, bonding over a few common interests and quickly building a friendship that became as easy as family. Wanda was a person you trusted with pretty much everything. She's someone you both cared about deeply.

Now, nestled together under a heavy blanket, Wanda gave an exaggerated sigh as she leaned her head against the pillows. “I’m just saying, if he wanted her back, he could have tried a little harder than just showing up at her work with a bouquet,” she scoffed, her eyes never leaving the screen.

Natasha smirked on your other side. “It’s a rom-com. If it made sense, it wouldn’t be half as entertaining,” she said, sipping her wine. She draped an arm casually over the back of the couch, stroking the back of your neck with the tip of her fingers.

You sighed softly at the sensation, the wine, and the heat of their bodies, making you feel content and comfortable. Wanda shifted, and her thigh pressed against yours. The movie was coming to an end, and you were buzzed. It was a good feeling.

"I need more wine," You announced.

"Oh no, you don't," Natasha gripped your glass out of arms' reach. "You get too frisky when you're drunk."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," You scoffed.

"It is when we have guests," Natasha gestured to Wanda. "You've been rubbing my leg this entire movie."

You hadn't even noticed. "Sorry, Wands," You apologized.

"No, I'm used to it," Wanda waved her hand, dismissing your concerns.

"Used to it?" You frowned.

Wanda nodded. "You're not subtle. You always do the same things when you're drunk, which isn't often. You guys are very touchy-feely." She teased, laughing a little as she looked between you and Natasha. "Not that it's a bad thing."

"Sorry if that makes you uncomfortable," Natasha apologized.

"It's fine," Wanda promised. "It's a nice change, actually. Everyone is so formal, and everyone always wants something from me. You guys are the only ones who make me feel... Normal. It's nice."

"We'll always be here for you," You smiled. "You're sweet."

She smiled back at you.

“You don’t have to be anyone but yourself with us. And if you ever feel uncomfortable, just say the word.” You told her.

Wanda smiled, glancing down. “You guys are the best,” she said, looking up with a hint of bashfulness. “I guess I’ve always wondered what that would feel like—to have someone you could just be yourself around all the time.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Natasha before gently nudging Wanda with your shoulder. “It’ll happen for you, too, you know. Some lucky person out there will love you for exactly who you are.”

Wanda chuckled, her cheeks turning a little pink. “You both make it look so easy, though. How do you even start with all of this… relationship stuff?”

"Have you not been in one?" Natasha raised a brow.

"No, not really. There was a guy back home, but he was a jerk. And I was so busy, and then there was Ultron and Sokovia, and..." Wanda trailed off, shaking her head. "It's always seemed like a luxury."

"It's not. It's an incredible experience." You said, smiling to yourself as you glanced at your wife.

"And the sex is a bonus," Natasha grinned.

Wanda rolled her eyes. "I'm sure."

"What?" You frowned, a little confused. "Are you a virgin?"

"No, no," Wanda shook her head. "I've slept with a man before, but..."

"But what?" Natasha frowned.

"I've never slept with a woman," Wanda explained.

"Would you like to?" You tilted your head.

"With whom?" Wanda's eyes widened.

"Well, not necessarily now," You shook your head. You licked your lips and thought it over. "But we could help you practice if you'd like."

"Practice?"

"Sure," Natasha nodded. "There's no reason for you to have a bad first time."

"I'm not asking for a pity-fuck," Wanda rolled her eyes. She sighed. "I should probably get home."

"Or you could stay?" You suggested, looking over to Natasha for backup. "If you want."

Natasha nodded in agreement. "It's a big bed, and you could have the spare room if you'd rather have privacy. But, no pressure."

"Yeah," You agreed. "It doesn't have to be anything weird. I mean, not unless you want it to be."

Wanda stared at you both briefly, her brow creasing a little. "So, what, I'll come to sleep with you guys, and you'll make me feel good?"

"If that's what you want, yes," You nodded. "And if not, we'll still be here for you."

"Why?"

"Because we're your friends and care about you," Natasha shrugged. "We're offering because we'd like to, but if you're not interested, that's fine, too."

Wanda looked at the both of you for a moment, a little taken aback. You felt a little guilty. You hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable.

"What would we do?" She finally asked.

"Whatever you'd like. Whatever makes you feel good," Natasha assured her.

"I'm sorry," Wanda shook her head. She brushed a hand over her face to collect her thoughts. "Maybe I've had too much to drink. Are you guys being serious?"

"Yes," You nodded.

"Okay, hold on. Let me process," Wanda put up her hands.

You and Natasha exchanged another glance, not wanting to make the younger woman feel awkward.

"I'm going to grab more wine," Natasha announced, standing up. "Be right back."

"You can ask questions," You said, reaching over and squeezing her hand.

"I-I'm not sure what to ask," She admitted.

"How do you feel about it?"

"A little embarrassed," Wanda chuckled nervously. "But also a little curious."

"What's embarrassing about it?"

"It's not something that's normally talked about, is it? People don't go around bragging about how much they want to fuck their friends." She explained, dropping her hands to her lap. "You two are generous for the offer, but I don't want to be someone intruding on your marriage."

"It's only intruding if we say no and you push," You reminded her. "Which is the same for you. If you say no, we won't push."

There was a long pause from her. She hadn't said no yet.

Wanda sighed softly, running a hand through her hair. "I'm afraid I won't be good. What if I fumble, or what if it's awkward and..."

"Then we'll have a laugh and call it a day. I promise." You reassured her.

Wanda bit her lip, and you watched her eyes dart from the door to you and back to the door. Finally, she turned to look at you again.

"What would you want to do with me?" She asked, her voice a little softer. Instead of telling her, you decided to show her. You scooted closer to her on the couch, raising your hands to her face before leaning in to press your lips against hers. Her lips were soft, and her skin was warm. She melted into the kiss, her shoulders relaxing as she brought a hand up to touch your face. You pulled away for a moment, gauging her reaction. Her lips were slightly parted, and her cheeks flushed, but she said nothing.

"Come here," You whispered. This kiss was more sensual. Mainly for her benefit and partly because you'd wanted to taste her for a while. You sucked on her bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from the young woman.

"I can see why you're a married woman," Wanda whispered.

"I've got some moves," You smirked.

"So do I," Wanda replied, suddenly pulling you back in. Her lips were hungry and insistent, and her tongue flicked against yours, drawing another soft moan from the depths of your throat.

"I leave for two minutes," Natasha sighed. She had three filled wine glasses balancing in her hands. "I take it you're up for the offer."

"I'm still considering," Wanda replied, though her eyes were glued to your lips. "We should discuss this over wine."

Natasha grinned. "Good plan. Here's your glass." She handed Wanda the red wine before sitting next to you. She reached for the remote, flicked the TV off, and plunged the room into semi-darkness. Only the soft glow from the kitchen light illuminated the living room.

Wanda gulped down her glass of wine as you looked at her amusedly. When her glass was empty, she softly set it on the table. "Are you guys in an open marriage?"

"No," Natasha answered. "Not open. We just like you."

"I'm not a homewrecker," Wanda insisted.

"It's not a wreck if we want to share," You said.

Wanda took a deep breath, looking between you and Natasha. She chewed on her bottom lip as she contemplated your proposition. You could tell she was nervous but also intrigued.

"If it's too much, we can stop whenever you want," Natasha reminded her.

"Can I kiss you?" Wanda asked her.

"I'd be upset if you didn't."

Wanda's lips crashed against Natasha's. Their lips locked, their tongues meeting as the two women explored each other. The sight was breathtaking, and you could feel the arousal growing within you.

You took a long sip of your wine, watching them. There were key differences in how you kissed and Natasha kissed. Natasha was more hands-on with her kissing, opting to feel whatever part of your body she could get her hands on. You could see them twitch in her lap out of the corner of your eye. Her kisses were confident and sensual. They left no doubt in your mind about what her intentions were.

Wanda's hands rested against your thighs, occasionally gripping them. She was less intense and more curious. Her kisses were tentative, exploring the other woman's mouth slowly and deliberately. She clearly felt for Natasha, and you wondered if the redhead knew. It was a dangerous line to cross, but you were not giving up this opportunity.

You couldn't help but wonder if this was how Natasha felt the first time the two of you had sex. Seeing the two of them together was thrilling and a little surreal.

Natasha was the one to break the kiss. She pulled away with a sigh, licking her lips as she looked over at you.

"You've got good taste," She smirked.

"So do you," You winked.

"How far do we want to take this?" Natasha asked, looking over at Wanda. "The ball is in your court."

"I have some ideas," Wanda blushed. "But I'm a little afraid."

"Do you want to be the one getting fucked?" You asked.

"Yes," Wanda nodded.

"Do you want to fuck Natasha, or do you want her to fuck you?"

"I-I... I want you to fuck me," Wanda said.

"That can be arranged," You winked.

"And do you want me to watch, or do you want me to join?" Natasha asked, her fingers dancing along Wanda's arm.

"Whatever you'd like," Wanda said softly.

"We have plans for you yet," You rested a hand on the small of her waist. "I hope this is okay."

"This is great," Wanda said, leaning back as you kissed her neck. "Just different. I'm not used to being treated this way."

"Well, you deserve it," Natasha purred. "And so does my wife. She likes it a little rough. How do you like it?"

"I'm not sure," Wanda admitted. "I've only had sex a couple of times, and it wasn't amazing."

"Oh, honey," Natasha cooed. "We'll take good care of you. That's a promise."

"Okay," Wanda breathed.

"Come here," You grabbed her by the waist, pulling her over onto your lap. You kissed her gently, trying to soothe her. You didn't want her to feel uncomfortable or pressured; the last thing you wanted was for her to feel like an intruder.

Wanda moaned into your mouth as your tongue found hers, the tension in her shoulders gradually melting away. Your fingers crept under the hem of her shirt, gently rubbing the soft skin of her lower back.

"Do you want to take this to the bedroom?" Natasha asked.

"Yes," Wanda nodded, breaking the kiss and climbing off your lap. Natasha took her hand, leading her to the bedroom as you trailed. The room was dark and cool. She set Wanda up on the edge of the bed.

"I want to see you two kiss," She blushed.

"Oh, does that turn you on?"

"It always has," She nodded.

Natasha smirked. "Then we should oblige." She turned and kissed you, her hands cupping your face. Her lips were soft, and the taste of wine lingered on her tongue.

"Mm," Wanda hummed.

You'd wanted Natasha's hands on your body all night. She sucked on your tongue, drawing a soft moan from the depths of your throat.

"Fuck, that's hot," Wanda whimpered.

You smiled into the kiss, feeling Natasha's lips pull up at the corners. You broke the kiss and pulled her close, your bodies pressing against each other.

"Your turn," You said, gesturing towards Wanda. "Go easy on her."

"Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise," Natasha replied, her green eyes sparkling.

"Are you gonna strip, or are you waiting for me to do it?" Wanda teased.

Natasha laughed, walking over to the young woman and sitting beside her. She placed a hand on her thigh and leaned in, kissing her. This time, there was no hesitation.

Natasha kissed her hungrily, her fingers tracing circles against her bare skin. Wanda moaned softly, her body shivering. She broke the kiss, looking up at Natasha through thick lashes.

"Are you alright?" Natasha asked.

"More than," Wanda nodded.

"Can I touch you?"

"Please."

Natasha's hand trailed up her thigh and slipped underneath her shirt. Her hand found the soft cup of her bra as she used her thumb to tease Wanda's nipple through the material. To Wanda, it was perfect foreplay, but you knew better. Natasha was gauging Wanda's sensitivity. She did not disappoint.

"Mmm," Wanda sighed, her back arching slightly to get more feeling. "Fuck, that feels good."

"Does it?" Natasha smirked, continuing to rub the fabric. Wanda's nipple was hardening and beginning to peek out.

"Yes," Wanda whimpered.

"You want more?"

"Please."

Natasha's fingers slipped beneath her bra, her fingertips brushing against the soft, sensitive skin. Wanda moaned, her body jerking a little.

"Fuck, that's so good," Wanda whined.

"You like having your nipples played with, don't you?" Natasha purred.

"Y-yes," Wanda breathed.

Natasha smirked. "Good to know."

She kissed her again, her lips hungry and demanding. Wanda melted into the kiss, her body sinking into the mattress. You used that moment of distraction to begin unbuttoning Wanda's jeans. Your fingers made quick work of the buttons and zipper.

"Lift up for me, baby," You requested.

Wanda raised her hips, letting you slide the denim down her legs. You tossed them to the side, leaving her in her panties and her bra.

Natasha finally broke the kiss, and Wanda gasped for air. "You're so beautiful," Natasha murmured, eyes scanning the younger woman's body. "And you taste so sweet."

Wanda blushed. "Thank you," She said shyly.

"My turn," You grinned, kneeling between her thighs.

"Your wife has good ideas," Wanda hummed.

You spread Wanda's legs for her, noting the wet patch on the front of her underwear. Your mouth watered at the sight.

"You've been wanting this for a while," You mused as you approached her. You used your knuckle to brush against the wet spot finding her clit with ease.

"Shit," Wanda gasped.

You smirked at the reaction.

"I'd ask you what you were thinking, but I think it's fairly obvious." You teased, rubbing slow, firm circles around her clit.

Wanda moaned, her body writhing beneath you. "F-fuck."

"Don't make her come so fast," Natasha warned as she pinched Wanda's nipples between her fingers.

"Sorry, babe," You smirked, pulling your hand away.

Wanda let out a soft whimper at the sudden loss of contact.

"We can't have that," Natasha purred. She moved her hands from Wanda's chest and slid her fingers underneath the waistband of her underwear. "Lift up for me, pretty girl."

Wanda obeyed, raising her hips once again. Natasha hooked her fingers around the fabric and tugged them down. She tossed them over her shoulder, her green eyes raking over Wanda's exposed skin.

"Fuck," Natasha muttered.

"What is it?" Wanda asked.

"You're just so... fucking gorgeous,"

"I didn't shave," Wanda apologized. "I didn't exactly plan for this."

"Doesn't matter," You shook your head. "Natasha, hold her." You raised your chin. Natasha immediately knew what you were asking of her. She moved across the bed and leaned back against the pillows and headboard. She patted the spot between her legs for Wanda to come and sit. Wanda leaned back against Natahsa's front.

You grabbed Wanda's thighs, pulling her down the bed and spreading her legs, her glistening pussy on display for you. You didn't hesitate to lean in and lap up her slit. Her taste exploded on your tongue, the sweet taste of her arousal coating your tastebuds.

"Fuuuuck," Wanda groaned.

"You're doing so good," Natasha murmured, her hands massaging Wanda's tits and belly.

You continued to lick her, her taste and scent surrounding you. You moaned softly, loving the way she writhed beneath you.

"Y-you're really good at that," Wanda panted, her body jerking and trembling. "MMM," She moaned softly.

You could feel her pussy getting wetter and wetter with each flick of your tongue.

"She's very skilled," Natasha chuckled.

"Oh, fuck," Wanda moaned, her head falling back. "Please."

You hummed softly, the vibration adding to her pleasure.

"Oh, please, oh," Wanda whimpered.

"She's really sensitive," Natasha mused. "Do you like that?" She asked.

"Y-yes, it feels amazing," Wanda stammered.

You smirked, swirling your tongue around her clit. Her thighs trembled in response, and you knew she was close.

"You don't know how long we've been wanting you," Natasha murmured into her ear. She nuzzled her neck with her nose.

"R-really?"

"You're gorgeous," Natasha murmured, her voice soft. "Of course."

"So are you," Wanda breathed.

"We could've done this so long ago," Natasha said, kissing her cheek.

Wanda didn't answer, and you weren't sure if she was even listening. Your tongue was buried deep in her pussy, and her legs were quivering. Natasha's hands moved to her thighs, forcing her to keep her legs open as you sucked her clit into your mouth.

"OH, oh, I'm going to..." She trailed off, her orgasm hitting her. Her body tensed, her legs trembling. You didn't stop, your tongue flicking over her sensitive nub.

"Mm," Natasha hummed.

Wanda's entire body tensed, and her back arched off the bed. You kept your tongue on her, tasting her orgasm as it flowed out of her.

"Shit," She panted.

"How was that?" You asked, finally pulling away.

"Good," She replied. "Amazing."

"We're not finished yet," Natasha said. "We're just getting started."

"You've been a really good girl," You smiled.

"Yeah?" Wanda asked, still trying to catch her breath.

"Yes," You nodded. "We've been talking about this for a while."

"You have?"

"Yes," Natasha smiled. "And now, you're all ours."

"Yes," Wanda nodded. She reached for you, pulling you to her and tasting herself on your tongue.

"I think she likes it," Natasha smirked.

"Yeah," You nodded.

"Can I touch you?"

"Sure," You shrugged. "Where do you want to touch me?"

"Everywhere," Wanda admitted. "Will you show me how to pleasure her?" She leaned her head onto Natasha's shoulder to see her eyes. The two of you shared a smirk. Wanda assumed that Natasha usually took a more dominant role in the bedroom. If only she'd seen you a couple nights ago, with Natasha begging you to fuck her as you made her come for the second time.

"Start with her neck," Natasha instructed. "And her ears. Those are two of her most sensitive areas."

Wanda followed her instructions. Her lips pressed against your neck, and her teeth grazed your earlobe.

"Mmm," You hummed, tilting your head to the side.

"That's good," Natasha praised.

"Do you want my shirt off?"

"Yes," Wanda nodded.

You reached down, pulling the shirt over your head. The cold air hit your bare skin, causing your arms and chest goosebumps.

"Now her nipples," Natasha murmured, watching Wanda closely.

Wanda nodded, her fingers finding your nipple and pinching it.

"Ooh," You gasped.

"She's more sensitive there than I am," Natasha explained.

"Not true," You moaned.

"Oh, hush," She smirked.

"Keep doing that," You urged as Wanda wrapped her lips around your nipple. You straddled her lap, effectively pinning her to Natasha as you looked into your wife's eyes.

"Look at her," Natasha smirked. "So pretty."

Wanda looked up at you, her lips still wrapped around your nipple. You cupped her cheek, smiling at her.

"Such a good girl," Natasha praised.

Wanda's eyes fluttered closed at the praise, her body melting into yours.

"She's perfect," Natasha murmured, her voice low.

"Mhmm," You agreed, running a hand through Wanda's hair.

Wanda's hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of your skin. She was so curious, so eager, and it made you smile.

"You're so sexy," Wanda said softly when her lips released your nipple with a pop. "Both of you."

"And so are you," Natasha cooed.

"You've got great boobs," Wanda hummed.

"Why thank you," You grinned.

"Do you mind if I kiss her again?"

"Go right ahead," Natasha replied.

Wanda pressed her lips against yours, her hands roaming your back.

"Do you want to touch her more?" Natasha asked.

"I think so," Wanda nodded. "But I don't know where to start."

"Just explore," Natasha replied.

Wanda's hands explored your body, her fingers tracing patterns along your skin.

"That's so good," You breathed.

"She's so responsive," Wanda smiled.

"Yeah, she is," Natasha agreed.

Wanda's fingers trailed down your stomach, her hand slipping into your pants. Her fingers found your pussy, sliding along the wetness.

"Oh, god," You moaned, your hips bucking forward.

"Does that feel good?" Wanda asked.

"Yes," You moaned.

Wanda's fingers moved up and down, sliding easily along your pussy. This was her first time touching another woman. She wanted to see and feel everything.

"Fuck," You breathed, your hips bucking.

"So wet," Wanda purred.

"Yeah, that's what happens when someone has you as a lover," Natasha said, her voice dripping with lust.

"Right there," You sighed as Wanda's fingers clumsily found your clit.

"Here?"

"Y-yeah," You moaned.

Wanda's fingers worked your clit, her pace quickening.

"Mm," Natasha hummed.

"F-fuck," You whimpered, your hips jerking.

"Good girl," Natasha purred.

Wanda continued her ministrations, her fingers rubbing your clit.

"O-oh," You moaned.

"That's it," Natasha encouraged.

Your thighs began to tremble, your orgasm building.

"C-close," You stammered.

"Come for her," Natasha said.

"Fuck, yes," Wanda growled.

"OH," You moaned, your body tensing as your orgasm washed over you. Wanda's fingers continued to work, her pace unrelenting.

"Fuck," You breathed, your hips grinding against her.

"That's a good girl," Natasha said softly.

"Damn," Wanda smiled.

"That was really good," You said, taking a moment to breathe.

"It was," Wanda nodded. She helped you pull the sticky underwear and sweatpants from your body.

"How much can you take?" You asked Wanda.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want Natasha to fuck you? Or do you want me to fuck you?"

"I don't know," Wanda admitted. "You choose."

"Hmm," You chuckled to yourself. You reached over to your nightstand, grabbed one of your favorite straps, and tossed it to Natasha. "She needs you."

"Is that so?" Natasha grinned, holding the strap-on.

"Yes," Wanda nodded, looking up at the redhead.

"How badly do you want it?" Natasha teased.

"I want it," Wanda answered, her voice shaky.

"Are you scared?"

"A little," Wanda admitted.

"We have you," You reassured her. Natasha removed herself from the bed to adjust the strap. It wasn't too big. Six and a half inches. It was perfect. She returned to the bed and kneeled between Wanda's thighs.

"We'll go slow," Natasha promised.

"Okay," Wanda nodded, taking a deep breath.

Natasha's hand slipped between her legs, testing her readiness.

"Fuck," Wanda gasped.

"That's good," Natasha smirked, pulling her hand back. "Ready?"

"Y-yes," Wanda said, nodding.

Natasha lined the dildo up with her pussy and pushed it in, her hands on either side of her hips.

"Oh, God," Wanda moaned, her eyes squeezing shut.

"How does it feel?"

"Good," Wanda whimpered.

"Just breathe, honey," Natasha cooed. From beside them, you offered moral support. You knew this feeling, and it was a good feeling.

"Fuck, it's a lot," Wanda panted.

"Do you need a minute?"

"No, keep going," Wanda urged.

Natasha obliged, pushing further into her.

"Oh, God," Wanda moaned.

"Good girl," Natasha murmured. Your eyes zeroed in on the strap pushing into Wanda's tight hole.

"Fuck," Wanda whined, her hips squirming.

"You're doing great," You praised.

"I know," Wanda groaned, her cheeks turning pink.

Natasha bottomed out, her hips flush against Wanda's.

"There we go," Natasha hummed.

"Oh," Wanda moaned, her body adjusting to the strap. Her clit brushed against Natasha's pelvis.

"That's better," Natasha smiled.

"Feels... different," Wanda admitted.

"Good or bad?"

"Just... different."

"You'll get used to it," You reassured her.

"Is that what it's like for you?" Wanda asked, looking at you.

"Sort of," You nodded. "But I usually have something inside me, too."

"Can I touch you again?" Wanda asked.

"Of course," You replied, spreading your legs.

Wanda reached over, her fingers finding your clit and rubbing slow circles around it.

"Mmm," You moaned.

"You have a pretty pussy," Wanda cooed.

"Thank you," You blushed.

"Do you mind if I taste it?"

"No, I don't mind," You shook your head. You knew the implications of what she was asking and obliged. In one swift move, you were straddling Wanda's head. She used one hand to wrap around your thigh and the other to dig into Natasha's back as the other woman thrust into her.

"Ooh," Wanda gasped as Natasha's hips met hers.

"Mm, fuck," You whimpered as her tongue lapped at your pussy.

"Tastes good," She muttered.

"You're so good," Natasha purred, her fingers digging into Wanda's hips.

Wanda moaned against your pussy, the vibrations sending shivers through your body.

"O-oh," You gasped.

Wanda's tongue flicked over your clit, her lips wrapping around it. You did the same to her earlier, and it drove her wild. She figured the same would be for you.

"Holy shit," You breathed, your hips grinding against her.

"Fuck, I can't," Natasha whined, her hips snapping.

"You're doing so good," You encouraged.

"Mm-hmm," Wanda mumbled, her tongue licking up your slit. If someone were to walk in right now, they'd either be horrified or incredibly turned on. The sound of the bed creaking against the floor and your mingled moans were the only things that could be heard.

"You're doing amazing, baby," Natasha praised, her hips moving faster and harder.

"You're going to make us both come," You groaned.

Wanda whimpered beneath you. She'd never experienced something as euphoric as this moment. Even if her neck strained and he tongue was tired, she was not giving up. She felt the delicious ache of the strap filling hr, and your arousal coated her tongue.

"Oh, god," You moaned, your thighs trembling.

"Fuck," Natasha growled, her hips thrusting.

Wanda's hands dug into your thighs, her nails leaving small crescent marks.

"I-I'm gonna," You stammered.

"Do it," Wanda murmured, her lips moving against your pussy. You came, reaching out to the headboard to hold you up as you thrust against her tongue. You tried to be mindful of the fact that she could suffocate, but Wanda only locked in more. She pulled you down, sucking gently on your clit, prolonging your orgasm. Not too shortly after, she was thrown into her own unexpected orgasm as Natasha thrust harder.

"F-fuck," Natasha grunted.

"Holy shit," Wanda whimpered, her hips bucking.

Natasha's hips jerked, her grip tightening.

"Shit," You swore.

"FUCK!" Wanda moaned, her legs trembling.

Natasha's body tensed, her thighs shaking.

"Oh, God," She groaned.

"Oh my," You breathed.

Wanda let out a shaky moan, her body writhing beneath yours.

"Wow," She whispered.

"You're doing amazing," You panted, climbing off her head.

"That was incredible," Natasha breathed, slowly pulling the strap out of Wanda's pussy.

"Thank you," Wanda smiled, her chest heaving.

"You're such a good girl," Natasha smiled.

"You are," You nodded. "I can't believe that was your first time."

"Really?" Wanda asked.

"Absolutely," Natasha replied.

"Well, I guess it was worth the wait."

"I'm sure," You laughed, crawling into the middle of the bed.

"Do you need anything, babe?" Natasha asked.

"Maybe a glass of water," You smirked.

"Okay," Natasha nodded. She kissed you and then kissed Wanda.

"You're going to stay, right?"

"If you want me to," Wanda smiled.

"We'd love for you to," You grinned.

"Then, yes," She nodded.

"Good," You smiled, kissing her gently.

"We're keeping her," Natasha said as she walked out of the room.

"Definitely," You grinned. "Can you go again?" You asked her as your hands trailed across her body.

"Y-yes," Wanda answered, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Good," You hummed, nuzzling your face in her neck.

"That was... wow," Wanda breathed.

"It was," You nodded, pressing soft kisses against her neck.

"I never thought I'd actually have sex with someone, let alone two people," She said.

"You haven't really dated before?"

"No," Wanda replied, shaking her head.

"We've known each other for a long time," You noted. "This feels natural."

"It does," Wanda agreed.

"It's like you're part of our little family already."

"I think so," She smiled.

"I'm glad you feel that way."

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[5:24 pm]

"Nice try, we don't believe you guys," your friend laughed sarcastically as they walked through your front door to catch sight of you and childhood best friend!Jeno pressed together looking like a loved up couple.

For some reason, over the nearly 20 years of friendship with Jeno, it had become some kind of ongoing bit for the two of you to act like a couple. Usually you had good reason, like someone being annoying and not leaving either of you alone, or someone hitting on either one of you but not getting the hint.

Other times, it was just to mess with your friends, your friends who were far too used to it and tired of it. At least 80% of the hang outs you all had would start with you and Jeno claiming you were a couple. The first few times they fell for it, but now it was just the normal. They weren't tired because it wasn't funny, it was kind of funny. Funny because the two of you were so clearly in love with each other yet refuse to act on it.

Jeno never protected anyone the way he protected you. You didn't care for anyone the way you cared for Jeno. You both had so many inside jokes that the others would never understand. You both could have conversations with just your eyes, you both knew things about the other that no normal friends would know about each other. You were both each other's first call when something went wrong, the first text in the morning, and your last text at night (if you didn't fall asleep while on a call). You both refused to get into relationships with other people, because somethings always felt "wrong."

Yeah, your friends had all decided that you were both idiots and the "wrong-ness" was always just that the potential partner wasn't you or Jeno. However, tonight you and Jeno had decided to commit. Your friends were going to believe it if it was the last thing they did.

"We're actually like really together this time, today is officially one week and 3 days," you tell your friends as you all settle down on the couch to start your movie marathon.

"We've fallen for that too many times now. Just give it up," your friend waves off.

"Yeah, start the movie," another friend sighs.

Jeno gulps, standing suddenly, "I think we would really just appreciate the support of our friends as we navigate our new relationship."

"Look guys, it's the same routine every time. You guys claim to be together and the only difference is that you take your usual affection to another level of annoying. If you were ever actually together, you wouldn't feel the need to announce it every few weeks or still be on dating apps. I mean, Jeno, didn't you ask me just a few days ago why you were still getting Hinge emails?" Your first friend asks, crossing their arms.

"Plus, I think you guys would be that annoying couple that would be shameless and kiss in front of us all the time," another friend pipes up.

Jeno's face falls into a serious look, he grabs your hand and tugs you up. Your chest crashes into his own as your eyes widen in surprise. The plan had simply been to cuddle, giggle, and maybe sit in his lap.

Your friends all paused, eyes full of caution as they watched the two of you. Jeno's breathing was uneven and nervous as his eyes searched your own.

You blinked and his forehead was pressed against your own and as you gasped in surprise his lips met your own. He was still for just a moment, giving you the opportunity to pull away, to smack him, to tell him he was crazy, but you didn't.

Instead, your breath hitched as you kissed him back. His lips were soft and his hands even softer as he delicately cupped your face. Your lips moved in sync, slow, tentative, but meaningful. You could feel your heart pounding in your ears, his heart was beating just as fast under your hand.

Your friends all eyed each other awkwardly. This had never happened before. It was only when your hand moved from Jeno's chest to gripping the cotton at his waist to pull him closer that they all got the message and left while high fiving each other on the way out.

You and Jeno were far too entangled in one another to even care. One of hands went from your face to your waist and the other went to the back of your neck. His gently tilted your head up to kiss you more deeply.

Everything was slow and passionate, but it felt right. There were explosions happening all around you, remnant sparks from Jeno's lips that shot right down your spine. Why had you waited so long to do this? Why had you deprived yourself of this feelings for all these years? You couldn't even fight how your body melted against his as your grip on his shirt became desperate and your lungs burned for air. You couldn't find it in yourself to pull away, too greedy for more, more, more.

Jeno pulled away first, lips swollen and chest heaving as he caught his breath. His forehead was pressed against your own, "I don't think we can be friends anymore."

A choked squeak escaped your throat involuntarily, "I'm sorry?"

"No, don't be sorry. I could have said that better," Jeno chuckles, his hands softly cupping your face to keep you from looking away. "I can't be just friends with you when I don't have friendly feelings for you. I can't believe it took this long, it's always been something in the back of my mind, but I think I love you-- no. I know I love you."

"After that kiss, I don't have friendly feelings for you either. I guess when I think about it, there's no one else that will get me like you. No one will ever know me better than you or understand me like you do. I love you too, Jeno. And I really, really want to keep kissing you," You confess breathlessly.

"I don't think they'd like it if we keep kissing, unfortunately," Jeno sighs, despite his words leaning in toward you again.

It's then that you notice how quiet your living room is. You pull away to look around the room, finally noticing that it's just you and Jeno in your apartment. "What the... when did everyone leave?" You wonder aloud.

"Who cares? Let's keep kissing," Jeno replies, tugging you closer. And who are you to argue?

[drafty-castle]

It’s antithetical to what doctors are supposed to do, you are correct. But the antiabortion laws are so broad and so vague on what counts as “exceptions” that when a woman comes to the er presenting with a miscarriage, hemorrhaging badly, and experiencing severe sepsis - but sonogram shows the miscarrying fetus still has a heartbeat - doctors legally cannot do anything to help her survive because to do so could be viewed by a non-medically educated judge to have sped the miscarriage up. Because by law that counts as an abortion now. No matter that the woman is dying. No matter that her body is actively rejecting the fetus. That fetus has more rights - to life, to consideration, to medical intervention - than the already bleeding and actively suffering woman.

Since the abortion bans came into effect, hundreds of women* have died of preventable side effects of pregnancy - such as miscarriage. Many of these women wanted these babies. They had names picked out and nurseries set up and little onesies folded by the changing table. Many were mothers already, looking forward to another little life in the family. They were devastated to find themselves losing their babies. And when they went to the hospital for help they were told there was nothing that could be done, that their bodies would have to do it “naturally” because medical intervention in a miscarriage is a legal abortion.

The doctors’ hands are tied. Doctors are being told by judges and lawyers and governments that They. Cannot. Intervene.

Since the abortion bans came into effect - and are so broad and so vague and the government is so very willing to make an example of anyone stepping out of line - women with deadly cancer who become pregnant while on chemo and radiation are having their treatments delayed just in the possibility the fetus comes to term and doesn’t kill them both. Women - and girls - with debilitating medical conditions are being denied their medication because they are of “child bearing age” and could possibly become pregnant, whether they are trying for a baby or not.

And to avoid this uncertainty, many OBGYN are abandoning abortion-ban states entirely. They are literally fleeing these states because they fear being prosecuted for providing someone life-saving treatment that a judge who has never taken a single medical class would deem “unnecessary” or “too soon” and potentially send them to jail for decades if not life. This is leading to giant areas of the US with literally no OBGYN capable of providing pregnant women prenatal, labor/delivery, or postnatal care for hundreds of miles. Which in turn leads to more medically troubled pregnancies. So the mothers go to the ER. And the ER, too, is unequipped to handle to legal ramifications of something going wrong and they get shuffled through the system.

It’s not that doctors are incompetent or don’t care. It’s that the courts are actively restricting what they can do in these situations. They are being set up to fail. The law claims there are exceptions but it’s all a smokescreen to hide behind the “tragedy” of these “unforeseen deaths”. These deaths are built into the law. The lawmakers knew they would happen and calculated it an acceptable loss. They’re counted as collateral. Because they know the only way to prevent these deaths is to allow unfettered access to abortion, no questions asked. These deaths are marked as "died of natural causes" because pregnancy is natural, right? Pregnancy is beautiful. Pregnancy is a woman's purpose in life. Any interference in it is the unnatural thing, right? To admit that these deaths were avoidable is to admit you’re wrong.

Yet women are dying. Girls are dying. I don’t understand why you don’t seem to care.

[his-angell]

"You deserve better than that." (s.cb)

plot; Innocence and inexperience is something a man can easily take advantage of. When (y/n) starts dating a man older than her, Her brothers get protective. They see how awful he is to her, and they know they need to get her away from him. paring; fem!9th!member!reader x bestfriend!Seo Changbin genre; angst, comfort, tad fluffy if you squint word count; 2.3k warnings; reader gets her inexperience taken advantage of, shes dating a mean older guy, arguments (but nothing too serious), cursing, protective Stray Kids, 3rd pov request?; yes! request found here!

When (y/n) started dating an older man, she saw no issues in it. He was kind, caring. He bought her gifts and took care of her. Min-Jun was a good guy. In her eyes at least. Her overprotective older brothers saw straight through his lies. He was using (y/n). He only needed a pretty arm piece. He didn't actually care about her. He was just bored and needed something to do.

Recently, he had been acting a little weird.. So have her members. She saw it. She didn't like any of it. She sat in the living room, Hyunjin, Felix and Chan scattered around. Minho was cooking lunch in the kitchen, The others were in their rooms or at the dining table. (y/n) was kinda zoned out as she listened to her members laugh and talk.

But she spoke up, needing to get rid of the gnawing feeling that something was wrong. "Guys, did something happen?" She spoke up. Felix was the first to look over, confused. "What do you mean?" He hummed, sitting up more to face her better. "You guys are acting really weird recently. Especially when Min-Juns here." She took a deep breath.

Chan immediately rolled his eyes and threw his head back. He ran a hand over his face. God, he hated that guy. The dude was such a faker. He didn't understand how (y/n) didn't see it. He was tired of trying to hide his hatred for the guy. Especially since he was hurting (y/n). He couldn't let himself lie to her anymore. "(y/n).." He mumbled. Hyunjin and Felix shared a glance. They knew how much Chan despised their maknaes boyfriend. They looked down, opting to stay quiet and let Chan talk.

"He's not good for you, (y/n)." Chan finally said it. (y/n)'s blood went cold. "What?" She laughed in disbelief. What was he talking about? "I said he's not good for you! He's using you, (y/n). Why can't you see that?" Chan sat up. (y/n)'s eye twitched. She blinked at the older man before she stood up. "Don't walk away from me, (y/n).." Chan sighed. "No! I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you shit talk my boyfriend just because you don't like him!" She turned to him.

"I don't like him because he's using you! Are you not listening?" Chan backed himself up. "Bullshit." (y/n) grumbled. She turned to walk to her room, but the members were all there now. Poking into the room curiously. She made a face. "What? You guys gonna tell me he's bad too?" She snapped. "Yeah, actually-" Changbin pipped up. But before he could actually speak, the woman groaned and stormed off, slamming her bedroom door.

(y/n) laid down on her bed and huffed. She covered her face with her hands. She was starting to have doubts now.. They were just trying to get her to break up with him because they didn't like him! Min-Jun was a good guy! He took care of her! He bought her stuff! He was a good boyfriend! Well.. Was he?..

Sitting up on her bed, she wondered if maybe- Just maybe they were onto something. Maybe he wasn't as great as she thought?.. She was quick to pull out her phone. She went to her text messages with him. He did seem more dry than usual.. But he was busy! That's what he said! He said he was busy with work stuff!

(y/n) groaned in frustration. She texted him.. "Hi, my love! Do you wanna come over tonight for dinner?" She stared at the message. And stared.. And stared. It wasn't till five minutes later, when she was about ready to say never mind when he responded. "Cant. Going to the bar with some coworkers. Tomorrow night?" Oh. Again? That's fine! It's fine! They've been working on a big project, they deserve a night out. "Alright! See you tomorrow! <3!" She expected a smile emoji. Maybe a 'Can't wait to see you~' But no.. She got nothing. Read at 4:25pm.

She was a little hurt. But she didn't think anything of it. He said he was busy. So, she would brush it off like she did every other time. The poor girl was so innocent and inexperienced. She texted the group chat that Min-Jun would be there for dinner tomorrow before she decided to just go to bed. Going to bed at 4:30? Yes, because she wasn't in the mood to stay up anymore. She didn't wanna deal with Chan anymore. Or any of them for that matter.

That next day wasn't much better. The members were grumpy. For good reason though. (y/n) hadn't necessarily talked to them about Min-Jun coming over, she just assumed they'd be fine with it. But they got over it. Correction- some of them got over it. Chan, Changbin and Minho were still reasonably upset. Minho again was in the kitchen cooking, (y/n) was in there helping.

She was waiting for Min-Jun to show up. She really needed to see him. She needed to know that all the things Chan said weren't true. She needed to be held and told that he really did love her. She rushed to the door when there was a knock. She smiled as she opened it. "Hi," She smiled. "Hey." Min-Jun said flatly, flashing a smile before walking past her and slipping off his shoes. "Smells good." He said. (y/n) blinked. She pursed her lips, a little upset she didn't get a kiss.

"Ah, yeah! Me and Minho were-" She didn't even get to finish before Min-Jun shot her a bored look. She nodded softly. She had learned to shut up when he told her too. She didn't wanna make him upset. Changbin saw this. He squinted. He took a deep breath. "Min-Jun. Been a while." He hummed. "Yeah. Works been a hassle." Min-Jun answered shortly as he sat himself down at the table.

Hell, the guy didn't even try to act like he cared anymore. He knew he had (y/n) wrapped around his finger tight enough, that any change in his behavior would be brushed off. Or she just kept quiet about it, not wanting to make him angry or annoyed. The air was so thick you wouldn't even be able to get the knife in it to even cut it..

It was all small talk before dinner was set out. Everyone ate quietly. Chan and Changbin shared a look.. They members had definitely talked about something without (y/n) present. (y/n) cleared her throat. "When is your guys' next schedule? You've seemed to be slacking recently," Min-Jun spoke up, leaning back in his chair. "We aren't slacking." Seungmin huffed, almost offended by his wording. "Min, that's not what he meant." (y/n) defended. "Mm.. Debatable." Min-Jun took a bite of his food.

(y/n) blinked at the comment. "Yikes." She mumbled. Changbin finally set his utensils down. "I think you should go, Min-Jun." He said seriously. Min-Jun blinked. "Sorry?" He laughed. "I didn't do anything!" He scoffed. "Don't act stupid, I said you should go." Changbin repeated. He never acted like this. He usually had at least a little bit of patience. What the Hell was his problem? Min-Jun. Min-Jun was his problem. "Changbin, stop-" (y/n) grumbled.

"No! (y/n), i'm done with this guy!" Changbin was furious. "He's using you! We all see it!" Changbin finally said. He didn't even care about the stupid comment about them slacking. He was pissed about the fact that Min-Jun sat here and did this to their girl, thinking they wouldn't see it! Did he think they were stupid?! Min-Jun rolled his eyes. "Everyone sees it but you, (y/n)!" Changbin added. (y/n) stared. She took a deep breath. She slowly turned to look at Min-Jun who just leaned back in his chair. He rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth. "I'm not doing this." He scoffed and stood up. (y/n) was quick to follow him to the door.

This was definitely not how this was supposed to go. Not at all in fact. But then again, she couldn't just let him leave. Not now. She needed to figure out what the hell was going on? If maybe her members warnings were right. "Don't you dare open the door." She growled. "Are.. Are they right?" She asked.

Min-Jun sighed and shook his head. "I said I'm not doing this, (y/n)." He growled. "Bullshit! Are you using me or not!?" (y/n)'s voice cracked as she slapped his chest. She was frustrated. "What the hell?" Min-Jun glared down at the shorter woman. Her members stayed in the dining room.. Chan and Changbin were standing, ready to run out there and beat his ass if he laid even a finger on her.

"You've been acting really weird recently, and I'm sick of it." (y/n) said in a lower tone. "What's wrong? Please i-" She reached for his hand, but Min-Jun pulled away. "We're done, (y/n)." He spat. It felt like her whole world crumbled. "Wha-What?" She choked. "I said we're done." Min-Jun scoffed. "I never loved you. I honestly just wanted an arm piece to show off to my parents." He admitted. That was only half of it.. You could only imagine what he had been doing behind her back.

Everyone heard it. The boys' faces varied from sympathetic looks to ones of pure hatred and anger. "But.. But you- The gifts.. And the cards?" (y/n) tried to understand. "Yeah, to make you stay longer. I couldn't have you catching on too soon." Min-Jun shrugged. He patted her head. "Thanks for the time with you, doll," He pinched her chin lightly. It was more of a mocking thank you than anything else. It wasn't till the door clicked shut that (y/n) choked on a sob.

Chan went to rush to her side, but Changbin was quicker. "Hey, hey, jagi," He pulled her into his chest. His voice and expression was so much softer than it had been moments ago. (y/n) sobbed and gripped onto her best friend. She felt like she had just been ripped apart. She felt so fucking stupid! She felt humiliated! Changbin hushed her and rubbed her back.

He scooped her up and walked to her room. He gently sat on her bed, cradling her to his chest. "(y/n) breathe." He said. (y/n) whined at him, coughing from how hard she was crying. "(y/n), you're going to give yourself a panic attack, breathe." Changbin sat her up and faced her to look at him. "Yo-You guys were right i-" She sobbed. "I'm so stupid-!" She hiccupped. Changbin shook his head. "No. No you're not stupid, (y/n). You didn't know." He gently wiped her tears with his thumbs.

(y/n) shook her head. "But you guys told me! You tried so-so many times to warn me, and I ignored you!" She whined. "But that's okay! It takes a mistake to learn something, alright?" Changbin hummed. "We're not mad at you. We just want you safe and happy." He said. "Plus, he was a little weird anyways.." He made a face. That did get a little giggle out of (y/n). She sniffled and wiped her face. "Yeah.. He was a little more than weird." She huffed.

"Listen, name one good gift this guy got you!" Changbin leaned back, already in the shit talking position. "You told him your favorite flowers were tulips and lilys, this guy got you one single sunflower," He rolled his eyes. "That one time he got me a card and it was a mothers day card. He hadn't even written anything in it." (y/n) sniffled as she messed with her hands. "He wasn't good for you, jagi." Changbin tilted his head at her slightly.

"You deserve so much better than that." He said softly. "Next time you decide to date someone, me and Channie Hyung are doing a full background check on that guy." He grinned. (y/n) laughed softly and shook her head. "I think I'm done with men for a good while." She hummed. Changbin squinted. "Besides you guys, duh." She rolled her eyes.

Changbin hummed and gently pulled her back into his arms and laid down. He pet her hair. "I'll make sure nobody ever hurts you like that again, (y/n)." He whispered into her hair. "Thank you, Bin.. For looking out for me." She hushed. "I'll always look out for you, my jagi." He kissed her head. (y/n) was so emotionally exhausted.. She closed her eyes and cuddled into Changbins side.

She relished in the comfort of his arms and the sound of his heartbeat. She opened her mouth to thank him once more but a soft snore made her pause. She sat up slightly, looking at his sleeping face. Did he just...? She guessed he was tired too. He had been up a while, since he had his morning workout. He guessed being angry didn't help at all either. She hummed before she cuddled back into him. She didn't take much longer to follow him to sleep.

The next day, she would apologize to the others.. She would apologize for bringing him over without really asking. Or backing up his snarky, mean comments towards them. She felt awful for how blind she had been. But none of them were mad at her. Chan agreed with Changbin, that to learn from a mistake, you have to make one.

Felix and Hyunjin had even bought her some of her favorite snacks and such to comfort her. Hyunjin even bought her a bouquet of her favorite flowers.. Tulips and Lilys.. Not a sunflower. God, she loved them so much. She was glad to have her older brothers there to comfort and protect her. She didn't need a stupid boyfriend as long as she had her best friends.. 

...

horrayyy!! i finally got to this request! i'm so so sorry it took so long again. I did accidently slide a little out of the plot, but i hope you still like it! muah muah!! have a good day/nightt! stay safee!

all writing rights are reserved to @his-angell do not repost or translate my work without my permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[winterarmyy]

I Knew It Then

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: If it was supposed to be a casual thing, then why does it hurts so much?

Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Words: 4.8k++

Warnings: angsty, maybe a tad too angst. a bit fluffy, if you search for it, and everything in between. non-descriptive sex scene but definitely contain adult (18+) contents. so, reader discretion.

Inspiration: @buck-star asked in a community post, “The sentence is: 'And then we were standing in front of one another again…' How would you continue it?” and this is my answer.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Bucky adjusted the sleeves of his jacket; a dark leather, matching the gloves he was wearing. Underneath was a charcoal coloured shirt; his pants was dark-wash jeans, frayed slightly at the edges. It was an effort to blend into the festive sea of people. Despite the spring air of Central Park, his style remained a mixture of shadowed past and muted present, a mix that barely fit in with the brightness of the day. 

The launch of the Avengers statues was a grand event; a reminder of battles fought, lives saved, a place for the public to show their gratitude and admiration. Honestly, in Bucky’s opinion, all of this was a little bit over the top. In which, Steve agreed. They both think that they were undeserving to be sculptured and displayed like this. 

Even the Avengers are human, excluding Thor, they were mortals; unfit to be worshipped as they are now. Yet, after being coaxed with quite a diplomatic, exaggerating speech about how ‘the people need a hero to look up to’, Steve ended up convinced. Not that it matters, but Stark was the one who gave that speech.

Nonetheless, Bucky couldn’t really object to the decision, but he did stated that he will not participate in the event with the rest of the team. And they can’t really do much about that, forcing him to will be equivalent to kidnapping and Bucky had literally filed a police report for it before. So, they won’t take their chances. 

The cheers and thundering of applause rippled through the park, filling every space with a strange blend of solemnity and celebration. Bucky lingered on the edge, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tensed beneath the weight of too many eyes while his own focused on his team on the make-shift stage near the statues. 

He preferred it here. No red carpets. No standing in front of flashing cameras with a smile that would never sit quite right on his lips.

With less aliens around and Hydra in hiding, this should have been a familiar scene; the Avengers posing and the people cheering. But for Bucky, the novelty had long worn off. The noise washed over him like waves lapping against a shore he couldn’t care to meet.

Shifting on his feet, his fingers brushing against the worn leather of his gloves, as if the urge to retreat was creeping under his skin. The cheers, the bright flashes of cameras, all blended into a muffled hum that made him wonder how soon he could slip away unnoticed.

Until he saw her.

She stood beneath the shade of a blooming cherry tree, the soft pink petals floating down around her as if nature itself wanted to frame her as a living art. 

Y/N. 

Bucky's breath was caught somewhere between inhaling and exhaling. Her mere presence had left him frozen. Then, the noise of the crowd slowly fading, the applause turning duller as his heart pounded in his chest, each beat harder, louder, until it drowned out the world around him. For a few painful moments, he felt as if his heart might force its way free from his ribcage, breaking him apart in the process.

She wore that sundress again. The light fabric swayed gently with each breeze, caressing her figure, the pastel colour that reminded him of the flowers he used to get for her. It was the same dress she’d worn that day; the day he realised falling for her wasn't a choice but a reality that had already happened. He swallowed hard, memories surging in torrents. Her laughter echoed in his ears, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about things that mattered to her. 

Now however, beneath the sweet sundress and that familiar grace, there was a darkness under her eyes. Shadows etched into her delicate skin, sadness lingering; still and silent, behind the gaze that once held nothing but warmth. Bucky's jaw tightened as he took it all in, every unspoken truth laid bare on her face. He knew why; he’d heard whispers through mutual acquaintances. About the heaviness she tried to mask, about the pain she tried to live through. 

Seeing it now, in the flesh, was so much worse.

It broke him. 

Again. His chest ached, a raw wound ripped within his chest; for every moment she suffered and every part of him that couldn’t fix it. Bucky wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. It was as if an invisible vine had him rooted on earth, willing him to witness the toll their separation had taken on her. How ironic, he thought bitterly. For someone once considered a ghost by the world, he was all too aware of how haunting it felt to see her pain in living colour.

The bar had been crowded that night when they met, laughter and music clashing together in a storm of contagious intoxication. Bucky found his usual spot in the corner, however unusually alone this time. His shoulders hunched beneath his leather jacket; his gloved hands nursed a drink he wasn’t truly interested in. He was simply another brooding man in a bar, trying to swallow his own bitterness, trying to forget. Elena’s words, his ex’s words, echoed in his mind; taunting and cold, leaving a metallic taste on his tongue.

“Mind if I sit?”

Her voice cut through the noise. He’d looked up, barely masking his surprise. The woman standing before him was... a force of nature. She didn’t wait for his permission and slid into the seat beside him, a confident smile tugging at her lips. 

She was so bright, so unapologetically there. 

It almost felt disorienting. Her eyes sparkled like she’d already decided he was interesting and wasn’t about to change her mind. “You always brood like this, or is it a special occasion?” she teased, tilting her head.

“Special occasion,” he replied dryly, a hint of sarcasm colouring his tone. “Guess I’m lucky, huh?”

She laughed, loud and unfiltered, drawing curious looks. “I’ll drink to that,” she said, raising her glass to him as if they were old friends sharing a private joke.

Bucky fought to suppress the twitch of his lips. He wasn’t sure what to make of her. “What brings you to this fine establishment?” he asked, his voice flat but not harsh. “Looking to rescue sad souls like me?”

“Rescue?” She leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Please. I’m here for the entertainment value.”

“Brutal,” he said, but he couldn’t help it; the corner of his mouth lifted. A real smile was threatening to form.

Y/N, as she introduced herself a few moments later, was a whirlwind of honesty and charm. She spoke without hesitation, as if every thought had a right to be voiced. She teased him about the gloves he refused to take off, made a biting but hilarious comment about her friend’s taste in men as she watched her and the man grinding it on the dance floor, and then, out of nowhere, zeroed in on him.

She gestured to his drink. “Let me guess. Your ex. She, or he, I don’t judge…” A tiniest smile curved on the corner of his lips. “She.” he clarified which was replied with a glint of interest in Y/N’s eyes. She nodded, “Okay, she left you for someone who didn’t know how to brood so attractively.”

Bucky choked on his drink, laughter erupting before he could help himself. It was warm and a little bashful, completely genuine. He hadn’t laughed like that in... he couldn’t remember how long.

Y/N was not expecting much tonight. She was literally dragged by her friends to ’go out, meet people, get laid’. Truthfully, she wasn’t really expecting anything more than a few hours of banter and maybe some fleeting connection, just enough to make her smile. Witty remarks, a few drinks, teasing anyone interesting enough to engage; that was her aim. 

But when she saw him, brooding in his corner, a storm trapped beneath layers of leather and cold eyes, curiosity overtook reason. She wanted to know if he would entertain her. 

And he did.

Bucky or as he introduced himself, James, was sarcasm wrapped in shadows, his words carrying a sharpness that wasn’t meant to hurt, just to deflect. She found it oddly endearing, a defence mechanism she recognized all too well. She wanted to pull more from him, so she leaned in, laughed too loudly, pressed buttons she guessed would make him react. 

At first, it was just fun.

But then he smiled. God, when he smiled, her world tilted; much against her will too. It was like the first hint of sunlight breaking through a dense, dark cloud. His laughter was warm and unpracticed, spilling out of him as if it surprised him too. The moment stretched, just for a heartbeat, but it was enough. 

Her heart momentarily shuddered. She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks, blooming a soft pink she couldn’t hide. So, she covered it with more wit, more charm, desperate to keep that smile there a second longer.

“I’m kidding. Kind of,” she said, eyes softening as she studied him. “But seriously, imagine missing out on you. That’s just sad at this point.”

But underneath the humour, there was a flutter of something much profound. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Her heartbeat raced and she felt exposed. How ridiculous, she thought, to be undone by a smile; a real one, genuine and imperfect, just as raw as her own attempt to draw it out.

The concept of time blurred after that. Drinks flowed, words tumbled out like secrets they didn’t know they were sharing. Banter turned into stories, laughter into pauses that spoke louder than the music blaring around them. At some point, she reached for his hand, not caring that it was gloved or why. Her fingers lingered, hesitant for half a breath, before resting there as if they’d been doing so for years. 

The air thickened and inches shrink.

When he kissed her, she found herself kissing him back with a need she hadn’t recognized before. It wasn’t about filling the void; at least, not only that. It was about the way he leaned into her touch, how he kissed like it was the last act that could hold him together. It was raw and open and imperfect and she was high on it.

Despite the fleeting, breath-stealing kisses they shared prior, Bucky had only meant to see her safely to her home. That was the plan, the line he swore he wouldn’t cross. But when her lips met his again just outside her apartment, everything unravelled. Her kiss was insistent, needy in a way that mirrored the ache deep inside him. She pulled him in, the door closing behind them, shutting out the world and any remnants of restraint he had left.

They stumbled to the bed, still fully dressed, every touch and kiss growing more urgent. Her hands found the edges of his jacket, fingers seeking to peel it away. But when she tugged, he pulled back, his breaths ragged. “Wait,” he murmured, eyes cast down. His hesitation was a stark contrast to the flames between them moments before.

She paused immediately, her gaze softening. “What’s wrong?” Her voice was gentle, careful not to push too hard but unwilling to let him slip away either.

“I’m not who you think I am,” he said, the words thick, heavy.

A crease formed between her brows. “What? Your name is not James?”

The question, so genuine and earnest, pulled a laugh from him; short, almost incredulous. “No. I am James, but…” He ran a gloved hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes.

“But…?” she prompted, leaning in, her attention unwavering.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he said, each syllable weighted.

For a moment, she was silent. He could see her piecing it together, searching for the meaning behind his words. Then understanding dawned, slow and certain. “You’re…” she began, just as he said, “The Winter Soldier.” But what came from her lips was, “The Avenger.”

They stared at each other, the tension snapping into something fragile, almost surreal. “What?” they both said in unison, the word a mix of disbelief and irony. 

The absurdity of it cracked something inside him, and he laughed; a real, deep laugh that felt like a release. She joined him, their laughter intertwining in a way that felt like a mutual understanding. At the moment, Bucky realised that she didn’t flinch or shrink back. She met him where he was, without hesitation. He felt a pull; unsettling but oddly comforting; and, for a split second, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be different.

The humour melted into something more intense as she leaned closer, her hands found his again. “I want this, James,” she whispered, peeling away his glove. She cupped his cool, metal hand, pressing his palm against her cheek. The contrast of warmth against vibranium made his chest tighten. “I want you.” she spoke almost breathlessly; her eyes gazed up at him with an endearing plea.

His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and something much softer, “I want you too,” he said, his voice low, unguarded.

They moved together, shedding barriers with every kiss and touch. When their clothes finally fell away, they explored each other with as much urgency and wonder. Every touch, every movement was deliberate, almost desperate. He wanted to memorise her reactions. He wanted to give as much as he could.

It was raw and consuming, a night spent discovering each other. There was nothing mechanical, nothing detached. For hours, it was just them, bodies moving in unison and their moans and groans of pleasure mingling in a symphony that can challenge a siren’s song.

He found himself lost in her, in the way her skin felt beneath his, in the way she moaned for him. He couldn’t hold back, not when she responded to him with such hunger, her body moving against his with a need that matched his own. 

Every touch felt like a revelation, a new discovery, and he was pulled deeper into her, into the warmth and the rawness of the moment. It was as if time itself had stopped, and all that mattered was the heat of their connection.

When morning came, the light creeping in through the blinds, they lay bashfully, tangled in the sheets. For a few moments, there was only silence, a comfortable quiet punctuated by the slow return of reality. He turned to her, the words were heavy, he knew it, but he continued, “I’m not ready for… anything serious,” he admitted, hating the way it sounded, but knowing he owed her the truth.

She met his gaze, her expression soft and understanding. “That’s okay,” she said. “We don’t need to label it. It can be what it is.”

“Casual?” he asked, a hint of humour back in his voice.

She smiled, a touch of mischief in her eyes. “Casual.”

They both laughed, the sound soft and real. Whatever this was, for now, it was enough.

The next few months, their ‘casual’ arrangement became something she thought about far too often and yet tried to pretend wasn’t pressing too deep. The sex was undeniably great, almost maddeningly so. It wasn’t just the way he touched her, though that alone was enough to steal her breath; the careful, deliberate caresses that made her feel cherished and desired all at once. 

It was the way he explored her as if every inch of her, the weight of his attention, the way he moved with a mix of tenderness and hunger, as if he couldn’t decide whether to worship her or devour her. And maybe that was why it was so intoxicating; because she was falling for him, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

It wasn’t just the physical connection; it was everything in between. She fell for the way he could be painfully serious one moment and then crack the most unexpected joke, a hint of dry humour lighting up his eyes. She fell for the way he made sure her tea was always brewed just the way she liked, even though he claimed to be terrible at domestic things. 

She fell for his unspoken kindness; the way he would slip a blanket over her when she fell asleep on the couch, or his habit of standing protectively between her and crowded places without even thinking about it. It was all so subtle, so Bucky, and it deteriorated her defences bit by bit.

And Bucky on the other hand, tried not to let himself be too vulnerable around her. But Y/N had a warmth that made it hard for him to stay closed off. She didn’t push; she was just; a steady, comforting presence that felt like safety. Sometimes, without meaning to, he’d spill pieces of himself. 

Like the night he told her about Elena; the betrayal, the gaslighting on how she cheated on him because of him; it was his trauma and depression that had driven her away. As if she was trying to make it worse, as if she had a vendetta to isolate him from everyone else. 

And Y/N had listened without judgement, her eyes soft with compassion. “That’s not on you,” she had whispered, her hand covering his. “She was the problem, not you.” When the weight of his past grew too heavy, she was there.

And when she opened up about her own scars; the ex who wouldn’t leave her alone, the fear that lingered in the shadows; Bucky listened, fierce protectiveness hardening his features. That night, instead of touching each other’s body, they caressed each other’s innermost scars. They’d talk late into the night; their words heavy, but never too much for the other to bear.

And ever since their dynamic was a shifting dance, effortlessly dirty and playful one minute, his lips teasing at her neck, their words to each other were dripping with sin. The next, they’d be soft and tender, his forehead pressed to hers as they simply breathed together. And then there were the quiet, deep moments; when silence spoke more than words, and they found comfort just in being close, in the simple act of not being alone. 

It was everything, all tangled together, and it made it so easy, too damn easy, to fall in love with him. She knew she shouldn’t, but with Bucky, it felt inevitable.

Then, one in those blissful days, after another night of incredible sex, Bucky laid beside her, his chest still heavy with the aftermath of their intimacy. His eyes traced the soft curves of her form as she rested, her skin glowing in the dim light. 

She looked almost ethereal; untouchable, like something too perfect for him. The weight of her presence next to him was both comforting and painful, tightening his chest with a longing he couldn’t name. Shifting slightly, he cleared his throat, his voice rough when he finally spoke, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I’m going back to Elena,” he confessed, the statement hanging heavily in the air. 

For a moment, there was something in his eyes; a flicker of hesitation, of conflict, as if he desperately wanted to hold onto what they had, as if saying the words was a battle he was losing with every breath. 

But whatever war raged within him never fully translated in the way she saw him. To Y/N, his words felt resolute, laced with a kind of tenderness that made it hurt even more. He seemed sorry; deeply, genuinely. But the weight of his decision pressed down between them, undeniable.

She went still for a moment and he could feel the tension radiating from her. The way her body seemed to freeze, her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t respond at first, her gaze distant, focusing somewhere far away as though she needed a moment to process. Bucky’s chest felt heavy with the weight of his own words, the urge to take them back gnawing at him. 

Yet he kept his expression neutral, as if none of this hurt him. He needed to see this through, even if every second felt like he was tearing himself apart. “This…being here with you, touching you like this… this will be the last time,” he added, the sound of his voice was low but remained adamant.

Y/N had always known, somewhere deep down, that this day would come. They had both agreed that what they had was casual, temporary, nothing more than a passing thing. They had agreed their connection was fleeting; simply a series of borrowed moments. But even as she tried to convince herself it was fine, she knew better. 

Nothing about what they shared was truly casual. They’d been there for each other in ways no one else had. When the world had been cruel to him, scrutinising him for his past as the Winter Soldier, she’d been his quiet strength, the one who never judged him, never flinched. And when her own demons resurfaced, casting shadows over her life; he’d been the one there, standing between her and her doom. He had been her rock, just as she had been his. 

They were each other's strength, each other's solace.

'Has it ever really been casual?' But she couldn’t voice those thoughts. She wouldn’t burden him with her feelings when he already carried so much of his own. She wouldn’t beg for more than he could offer. 

With a soft breath, she forced herself to smile, her fingers brushing over his cheek, committing every moment to memory before it slipped away. “Will this make you happy?” she asked, her voice steady, though pain lingered beneath the surface.

Bucky’s heart twisted, but he nodded, the lie coming too easily. “Yes,” he said, his voice lacking conviction even as he tried to seem sure. He averted his eyes, hoping she wouldn’t see past the facade.

Her smile wavered, but she fought to hold it in place. She wanted to show him that she was fine, that she wasn’t falling apart. But as she pressed her smile into place, a single tear slipped from her eye, tracing a quiet path down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, but it was already there; a silent confession of the pain he couldn’t see.

“Then, I guess this is goodbye,” she whispered, barely audible.

She leaned in, her forehead resting against his, her breath warm against his lips. And then she kissed him; softly, deeply, as if it would be their last.

Because, in this moment, it felt like it was.

The days blurred into weeks, and then months, each one dragging by with a dull ache that Y/N couldn’t shake. She buried herself in work, refusing to let her mind linger on what she’d lost. When that wasn't enough, she picked up freelance gigs; anything that kept her mind too occupied even thought about pain and the aching emptiness Bucky’s absence had left behind. 

It was easier that way; easier to drown in deadlines and endless to-do lists than to confront the hollowness. And through all this time, there were not a single call, or texts from Bucky. Just silence. Rationally, she knew it was for the best. He was a hero, after all; his life pulled him in a thousand different directions. And she told herself she was fine.

But late at night, when the world grew quiet, she could still feel it; the loss that crept into her bones and refused to let go. Most of the time, she'd catch herself staring at the ceiling, replaying the touch of his hand, the sound of his laughter, the way he had looked at her as if she were his whole world, even if just for a moment. She tried to shake it off, to convince herself that it was all just an illusion, but the hole in her chest ached too deeply to ignore.

Time passed. The headlines told of his deeds; how he saved countless lives, how the public finally began to accept him, to see him not just as a relic of violence and pain, but as a hero. She should’ve felt proud. Maybe, on some level, she did. But every article, every broadcast, every mention of him only twisted the knife deeper. 

At times, she’d pause whatever she was doing when his name flashed across the screen. It was a reflex, a sudden, uncontrollable urge to reach for something she could never have. She’d feel her chest tighten, her emotions were a blend of pride and pain. Why did she feel like this, like she wasn’t needed, like she was somehow unwanted by the man who had once looked at her like she was everything?

Even then, she couldn’t help but feel proud. No matter how much it hurts, she was happy for him. She remembered the sleepless nights when his past came alive in nightmares; when he’d thrash and murmur apologies with a voice cracked by guilt. She could still feel the weight of him in her arms as he clung to her in the dark, his breath shuddering against her neck, whispering, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” The memory of it made her chest ache; the rawness of his pain had always cut her deep, but it had also made her want to be his safe place, his haven.

She thought of those nights often. The way he’d hold her as if she were a shield against the ghosts that hunted him, how he’d bury his face in her shoulder to block out the world’s judgement. She’d whispered reassurances, stroked his hair, and wished she could take away every ounce of his pain. Seeing him now, standing tall, saving lives, and slowly being accepted by the world; it filled her with a bittersweet pride. 

He deserved every bit of recognition, every chance to rebuild himself.

But the cost of that pride was the deep loneliness that came with it; the reminder that he was out there saving the world while she was left to save herself from missing him. She wanted to be enough, to be the one he leaned on, but it was clear now that his path led somewhere she couldn’t follow. So she pushed forward, forced herself to be strong, and told herself that being happy for him was enough.

When the crowd at the Central Park continued to roar with excitement, time seemed like it stopped for Bucky and Y/N. And then they were standing in front of one another again, the air between them held a weight, as if every word left unspoken all those nights was pressing against the space between them. Bucky’s eyes flickered; momentarily shocked, yet he didn’t falter. 

Even then, Y/N saw it. She saw the look in his eyes that she knew too well, the look he had when it was just them, wrapped up in stolen hours that no one knew about. She forced a smile, warm and soft, the very same that she used to give him in those silent times, when their skins were pressed against each other, and everything else didn't matter. 

His heart ached with a need he thought he’d buried. He thought he had let her go. He kept telling himself he was not in love, that she was just someone to keep his bed warm, to fill the empty space his past had left behind. At least, that was what he told himself, over and over, like a mantra meant to dull the edges of the truth.

But deep down, he knew it was a lie; a desperate deception crafted to shield him from the vulnerability clawing at his walls. He was not fooling anyone, not himself at least. Each night he spent denying the way his pulse quickened at the thought of her touch, each time he claimed he felt nothing, the thin layer of defence cracked beneath the weight of untold longing. It was easier to lie, to pretend he didn’t care, than to face the reality that she had carved her place inside him, far deeper than he wanted to admit.

Now, seeing her again, smiling at him as if it didn't shatter her heart when he left, it was like he’d been hollowed out. 

And the time that seemingly stopped, abruptly resumed to its pace when they walked past each other. No words crossed their lips, but their eyes spoke a language that was theirs alone; a language that carried echoes of every touch, every laugh, every shared moment.

‘I miss you,’ their gazes whispered, even as the distance between them widened with each step.

They kept walking.

That night, Bucky found himself in front of her apartment. When she opened the door, it was as if she was expecting someone. Not him, but someone. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him standing there, broad shoulders taut and expression unreadable. 

For a second, neither of them spoke. The sight of her; dressed in a fitted dress that draped elegantly over her figure, accentuating every line and curve, stole the air from his lungs. It was the kind of dress she used to wear when they’d go out on a date, the kind that never failed to send his thoughts swirling in the gutter. No thoughts, just lust. 

She looked stunning. Ethereal even. But, painfully out of reach.

Y/N blinked. Shock, confusion, and hurt flashing in her eyes, as if the memories of what they’d had; and how it ended, came crashing back all at once. “Hey… James. What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice tight and Bucky was never used to it.

He swallowed hard, his eyes drifting to her lips and lingering there longer than he intended. “Out for a date?” he murmured, evading her question, the words tasting like lead.

“Yeah…Kind of.” she replied, guarded. Silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid things. Finally, he spoke again, his voice a low rasp. “Can I come in?”

She studied him warily, the hurt in her eyes morphing into something sharper. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, James.”

“Please,” he said, and the desperation in his tone softened her resolve just enough. She stepped aside reluctantly. “You gotta be quick,” she said, almost dismissively. “Josh is on the way.”

The mention of another man’s name was like a knife twisting in his chest. Bucky forced himself to stay still, to not let his expression betray him, but inside, he felt raw, the bitterness coiling deep.

Once inside, she crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive barrier between them. “Talk,” she said flatly.

He paced, trying to find the words. “It wasn’t real,” he started, voice thick. “Me and Elena getting back together; it was a mission. She was suspected of being a mole.” he paused as he studied her reaction, ” We couldn’t risk telling you. We had to make it look real. ”

She stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief, as if trying to grasp the whirlwind of his sudden appearance. “You’re here for that? To explain yourself?” There was incredulity in her voice, mingled with raw, exhausted pain that came from reopening old wounds.

“Yes.” Bucky’s voice was firm but edged with something close to desperation. “We managed to capture her.” He took a deep breath, his gaze searching hers. “We had to keep the mission under wraps, Y/N. We couldn’t risk word getting out… not after what happened with S.H.I.E.L.D. We couldn’t have another Hydra situation, or anything that even looked like it.”

He paused, the tension in his jaw tightening. “It turns out her plan was to isolate me. To make me even more vulnerable than I already am, before they…” His words faltered, heavy and incomplete, as if finishing the sentence would make it all too real. 

But he didn’t need to say more. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, the realisation clear in her expression. She was smart; too smart not to piece it together. She knew what Bucky feared most. He’d be dragged back into Hydra’s grasp, or worse, used as a pawn by some other twisted organisation. 

It was a fate too cruel to name, and he could see in her eyes that she already understood.

Her brow furrowed, processing everything Bucky had explained thus far. A mixture of confusion and anger flitting across her features. “So that was it?” she demanded. “I was just collateral damage?”

“No,” he said quickly, the word breaking from him like a plea. “No. It wasn’t like that. I wanted to protect you. We all did.” He hesitated, voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I did.”

She scoffed, a bitter edge cutting through her words. “Unbelievable. I smiled at you one time, James—one time—and you think you can just come back into my life like you own it?”

The accusation hung between them, and the depth of her frustration was like a dam bursting. He recoiled slightly, horrified by the thought that he’d hurt her so deeply. “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not what this is. I didn’t want to just—”

She cut him off with a sharp, biting word. “Bullshit!” The accusation hit him like a physical blow, but he pressed on, desperation bleeding into his tone. “I just wanted to tell you the truth,” he said, his voice tight with urgency. “That it was all fake.”

“Fake?” She echoed the word with a harsh, bitter laugh that rang with disbelief. It stung him, sharp as a slap across the face. “It looked pretty damn real to me, James. You don’t think I saw the pictures? The headlines? How you were with her?”

“It was a cover, Y/N. I didn’t have a choice.”

Her eyes flashed, anger and betrayal burning bright. She took a step toward him, as if the weight of her hurt couldn’t be contained. “You didn’t have a choice? You had a choice when you came to me, when you told me it was over. When you ripped my heart out, did you have a choice then?”

Bucky flinched, the impact of her words like a physical blow, but he held his ground. “I was trying to protect you.”

“By hurting me?” Her voice cracked, raw and trembling. “By tearing me apart?”

Silence crashed over them, heavy and suffocating. Her chest heaved, each breath ragged. “By leaving me behind?” she whispered, her words dripping with the weight of every unspoken wound. “By pretending like what we had meant nothing?”

He stepped closer, the space between them suffocating and electric. “It wasn’t nothing,” he said, his voice quivering. “It was everything. You were everything.”

She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks unchecked. “I don’t believe you.”

With a trembling hand, Bucky reached for her face, cupping her cheeks as though she were something fragile. His thumb brushed away her tears, his touch reverent, aching. “I love you, Y/N,” he breathed, the confession breaking through the dam of his restraint. “From the start, when we laughed about that ridiculous introduction; me, calling myself the Winter Soldier and you insisting I was an Avenger—I knew it then.”

He swallowed hard, blinking through tears. “But it wasn’t just that. It was how you saw me; not the killer, not the broken man, but me. The way you’d smile at me, like I was worth something. The nights you stayed awake, holding me when I couldn’t breathe, when the nightmares felt too real. The way you’d whisper that I wasn’t alone. No one ever did that for me. No one.”

He paused, the rawness in his expression deepening. “I knew it was too late when I realized I’d been in love with you for a while. It hit me that day at Sally’s, remember?” His voice grew softer, distant with memory. “It was spring. You wore that sundress you bragged about getting for next to nothing at a thrift store. The sunlight made your hair glow, and you laughed at something ridiculous; a dog chasing bubbles, I think. I couldn’t stop looking at you. It wasn’t just the dress or the moment. It was the way you made everything feel… lighter. Like I could breathe again. Like the past didn’t own me.”

He let out a shaky breath, his thumb tracing along her jawline. “I realized then that I was in deep. That it was more than just a moment. And it terrified me, because I thought I’d ruin it. Ruin you.” His voice cracked, weighted with a mix of love and regret.

His shoulders shook as he let out a ragged breath, the tears spilling over. “It’s the way you laugh, the way you fight for everyone you care about. How you make me feel like I’m more than my past… God, I tried so hard to keep you safe. Even if it meant pushing you away. But it killed me, Y/N. Every day.”

She stared at him, stunned and raw, her own tears falling. His hands cradled her face gently, his touch trembling. “I love you,” he said again, more desperately. “I love you for every moment you gave me hope when I thought I couldn’t be saved. I love you for being there, even when I didn’t deserve it. And I don’t want to lose you again.”

He leaned in, their faces inches apart, his tears mixing with hers as he whispered, “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

She closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her, feeling the sincerity in every broken syllable. For a heartbeat, it seemed she would turn away. But then, her voice cracked, trembling with everything she’d buried. “I love you too,” she breathed, voice shaking. “I never stopped.”

His forehead touched hers, their breaths mingling, raw and vulnerable. Slowly, their lips met, soft at first, then deeper, a kiss that spoke of everything they had denied and everything they still longed for. In each other’s touch, everything else faded, leaving only the truth between them.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: i was planning to do a descriptive smut scene at first, but after piecing everything from my draft and re-reading the overall flow, i don't think it's suitable to include it in this. perhaps another time, a side/extra story maybe. i hope y'all okay with that and enjoy your reading 🥺

[sevilemar]

Olaf Scholz, German Chancellor:

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I have just asked the Bundespräsident to release the Minister of Finance. I have presented the coalition partner from the FDP with another comprehensive offer to close the financial gap in our budget without tumbling our country into chaos. An offer to strengthen Germany in difficult times, an offer that also encompasses suggestions from the FDP.

I have to state again that the Minister is not willing to put the good of the country first. I do not want our country to have to suffer from this kind of behaviour any longer. My dear citizens, I would have liked to spare you this difficult decision, eespecially in times like these, when insecurities are growing.

Someone who denies a solution, a compromis in times like these is irresponsible. Too often necessary compromises were shouted down by staged arguments in public, and loud, ideological demands. Too often has Minister of Finances Lindner blocked laws with irrelevant arguments. Too often has he pettily beaten time for his political party. Too often has he broken my trust.

He even denied the budget at the last minute, after we had already reached an accord through long negotiations. There is no trust between us for working together in the future; actual governing is impossible.

Someone who is part of an active government has to work reliably and responsibly. He cannot just turn tail and run when it gets difficult. He has to be open to compromises in the interest of every citizen in Germany.

But that's exactly what Christian Lindner's agenda is not. He is concerned about his own political backers, the short-term survival of his own party. Especially on a day like this, on the day after an event as important as the election in the US, this kind of selfishness is absolutely incomprehensible. Never, never, should we pit innerpolitical, foreign political, and social political safety against each other. It risks our community, and in the end, it even risks our democracy.

Why am I saying this?

Minister of Finance Lindner has publicly demanded a fundamentally different policy. Millions of euros worth of tax deductions for the wealthy, and at the same time cuts to the retirement benefits of every citizen. This is not decent, it is not fair. Vast tax gifts for the wealthiest, financed by our towns and municipalities. Christian Lindner also wants to cut programs to renew our infostructure in a climate friendly way. It fuels insecurities in our economy, and it cuts us off from being on the front lines of technological advances. The US, China, and others are not sleeping on this.

Christian Lindner talks about 'raising the efficiency control in our social security sytems'; what he actually means are hard cuts to health care and nursing care, and less safety when someone needs help. That is disrespectful to everyone who worked hard for these benefits, for everyone who pays their taxes.

What will happen now? Minister of Finance Lindner will be released by the Bundespräsident.

[And he goes on to talk about posing the Vertrauensfrage in January, which might mean that we will have our federal elections earlier than anticipated. This part is not in the clip op posted.]

inject it into my bloodstream

[outrunningthedark]

I am honestly shocked (as a pretty unbiased party) at the GA’s reaction to the bucktommy breakup. I’d hedge a bet that Tim and co are too! I think they knew that bucktommy was fairly well received (by the general audience and not the loud minority) but i don’t think that they realised those same people who were so flippant about Buck’s prior love interests would keep caring to the extent they have. That people would care enough to express their disappointment in a rational manner - not resorting to name calling etc etc. I do wonder where they plan to go from here (or if they even have a plan) because the idea that Buck jumps back to sleeping around now or diving head first into another relationship eight seasons in…. is jarring and i do wonder how the GA will react to that after this week

I think you’ve brought up an important point re: the reaction to prior love interests, and the funny thing is Tim and his staff only have themselves to blame.

Everyone Buck has been with before Tommy has been a woman. Buck was, for all intents and purposes, perceived as straight. It’s not that difficult to get an audience on board with a hetero relationship, right?

Except the audience was able to bounce back from every breakup because the effort wasn’t there. In fact, I’d bet the relationship the audience cared about most was BuckAbby, but they can’t do anything about Connie only signing for the one season. (And just to cover all my bases, sure, you could say that "effort" was made with BuckTaylor given how much screen time they had, but the audience also had the entire half of 5B to prepare for a break up after the BuckLucy kissing scene!) Now here comes Tommy. He already has established relationships with members of the 118, relationships that have nothing to do with Buck. His first episode in s7 showed him helping the 118 not only rescue Bathena, but going behind people's backs to do it so nobody got in trouble. Episode four establishes that he has also made a friend in Eddie, which is a first for these love interests! If Tommy and Eddie can get along, this time might be different, right? After the kiss in Buck's loft, which the GA obviously didn't hate, they have a conversation after a disastrous date, about wanting to see where things go. Buck was happy. People were gonna like that. The wedding episode is, IMO, where Tim started to slip up. We didn't just see Buck bringing Tommy as his plus-one and introducing him to everybody. We saw Tommy show up to the hospital still in his firefighter gear after an emergency. We saw that he wanted to keep his promise to Buck to be there for the wedding, to show that he, too, was serious about seeing where the relationship could go. We saw Buck kiss him. In public. No shame, no regrets. We also saw their dinner scene in the finale. Not interrupted by Eddie's drama. We saw Tommy still being important enough to the story in 8x01 to be present for Christopher's "birthday party". And then we saw everything that came with 8x05. The fandom can take its victory lap and say "the writing was on the wall", but the general audience? All they saw were two men slowly (possibly) falling in love. Tommy was never actually portrayed as the wrong partner in canon. In fact, he was everything the previous weren't. Every single thing this fandom used as an excuse for why these relationships wouldn't work? Tommy was the anomaly. First responder? Check. Friendly with Eddie? Check. Forms some sort of relationship with Chris? Check. Makes Buck a priority? Check. Isn't sidelined for Buddie scenes? Check. Yep, maybe Tim really did do all those things so that when the breakup actually happened it would leave an impact. But how fucking obtuse do you (Tim) have to be to not realize just how important seeing Buck in a happy, healthy relationship - what little we got of it! - was going to be for the audience? Especially when much of that audience has stuck with you through six seasons of the same old shit? How can you be unprepared for the backlash when YOU are the reason people care this much in the first place?

[endearng]

About you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x ex!reader Summary: You know a place that you go to remember Spencer Reid's face. You never thought you'd get to actually see him again. WC: 4.6k Warnings: brief mentions of Spencer's trauma (childhood, addiction); hints at poor coping mechanisms/mental struggles; miscommunication; running away. A/N: This is a mix between canon events and some things are fiction (mostly when it comes to the timeline of the show) and I picture later seasons Spencer. This is based on many songs from ttpd, but this fic came to mind when I was listening to 'About You' by the 1975. I really hope you guys like it. Feedbacks are always welcome and appreciated <3 masterlist

You sat on one of the park benches. Actually, it was on the park bench, near a tree, you used to occupy with Spencer after getting your favorite treats from the coffee shop nearby.

It was your first date as boyfriend and girlfriend and he had started reading to you once the chatter had died down a little bit. He looked beautiful that day, eyes leaving the book pages every now and then so he could catch a glimpse of you. Every time he did, you smiled at him. You were so enamored by his eyes that you didn't care if you were perceived as desperate or too lovestruck when he looked at you. You felt warm inside and for a moment, you thought it could last forever.

From that day on, whenever you could, you'd always go to that park and sit on that specific bench. You even carved your initials in it.

Now, as you caressed the old indentation, dark from all the time that had passed, you were all alone. A hole in your chest.

You were living in Virginia, about to get your Master's Degree. It was the time of the semester when everything seems to be piling up and you can never get the time to take care of it as you should. As you walked home at night, you witnessed a young couple walking into a dark forest, but you didn't mind — horny kids were everywhere and you were glad they had a nice way to let off some steam, not being one to judge someone’s kinks.

The next thing you knew, the FBI wanted to see you. They sent a cute, awfully young agent to your apartment, who introduced himself as 'Doctor Spencer Reid' and waved at you once you answered the door, telling you you had been the last person to witness that young woman alive. You froze, unable to look away from him, sheer shock crossing your intriguing, mesmerizing features. Spencer Reid took more than a minute to try to calm you down to have you answer his questions. Despite your head going miles per minute, you tried to help out as much as you could and were able to describe the man as you managed to recall some of his features.

Then, you had gotten Spencer's number to keep him posted if anything happened, since that unsub was kidnapping and torturing girls from your university. When they wrapped up the case to go home, Spencer went to your building to tell you they were returning to Quantico. You had grown fond of him, his presence a warm embrace compared to the chaos around you, so when he broke the news, you did feel a little disappointed, even though you knew that he would eventually leave. He was sensible to the matters around him, doing everything in his power and using his intelligence to help everyone around him. It made you grow a sense of hope in other people you haven’t felt in a while.

You took your study break a little earlier that night once you saw him at your doorstep, deciding you'd give him your time. A low "So, you're leaving..." escaping your mouth once he told you why he went to your place. To say goodbye. You couldn't conceal the sadness in your voice.

"Yeah. I just wanted to say goodbye. And to thank you, of course, you helped us a lot." He said, eyes never leaving yours.

"Anytime, Doctor," you joked. "I'm gonna miss you. Even if we've just met. Even if you had to be aware of something so terrible." You confessed. His eyes widened at you in surprise.

His eyes. Big, doe eyes glancing at you like you held the answers to the whole universe.

In that moment, you did. Not his education, not PhD's, plural, not anything he learned from all the books he read and certainly not his time in the bureau. You held the answers.

He chuckled, a little shy. Unable to tell you, verbally, that he would miss you, too. His eyes did the job, though. "Yeah, yeah. It was nice knowing you."

"Yeah, it was," you agreed, coming a little closer to him. You gave him a kiss on his cheek. Soft, warm skin against your lips making butterflies swarm in your belly. He smiled, widely, sincerely.

You wished he was yours.

You also wished he knew that you meant that, 'besides the bad guy and all the terrible things, it was fun meeting you because you are full of light. A masterpiece.'

"Take care, okay, doctor?" You whispered, slowly pulling away from him. “I’ll see you around.”

"Be safe,” he wished, “I hope so, in better conditions."

A few days passed and you got your first call from Spencer, which turned into a second, a third and when you noticed, you were scheduling hang outs. Those turned into dates when you started to go out more frequently to every new place you wanted the other to know. All of that and touching each other more often, more carefully, more passionately than regular friends did.

You simply sat there, your memories the only thing keeping you company, haunting you, besides the tears that pricked in the corner of your eyes. You missed him so much. You missed the time you had with him.

Two years into your relationship, things got more and more complicated. You struggled to keep up with his life and more often than not you seemed to keep much to yourselves instead of sharing things with each other. You never thought you'd share (funny wording) such a distant relationship with someone, let alone one you knew for sure there was so much love and respect. During your time together, you learned about Spencer’s past and some pieces fell into place; he was somehow explained by everything he had faced as a child, teenager and now as an adult — his mother’s condition, his dad walking away, the bullying, being abducted and its consequences. You held him through it all, when the memories and feelings of powerlessness washed over him.

Then, Spencer started to be away more often and the physical distance, enforced by the emotional one that slowly grew between you two, made you feel like you were an intruder in his life. So, you gradually started to hold yourself back from starting conversations. You rarely had his attention and you figured it was because his mind was always elsewhere.

Yours was, too. Back in a time when things were simpler.

As time went by, being around him, too quiet and far out of each other’s reach, simply floating in his orbit, felt like a heavy burden you had to carry in order to keep him in your life. He never opened up and since you didn’t either, you felt like you didn't have the right to suggest you two should fix things, so you let him be. Coexisting together in the same space, oceans apart from each other’s lives and struggles, never touching the subject. The result, of course, was that you grew apart.

It all ended, officially, when you decided to move away to get your Doctorate as an excuse to run away from the hard conversations that you knew would take place if you confronted him about where had things, where had you gone so terribly wrong. You were hell-bent on trying to turn your heartbreak and deception into something, into an achievement. Then, you both decided, albeit reluctantly, that breaking up was the best choice for you, since you’d move away. The part that there was already a huge gap between the two of you remained unspoken. You tried convincing yourself that it would be easier, since you’d never have to see him and you'd be okay being in past chapters of Spencer’s life. 

Funnily enough, it wasn't that simple.

You see, the heart is a tricky machine. The wording here is not random: it works, of course, to primarily pump the blood through your veins to make sure you are getting enough oxygen around your body and deliver waste objects, like carbon dioxide, back to the lungs, to be removed — Spencer had told you so once when you told him your heart beat for him in a corny deliver of a joke. Despite the fact that he was right, you can never anticipate how the heart will react once it has no access to the aim of its affections, after being cut off from their life. Worse: after being slowly dragged away from the one it was sure it would be able to adore for the rest of its pumping-function life. You figured that, maybe it would continue working for as long as it needs to, but not with the same devotion it once knew and now was deprived of.

That was how you passed the last few years of your life.

After Spencer, you weren't really interested in anyone. You tried to put yourself out there, made new friends, tried dating some people, traveled abroad, discovered more about yourself. Nevertheless, in the back of your hopeless mind and dejected heart, you held the memories you had created with him close to your very soul. When things got too quiet, it was him that you thought of. On a train, on the way home or to somewhere new and/or special, in the lazy mornings you spent by yourself, in the nights that got too lonely to bear by yourself, during your lunch breaks that you always seemed to remember how much he loved sharing those with you — stealing food from his plate, even if you didn't like whatever he was having, just so he could steal your dessert to make sharing equal. He got a sweet tooth after dating you.

Now, though, something felt off. You had spent years of your life pining and longing and hoping that you'd find your way back to each other in the end that now you didn't have the guts to search for him. You kept an eye on his life and could remember a thing or two of all his achievements and papers that were published in science magazines, a brief abstract ready to roll off your tongue if someone asked you about it. You tried keeping up with his professional life in order to feel closer to him, but the thing was, you didn't know if he had someone else, if he had moved on more easily than you (not that you had), if he had learned to cope a little better with the hardships of his job. You always said he needed some rest for his noisy mind.

Even the air in your hometown made you think of him. Felt like him: distant, missed and still plaguing your thoughts. It was the aftermath of running away for some time.

In hindsight, perhaps you had only shared fleeting moments with Spencer and it was a frail affair, doomed from day one, knowing how different your lifestyles were. When you got too fed up with your longing and inner romanticism over this relationship, you would try to convince yourself that you were better off without him. That being alone was better than to be by yourself in a relationship that you only kept for the sake of calling him yours.

Still, there was something missing. You didn't know what it was, but you were tired of wasting your time, waiting for a bus that never showed.

Or maybe it did, and perhaps you had missed it.

From afar, Spencer watched, dumbfounded, a figure that resembled someone he once loved so much, sitting on the bench he used to share with you. He still does love. Or maybe he doesn't. He doesn't know, really. He's been through so much, losing loved ones, losing his mother and enduring several trauma after leaving the FBI, never having the time to properly take in the happenings in his life. Could it possibly be you? He could never forget your form, no matter how many years passed and how hard he had tried to do that. His heart started slowing, oxygen lacking in his lungs. He felt dizzy. Was it a mirage?

Memories started to flood his mind and he was unable to move.

Daylight faded, announcing the beginning of the evening. Spencer listened as you read to him one of your favorite novels, The Hour of the Star, a Brazilian novel by Clarice Lispector. It definitely wasn't romantic, but you always made sure to use the correct tone whenever you were reading the characters' lines, and you paused every now and then to make comments and listened when he had one of his own. Those were precious, rare, quiet moments in his hectic life. He cherished them because of that, of course, but most importantly because you were with him.

Once you finished the chapter you were reciting, you noticed how dark it already was and that the lights of the city were already on, casting a soft glow over Spencer. He looked exceptionally, effortlessly beautiful that night. You smiled at him. "Shall we go home, Spence?"

"Yes," he accepted, helping you up. You thanked him with a kiss to his cheek, which made him flustered.

Years together and he could never get used to the effect your touch had on him, always wishing he could have more, more, more.

As you walked home together, he took your ring, a gift from him that was usually placed in your left hand, and put it on the one people put wedding rings on. Your reply was to kiss him senseless in public.

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him when you abruptly broke the kiss, looking back with a mischievous, happy expression on your face. He trailed after you, one single thought in mind: I'll never let you go.

The woman — he didn't want to deceive himself if she wasn't you, he was staring at her back, after all, so he thought it was better to be careful with his hopes —, had longer hair, fit better into her clothes, but her movements were scarily just like yours. From the way she looked around to the slight tilt of her head when you'd contemplate the park all those years ago. Spencer felt his thoughts clouding with the need to approach her, curiosity driving him to work on this instinct, but as soon as he moved to walk, he instantly halted his movements. What would he say?

"Hello?", "Is that you?" "Are you back?" "Are you real?" "Have you forgotten about me?"

The questions swimmed around his head like he had no control over his own mind. If there was a monitor to show every single thought running through his brain, it would definitely collapse, smoke clouding the air, telling how overwhelmed he felt. He decided on approaching as a passerby, walking as if he didn't want anything by it, acting nonchalant. He made his way closer to the bench, to the woman. 

She heard footsteps behind her, not too close, but still turned to search for the source of the disturbance, out of her daydreaming. You looked at each other for a moment that felt like an eternity — time stopped, the children stopped playing and the passersby stopped breathing.

As you turned around, your eyes found Spencer. The love of your life. You took in his appearance. His hair was long, unlike how it had been when you last saw him, and he didn't care about styling it as much as he did when he was younger, his curls unruly and a little messy, a little stubble growing on his face. His expression looked harder now, more tired, ripe. You couldn't quite know how to describe him properly. For a moment, you considered that he had hardened over the years, opposite from the caring, soft man you've met and loved ardently once.

On a surface level, looking at him made you feel like you've been loving a ghost. A memory, something that could never return.

Your mind suddenly felt empty. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"You?" You heard the question, uncertain, leave his lips in a low voice. Was it in your head or did you sense hurt?

Again, you wanted to speak, to say something, greet him, tell him you've missed him, ask him if he was okay. Nothing came out. Everything seemed inappropriate. Again, he beat you to it, coming closer to you, voice firmer. "What are you... I thought you'd left."

"I did."

"I know."

Silence. He got closer, moving to sit beside you.

"Yeah." Silence. Still looking at each other. "I came back a couple of months ago. Started visiting exactly three weeks ago, today." You revealed to break the silence, even though the idea that everything that came out of your mouth was improper still plagued your mind.

Spencer felt baffled. You looked different, more mature, even your style had drastically changed — you once wore colorful, baggier outfits, full of life and bright shades matching your personality (you even went shopping with Penelope and you exchanged fashion tips), but now, you wore more sober, neutral tones. Instead of the usual sneakers, or the Converse you both loved to wear together to match your outfits — his black and yours blue —, you wore black boots with heels. You looked grown. And it fit you. Still, your face was the same: your eyes held the same glimmer in them from all those years ago, your lips still as inviting as it ever was for him.

He licked his own, realizing his mouth was dry. "I come here every now and then when things get too heated." He confided, eyes never leaving your figure.

You smiled. A hole in his chest, desolation invading his being. The simple act still makes his machine of a heart ache and speed to reach its full capacity. Of breaking for you. "It's peaceful."

You knew that he seeked solace from whatever was happening in your memories together in that place. At least, you hoped so. You hoped, selfishly, that he thought of you as much as you thought of him, of his ghost. That he ached for you as much as you ached for him.

"Yeah."

Awkward silence engulfed the two of you. You didn't know where to look, but you could never stop scanning his face, taking in his features with care. "I like your hair. It fits you," you said.

He got closer, less than an arm's length between the two of you. Almost itching for you to touch his hair, eyes pleading for some mercy on your end. You've been awfully quiet and if meeting him maim you, you certainly have improved your poker face skills. "You've changed," he retorted. "I never thought I'd see you so different from, you know..."

You didn’t remember Spencer at a loss of words.

Too close. "I hope for the better."

"Why didn't you call?" He asked, brows furrowing.

Come to think of it, it was an excuse you had rehearsed quite a few times when you imagined this scenario, “I was settling, still trying to contact everyone, still finding my way around…”

“And you didn’t think of me?” His tone was wounded. He certainly dreamed you’d come back and was positively sure that you’d reach out to him. Of course, he was wrong.

“Of course I did. I just thought you wouldn't pick up,” you replied.

He didn’t know what to say. Of course he would pick up, but there was no way you could know about it nor trust him if he said so; why would you? You had left him because he built walls around him, cutting you off from his life, torturing you, slowly dragging the end of your relationship and he couldn’t explain why. Once you left, Spencer delved into his work life like never before. He flirted with women and even slept around, which he was aware was a poor coping mechanism, all to outrun the desertion of you, desperately wishing he could forget that he could feel alive in your presence. He even tried having a relationship. It was nice having someone around, now that he was grown and had made peace with some of his demons, but it was never like you and it was all that she was to him: someone around. He never felt that spark with her like he had felt with you, never again having a taste of the sensation that ran through him whenever he stumbled excitedly into your apartment when you invited him over, seizing the rare opportunities to be with you, happiness bubbling inside him. With his new girlfriend, it was quiet. He mistook it for the calmness he lacked within himself when he was with you, but it was just bland. Needless to say, he felt awful about straight up using a person to keep his mind off of you, but it was nice while it worked. He started longing for something he couldn’t even describe what it was.

One day, you guys met halfway, between the two cities you were both in. It was raining and you launched yourself into his arms once you recognized him. You had kissed him like a soldier's wife, for you sure definitely missed him like one — he had been away on a case which took longer than usual. “Hi,” you greeted, shyly, after giving him the hottest kiss of his life.

“Hi,” he smiled, a little flushed.

“I couldn't wait to get to you, Spence,” you confessed, arms pulling him back to hug you once again, his own engulfing your figure. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. I miss you all the time.” He said, burying his face into the crook of your neck, wet hair prickling on his skin. He peeled himself away from you, taking a deep breath. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

The squealed “Yes!” before you kissed him ardently once more was forever ingrained into his mind.

Amidst his reverie, you stood up from your seat. The wind tousled your hair slightly, so you used your left hand to tuck it behind your ear. The street lights reflected their light on a ring you had on your left hand. He recognized it instantly. “I should go,” you murmured, slightly graceless.

“You still have it.”

You looked at him, still sitting and nodded softly. You were hit with the realization that he also remembered you. It didn’t matter that it was such a small thing about you, relief flooded your veins at the very thought that he thought of you. “I do.”

You waved at him, your lips turned upwards shyly. You turned your back and started walking away from him. Again, he thought. And again, he let you, without putting up a fight, which he was aware that he should have done. The elephant in his chest was a light weight compared to the heavy truth dancing around in his throat. Said truth would become much bigger, a heavier burden for him to carry, once it made its way out of him. Speaking made it real. He knew it because every memory that he kept of you, in a sacred, untouched area of his own consciousness, was full of comfort after sharing uncomfortable truths.

It was like his heart screamed at him to keep searching, to keep trying for the person who made it beat faster. But his brain, foggy with all the logic and terrible, horrid things he had to face, decided it was best to keep himself away from you, to save himself the trouble of being the target of pity, or worse, being another person who left him.

From that day on, you’d casually visit the park, secretly wishing you could see him more. It didn't take too long until your wishes were granted, no matter how private you thought they were. Perhaps they were all over your face and he could still read you so easily. Despite the apparent capacity of reading your wants, you were positively sure that Spencer didn't know what to say, just like you. Everything, including him, felt as distant as you had left it. You weren't sure if you could go back, but running away was just as troublesome: you had to adapt in order to survive, but everyone else surrounding you was already fit to the environment. You stuck out like a sore thumb, unable to connect with anyone but the protagonist from past memories of what once was a happy relationship.

Every time you were there, you sensed someone looking at you shortly after your arrival. It was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you, to try to talk things through without rushing into anything, trying to conquer the other's forgiveness by sharing both ordinary and big moments you had during your time apart. As you sat down and talked and shared, you realized that you'd never stop loving him, not even for a second, not even if you could. You had tried and failed, and kept coming back for more to fall in love with the same person over and over.

These encounters quickly turned into the best moments of Spencer's weeks, getting to be filled in on the things he had missed in your life. You had shown him photos, your new degree, new friends, discussed details about your job and how things were in your family. All of that wrapped in intricate, subtle details on how much you'd turned into a person he was already feeling proud of. You had grown into a strong-willed woman who managed to keep your heart as pure as the day you had met him. You still had the traits that made you fall in love with him.

One day, you two were sitting on the bench and you pointed to your initials on it. “Heh, I remember that day. You kept worrying someone was going to show up and stop me from doing it.”

He smiled. “I'm glad no one did.”

“It's funny, isn't it?” You asked, eyes on the indentation, not expecting him to answer due the lack of context. He frowned. “I mean, us. Acting like we don't know each other just for the sake of spending time together.”

He thought for a moment. With your shameless comment, you were definitely daring him to say something. Daring him to make things real, but better this time. “I like that idea,” he said, getting you to look at him. “Don't you? We get to meet each other again. I get to meet you again and I get to make sure that, this time, I'll never let you go.”

“You still don't know me enough to say that with such sureness,” you said, feeling bashful all of a sudden. It was also one of your behaviors that got him so enthralled, once again. Your capacity of saying something and then act coyly, as if you didn't know what he was talking about. Almost backtracking on whatever you had said that was a little more risky than the usual chatter.

He wouldn't let you.

“I want to.”

His tone made you speechless. Your expression turned into one of sheer, pure enchantment. It told him everything he needed to know.

Everything bad was now under the bridge and you could finally have each other back after being so patient.

He now remembered what it was that he missed so dearly in his life.

You.

[noellez-best-life23]

“Someone named Logan,” Sam answers after a quick glance down at the paperwork in front of him. “Do you know him?” Ok so obviously I knew he was in this because the it says it but the way I giggling so school girlish when a crush is mentioned is not right so excited to be reading this now

A life with me isn't a life that you want for yourself. I wish you could see that I'm doing this because I care about you. I'll never be able to give you a fraction of what you deserve.” Ok but what is it with these hurt characters who won't let someone love them because they think we deserve better like let us love you

Ok so I love the whole part where they all meet Logan calling Bucky bub Bucky staring and the reader being the keep them on task and they way Bucky was like we go this way you go that way it has me giggling so much

“It's what HYDRA is using to conduct breeding experiments with the mutants,” Bucky answers in a strained voice. “And now we've all three been infected with it.” Uh oh oh no what could possibly happen 😉😉

Ok so the spicy smuty part after is so hot like why can't I just have both forever and Logan's sweet little talk about how Bucky loves her

“Bucky,” you attempt to interrupt him gently. He ignores it, needing to get this off of his chest before it eats him alive. Not me wanting to scream shut up Bucky and listen

“I did love Logan,” you cut him off. “I'll always care about him, and I'm thankful for what he and I had. Without it, I wouldn't have found you.”

“I do,” you grin at him. “I'm sorry it took me so long to see it. I was so scared of getting hurt again that I let it blind me.” You stroke your thumb over his cheek and he can't help but melt into your touch. He thinks he's fucking dreaming. What why am I tearing up

Ok I loved this it was so good with they spicy and that fluffy ending of the reader and Bucky this was amazing

no one does it better

bucky barnes x reader, past logan howlett x reader

bucky barnes x reader x logan howlett {SEX POLLEN}

word count: 8.8k

summary: sent on a mission with the man you never intended to fall for, you run into someone from your past who your heart has never been able to fully let go of.

a/n: couldn't decide who i wanted to write my next one-shot for so i thought, why not both? these men are both my weakness and this trope is my weakness so this was bound to happen at some point. also big shout-out to @embbarnes for her encouragement with this and assuring me that it isn't complete trash 🫶🏻💕

warnings/tags: 18+ mdni, smut, sex pollen therefore dubcon, fuck or die situation, mmf threesome, unprotected p in v, oral (m&f receiving), definitely some angst, love triangle elements, mainly reader's pov but there's some pov switches for bucky and logan too, dirty talk, reader is afab, no use of y/n, multiple orgasms, hints of praise kink and overstimulation, reader has telekinetic abilities but i don't focus on that much

my masterlist

The shrill, repetitive beeping of an alarm clock startles you awake and causes you to bolt upright in the bed you'd fallen asleep in.

Not your bed, you realize as you clutch Bucky's satin sheets to your naked chest. You'd accidentally passed out in his room after your time together last night.

“Shit,” you breathe as you glance over to the digital display of the alarm clock on the bedside table, next to where Bucky begins to stir from his sleep. It's seven thirty in the morning, and you're going to be late for a meeting on an upcoming mission if you don't get back to your room and get ready ASAP.

“I'm so sorry,” you mumble as he hits the snooze button of the outdated alarm with the side of his metal hand. “I didn't mean to fall asleep.”

You withdraw from the covers, throwing your legs over the side of the mattress as you start to reach down to gather your clothes that are flung precariously on the floor next to you, when you feel his flesh hand wrap around your forearm.

You glance back at him to find him smirking up at you, sleep still written across his face.

It shouldn't be possible for anyone to look so beautiful first thing in the morning, you think.

He pulls you back down to him by your arm, only letting go when your face is close enough for him to seal his lips around yours. He kisses you slowly, lazily - not at all like the hurried, heated mess of tongue and teeth from last night.

“I'm not sorry. You're really cute when you snore, actually,” he murmurs when he pulls away.

You roll your eyes, proceeding to pick your clothes up from his floor. “I do not snore,” you retort in mock defense. You yank yesterday's tank top over your head before standing to tug on your underwear and sweatpants. “But we are both going to be late for this meeting if we don't get our asses out of bed.”

You turn to face him, your eyes raking over his still relaxed position against his pillow. He sits up, a look that you can't quite place on his face - something between dejection and disappointment. Whatever it is, you know you're the reason for it.

“It's not a big deal, you know,” he starts lightly with a small smile. You quirk an eyebrow at him. “That you slept in my bed,” he clarifies. “You technically live in this building, so I don't think we crossed any imaginary line.”

You huff a laugh under your breath, a sinking feeling in your gut at the direction that you feel this conversation is headed.

You wouldn't admit it to him because of said imaginary lines, but you enjoyed sleeping next to Bucky. He's warm, and his presence is comforting, even to your subconscious. You slept the most peacefully that you have in months last night. Normally, you toss and turn and wake up multiple times throughout the night. But after falling asleep pressed up against him, you didn't wake a single time until his alarm started blaring and you opened your eyes to the early morning sunlight streaming through the cracks in his curtains.

But you and him both know what this is, and what this isn't. And as badly as such a large part of you wants to have more than this with him, you don't know if you're ready to put your heart on the line again.

“Get dressed, Barnes,” you say as you rip his comforter away from his body with the snap of your fingers, leaving him fully exposed. The sight makes you want to crawl back into the bed with him, but you force yourself to walk towards his door, ignoring the incredulous look on his face. “I'm not going to be the one to blame when Sam bitches that we're late.”

••••••

Bucky is trying his hardest to pay attention to the case details that Sam is rambling on about, he really is.

But it's hard when his brain keeps going back to the fact that you fell asleep in his fucking bed and stayed with him the entire night. Your naked body pressed against his, your familiar scent of lavender and honey invading his senses throughout the night anytime you'd stir beside him.

When he woke up around two o'clock and realized that you had never made your way back to your own bedroom down the hall, he knew that he should wake you up and let you know that you'd fallen asleep. He knew that's what you would have wanted. But as he laid beside you, listening to the even and peaceful pattern of your breathing, he couldn't bring himself to disturb you - and selfishly, just didn't want you to leave.

You had been clear from the start - your arrangement was to be sex only. And Bucky had been fine with that, truly. He had been in agreement with you. He needed to focus on adjusting to life as a pardoned man post blip, and you needed to focus on healing from - well, he wasn't sure of the exact details. He didn't want to press you too much, but he knew that you had essentially started your life over shortly before he met you.

As happy as it made him to wake up with you beside him this morning, he rationally knew that you wouldn't let it happen again.

And that thought bothers him more than it probably should.

“We've been in communication with Charles Xavier, founder of the X-Men.” Sam’s voice draws Bucky’s attention back to the situation at hand. You sit directly across the table from him, his gaze flicking to you at the mention of your former mentor's name. Your face remains neutral, but he doesn't miss the way your posture tenses. “Upwards of a dozen mutants in their early twenties have gone missing. They have reason to believe that they are being held at a warehouse outside of Lake Placid.”

“That's horrible,” you say with a shake of your head. “So where do Bucky and I come into this?” You sound almost nervous, Bucky thinks.

“The warehouse they are being held at is a former HYDRA base,” Sam explains with a glance at Bucky. “A warehouse that was specifically used for breeding experiments back in the fifties and sixties. The X-Men would like our help with this, seeing as how we not only have someone familiar with HYDRA, but someone who has worked with their team in the past, too.”

You give a slight, curt nod. Bucky knows that you're too much of a team player to argue, but he can read you like an open book - he can tell that you have reservations about this, though he doesn't fully know why.

He has his reservations, too. As if the thought of going into a potentially active HYDRA base isn't enough to put him on edge, knowing that the two of you were going to be working with your former team that you had left years ago only adds to his apprehension.

“What's the plan, exactly?” Bucky speaks up, forcing himself to look away from you and back to Sam.

“First things first, we need to figure out precisely what we are dealing with. We need confirmation that this is in fact where the mutants are being held, and exactly how many there are. The two of you will go to the warehouse for re-con, and one of Xavier's men will be meeting you there. Once we know–”

“Who?” You interrupt, sitting up straight in your chair. “Did he say who will be joining us?”

“Someone named Logan,” Sam answers after a quick glance down at the paperwork in front of him. “Do you know him?”

You go silent, pursing your lips. Bucky and Sam both look at you expectantly as you seem to space out. Sam calls your name in question.

“Uh, yeah,” you answer, your voice an octave higher than usual. “I do - I did,” you correct quickly. “I knew him.”

Bucky's eyes narrow at your out of character response. Normally, you're witty and quick off the mark. Right now, you seem taken off guard - and kind of look like you might throw up.

Sam seems to notice your reaction, but doesn't question you any further. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and passes identical folders to both you and Bucky.

Bucky notices the slightest shake of your hand as you grab it off of the table.

“Here's all the information you should need for now,” Sam says. “You guys head out at noon.”

You stand up from your chair and speed walk towards the door without another word, flinging the door open without a flick of your fingers.

Sam gives Bucky a look that says “fuck if I know” before Bucky dashes out of the briefing room after you.

“Hey!” He calls, catching up to you in several long strides. He grabs you by the wrist, effectively stopping you in your tracks.

“Do you want some breakfast? I'm going to order Postmates.” You say before he can get a word out. He glances from your panic-stricken eyes down to the clammy skin of your wrist.

“Postmates?” He asks, appalled that you're asking him about breakfast right now. “What? No. I'm - are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” you raise your eyebrows with a forced looking grin. “A bit peckish, but I'm fin–”

He rolls his eyes at your stubbornness.

“Who’s Logan?” He feels you tense beneath his grasp on your hand.

“He's an X-Man,” you say with a tight shrug before pulling your hand away from his and continuing back down the hallway.

Bucky really doesn't want to pry, or force you to talk about something that is obviously a touchy subject, but he's worried. The both of you are going to have to work with the guy in a matter of hours, after all.

“Yeah, Sam just told us that much,” he continues as he walks quickly to keep up with you. “But what's the deal? I take it you don't like the guy or–?”

You're the one that comes to a halt this time.

“Logan is a good man, and I have no doubt that he'll do everything he can to help these mutants that we're looking for. That's all that matters, okay?” You say in a tone that indicates the end of the discussion.

Bucky doesn’t push the topic any further, satisfied enough with your answer despite the voice in the back of his mind that is screaming that there's more to the story than your brief explanation.

“Now, do you want a breakfast burrito or not?”

••••••

It's actually pretty pathetic that nearly three years of healing can go down the drain with a simple mention of his name.

You knew that you still cared for him. You knew that part of you always would, no matter how much time and space was between you.

But when Sam mentioned his name in that briefing room, you felt as though no time had passed at all. You were right back in your bedroom at the X-Men's headquarters, packing up your belongings to leave behind the only life that you had ever truly known.

And it wasn't because you wanted to. You didn't want to at all, really. But you'd put your heart on the line for someone who wouldn't take it, one too many times. You had accepted that you had no future there. At least not the one that you so desperately craved.

A future with Logan.

“A life with me isn't a life that you want for yourself. I wish you could see that I'm doing this because I care about you. I'll never be able to give you a fraction of what you deserve.”

You remember how he wouldn't even look you in the eye as he broke the last piece of your heart with his words. Just stared at the empty shot glass on the table in front of him.

“You're giving up your last chance to even try.”

The last words you'd said to him play on repeat in your head the entire drive to Lake Placid.

You know that Bucky can tell that something is bothering you - and by extension, you can tell that something is bothering him. He hasn't once mentioned the mission at hand or attempted to turn on the radio, instead opting to drive in a heavy, loaded silence for the first hour of the car ride to the warehouse.

You glance at his side profile from the corner of your eye. His jaw is set tightly and his face otherwise expressionless, but you've known him long enough to know what he's thinking.

“We were together,” you blurt out quickly. He turns his head to look over at you in the passenger seat, his face not revealing his thoughts. “Logan and I. We were together.”

“It's okay. You don't owe me an explanation,” he replies in a stiff voice, his gaze turning back to the road in front of you. You notice his grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“I know I don't. But you still deserve one,” you continue as you begin to inadvertently pick at your cuticles. “If the situation were reversed, and we were about to walk into this with someone that you'd been with intimately in the past, I would appreciate knowing that beforehand.”

This seems to alleviate some of the tension that he's carrying. His grip on the steering wheel slackens, and he looks back over at you with a small smile.

“Well, thank you for telling me.”

“I'm sorry that I didn't let you know when you asked about him earlier,” you continue. “I was just.. taken off guard. It's been a long time since I've seen him, or even talked about him.”

“How long were you two together?”

You weren't surprised by the question, but you still found yourself unsure of how to answer. You knew the true answer would likely lead to follow up questions - follow up questions that would sting to answer out loud.

But over the course of the months that you've been sleeping with Bucky, you've fallen for him. You didn't mean to, and you didn't want to admit it to yourself at first, but it had been a while since you had been able to deny that fact to yourself. No matter how seeing Logan again after all these years goes, it won't change your feelings for Bucky. You don't know what the future looks like for you and Bucky, but you know you owe him honesty and transparency.

“Well,” you start. “We were never really officially.. together. But we were.. involved for a year when I broke things off.” You hope that he can read between the lines of your poor excuse of an explanation.

“Oh,” he answers shortly. You can't tell if your answer made him feel better or worse about the situation. “And why did you break things off?”

You look down at your hands in your lap as you clear your throat. “We wanted different things,” you shrug. “I wanted something more serious and he felt he wasn't capable of giving that to me.”

“Wasn't capable?”

“He had his reasons,” you sigh. “I know he cared for me, he could just never.. get out of his own head long enough to allow himself happiness. I don't hold it against him. It's been years, and I've made peace with it.”

“Were you…?” He trails off, his eyes flickering between you and the road that he turns onto. According to the GPS, the warehouse is just a few miles away now.

“In love with him?” You finish for him. He looks at you expectantly.

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. “I was.”

••••••

The words I don't know why I signed up for this shit keep playing on an endless loop in Logan's brain.

Every time, the words are followed by the image of your face.

He swears he's a fucking idiot. He doesn't even know if you'll be here. The Avengers have how many members at this point, anyway? What are the odds that you'll be here, out of all of them?

And even if you do happen to be here? Then what? It's been three years since he willingly let you walk out of his life. You've made a new life for yourself, found a new job and a family with them.

He didn't think this through, and he knows that. All he can do now is remind himself to focus on the mission, and worry about the rest later.

He can't allow himself to think what if he sees you again. Not when you always deserved better, and certainly do now that he's let so much time pass without even reaching out.

There's two things he's absolutely certain about, however. One, this warehouse reeks of sewage and mothballs.

Two, it's fucking empty.

He had arrived before the Avenger’s members that he is supposed to be meeting and immediately knew that something was off. His heightened senses detected no fresh human or mutant scents, or any kind of sounds emanating from the building.

He slipped through a back stairwell door to confirm his suspicions.

Completely deserted.

“Fuckin' hell,” Logan groans to himself as he storms down a hallway, shoving every door he comes to open to make sure that HYDRA left behind no bodies.

He finds no one, dead or alive, which is both concerning and comforting. He has no idea how, but HYDRA clearly got tipped off that they were onto them and emptied the place out at a moment's notice.

He turns around the corner at the end of the long hallway, going to search for any indication of where they could possibly be transporting the mutants to next, when a voice that he hasn’t heard in years and a whiff of lavender and honey stops him in his tracks.

••••••

“We had to have just missed them. They can't possibly be too far from here. We need to find Lo–”

You come to an abrupt halt when he rounds the corner just a few feet ahead of you. Bucky stops beside you, letting you take the lead.

“Logan,” you breathe. He hasn't aged a day - he looks exactly as he did the last time that you saw him, though that comes as no surprise.

His eyes pause on the small Avengers emblem on the breast pocket of your tactical suit before trailing his gaze up to yours.

Though it feels surreal to be standing in front of him after all this time, the gravity of the situation and the fact that Bucky's arm grazes against yours from beside you helps ground you.

“It's good to see you,” he greets you with a murmur of your name. “I wish it could be under different circumstances.”

Your only response is a stiff nod as you awkwardly clear your throat and turn to the man beside you, whose harsh stare has yet to leave Logan.

“This is my partner, Bucky,” you introduce them, gesturing between the two. “Bucky, this is Logan.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you, bub,” Logan grunts after a pregnant pause. You don't miss the way Bucky's eyes narrow at him at the nickname.

“He always stare this much?” Logan asks when Bucky offers nothing in response other than a curt nod. An almost sadistic smile begins to spread across Bucky's face at Logan's remark, causing you to grab his bicep in a firm hold right as he opens his mouth to respond.

“Let’s stay focused, yeah?” You glance back and forth between the two of them. The entire situation is nerve racking enough, the last thing you need is the two of them at each other's throats. “We need to do a sweep of each level to see if there's any kind of evidence as to exactly what they’re doing and where they could be headed next.”

“Great idea,” Bucky speaks up as he puts his hand on your lower back and angles you away from Logan. “You and I will check out the east wing,” he says to you, moving you in the opposite direction by applying pressure to your back as he begins to walk away.

“And you can check out the basement,” he calls to Logan over his shoulder.

You think you hear Logan chuckle under his breath as he begins to walk towards a stairwell. Luckily, without any argument.

“Subtle,” you mumble as Bucky steers you around a corner and then drops his hold on your back. “Was that really necessary?”

“I didn’t like the way he called me bub.”

“He calls everyone bub,” you snort.

“Does he call you bub?”

“Well, no–”

“Exactly.”

You throw your hands up in surrender, not wanting this to turn into an actual argument. You and Bucky work in silence as you clear the east wing of the warehouse, checking each room for any signs of what has happened and where HYDRA could be heading with the mutants next.

You find over half a dozen small rooms with hospital style beds, each rigged with hand and ankle cuffs. Almost all of them have blood stained sheets, and you have to fight off the nausea that begins to grow in your stomach at the sights and smells.

After clearing all of the makeshift bedrooms, the two of you come to a set of large, metal double doors at the end of the hallway. There's glass paneling on each one, but they're so caked in dust and grime that it's impossible to peer through them.

“Stand back,” Bucky instructs you gently. “I'll go in first.” You take a step back, allowing him to press his frame against one of the doors. It opens with a shrill creak, revealing a large room full of surgical tables, monitors, and shelves overfilled with various vials and bottles of unknown substances.

Bucky enters the room, holding the door open for you to follow him inside.

“We should take pictures of all of this,” you start, glancing around at all of the packed shelves. Bucky lets go of the door, looking around the room with you. “I don't know what any of this shit–”

You're cut off by the sound of the metal door slamming to a harsh close behind the two of you, immediately followed by dozens of glass vials shattering against the cement floor when a wooden shelf collapses.

It all happens so fast that you don't even have time to think about using your powers to stop it.

You both jump back, distancing yourselves from the thick plumes of red and black smoke that erupt from the pile of shattered glass. The room is quickly filled with a thick stench of something akin to vinegar. You burst into a coughing fit as Bucky tugs you away from the wreckage, shielding your face to the best of his ability with his metal arm.

“That can't be fucking good,” you manage to get out in between coughs. The billows of smoke continue to grow higher, effectively blocking you and Bucky from the doorway. To get out of the room, you'd have to walk right through it.

“Maybe it'll dissipate in a sec–”

You're cut off by a sharp stabbing pain that starts in your lower belly and radiates all the way through your diaphragm and pelvis.

“Fuck!” you yelp out, clutching at your stomach. Bucky immediately lunges towards you, preventing you from completely crumpling over.

“What is it?” He asks, panic evident in his voice. “Hey, look at me, what's going–”

He can’t get the rest of his question out before he's letting out a sharp hiss, his hands moving to clutch his own stomach. “Oh, fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth.

“What was that?” You cry. Your legs suddenly feel like jelly, and before you can grab onto one of the surgical tables for support, you're falling to your knees on the hard cement floor.

Before Bucky can manage any kind of response, your head is snapping towards the entryway to the room that's concealed by the cloud of smoke. You can hear Logan calling your name from down the hallway.

“Logan!” You yell back just as another jolt of pain hits your gut. “Don't! Don't come in here!”

But just as the warning leaves your lips, Logan is slamming the double doors open and walking directly into the chemical cloud.

“Goddammit, what the hell?” He yells as he begins viciously coughing. Bucky falls to the floor next to you, his face distorted in pain.

It's as you're looking at his face - his plush pink lips and perfectly chiseled jawline - that your heart rate begins to skyrocket.

Logan emerges from the dark burgundy cloud, looking completely bewildered as he takes in the state of you and Bucky on the floor. His gaze settles on you in concern.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“The shelf fell,” you grunt out, looking over to the smoke that's now beginning to dissipate. “A bunch of vials shattered. Whatever was in them–”

You can't finish the sentence before you're overtaken by discomfort in your groin. You look down at the zipper of your tactical suit, trying to make any sense of what is happening. It feels as if you’ve pissed yourself - your underwear is suddenly uncomfortably sticky and wet.

“What was in those vials?” Logan demands. You look up, frantically glancing between him and Bucky. Logan stumbles backwards, clutching his stomach with one hand as he leans against a surgical table for support.

“It's what HYDRA is using to conduct breeding experiments with the mutants,” Bucky answers in a strained voice. “And now we've all three been infected with it.”

••••••

Logan thinks that for the first time in two hundred years, he could actually fucking die. His lungs feel like they are collapsing within the cavity of his chest and liquid fire courses through his veins. He looks at you, doubled over in pain on the ground as Bucky crouches next to you and rubs circles on your lower back in a futile attempt to comfort you.

Logan has never considered himself to be a jealous man, but the mere sight of him touching you through your tactical suit makes his blood boil even hotter than it already was. He knows that if you had shown up here alone and the two of you found yourselves in this position, Logan would already have you bent over this table with his cock buried up to your stomach.

It's eating him alive - the drug, yes, but also the thought that you could possibly feel for Bucky what you once felt for him.

He knows he has no right to feel this way. Not when he had every opportunity to prevent you from walking away from him, and didn't take any of them. Not when you'd still be with the X-Men today, if you hadn't felt like your only chance at moving on from him was by leaving.

He knows all of this. But the drug in his system is making him really fucking irrational and possessive over someone who clearly doesn't belong to him anymore.

Doesn't belong to him and never did, he reminds himself. He has himself to thank for that.

“She's your girl, is she not?” Logan spits out through gritted teeth. “Don't let me stop you.”

He has to get out of here. He has to get somewhere far the fuck away from you before he -

“Logan, don't be ridiculous,” you groan from where you're crouched on the ground. “We are miles away from civilization. This will kill you before you can even–”

Your voice alone is enough to make his cock feel like it's going to explode.

“Kill me?” He chuckles. “You've clearly forgotten a lot about me, sweetheart.”

He turns to leave the room when Bucky's voice brings him to a halt.

“She's right. They're experimenting on mutants, you don't think they've taken regenerative powers into consideration? This shit has been reformulated to kill anyone with a beating heart.”

“What are you suggesting, huh?” Logan demands at Bucky. He doesn't know if what he is saying is true or not - he just knows that the room feels over a hundred degrees every time he looks at you and that it's a miracle he hasn't sliced this Bucky's guy's neck to get you alone yet. “If that's true, there's only one way out of this. For all of us. Something tells me you won't be okay with that.”

If the way that Bucky glared at him when they first met didn't tell him enough, the pheromones that practically radiated off of him certainly did. He may not know the intimate details of your and Bucky's relationship, but one thing is plain as day - the man is in love with you, and Logan can't blame him for it.

Bucky forces himself up into a standing position, you still slumped on the floor by his feet. He takes a step toward Logan, allowing Logan to see the sweat that drips down his forehead and his dilated pupils.

“Okay with it?” Bucky chuckles grimly. “Of course I'm not okay with it. The thought of you touching her makes me want to choke the life out of you myself, but the thought of you dying and causing her even more pain? I'm even less okay with that.”

“No one is dying,” you exclaim from beneath them, looking up at both of them with bloodshot eyes. “We're going to do what it takes to make it through this. Okay? All of us.”

••••••

There wasn't enough time to overthink it. If there was, this wouldn't be happening.

You were acting on pure instincts - instincts that were screaming at you to keep them both, and yourself, alive.

There's a tiny, faint voice in the back of your mind that reminds you of all of the potential consequences of this - of what the aftermath of this will be like. But then there's a louder, more dominating voice that overpowers it, telling you to give into this drug and save yourself, save Logan, save Bucky.

Bucky hauls you up to your feet, pulling you off the cement flooring by the tops of your arms.

“You sure about this?” He asks lowly, walking you backwards until the backs of your thighs come in contact with a surgical table. It amazes you - how he's somehow able to still be so considerate of you when this drug is ravaging his body, too.

You look back and forth between him and Logan, both of them doing their best to conceal the considerable pain that they're in.

You suddenly find it hard to care about how fucked of a situation that you're in. Not when all you want is to feel them, touch them, taste them both.

Logan walks over to the two of you in two long strides. You perch on the ledge of the surgical table, Bucky and Logan standing side by side in front of you, trapping you between them and the bed. Their scents are overwhelming - Bucky's piney aftershave and Logan's faint musk of old tobacco.

“Order me away,” Logan murmurs breathlessly. “Tell me to leave right now, and I will, even if it kills me.”

“No,” you practically bark at Logan, tugging him down by the tactical vest until his face is just inches from yours. “I am sure about this,” you implore. You drop your hold on his vest, bringing your hand to the zipper at the top of your own tactical suit and ripping it downwards, exposing your stomach and your lace clad breasts. You push the stretchy material away from your shoulders and down your arms, leaving yourself exposed from the waist up with the exception of your bra.

In any other scenario, you would have felt insecure about being so exposed in front of the both of them. But right now, with the drug spurring you on and the way that both of their eyes rake over your figure, it's an empowering high.

“Lay down,” Bucky instructs you gently, restraint in his voice. “Gotta get you out of this suit so we can take care of you.”

You don't hesitate to do as he asks, scooting backwards onto thin foam padding of the surgical table and laying down on your back. Bucky follows your lead, caging you to the bed with his metal arm as he hovers above you on the poor excuse of a mattress. He rips the thin lace material of your bralette away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. You hiss, arching into the sensation.

Logan stands at the end of the bed, making quick work of shedding you of your boots before shimmying your tactical suit and your panties the rest of the way down your body. He groans at the sight of your exposed, wet cunt.

Bucky pulls away and you whimper at the loss of contact. He grins up at you, and then looks down at where Logan is now kneeling at the bottom of the table. He splays his large hands on your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart.

“Go for it,” Bucky encourages him. “It's only fair. I had her just last night, after all.”

The possessive edge to his voice with the not so subtle reminder of who gets to fuck you now sends a fresh wave of arousal through you, making your pussy clench.

Logan growls at his words - there's no better word for the sound. Deep, dark and guttural, he growls before lowering his mouth to your wet heat.

There's an instantaneous relief wash over you as his tongue licks a thick strip from your hole and up to your clit. He moans into you as you lock your thighs around either side of his head, the scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

You pull Bucky down to you, crushing your lips against his. He brings his flesh hand to your exposed breast again, palming and pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger.

You feel drunk off of the way that both of their tongues explore you - Bucky's mingling with your own and Logan's lapping at your pussy. You snake your hands between your and Bucky's bodies, cupping his evident bulge in your palm through his tactical pants. He thrusts his hips into your touch, but you know it’s not enough to provide him any kind of relief. Your fingers fumble with the buttons and zipper of his pants until you’re able to free his cock. You stroke him in one hand, smearing the pre-cum around his tip up and down his length. His forehead rests against yours as his eyes roll back into his head.

With your other hand, you reach down to where Logan is nestled between your thighs and lace your fingers between the tufts of his hair. It’s all so strangely familiar - the feeling of Bucky twitching in your palm and Logan’s lips locked around your clit.

Despite the time that's passed since the last time he's touched you, Logan still knows your body like the back of his hand. He knows you're close when you start bucking your hips against his mouth, chasing your release with the friction. He brings a calloused finger to the base of your cunt, circling the tip of it in the excess of your juices before slipping it into you with ease. He quickly adds a second, dragging the digits along the velvet walls of your cunt. Bucky captures your lips in his once more as you pump him rapidly in your hand and you feel the coil in your belly heat and tighten when he slips his tongue inside your mouth.

You cum with a cry that gets lost in Bucky's mouth, Logan working you through your orgasm with his tongue and fingers until you've stopped writhing against his face.

“She makes the prettiest sounds when she's fucked out of her mind, doesn't she?” Logan slurs as he sits up on his knees and begins to unbutton his pants. His lips and beard glisten with your slick.

“Tell me about it,” Bucky agrees, pulling himself out of your hand. He helps you into a sitting position and then cups your jawline in both of his face, forcing you to look up at him.

“Which one of us do you want first, huh?”

Drunk off of their words in your post-orgasm haze, all you can do is shake your head. You know either one of them would fill you up just right, alleviating the still present ache in your gut.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Logan purrs as he yanks his pants and boxers down to his knees with one hand and pumps his length in the other. “Gotta tell us what you want. You're the one calling the shots here.”

It's the way that they're both looking at you like they'd do anything you asked of them that gives you the courage to take control of the situation.

“Come up here,” you instruct Logan. Bucky hops off of the bed, giving you space to maneuver yourself onto your hands and knees. Logan crawls around you, until his cock is directly in front of your face.

Bucky takes it upon himself to take Logan's prior position at the base of the bed, stroking himself in his hand as he lines himself up at your entrance. He teases your hole for a moment, unable to hold back any longer as he sinks his length into you. You gasp at the fullness of it, instantly rocking back against him as he digs both his metal and flesh fingers into the meat of your hips.

Logan fists his cock, the tip glistening just inches in front of your mouth. You stick out your tongue, licking up the beads of pre-cum that drip down the head. He curses under his breath, nudging your lips apart with the tip. His eyes flutter closed as you take him in your mouth, inch by inch until he hits the back of your throat. Behind you, Bucky works up to a brutal pace that has you moaning around Logan's cock in your mouth.

“You look so pretty like this,” Logan praises from above you as he cradles your head in his hands, keeping you right where he wants you. “Always been so pretty. You know that?”

You bob your head along his length, bringing one hand to massage the base of his shaft.

It's all overwhelming - the angle that Bucky is hitting your cervix over and over again, and the lack of oxygen from Logan completely filling your mouth and throat.

“So fucking tight, too,” Bucky coos as he loops his arm around your midsection, bringing his flesh fingers to rub your clit. Logan begins to piston his hips back and forth, making you gag each time he rams against the back of your throat. The lack of air has your cheeks stained with a steady stream of tears. “Taking both of us so well. Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

His words send you over the edge, a second orgasm washing over you. You pull yourself off of Logan’s dick, all but going limp on the shitty foam mattress beneath you as Bucky spills into you from behind. Logan keeps a firm grasp on your shoulders, helping to keep you upright as you come down for your climax.

As you try to regulate your breathing, you’re overcome with relief at knowing that Bucky’s going to be okay - and relief at the absence of searing pain in your own gut when Bucky pulls out of you. Relief that is short-lived when you look up to see that Logan’s face is still contorted in pain.

“Lay down,” you instruct him breathlessly. “I’ll take care of you.”

Instead of doing as you ask, he pulls you up to him by the tops of your arms and melds his lips to yours. It hits you that although his cock was just down your throat, this is the first time that the two of you have kissed in years. He tastes exactly as you remember - there’s always an underlying hint of sweet tobacco and bourbon.

Despite the urgency of the situation, he takes his time kissing you. He’s almost hesitant at first, sweeping his tongue along your bottom lip as if asking for permission before slipping it inside your mouth. You're vaguely aware of the sound of the metal doors creaking open and then clicking closed in the background.

It's over as quickly as it begins. When he pulls away, he's looking down at you, the pain that he's in no longer visibly displayed on his features. As if your kiss alone was a balm.

“I had to do that, just once. Just one more time.”

And with that he maneuvers himself so that he's laying flat against the surgical table, pulling you across him so that your thighs straddle either side of his hips. You glance around the room, realizing that Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

You can't say that you blame him - with the drugs dissipating from his system now that he's had his release, of course he wouldn't want to stick around for what's to come.

What did you expect him to do, stand to the sidelines and watch? Still, a wave of panic washes over you at not knowing where he's at - physically or mentally.

“I'll make this quick, sweetheart,” Logan murmurs from beneath you, noticing your distraction. “This will all be over soon.”

This draws your attention back to him, and panic is replaced with guilt - guilt that he still has these chemicals making every fiber of his being undoubtedly feel like he's on fire, while you now feel okay.

“Don't worry about me,” you tell him, cradling his jaw in the palm of your hand from above him. You lean forward on your knees, using your other hand to align his erection with your entrance. You sink yourself onto him in one swift motion, gasping at the stretch of his girth. “Just focus on yourself,” you whisper through the burn.

You give yourself a brief moment to adjust to the angle before rocking forward, pulling out almost completely before sinking back down. His facial features visibly relax at your movements, your walls fluttering around his length and alleviating all of his discomfort.

“That's it,” he encourages as you pick up your pace. “Just like that.” His large hands come to grip your hips, helping to move you up and down. He thrusts up, meeting each of your movements with his own. “Feel just as perfect as you always have.”

You can tell he's close when the movements of his hips grow sloppy and his breathing becomes erratic. One, two, three more harsh thrusts and he's spilling into you - his brows furrowed together and his teeth dug into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood if it weren't for the fact that the indentations heal as quickly as they appear.

You let out an audible sigh of relief as you pull yourself off of him, a mixture of both his and Bucky's cum leaking down your inner thighs.

You're okay. Logan's okay. Bucky's okay. Okay being a relative term, of course. But you were all three going to live.

You sit on the edge of the table as Logan stands up and tucks himself back into his pants. He grabs your underwear and tactical suit from where they'd been discarded on the floor and hands them to you.

“You okay?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah,” you answer as you slide your panties up your thighs. He looks away, wanting to give you the privacy to dress yourself now that you're no longer under the influence of the drugs. “Yeah, I think so. Are you?”

“Feeling a lot better than I was just five minutes ago.”

The two of you fall into a heavy silence as you proceed to put on your clothing and boots. Logan pulls out a cigar and a lighter from one of the interior pockets of his vest and lights it up. You can't help but laugh under your breath - some things never change.

“Listen,” Logan starts as he exhales a puff of a smoke. “I know this wasn't anyone's fault and we all did what we had to do, but I'm sorry if this causes any issues between you and your boyfriend.”

“You don't need to be sorry,” you assure him. “And he's not my boyfriend,” you add in a smaller voice.

“Could have fooled me,” Logan huffs with another inhale of his cigar. “Practically smelled it on him the second that I saw the two of you together.”

“Smelled it on him?”

Logan takes a step closer to you, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Sweetheart, that man loves you. A blind man could see it.”

A lump forms in your throat as you take in his words. Could they be true? Could Bucky really love you? You weren't naive enough to think that he feels nothing for you - you've always known that he cares for you.

Maybe, just maybe it's possible - possible that you have spent so much time and effort keeping your walls up that you were blind to the fact that he could be in love with you.

“Look, I'm not trying to overstep here,” Logan continues when you don't respond. “I just want you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted for you. Just don't make the same mistakes that I did, yeah? If you love the guy, tell him.”

You jump down from the edge of the table, coming to stand directly in front of Logan. Sincerity flickers in his hazel eyes - hazel eyes that you used to be in love with and will always have love for.

But it's different now. You know it, and he does too.

You raise up on the tips of your toes and plant a small kiss near the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you, Logan,” you murmur. “Take care of yourself.”

••••••

The two hour long car ride back to the compound feels eternal despite the fact that Bucky drives a steady fifteen miles an hour over the speed limit the entire time.

After you ran out of the warehouse looking for him, Bucky was quick to make sure that you were okay. After being assured that you were physically fine, he wasted no time in ushering you back to the vehicle and getting the fuck out of Lake Placid.

He knew that you and him would have to have a conversation. He knew that you were itching to bring it up - could tell that you were nervous by the way that you dug your nails into the palm of your hands and repeatedly cracked your knuckles throughout the drive back home.

But he wasn't ready to hear it. He wasn't ready to hear how seeing Logan after all of this time brought up so many feelings that you thought were buried. He wasn't ready to hear how kissing him again made you realize that you couldn't kiss him anymore.

He wasn't ready to accept the fact that the last time he got to fuck you, he had to share you with the man that you'd undoubtedly be going back to.

So when he sees you part your lips to speak from his peripheral vision, he pretends he doesn't notice and quickly turns up the volume to the radio, blaring some shitty early 2000's pop song that sounds like nails on a chalkboard to him.

Anything sounds better than the words that he dreads coming from your mouth.

As soon as the two of you arrive back to the compound, you're both whisked in different directions for medical exams and separate debriefings on what happened during the mission.

By the time he's finished getting the third degree from Sam, and has given a blood sample so that the research team can study the drug that the three of you had been exposed to, he's ready to sleep for a solid twenty-four hours.

But he knows he won't be able to fall asleep with the ten pound brick that sits in the pit of his stomach at the thought of how the next conversation between you and him is bound to go.

He's walking back to his room, practically dragging his feet, when he walks by your door - it's slightly ajar, and light creeps into the otherwise dark hallway from the opening. He pauses to listen, hearing only the soft shuffle of your slippers on your rug and the low volume of your TV, undoubtedly playing one of your comfort shows.

He takes a deep breath before giving a soft knock to your bedroom door. He hears your footsteps approach the door, his heart sinking to his stomach before you can even open it.

“Bucky,” you breathe. He relaxes the slightest bit at the fact that you sound relieved to see him. “Come in,” you tell him as you open the door wider for him.

He enters the familiar, comforting space of your bedroom. You've lit several tea light candles throughout the small space, and he sees that his assumption about your comfort show playing is correct.

“I was going to come check on you in a little bit,” you tell him as you sit down next to him. “Are you okay?” You ask him gently.

He gulps, not knowing where to begin.

“I'm alright, all things considered,” he offers with a forced smile. “Listen,” he continues, suddenly unable to hold your gaze. His eyes flitter around your room, as if he's trying to memorize all of the little details. “I know you're probably exhausted, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for what happened today. I'm sure that it was harder on you than it was on either of us. I know you loved him, and I get it if you still do and don't want to continue this now. I wouldn't blame you if you went back–”

“Bucky,” you attempt to interrupt him gently. He ignores it, needing to get this off of his chest before it eats him alive.

“--back to him. But I just need you to know that this doesn't change anything for me. We did what we had to do for us all to make it out of that alive, but I don't want anything to change between you and I. I hope we can.. go back to normal.”

He finally looks back to you once he finishes rambling.

“I don't want things to go back to normal for us.”

He assumed that's what was coming, but it doesn't make it sting any less. He clears his throat, and starts to push himself off of your bed when you grab his hand.

“I don't want things to go back to normal for us because I'm in love with you, Bucky.”

You close the small amount of space between the two of you, cupping his head in your hands and pulling his face to yours. You slate your lips over his and before he can even process what you've said, he's wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you onto his lap.

Because I'm in love with you, Bucky replays on repeat in his head as he kisses you until you're breathless above him.

“You love me? But - Logan - what about–” He stutters out as he stares up at you.

“I did love Logan,” you cut him off. “I'll always care about him, and I'm thankful for what he and I had. Without it, I wouldn't have found you.”

“You love me,” he states in disbelief.

“I do,” you grin at him. “I'm sorry it took me so long to see it. I was so scared of getting hurt again that I let it blind me.” You stroke your thumb over his cheek and he can't help but melt into your touch. He thinks he's fucking dreaming.

You love him. It sounds too good to be true. But he knows you too well enough to know that you wouldn't say it if you didn't mean it.

He can see it in your eyes, just how true it is.

“I love you,” he breathes before bringing his lips to yours once more. He kisses you like it's the first time he ever has - takes his time exploring your mouth with his, he nips and sucks on the swell of your bottom lip with his teeth.

You break the kiss, a playful smile blooming on your face.

“I was about to hop in the shower when you knocked. Would you want to take one with me?”

He can't help but return the smile. “You're inviting me to shower with you? Next thing I know you're going to be falling asleep in my bed on purpose.”

You snap your fingers, and Bucky hears the water from your shower begin to beat down on the floor of the tub.

“Oh, you're sleeping in my bed tonight, if that wasn't obvious.”

DISCLAIMER i promise i love logan howlett with my whole heart!!! ❤️ i don't normally write angst so i wanted to try something a bit out of my comfort zone. it's been a little while since i've written for bucky so that motivated me to gear this story more towards him, but there's plenty of happy logan pieces on my masterlist 🫶🏻💕