#he truly loved him. and regretted how things ended up.

[chithereader]

you and me / aaron hotchner

word count: 1.9k

pairing: aaron hotchner x singer!reader , aaron hotchner x f!reader

genre: fluff, a little angst

cw: a lot of conversation, i went a little crazy i just love interviews like zane lowe’s!!! and soft aaron

a/n: this photo just makes me think of aaron waiting backstage for popstar!reader / singer!reader

and requests are open!! would love to know what you guys want to read ◡̈

You requested that the set-up of the interview be comfortable. You knew you’d be talking about your albums which are notoriously packed with stories and emotions, personal and imagined. Now what is more comfortable than your own home? 

When you were designing your home, you knew from the start you wanted a conversation pit. You’ve always dreamed of a house that screamed cozy and comfortable, warm and inviting. Even if it cost millions to make, you had no regrets. 

But aside from the occasional family dinners, your sunken living room was only ever used when Aaron and Jack sleep over, and you had a movie marathon night. You'd throw in duvets and pillows on the pit and bunch together whether it was cold or not.

So you thought this interview is perfect to justify your design choice. To use the conversation pit for actual conversation. Which brings you to now, sat across your good friend and favorite interviewer Zane Lowe, your previous and latest album being the topic of conversation. 

“Your previous album was– you know, I mean, it was–” Zane appears to struggle for a word to encapsulate one of the lowest points in your life. Fractured was definitely an emotional album to make and an even sadder one to listen to.  

“Depressing?” you jokingly say. Talking has always been so easy with Zane. He just has this air to him that lets you know he truly just wants to know you. You sit on the couch sideways, facing Zane. Leaning on the back rest with your elbow, head resting on your hand while your other hand fidgets with the tassels on the pillow. 

He laughs, “Well, you were definitely at a low point in your life romantically.” fiddling with his chin, thinking of his next words, “You just– I think you perfectly captured in your songs that sort of loss and tangible grief that comes with letting go of a person- not because there weren’t any love anymore but more because love just wasn’t enough to keep it going.” 

Remembering what had happened– the air felt thinner. Like it was getting harder to breathe. You had to remember that that point of your life was over. You felt such real pain that time, so much so that you struggled to function in your daily life. That void. That ringing emptiness. 

You’re brought back to reality by Zane’s voice, “Could you touch on how that came about?” 

You breathe out a small sigh and with a gentle smile you recall, “Yeah, uhm.. I was in this relationship.. which in hindsight, I’m so lucky to have been in. It taught me so much and truly made me so much more mindful I guess. I mean like, smarter? More conscious definitely of what goes into making a relationship work, and what makes it strong.” 

“But like you said, it ended because as much as we both wanted it to work, as much as we loved each other, it just wasn’t happening. And it was a vicious cycle that was tiring us out. We just knew it wasn’t supposed to be like that.” You pause for a bit, reflecting. 

Flashes of you and Aaron driving home in silence after a dinner at Rossi’s play in your head. You didn’t talk the whole night. Not when you were dressing up. Not in the car ride on the way there. Not when you sat down together. And definitely not when each of you were across the room, busy in separate conversations ignoring the glaringly obvious. 

Looking down at the decorative pillow in your lap, you start, “And I think that in my experience, that’s a lot more painful. I think that break-ups that happen when one hurts the other is somehow better because you get to hold on to I deserve better or like– there’s just thing like anger that drives you to move on.”

You’re taken back to that night. Coming home and feeling the weight of it fall on both your shoulders. You sat for hours in silence, holding each other. Knowing that when the sun rises, he’ll go to work, you’ll go on tour, and your little world will be put to rest. 

“But having that overflowing love for a person who is just not meant for you– I mean how do you tell yourself to let go? How can you even try to convince yourself ? Because people say so often that as long as you love someone there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them and that’s true. I’ve been there, and even everything wasn’t enough. And that was something we really struggled with.” 

“Just admitting that we had to love each other from afar before we turned into strangers together.” 

It just didn’t make sense. The love you had for each other was real. It was deep and true, and neither of you had any doubt of what you meant to each other. There was no question of loyalty or trust. 

But the traveling, the conflict in schedules, the missed calls and messages left on read. You just became both so busy, you were worlds apart. It even reached the point that you haven’t talked for days and neither of you noticed. Or minded. You thought of each other, yeah. But there wasn’t that urge to reach out anymore. There was just… longing. 

–

“Which brings us to now. Your latest album Leftover Love– it’s a lot more hopeful isn’t it? I mean I’d even go as far as saying that it’s about falling in love all over again.” Zane sips on the tea you made him. Leaning over the makeshift coffee table to add more milk in there. 

You straighten a little. Mood instantly lifting at the mention of your favorite album to date. Images of the inspiration behind the album filling your head. 

Zane puts down his tea to gesture generously, “And hearing it live, you could just feel it in the crowd– this kind of electricity. And because there’s no other way to put it– your songs in this album feel a lot like jumping and dancing with a partner in a room full of people and everything is just in slow motion. It’s like this sort of alignment or clicking into place, finding that one person that makes those small moments feel so.. big.” 

He put it perfectly into words. You had really hoped to relay through your songs the recent turn of events in your life. People who have supported you and loved you when you were at low points in your life got you through that, and you felt so strongly that they deserved to know and feel even a fraction of the happiness that you’re feeling right now through your new songs. 

“Definitely, I mean I’m so proud to say that these songs, even if they’re a touch fictional or exaggerated or romanticized– they are based on truths, on real things that have happened or are happening in my life.” You’re getting excited. Pulling the sleeves of your sweater to cover your hands until only your fingertips are visible– you place both hands down on the pillow as if bracing yourself for the climax of a rollercoaster ride. 

“The song Blindly for example, it’s about that feeling or like moment of realization that you’re just so crazy in love you’d follow this person anywhere blindly. I love that the sound’s so grunge-y and messy– insane. Because that’s literally how it feels to be in that whirlwind.” 

Zane picks up on your excitement, nodding at your explanation. He relaxes more into his seat and gestures to you, “It’s a good thing you mentioned that because I actually wanted to ask you why that song slows down at the end. I think that was such a unique and beautiful thing to do to the song and it works so well. But I just want to know what made you do that–” You’re biting your lip smiling, so proud that it was recognized as a conscious choice as a musician and artist.

Zane continues, “It goes from crazy drums and guitar, and the bass– then slows down into this almost hypnotic music box sound that transitions by the end into just this beat like a pulse.” 

Your smile grows bigger which Zane mirrors, “I’m so happy you picked up on that. I have to say that’s actually one of the songs I’m most proud of because it’s one of the first songs that I was heavily involved in the engineering of the sound.”

“But yeah I guess ultimately I just wanted it to mimic that transition from being in crazy love, tornado-esque to it literally settling into this beautifully calm and serene kind of love.” 

Zane listens intently, nodding and humming in agreement and knowing. Finally understanding the point of view from which the sound was created. He has this gentle smile on his face, almost of encouragement knowing you had more to say, 

“Like you go from all these dates and the honeymoon phase, and your heart’s just beating crazy fast all the time and then it turns into that steady murmur of your fridge in the null of the night when you’re baking muffins together in silence.”

You take a deep breath, chewing on the inside of your lip. Hopelessly trying to minimize the smile fighting its way on your face, “It’s just that process of someone becoming your home.” 

-

You're ushering out the last of the production people. Walking alongside Zane who’s the last to step out your front door, you give him a big hug which he returns warmly. 

“I’m so happy you’re happy,” he murmurs into your ear. 

You bury your face into his shoulder and breathe out a laugh, “Thank you.. Really.” 

You separate and smile at each other. Waving goodbye as he walks backwards to his car. You stand by your front door until they pull out of your driveway.

Once you see that your driveway is empty, you turn to your door and see him leaning against the doorframe with a smug, knowing smirk. 

Rolling your eyes playfully as you pass by him into your home, he chuckles. You hear his footsteps behind you and you know he’s following you around while you tidy up the dishes you and Zane used, “Aaron, take out the trash please.” 

This man just listened to you talk about him for hours. With headphones and a monitor set up in the other room– Aaron just got his ego inflated to a size so immeasurable he can’t hide his smile from the strangers beside him controlling lights and volumes. He has got to be humbled.

“Oh so I’m back to Aaron now?” He catches up to you, halting your movements from behind as he takes hold of your arms so you can put down whatever was in them. Then he turns you around by your shoulders so you’re facing him, grinning that smile that makes you go Fuck and then blank in your head.

“And here I was thinking I was home.” Aaron pulls you close, sliding an arm around your waist only to settle on your back as the other holds your hand against his chest, in between you. He starts swaying you both slowly as he buries his nose into the side of your head, humming a familiar tune. 

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

Haven't felt like this, my dear

Since I can't remember when

It's been a long, long time

You'll never know how many dreams

I've dreamed about you

While he was listening to you go on about how you loved him all throughout your rocky start and even more well into the present– he became overwhelmed with the realization that for once in his life, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that he is loved. Truly, deeply, and steadily loved. And that filled him with something that nothing and no one could ever define or measure. 

[zennin8]

Does Ekko love Jinx or Powder?​

The side of the blue rose represents Jinx, and the other side represents Powder. Although they have two distinct faces, the sides of a coin are necessary to form a complete whole. This shows that Ekko understands and values all facets of the person he is gifting.

"I dreamed that the undercity could be like this, but I ended up getting carried away by the things that were wrong. I gave up on it. I gave up on you." -Ekko

In this quote, Ekko shows that he recognizes the mistakes of giving up on Jinx after she joined Silco, instead of trying to understand her reasons. It shows how external influences or misguided ideas can lead one astray.

This indicates a path of mistakes or deviations that distanced him from her, increasingly creating this rivalry between the two and suppressing any kind of feeling. The way Ekko highlighted the mistakes also demonstrates that he truly regrets them.

"It doesn’t matter what happened in the past, it’s never too late to build something new for someone who is worth it" - Ekko

Após retornar, Ekko automaticamente foi atrás de Jinx. Ninguém sugeriu que ele deveria trazê-la de volta ou convencê-la a lutar na guerra; ele só queria muito vê-la depois de tudo o que aconteceu

Searching for Jinx from his universe, especially on his own initiative, can be a sign that there is an emotional interest or persistent affection. Ekko was really willing to let go of the past and any misguided ideas about Jinx. This shows that, unconsciously, he wants to reconcile the differences and reestablish the relationship with the Jinx from his universe, with whom they both had wronged each other a lot.

During the fight, there is a moment of hesitation on Ekko's part. This hesitation suggests that, despite everything that happened, he still cares about her and has difficulty seeing her just as an enemy. This internal conflict of Ekko shows that he still values the connection they had and that past feelings still influence his actions in the present.

Ekko salvou Jinx do suicídio, esse gesto poderoso pode indicar que Ekko valoriza o relacionamento e não quer desistir dela novamente, mesmo reconhecendo as imperfeições de Jinx.

Ekko understands that Powder is different from Jinx, and Jinx is completely different from the terrible being he preferred to believe she was. The events on the bridge showed that Ekko always had this irrational difficulty in seeing her just as an enemy, as he so much wanted.

This feeling always existed, even when he saw only Jinx. All this experience in the other universe made him awaken the feeling he had repressed all these years. The same irrational feeling was present when he hesitated to kill her on the bridge, despite everything that happened. This same feeling made him not allow her to kill herself. It was the same feeling that made him ask her to fight and join him….

Ekko's gift to Powder, the two-faced necklace, symbolizes the acceptance and understanding of the two parts of her identity: Powder and Jinx. He recognizes that these two facets are not completely separate, but rather parts of a whole that form who she is now, someone Ekko was willing to get to know again and not give up on saving more than a thousand times, if necessary.

CONCLUSÃO : Ekko amava Powder, e esses sentimentos nunca desapareceram com o nascimento de Jinx, eles apenas se confundiram. No outro universo, ele percebeu que realmente podia sentir algo por ela. Ele sabia que não podia ficar ali, mas ainda podia consertar seu próprio universo. Retornando, ele teria uma segunda chance de não abandoná-la e de entender seus sentimentos, mas no final, ele se arrependeu sozinho por não ter conseguido. ⏱️💣

[imagine-you]

I Will Avenge My Ghost [Bucky Barnes/Reader] (2/?)

Summary: Your sacrifice on Vormir was meant to be your end. You did it for love. You did it for family. And you had no regrets in your decision to be the one to jump instead of Steve. But you never expected to wake up in Wakanda and you certainly never thought that you would still lose Steve and your sister in the years since your death. While you can't get Steve back, you're determined to figure out what happened to your sister and you end up dragging Bucky along for the ride. Your questions lead you to Westview, a sleepy little town harboring a dark past, and a witch named Agatha Harkness. Will you find what you truly seek down, down, down the Witches' Road or will Death finally come to claim you?

Word Count: 3.8k

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who responded to the last chapter and showed this fic some love. Y'all kept me going. 💖

Chapter One //

Read on AO3

"She's dead," Stephen choked out once you loosened your grip enough to allow him to speak. 

"Bullshit," you snapped, watching the way the darkness around him swirled, attempting to curl around your magic.  

"Your sister was not the same person you remember,” he tried to claim, as if that would make any of it better for you. 

“Then tell me,” you snarled, keeping him pinned to the wall with your magic. “Tell me what kind of person she was.” 

Stephen seemed like he was hesitant to answer, but when you tightened your hold on him, he finally spoke. “She was consumed by her grief and she did terrible things because of it. She enslaved a town with her mind and created a whole reality for herself where she got to have a family with Vision and her children at the expense of innocent civilians. She let the Darkhold corrupt her, because she was looking for the children she created across the multiverse, and she nearly killed a girl just to steal her power. She was responsible for the deaths of countless others all while she was blinded by what the Darkhold had done to her. I tried to tell her that the children, well they never truly existed, but--" Stephen's words cut off with a croak when you lashed out again with your magic, preventing him from continuing.  

"Children? Wanda had children? She had a family? With Vis?"  

"They weren't real," Stephen gasped, his hands attempting to push away your magic and give himself enough space to protect himself, but you realized with a thrill that you were stronger. "She created them with her magic." 

"That's what every mother does," you muttered, not sure where the words had come from, but knowing that it was true. It had been a whisper at the back of your mind. A forgotten memory rushing up to greet you.  

Stephen looked haunted for a moment, his skin paling at the words. "What did you say?" 

"It doesn't matter how she made them, because they're real. She made them real," you refuted with a quick shake of your head, ignoring Stephen's question. "My sister deserved a family. She didn't deserve whatever happened to her. And I refuse to believe she's really gone." She couldn't be. Not after the second chance you had been given.  

"Wanda died at Wundagore when she destroyed all copies of the Darkhold," Stephen continued, watching you warily as you got closer to him.  

You were listening to Stephen, but keeping your focus on the darkness around him. It was still trying to twine itself to your magic and you likened it to a pest that would never go away unless you did something about it.  

"It was her penance for what she did while under its influence," Stephen managed to get out before you tightened your hold on him again, cutting off his words.  

"Should we be stopping her? I feel like we should do something," Sam whispered to the others.  

"Not yet," Shuri responded. "I'd like to see where this is going." 

"And what of your penance, Stephen?" You wondered, tilting your head to the side as you considered him.  

"What?" He asked, gasping in a deep breath when you finally let him go.  

You had seen enough and heard enough from Strange to know what you had to do.  

"You used the Darkhold, didn't you?" You accused, watching him for his reaction.  

His eyes widened just the slightest, finally showing just the briefest glimpse of true uneasiness. "How did you know that?" 

"Because it corrupted you," you hissed at him, leaning forward again and caging him in by placing a hand on either side of his head. You swept your arms down, letting them slide along his sides, feeling the way the darkness inside him tried to latch on to you. "It stained your soul," you realized, knowing that the auras you were seeing around the others was a glimmer of their souls. You wondered if it was a side effect of sacrificing yourself for the soul stone. 

The darkness was unnatural and didn't belong attached to Stephen. You were suddenly sure that it would be so easy to burn it out of him and what better way to show your good will than helping the man who had let your sister fall apart from grief?  

You offered Stephen a smirk, letting your magic flare up in your hands. You knew, somehow, that your plan would work. You were changed, reborn, and stronger for it.  

"Well, you're in luck, Stephen, because I've decided that I'm going to help you. Brace yourself, though, this is gonna hurt like a bitch." 

Stephen barely had a moment to react before you were letting your magic cover him. You let it seep into his skin, curling around the darkness inside him and burning it away. Stephen was screaming and Bucky was calling your name and Shuri was yelling something to Sam but all you could do was smile at Stephen and wonder if he felt even a fraction of the pain your sister must have experienced.  

The power of your magic felt intoxicating. You had never been so completely embraced by it and you didn’t know what to do with the feeling. It was still incredibly impulsive and hard to control, but you knew that with time, you would adapt to it. You would control it more than it controlled you.  

You let your magic sweep all the darkness inside Stephen away. You felt it trying to retreat, curl itself up and hide itself away, but you wouldn't let it. You burned the corruption of the Darkhold right out of Stephen and when you were done, he collapsed, no longer held up by your magic.  

You suddenly felt arms around you and before you could lash out, you felt a brief sting at the side of your neck. You caught sight of Shuri's apologetic expression as she injected you with something. An icy chill crept through your veins and your vision blurred. The person holding you tightened their grip around you before lifting you up.  

"Sorry about this, doll," Bucky muttered before you felt unconsciousness claim you.  

The next thing you were aware of was someone's hand in yours and the sound of someone's soft breaths filling up the silence. You forced yourself to open your eyes, the dragging pull of sleep still clawing at you, but you were stubborn enough to fight it off. You managed to glance down to see that it was Bucky holding onto your hand. His head was tipped back and eyes closed as he slept sprawled out in an armchair that had been pulled up to your bedside. 

You were in a room you didn't recognize and lying on a bed that definitely wasn't yours. The room was plain, bare, all except for the necessary furniture. You didn't know whether to panic about being in a strange place or be grateful that Bucky hadn't abandoned you for acting like a vengeful psycho with Stephen.  

"It's mine," Bucky told you, startling you enough that you tightened your grip on his hand. "This is my room while I'm here in Wakanda." 

You nodded your head, trying to think of something to say. You felt like Bucky had just witnessed you at your worst and you only hoped there was nowhere else to go but up from here.  

"It's nice?" You tried, a smile tugging at your lips at the sound of Bucky's amused laughter.  

"Yeah, well, haven't had time to hire the interior decorator yet," he joked before glancing down and realizing he was still holding onto your hand. He untangled his fingers from yours, the barest hint of a blush staining his cheeks. "How are you feeling?" 

"You mean after I decided to burn the Darkhold's corruption out of Stephen and then got knocked out for my troubles?"  

Bucky winced, but nodded his head.  

You shrugged your shoulders, feeling your lips pull down into a frown. "Not much I can feel after everything I've lost," you mused, fighting the urge to reach out and grab Bucky's hand again. You were on your way to accepting Steve's loss, because he had never really felt like yours at all. You had fallen for him hard and fast while helping him fight Tony Stark and the government all for the sake of Steve's best friend and your feelings had only intensified while you were on the run with him. You knew that Steve had loved you, but you always got the feeling there was something missing with every kiss he gave you. His 'I love you's were meant for someone else, you supposed, and you were only lucky they had graced your ears at all.  

But Wanda? That was a loss you would not accept. She wasn't dead. You wouldn't allow it. Which meant that you would have to find a way to uncover the full story of her demise and find a way to fix it.  

"I'm sorry," Bucky interrupted your thoughts, a remorseful look on his face.  

"For helping Shuri knock me out? It was the smart thing to do," you assured him, knowing that your magic was no longer fully under your control. You were still learning the way it burned, bright and potent, and entirely too destructive. You knew that if left unchecked, you could do an incredible amount of damage, and you would have to find a way to tame the wild impulse of it before it did something you truly didn't want. "I'm not saying I would have killed Stephen, but he's definitely on my shit list." 

"I'm not sorry about that," Bucky told you with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry because I know what it's like to wake up and find out that everything has changed. I know what it's like to feel like you're not really in control." 

"Yeah," you sighed, reaching out and placing your hand over his wrist. "I'm sorry you had to experience that at all. It's a shitty, terrifying feeling." 

Bucky snorted, gifting you with another smile. "You're telling me." 

You had always liked Bucky. You hadn't spent a lot of time around him, but you could see why Steve was willing to risk everything to save him. He had a sneaky brand of sarcasm that never failed to make you smile and he had always been there to watch your back when you needed him. He was kind, if self-deprecating, and carried a weight on his shoulders that life and tragedy had unfairly heaped on him. Despite the guilt he carried, he still found the time to comfort you when you needed someone most. You supposed maybe that was part of his guilt, but he had no blame to feel for what happened with Steve or Wanda. You were grateful for his presence, though, and you knew you weren’t done clinging to him like a lifeline.  

You really didn't want him leaving you too.  

"Let's get out of here," you suggested.  

Bucky quirked an eyebrow at you. "And go where?" 

"I don't care," you told him, already moving to get out of the bed. "Just out of the building, out of Wakanda. Somewhere where I don't feel like I'm constantly being watched." 

Bucky studied you for a moment before he narrowed his eyes in thought. "I think I have just the place in mind," he told you before he stood up. "Just let me tell Sam we're heading out." 

Three minutes later, you were waiting for Bucky while he had a tense conversation with Sam just down the hall. There was a lot of disappointed sighs on Sam's part and a lot of eye-rolling from Bucky, but it wasn't until Sam's voice rose that you caught any of their argument.  

"Are you sure you want to go with her? She seems a bit unstable," Sam pointed out, gesturing towards you.  

"I heard that," you called, shooting Sam an unimpressed look.  

He arched a brow at you, challenging and somehow accusatory. "I hope you did. I said it loud enough so you would." 

Bucky groaned, before reaching out to sling an arm around Sam's shoulders and began to tow him in your direction. "Look," Bucky started, lowering his voice, but you could still hear him despite the effort. "She just woke up after being dead for years and she's found out that her whole world is gone. And maybe she's not exactly the same person she was before she fell. If there's anyone who might be able to help get her through this...," he trailed off, letting Sam fill in the rest for himself.  

Sam froze in his tracks and turned to look at Bucky. "Ah, hell, Bucky," he breathed before his shoulders slumped in defeat. "You're sure about this?" 

"Yeah," Bucky answered, letting his gaze settle on you. "I'm sure." 

Shuri got you a flight out of Wakanda. You didn't see Stephen on your way out, but you didn't care all that much to see him again. You still didn't forgive him for his part in Wanda's suffering and while there would be hell to pay, you had other answers you needed to seek first.  

By the time the jet was landing somewhere in America, you were starting to feel exhausted. Bucky took care of finding a rental car and instructed you to get some rest once you were settled in the passenger seat. You didn't think you'd be able to sleep, but the second you let your head fall back against the headrest, your eyes closed and you drifted off.  

You woke to Bucky's hand on your shoulder. "We're here," he told you, keeping his tone gentle in an effort not to startle you.  

You opened your eyes to the sight of a graveyard.  

You felt yourself tense at the vision of the cemetery gates guarding the rows of graves beyond it. You were suddenly sure that Bucky had taken you to Steve's grave in an attempt to get you to make your peace with his death, but Bucky kept his grip firm on your shoulder and seemed to realize that you were beginning to freak out.  

"Just trust me, alright?"  

You glanced over at Bucky and met his eyes. You knew Bucky wasn't cruel, so your first assumption that you were here to pay your respects to Steve was way off. You nodded your eyes and got out of the car once Bucky did.  

Bucky led you past one row of graves and another, seeking a specific one. He seemed to know exactly where he was going and you began to suspect it was a grave he visited often. He finally stopped in front of a headstone, standing just at the foot of the grave before shooting you an expectant look.  

You offered him a nervous one in return before finally reading the name on the tombstone.  

You couldn't stop the surprised laugh that escaped you once you realized whose grave you were visiting.  

"It's mine," you marveled, moving forward to brush your hand over the headstone. There were fresh flowers left all around it, ringing it like a boundary of protection. There was a wreath displayed beside the headstone that looked like it had been left recently enough that it hadn't been destroyed by the elements just yet. The sash across the wreath proclaimed ‘gone but not forgotten,’ and once you read the words you had to look away, choked up at the sentiment. Your gaze fell on the stuffed animals resting against the base of the tombstone, lined up like they were keeping vigil over your grave. 

"I thought you might find it funny," Bucky offered with a helpless shrug of his shoulders. "I've got one too. An empty grave," he clarified, shifting on his feet when you glanced at him over your shoulder. "But no one ever leaves me teddy bears," he added with an amused grin.  

"Who left them?" You couldn't help but wonder, reaching out to pick up the teddy bear that Bucky had mentioned. It was blue and had white button eyes with a red heart stitched onto the stomach.  

"People who are thankful," Bucky answered, his voice growing solemn. "People who know you saved them. Their loved ones. The world." 

"Huh," you breathed, placing the teddy bear back down before thinking better of it and grabbing it again. "How often do people leave stuff?" 

"Daily," Bucky responded, clearing his throat when he started to say something else. "I, uh, I try to maintain it. Me and Nat and even Sam. Sometimes Clint, but he's been trying to spend as much time as he can with his family and doesn't come out this way that often. But it's mostly me. We'll throw out the flowers once they've wilted or donate the stuffed animals. Sometimes, they even leave balloons and cards," he said, studying you as you brushed your fingers gently over the roses left in one of the vases.  

You had been right all along. Bucky had easily navigated the way to your grave because he visited it often enough to have memorized where to go. The thought set off a funny little flip in your stomach and you decided to change the subject before you could embarrass yourself.  

You stared down at your own grave for a few moments before finally speaking.  

"What was the funeral like?" 

"Weird," Bucky huffed, sounding oddly relieved at the change in subject. You glanced at him, noticing he was blushing yet again. You never thought the Winter Soldier would be so easily flustered, but here you were with the evidence staring you in the face. "Silent," he added after another thoughtful moment. "No one really wanted to believe you were gone. Steve gave a beautiful eulogy and your sister didn't really say much of anything. We never saw her again after that. I think she had just lost too much to want to stick around." 

"Strange mentioned that Wanda took over a whole town," you started, finally turning to give Bucky your full attention. “Which town?” 

"Westview," Bucky supplied with a grimace. “It’s in Jersey.” 

"What happened?" You couldn't help but wonder. "What happened in Westview?" 

"I don't know much more about it than Strange did," Bucky confessed, offering you an apologetic wince. "The people who live there didn't seem like they really wanted to talk about it all that much. Like they just wanted to move on. Far as I can tell, though, what you heard was correct. Wanda took over a town and kind of used the people who lived there as her puppets. She created the life she was never actually going to get with Vision." 

"And she had kids," you mused, feeling your heart ache for your sister. Growing up, Wanda had only ever wanted a family and a life free of war. Losing your parents at such a young age and then being used as Hydra's lab rats had only made Wanda crave the kind of life she witnessed in the sitcoms she adored as a kid. The kind of life where nothing bad ever happened and the most harrowing choice the characters had to make was what to have for dinner. She wanted the white picket fence and dreamed of having a loving relationship with a partner who loved her unconditionally and kids of her own to mother. The fact that she had been so stricken with grief that she had been forced to create all of that with her magic left you feeling guilty.  

Maybe if you had been there for her, you could have helped her channel her grief in a healthier way. Instead, Wanda had to gain it all just to lose it all again.  

"Stephen talked about my sister like she was some sort of delusional villain," you finally continued, breaking free of your thoughts. "Wanda's not a bad person, Bucky. Just, sometimes, loss can make us do funny things."  

You thought of Steve using the time stone to get his own version of the white picket fence life with Peggy. Steve had broken the rules to find his own happiness. What happened to the timeline he disrupted? Maybe you would never know, but if everyone was okay with Steve breaking one of the cardinal rules of time travel, then why couldn't they understand that Wanda had only been chasing her own dream?  

She wasn’t a villain. She was just in pain.  

You were biased, sure, but you couldn't stomach the idea of people turning your sister into someone to be hated. Someone to be feared.  

You knew you would have to learn more about the deaths she caused, but you weren’t ready to unfold that part of Wanda’s story yet. The Darkhold had twisted your sister and you knew, deep down, even if you were loathe to admit it, that Stephen had likely been right. The Wanda that let herself fall to the temptation of the Darkhold wasn’t the same sister you had sacrificed yourself for, but you sure as hell weren’t going to stop until you found her again.  

"When she realized what she was doing to the town, she did release them," Bucky assured you, swaying forward like he wanted to reach out and console you. "I heard there was another witch there stirring up trouble and the only way to save everyone was for Wanda to destroy the illusion. I don't know what happened after that or to that other witch, but your sister went off the grid for a while. And then, well, maybe it's best we not get into that part of the story now. You've been through a lot lately." 

You wanted to argue, but you had a feeling that Bucky's next part of the story entailed whatever had happened to Wanda to make Stephen believe she was dead. You wanted more answers and you had a feeling that you were going to have to follow in your sister's footsteps to get them. You refused to accept that you had lost her like you lost Steve, which meant that you needed to try to get a feel for what happened to her.  

Maybe you needed to start at the place where it all began.  

"Do you know the way to Westview?" You asked Bucky, noticing the way his eyes widened just the slightest at your words. "I could try to go there by myself, but it's not like I've got my phone or a car, since I just recently stopped being dead." 

"I don't know if that's the best idea," Bucky started, his tone careful and unsure.  

"Buck," you started, finally crossing the distance between you. "I have to know. Please," you practically begged, suddenly sure that you couldn't do it without him.  

Bucky considered you for a moment before he heaved a defeated sigh. "Yeah, alright," he conceded, stepping to the side and gesturing for you to lead the way. “Let’s go to Westview.” He didn’t sound thrilled at the idea, but you knew he also didn’t want to let you wander off by yourself.  

"Great," you told him, pushing the teddy bear into his chest as you passed him. "There's more where that came from," you promised before you took off towards the cemetery gates, delighting in Bucky's pleased laugh. 

Author's Note: If you would like to be tagged in this series or be added to my all Bucky taglist, just let me know!

Taglist: @sunshinepeachx @bethexo07 @kisnini @greatmistakes @jvanilly

@circe143

[mywhisperingwords]

lost mail | fred g. weasley

summary: after a bad break up you try to get rid of the memories, instead you find something that turns your life upside down word count: 4.3k masterlist

You cannot remember why you chose to keep every little piece of your life.

That was the only thought in your mind while you went through every box you kept in your attic. And every box came with the memories.

You couldn’t decide if you were grateful for it or if you hated it.

At the front of the attic were the newest memories you have kept, the ones who were involving the one person you were trying to forget.

The person who was at fault in the first place for you being up here and going through every box.

It hadn’t even been a week since the person you truly loved at one point told you that they were moving on, packing up their bags and that there was no space for you in those plans.

You were lying if you said you weren’t hurt, but you knew that you should be more devastated by this. Deep down you already knew that that ending was inevitable. And maybe you had made peace with that a long time ago.

And if you were truly honest with yourself, maybe you never really loved that person at all. How could you love a person that never truly saw you?

Giving yourself up and everything you stood for just to not be alone? You were foolish to believe that it could work.

You decided to make a clean cut. And that involved getting rid of the boxes that kept pieces of the memories you wanted to forget.

But once you started going down the memory lane, you couldn’t stop.

In every box were pieces of people you had not seen in a lifetime, at least that’s what it felt like to you.

These boxes had hidden secrets in them, ones you almost forgot but never really could. Like the coin that used to be your lucky charm, the one you would always carry around.

The castle was quiet at this time of night.

Not a soul around, just you and the moon.

You weren’t the kind of person who could easily break the rules, but at nights where you couldn’t sleep the only thing to help was to take a walk around the deserted hallways.

Never before have you been caught, but luck didn’t seem to be on your side tonight.

The sudden sound of footsteps made you stop in your tracks and with them came the one and only Fred Weasley.

He ran right past you, straight into the empty classroom behind you.

Before you could process that, Snape was in front of you.

“What are you doing wandering this castle at night?” he asked you, hair a mess and just a tad out of breath. He had been seemingly chasing after Fred.

“I was just thirsty,” you lied straight through your teeth, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Snape on the other hand did not look impressed with your lie, but he seemed to have more important matters to tend to. “This is of no interest to me. Have you noticed someone running this way?”

“Have you lost someone, Professor?” you joked, immediate regret following with the way Snape looked at you. “I did, he ran that way,” you said, pointing in the opposite direction.

“If I ever see you again wandering the castle at night or see you misstep in any way, you will have detention for the rest of the school year. Also ten points lost. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” you replied, no longer finding joy in this situation.

Snape turned around before the words left your mouth, having no use for you anymore.

After he was out of sight, you knocked softly on the door of the classroom Fred was in. “You can come out, he’s gone,” you said in a hushed tone.

The door opened with caution, and you were looking at the grinning face of the red head. “Well, hello there and thank you from the bottom of my heart, love,” he said, sending you a wink that made your eyes roll.

“I think you owe me one,” you told him, taking a step back so he could step out of the room.

“Oh, I’d do anything for you,” he agreed, his grin widening even more if that was even possible.

“A normal person would offer money or something,” you hushed, with flushed cheeks. Never before have you been at the receiving end of the Weasley charm.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I do have…,” he rummaged through his pockets, fishing out one coin of a currency you did not recognize, “I have that.”

He offered it up to you, but you pushed his hand back to him, saying “I was only joking.”

“Maybe, but I’m not,” he said before taking your hand and placing the coin in it, closing your hand around it.

The brush of his hand was gone in a second, but something about it settled into your skin, a warmth you couldn’t shake even as you put the coin in your pocket.

“It’s my lucky charm, so you better keep it safe,” he said in mock seriousness, before turning around and walking away.

“I’ll try my best, Weasley,” you murmured as you watched him go.

You closed your fist around the coin, imaging that it still carried the warmth of Fred, but it did not. It was cold in your hand, leaving you feeling guilty when you remembered that you hadn’t been around at the shop as much as you used to.

It wasn’t that you had ignored him intentionally—you’d just been caught up in work and your relationship.

The same relationship Fred had disapproved of from the beginning. But you were determined to make it work, because that’s the kind of person you were.

You took crumbs of love and affection and tried to turn them into something more, desperately holding onto someone who did not even look back as they left.

Fred knew you better than anyone, and he’d told you this wasn’t right for you. But he’d respected your decision.

Still, it had put a strain on your friendship. Now, you felt a sudden urge to go and apologize, to make things right. But you didn’t—you were too much of a coward to admit you’d been wrong, especially so soon after the breakup.

You always used to be like that when it came to arguments, even if you knew deep down you were wrong, you still carried on. Maybe it was because you were telling yourself that sometimes it was better for everyone if you just ignored the truth—a tendency you also had when it came to other things.

“Why can’t you just admit you were wrong?” Fred asked, shaking with laughter.

You crossed your arms, turning your head to the side, trying to stifle a smile. “Because I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he insisted, tugging on your arm like a child begging for sweets. “Just admit it. Admit it. Admit it. Admit it. Admit it.”

You kept your mouth shut, unwilling to give in. But despite yourself, you couldn’t help smiling at his antics.

“There it is!” he crowed in victory, as though your smile was all he’d been after.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” you said, no longer able to hold back a laugh.

He gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his heart. “You wound me.” Dropping down beside you, he put on his saddest face. “I’m leaving soon, and all you can do is insult me. How terrible of you.”

You shook your head, though his words struck a pang in your chest.

It was true. In less than a month, Hogwarts would no longer echo with the laughter of Fred and George. They would leave to open their shop and leave everything—including you—behind.

This was Fred’s dream, and you supported him wholeheartedly, but the ache of his coming departure had settled inside you and refused to go away. You knew it would linger, long after he was gone.

“Don’t remind me. It won’t be long now,” you muttered, a grimace on your face.

He nudged you gently, offering a smile of his own. “Don’t be sad. Once you graduate, you can come work for me and George. You could even move in with us.”

A chuckle escaped your lips. “Where? In your room?” You knew their flat above the shop only had two bedrooms.

“I wouldn’t say no,” he winked at you.

All you could do was stare at him, needing a moment to process his words.

The idea of moving in with Fred warmed your cheeks, and your mind couldn’t help wandering to the idea of a life together.

But that’s all it was—a fantasy.

“Very funny, you git,” you laughed, trying to defuse the tension that had appeared for just a moment. Moments like these seemed to happen more often lately.

There were times when Fred said something that could have meant more, only for you to turn it into a joke. It was easier that way—or at least, that’s what you told yourself to not have your heart be broken by false hope. Because this was Fred, he was just joking around, nothing more. That’s just what he did.

Fred took the lifeline you threw him, laughing along before saying, “I’m not the one who said Chocoballs are better than Jelly Slugs.”

And just like that, your old argument started up again.

Maybe in a few weeks, you’d be ready to face Fred. For now, you kept sifting through memories in the quiet of the attic, where the evening sun cast a warm glow.

There were so many pictures and keepsakes from the past few years, and looking at them now, a sense of dread washed over you. Years spent giving your love to someone who had never deserved it.

One box was filled with old parchments, overflowing with thoughts—a diary of your mind. It was a habit you had given up soon after meeting your ex, who never understood its importance. Not like someone else, someone special.

In another box, you stumbled upon an old photo from your days at Hogwarts, familiar faces you hadn’t seen in ages smiling back at you. Underneath it lay another photo, this one taken by an unknown person—a candid shot of you and Fred. You still remembered the day it was taken.

Sitting by the Great Lake in your favorite hidden spot, you couldn’t put your quill down. So many thoughts were swirling around your head that you needed to pour them all out.

That’s how Fred found you.

“Slow down, you might set the paper on fire,” he teased, a smile on his face. You jumped at the sound of his voice, not having noticed his arrival.

“Merlin, you scared me,” you sighed, looking up at him. His hair was disheveled, the top buttons of his shirt were undone, and his tie was slung over his shoulders.

Before you could ask what happened, he settled next to you on the stone, asking curiously, “What are you writing, anyway?”

“Anything and everything,” you told him earnestly.

“Huh?”

“I’m writing down every thought I have—it makes it easier to sort through the mess,” you explained, looking out at the water, a little nervous about his reaction to your strange habit.

You did not dare tell him that most of these thoughts involved him.

But his answer surprised you. “You’re a clever one, aren’t you?”

You turned to him, confusion written on your face.

Fred scratched the back of his head, his tone softer. “I mean… I get it. I’ve got a million things going on in my head all the time. Putting them down isn’t a bad idea.”

You hummed, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe you should take my advice, then,” you said with a wink.

That made him laugh. “Maybe I should.”

A comfortable silence settled over you before you quietly confessed, “It’s also the only way to make my mind go quiet.”

Fred didn’t answer right away; instead, he stared out at the lake, watching the afternoon sun dance on the water.

But you were watching him, admiring the way his brows knitted and his lips—just the perfect shade of pink—pursed in thought. That look of quiet concentration made him more handsome than ever.

The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like the perfect expression of the connection you shared: the way you could sit together for hours without speaking a single word and still feel content.

When Fred finally spoke again, you nearly missed it. “I have you for that.”

You didn’t even remember seeing anyone there with a camera, but you were grateful now for the photo they’d captured of you and Fred. Those were the moments you cherished most.

Beside the picture lay a stack of your old schoolbooks. As you picked up Advanced Potion-Making, a small note slipped out and fluttered to the floor. Your name was written on it in familiar handwriting, though you couldn’t recall what it was.

With a sense of curiosity mixed with something heavier, you unfolded the paper, revealing a handwritten letter addressed to you.

May 1996

My love,

you’re surly wondering why I’m writing you a letter but I was told by someone special that sometimes putting words on paper was the only way to sort though the mess in your mind, and that mess has been there ever since the day I met you.

I know that this is sudden but also not…

There has always been something between us, ever since I first saw you in that hallway when I was running away from Snape.

Ever since that night I couldn’t get you out of my head to the point George wanted to kick me out of our room, because all I was talking about was you.

I've been carrying this secret for a while now. I kept telling myself it would fade or that maybe it was just a momentary feeling. But here I am, still reeling from it every time I see you smile, or when your hand brushes against mine. It's as if my heart can't help but leap toward you, even though you're already so close.

I have known you now for so long and you’re still all I think about.

I don't think I tried to fall in love with you, yet here I am, helplessly yours in every way that matters.

Even if all we ever are is friends, l'll still be grateful to have you in my life. If there's even the smallest part of you that feels the same... then I want you to know that l'll be here, waiting.

I’m leaving tomorrow, I know that this is sudden and might be already too late or maybe this is the perfect moment.

Maybe in a year, after you graduate, you will be working with me and George, share a room with me, like we talked about and make me the happiest person every day just by being with me—in any way you want.

Anyways, I’m waiting for you at our spot.

Don’t leave me hanging.

Yours, always,

Freddie

You never knew.

Tears had fallen onto the letter, and you hadn’t even realized you were crying.

All these years, and you’d never known about this letter.

All these years, and you’d never given Fred an answer.

What must he have thought? That you ignored him? That you didn’t feel the same? That you’d simply left him waiting alone in your spot?

Your throat tightened, and your heartbeat quickened. With trembling hands, you read the letter again. And then again. Making sure that the words were real, not some figment of your imagination.

He had to watch you fall in love with someone else.

That thought shattered you. Pressing a hand to your chest, you tried to contain the pain spreading through you, tightening around your heart.

With shaky legs, you stood, clutching the letter tightly, and walked away.

&

You found yourself in Diagon Alley, moving toward a place you hadn’t visited in ages. You weren’t sure how you’d ended up here—you only knew you had to come.

The shop was dark, already closed, but the door was unlocked, left open until they finished their work in the back. An old habit, one you knew well.

Because you knew Fred.

He had been the one constant in your life, someone you’d always loved, though you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t meant to be, forcing yourself to move on.

But the letter in your hand told you how wrong you had been.

Rounding the counter, you found the office. A soft orange glow seeped out from under the door, accompanied by the faint scratch of quill on parchment.

You hadn’t planned what to say—all you had was the letter, clutched tightly in your hand. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open.

“George, I told you—” Fred began, looking up from his papers. His brows furrowed as he took in your disheveled hair and red eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t know,” you whispered, stepping further into the office. The familiar scents of smoke and cider surrounded you, grounding you.

“What?” His voice was gentle, but cautious.

“I didn’t know you loved me,” you replied, holding up the letter.

You saw realization dawn on his face, the moment he understood what you were holding. He shot up from his chair, his breath shaky, though he didn’t speak.

“I just found it, and I—I didn’t know,” you repeated, needing him to understand.

You needed him to know that you never meant to cause him pain—that you had never intended to leave him waiting alone by your spot at the Great Lake.

Tears blurred your vision as you repeated the same words, over and over, like a mantra: “I didn’t know.” They were all you could cling to as you trembled, heart pounding, unraveling in front of him.

Only when you felt Fred’s strong arms enfold you did the world seem to steady, his soft whispers reaching you through the haze. “It’s okay,” he murmured, “shh…it’s okay.”

You pressed your face into his chest, clutching his shirt as the letter crumpled in your hand. His voice anchored you, each word a lifeline as you soaked his shirt with your tears. Every emotion crashed over you at once. Regret, anger, grief and fear.

Fred never stopped murmuring reassurances, nor did he release you from his embrace. Only when your sobs quieted did he gently ease you back, his gaze searching yours. “We should talk,” he said softly.

And that’s how you found yourself curled up beside him on a small, well-worn sofa in his living room, a cup of tea warming your hands. The letter lay on the table before you, a tangible reminder of the conversation he’d been waiting years to have.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence felt heavy, filled with everything you needed to say but didn’t know how to begin.

At last, you broke it, voice barely above a whisper. “We broke up.”

If Fred was surprised, he didn’t show it, merely nodding, acknowledging your words with quiet understanding.

He sat beside you, though with a safe, careful distance—as if he feared getting too close too soon.

“It never would’ve worked, you were right.” You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, studying his familiar face, still as warm as you remembered. “I think I was trying to turn nothing into something more. Trying to make it work, because that’s just what I do.”

He looked down, fidgeting with his long fingers, a habit you’d always known. He didn’t look at you, but somehow you felt his attention, unwavering.

“I don’t know if I loved-,” you cut yourself off. “I just had to move on from you, that’s all I knew,” you confessed quietly, feeling shame. “When I was cleaning out old things, I found all these memories… I found this.” You pointed to the letter on the table, the heart of it all.

You took a deep breath, preparing for the hardest part of all. “I never saw it before, and when I read it…” You laughed, a sad, soft sound. “It was everything I ever wanted. And I didn’t even know I could’ve had it.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you whispered, “If only I’d known… I would’ve been there. I would’ve done anything. You must have thought I was heartless. You must have hated me.”

Fred’s voice was soft when he replied, “I could never hate you.” He set his tea aside, finally meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your heart stutter. “I assumed you just… didn’t feel the same. That maybe it was too hard to tell me that to my face. But I never hated you, not for one moment.”

You shook your head, needing him to understand. “If I had known—”

But Fred shook his head, stopping you. “In time, I accepted that loving you from afar was all I could do, and I knew that keeping even a small part of you was better than losing you entirely.”

The weight of his words sank in, each syllable touching something deep within you. Could he still love you, after all this time? The thought was terrifying and exhilarating, both the possibility of an answer and the risk of rejection. But there was a way to show him how you felt, one you’d kept close for years. Reaching into your pocket, you took out the coin he had given you so long ago.

A spark of hope glimmered in Fred’s eyes as he took it in, the recognition softening his features. “You kept this? After all these years?”

“You told me not to lose it,” you replied, your voice tender with a hint of a smile.

He took the coin from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours, leaving a familiar warmth that seemed to linger in the space between you.

“But you never were a very good listener,” Fred teased, his familiar grin reappearing for the first time that evening, making your heart flutter. In that moment, you saw not just the man sitting beside you, but the boy you had fallen for so many years ago.

Though it had been months, maybe years, since you’d spent time together as you should have, he still felt like home.

His soft brown eyes, the faint crinkles at their corners, the freckles scattered across his face like constellations, and his flaming-red hair, now grown longer—he was so much the boy you’d once known, and yet now a man, shaped by life and loss, sitting close enough to touch.

“What happens now?” you asked, voice quiet, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace of this moment. But you needed to know. This was new and terrifying, and all you wanted was for him to take your hand and assure you everything would be alright.

“Whatever you want,” he replied simply.

But what you wanted wasn’t simple at all. You wanted him in every way you’d ever dreamed, to be by his side and share in his life. You wanted him to hold you as you mourned the years lost to another, yet you couldn’t find the words to ask it of him.

Fred understood, as he always did. “If you want to be with me, we’ll make it work. And if you need time, I’ll give you that.” He gently took your hand in his, his touch a silent promise. “I’ve waited years. I can wait a little longer.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you assured him immediately, your voice filled with the weight of all the years you had spent denying yourself this truth.

You could feel the shift in him, a warmth filling his gaze, his smile softening. Slowly, he leaned closer. “Are you sure?”

His voice sent shivers down your spine, his breath warm against your cheek. But your answer came without hesitation.

“About you? Always,” you whispered.

And that was when his lips met yours, a kiss so tender it felt like a wish made real, warm and gentle, a thousand memories woven into one perfect moment. His hand cupped your cheek, grounding you as you melted into him, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

His lips tasted of tea and something indescribably sweet, like warmth and comfort, like every dream you’d ever had of him. It was soft, unhurried, the years of yearning unfolding as his fingers brushed your skin, leaving a trail of warmth that you felt in every part of you.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, a mischievous grin lighting up his face as he whispered, “Took you long enough, didn’t it?”

All you could do was laugh, nudging him away before pulling him back in, savoring the warmth you’d both waited too long to feel.

Fred’s gaze fell on the letter lying on the table, the edges worn and softened from years of waiting. He ran his thumb over your hand, murmuring, “Funny how one piece of parchment kept us apart.”

You looked at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Guess it was just waiting for the right time.”

[orcelito]

LEGIT CRIED A LIL

They set it up to seem like he was gonna poke him on the forehead just like he always did when dismissing him as a kid. But NO!!! He's moving to hold him, to tell him he doesn't have to forgive him, but he will Always love him (using the very serious and unconditional "aishiteru")

I'm like. God, Sasuke spent so long not knowing the truth about Itachi. And he only found Out the truth after Itachi died. So even then, he couldn't talk to him, couldn't hash things out, nothing...

But here, in the time after death and before absolution, Itachi can finally tell him the truth. The full truth. The fact that he always did, and he always Will, love him.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[red-flagging]

ϟ tell me what moment/scene in [fic] made you sicko in the window.jpg to read and i’ll tell you which scene made me feel that way to write

For ME my sicko in the window moment in made a hundred good stories was Lewis cockwarming Alex so lewis could fuck him again… GOD Alex did not know what what he was in the middle of

(fic ask meme!)

THANK YOU 😭😭😭 genuinely coming up with that scene was what tipped me over from "maybe i'll play around with this idea and see what happens" to "oh no now i have to finish this." like i literally looked back at my first brainstorming doc and there's a bullet point that says "engine failures, tire blowouts, coming too early - the body as machine" that's bolded and underlined lmao like. apparently 1-year-ago-me also felt insane sicko in the window about the whole thing too

in the interest of giving a different answer though i will say that i did feel crazy while writing all the little seb/lewis moments during the threesome (special shoutout to seb fingering lewis while he cockwarms and also ofc lewis's mini breakdown before he sucks seb off lol). i LOVE outsider pov especially for a relationship like this with so much history where you can pick and choose little details that never actually explicitly say anything, but are so clearly dancing around the edges of something that it becomes very obvious what the shape of the thing they're not saying is.

[the-cooler-king]

Oh yeah..... midnight gospel be hitting.... sitting in my bed fuckin. Crying. Get a grip girl

[unknownmads]

CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI

CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)

☆☆☆

thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.

Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).

Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.

Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website

Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.

Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.

Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.

~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~

Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.

~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~

he wanted to be nonchalant.

Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called

“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”

Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.

Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.

Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”

[espinosaurusrexex]

Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers

CEO!BuckyBarnes x Female!Florist!Reader AU

read Steve's story here

summary: Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

a/n: I should be working instead of writing long ass billionaire love stores, but here we are: you and me both... happy it happened and already regretting the tasks we neglected because of it (please enjoy this wholesome piece of imagination - I know it's long, but I hope you’ll give it a try nonetheless)

word count: 16.4k 😬

warnings: play boy behavior/talk, a reader that knows what she wants, Bucky falls first (and hard 🤭), mentions of war, injuries, and death (all not applying to Bucky for once), just so much fluff, questioning life choices (angst with happy ending!), smut (this is freaking love making okay?!?!? praise and confessions, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, touch starved Bucky - in a way…, sensual and beautiful, protected p in v, cock warming, and aftercare) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ｡✭･ﾟ

"Did you place the order?" Bucky leaned back in Steve's office chair and watched as his friend paced the space with a hand in his pocket. 

Steve was grinning like an idiot when the answer on the other side satisfied him and Bucky felt a tiny little spark in his chest at the sight. He'd watched his best friend go through life with a default tension in his shoulders for what seemed like forever. All until he found Bambi - a sweet and incredibly clumsy woman who was formerly his maid. But they found each other and Steve had been a happier man ever since.

Bucky was happy for him, too. He was a lot more fun to be around ever since, but it did remind him that Bucky himself had yet to find the one that would make his heart beat faster. 

It was a ridiculous idea, of course. Bucky was never the one for relationships or long-term commitment in the romantic department. To be honest, he wasn't even sure he was capable of love - not that he needed it, anyway. He had no problem with having a new plaything every other night. It was fun and kept him on his toes. 

"Perfect. Okay. Thanks, Sharon." Bucky sat up straighter in the chair. "Yeah, next Friday. See you later."

Steve sighed as he slumped on the sofa across the room. He watched the ceiling, looking like a love-drunk schoolboy, even though he tried so hard to conceal it. Bucky knew him too well.

"Dinner is booked.”

“You’re really doing it huh?"

“Yup." There was no doubt in Steve’s answer, but rather a special kind of excitement Bucky rarely felt.

The brunette just nodded as he looked to the ground, the chair swaying as he pushed his knees from one side to the other. 

Steve just grinned in response. "So when are you gonna let me help you find the one?"

Bucky perked up, amusement seeping through his gaze when he answered his best friend. ”Me? No no. I’m fine."

Steve shrugged. ”You know, that’s exactly what I said about a year ago."

"No offense, Stevie, but you and I were in vastly different sex universes back then. I’m getting laid - I’m aaaaall good." He leaned back with a smug grin and Steve just frowned in response. "You can be as happy as you want but don’t start trying to get everyone on the girlfriend train. That’s a Rogers and Wilson thing. I don’t need that type of commitment."

Steve remained silent as he watched Bucky stand up and head for the door, a thoughtful look on his face when his friend passed him. 

“Look, I’m happy for you, truly. I just don’t see myself in that type of life.” Bucky’s hand squeezed Steve’s shoulder just as the blonde cocked his head to the side. 

“Never?”

Bucky winked at him. “You know I like to live in the present. But speaking of the future... You’re still up for tomorrow night, right?”

“Tomorrow night?"

"Ironbar."

Steve’s eyes widened. ”Shit. No, I promised Bambi we'd-" Steve stopped when he saw Bucky's eyebrows raise in amusement. “...next time."

Bucky sighed in defeat. "Tell her to leave some Steve time for the rest of us, will ya?" And with a laugh of Steve’s, he shut the office door, walked past Sharon’s desk, then Natasha’s, and then into his own office.

❁ ❁ ❁

The clock hand barely struck 8am when another set of files hit Bucky’s desk. 

Bucky huffed as he watched Natasha stand before him with an amused smile, her hands on her hips that were hugged by a tight pencil skirt. “Looking for something, Boss?”

“No...”

“Something like... the invitation to that business dinner on Thursday?” She mused and carefully pulled a piece of paper from the stack between them. 

Bucky snatched it with a glare. “It would be much more helpful if you sorted this chaos rather than stand here and be a smartass.” He looked at the invite, the familiar company logo printed in the top right corner. “And why are people even sending paper invites anymore? We’re a security firm,” he sat the paper down and tapped on it with his index finger, “just shows how desperately they need consulting.” 

“Don’t blame me for it.” Nat threw her hands in the air. “And stop complaining. I know you’re the cyber guy but a couple papers shouldn’t faze you. I’ve got more important things to do that don’t particularly fall in your area of expertise.” She turned to leave but Bucky stopped her before her heels could reach the threshold. 

“Are you saying your job is harder than mine?” Bucky watched the mess on his desk, then the computer screen with his calendar and the impending meeting with those jackasses from Hydra Enterprises. There was no way sorting a couple of papers could be worse than Alexander Pierce and his nephew Brock Rumlow. One of them barely knew how to send an E-mail and the other kept subtly asking if it was legal to install cameras in the lady’s room. 

“If you’re referring to your inability to sort a couple files, then yes, I assume you wouldn’t last a day with my tasks.” 

“Now that’s bullshit.”

“Is it now?” She raised her left eyebrow with a half-smirk. “I want to see you deal with idiots when scheduling appointments and keeping everyone’s day structured while also organizing the annual fundraiser.”

Bucky huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms before his chest. He averted his eyes from his assistant and the stupid pile of paperwork in front of him. He really did not want to sort through all of that. 

“Call me old fashioned but I believe assistants should sort files.” He shrugged, knowing Natasha wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had been working together for years, he respected her as much as his other friends. And presenting the fierce redhead with a challenge to get out of some annoying tasks was something he would gladly do. 

“I’ll tell you what. I will sort your papers in my assistant duties.” She made a mockery curtsy - as much as her skirt allowed - and then lifted her finger before the smile could spread on Bucky’s face. “If... you plan the charity event.”

Bucky was shocked. He didn’t expect her to play dirty - well to be fair, it wouldn’t be Nat if she weren’t teasing a little bit - but still. “You think you can handle that, boss?” 

Bucky closed his mouth and eyed her suspiciously. It couldn’t be that hard to do. And certainly would be a nice distraction from the impending meeting of doom as well as the following consulting sessions. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling. 

Was he really going to trade some papers for a whole Gala? That paperwork really sucked. He loved how easily he could wash through files on his computer. Sadly, his programs didn’t help much in the analog part of the job. 

“Are you backing down, Barnes?” Nat’s teasing voice rang through to him and he snapped back into his attitude. 

“Never.” He stood up, fixed his suit, and then reached his hand toward her. Natasha shook it with an evil smirk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Romanoff.”

And with that, she took the papers from Bucky’s desk and carried them out of his office with a triumphant smile. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It wasn’t long before Bucky regretted his decision. 

What had he been thinking? A Fundraiser... a fucking fundraiser. Bucky couldn’t care less about them. 

Okay, that wasn’t true. He deemed charity to be a very important part of society... and economy. There were times in his life when he was close to needing their help as well. And Bucky swore he’d never let that aspect of his story slip from his mind ever. Still, it didn’t prevent him from living lavishly and making use of the things he had access to now. 

Usually, the organization of the charity gala was stuck on Nat and Sharon. Mainly because they had always done an amazing job. The tabloids had only positive things to write about it and always pushed the number before Christmas even higher. Which urged Bucky even more to do just as good of a job this year. 

There was just one problem. 

He had no idea how to organize events this size. Bucky could program a software from scratch, hack into classified state files on a bad day. Hell, he could track every person’s phone in New York in his sleep. But he never expected to be overwhelmed by a couple invites and color palettes. 

Though as little as he knew about his new task, he liked a challenge, and he would most certainly not give Natasha the satisfaction of asking her for a checklist. 

So, the internet had to do for now. He’d found a blog by a highly motivated suburban mom, that led with step-by-step instructions on how to plan the perfect event. It might not have been on the scale of what Bucky had to do, but considering his lack of knowledge on the topic, he figured this would do until Natasha snatched the task away from him again. 

The first thing on the list was to find a date and venue. But since the gala of Shield Protection Services was always held at the same venue, Bucky figured they had booked it indefinitely for the event. 

Next was to find the perfect florist that ‘is able to put your vision into extravagant floral arrangements’. Yeah... that was another problem. 

Bucky didn’t buy flowers. The only women he deemed important enough in his life to get them were his sister and his mother. And well, both of them had passed away. So, picking the right flowers hadn’t been a problem until now. His mother and sister were always enchanted by the bouquets they received when Bucky was younger. He’d steal them from their neighbor‘s garden. But since he could grow a beard, Bucky hadn’t even touched flowers anymore.

Well, that had to change now. 

Bucky stepped into the elevator just to be greeted by big round eyes and an even wider smile. “Paying Steve a visit?” Bucky teased with a half smile as he hugged Bambi and then faced the doors. 

“I’m actually meeting Natasha for lunch,” she shifted from one foot to the other, “I didn’t realize she was already at the restaurant... so that’s where I’m headed now.”

Bucky chuckled at her slight awkwardness. But it wouldn’t be Bambi if she wouldn’t miss such a detail. 

“Do you need a ride? My driver’s waiting for me anyway.”

“Tha- yes that would be nice, thank you.”

Bucky just nodded and gestured for her to lead the way when they reached the ground floor. 

“Where are you going?” Bambi asked as he stared out the window of the car. They had told the driver where they needed to go. And Since Bucky had no particular destination in mind, it worked out well. 

“I’m on the hunt for the perfect flower shop to cater to my vision of our charity event.” He chuckled and shook his head at his own words. He’s never thought he’d say this.  

Her eyes peered at him with intrigue, a glimmer washing over them when she asked: “Are you taking suggestions?”

Bucky sat up straighter now. “Uh, yes. Gladly.” This was easier than he thought. 

“There is this wonderful shop in Brooklyn. It’s called AsGarden on 18th Avenue. You can’t miss it, it’s like a breath of fresh air between all those ugly beige buildings. The woman owning it has great taste, she managed to make the perfect bouquet for me without ever seeing me.” She turned forward, a little flustered, “Steve gets me flowers from there sometimes, they’re my favorite.”

“Did you hear that, Stan?” A victorious smile spread on Bucky’s face as he squeezed Bambi’s shoulder. “Next stop is Brooklyn.”

“Alright, Sir.”

“You don’t know how much easier you just made my life.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed her cheek before the car came to a stop and he bid her goodbye. 

“I’m glad I could help.” She waved back and then headed into the restaurant. 

Maybe the event wasn’t so difficult after all, Bucky thought as he leaned back in his seat, his legs spreading in satisfaction.

❁ ❁ ❁

The cool air snook through your shop when the familiar bell of a customer chimed above the door. You’d seen many people frequent your shop daily. Women, men, teenagers, elderly. All came from different backgrounds and varying stories in their repertoire. Your store was in the heart of Brooklyn - a bunch of people mixed in this town. And you’d made it your mission to find the perfect flower arrangement for each and every one of them. 

The man who had set off your little bell this afternoon was different though. A perfectly tailored coat adorned his broad shoulders. The way his hands were tucked in his pockets revealed the expensive-looking suit beneath as well as the toned chest that hid beneath the button-up in vain. His presence oozed money as he sashayed through your shop, carefully grazing delicate pedals with the aura he brought in. 

He seemed to own the world, but something about him just didn’t fit between the colorful flowers surrounding him. If you didn’t know any better, he looked a little lost, eyes glassy as they swayed through the sea of colors and shapes soaking in fresh water. 

“Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?”

He ripped around, fixed his posture, and approached the cash desk. When his eyes landed on you, he froze. Just for a second, however, and then his jaw snapped into a handsome smile as he leaned forward. 

“I sure hope so.” His white teeth flashed between his lips before his tongue stroked over them. It was capturing. “This flower shop has been recommended to me. You wouldn’t happen to be the owner?”

“Well actually, I am,” you smiled hiding the pride swelling in your chest from the comment.

“Great. What is your capacity when it comes to event arrangements?”

“That depends...” You smiled as the handsome stranger raised his eyebrows in intrigue. “I reckon we have vastly different understandings of what is small and... big.” Your eyes wandered over his expensive coat again. The innuendo was accidental, really, but he seemed to be amused nevertheless. 

“My company is hosting its annual charity event in November... at The Glasshouse.”

“So just as I suspected...” You nodded and strode past him towards the fall flowers.

“Pardon me?”

You turned your head towards him and winked. “Bigger than I thought.”

“So?” He approached you with his hands still in his coat pockets and peeked over your shoulder. “Can you do it?”

“Totally.” Then you gestured to the flowers. “Do you have any preferences? I don’t have all the flowers in yet, but I recommend going with some soft orange and sage tones... to cater to the season.”

“Forgive me, sweetheart, but I am useless when it comes to this kind of stuff. My qualities lie more in the technical aspect of things.” A hand ran through his thick dark hair and the gesture made him look boyish.

“Alright let me rephrase my question then: Do you trust me?” A sly smile sneaked on his face, matching yours. 

He tipped his head. “My life is in your hands.” 

“Good. Then please write down your details here.” You pushed a form over the counter once you reached it again, and the man just followed you around like a lost dog. You watched as his hand swiftly filled out the free spaces on the paper, curious which company he had been referring to. 

“Wait you’re working for SPS?” 

“I own it, sweetheart.” The man adjusted his coat as you tried to look unimpressed. “My name is James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” His hand extended over the shiny countertop until it encased your smaller fingers and his warmth seeped through your body. 

Bucky’s smile brightened when you revealed your name to him, telling you how beautiful it was, and you began to struggle not to show the effects it had on you. Then he resumed filling out the order and slid it over to you again. 

“What cause are you raising money for this year?” You asked as you sorted the paper into your books, only to be surprised when Bucky seemed a little nervous all of a sudden. 

You knew Shield Protection Services was a pristine company with reach to people whose powers you could barely comprehend. Whatever they were choosing, it would have a big impact on the change their chosen organization was advocating. 

“Well, to be honest... we haven’t decided yet.” A silly idea hushed through your head at that, but you dismissed it. A company such as Bucky’s would raise sums only big fish could handle. There wasn’t space for the things you had in mind. 

“I hope you’ll do so soon, then.” You nodded thoughtfully and ended with a tight-lipped smile. 

Bucky nodded and smiled, then turned around and headed for the door. But before he could open it, he came back again. You looked up to see a black card held before you. 

“I’d be happy for suggestions... if you have any in mind.” He shrugged with that cheeky look of his and then left. And you just stood there, dumbfounded, and toying with the ridiculous idea that Bucky Barnes might actually be able to read minds. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“Rogers really couldn’t make it?” Tony asked as he leaned back in the leather booth of his very own establishment. He tipped his emptied whiskey glass towards the slender redhead at the bar and smiled as she rushed to get his refill ready. 

“He promised Bambi to be home...” Bucky trailed off as he watched a customer hit on the waitress - Tiffany he remembered - A pretty thing, but unfortunately incredibly hollow when it came to conversation... not that Bucky looked for anything like it.  

Tony huffed. “That woman has him wrapped around her finger!” He liked Bambi, everyone did, he just missed hanging out with his guys. 

“Just wait until you find the one, Tony,” Sam chimed in with a sly smirk on his face - a hopeful, yet cautious hint as Sam secretly loved the idea of all his friends finally finding the one. He was a romantic, Bucky knew it, even if Sam never actually said it. 

“Me? I would never give up my glorious bachelor life for one woman. There are way too many things to explore...”

“Mark my words, Stark. We’ll look back to this day and laugh about this incredibly jackassy statement. You, too will be finding the one. I just know it.”

Bucky chuckled and tipped his glass on the Table as the bickering of his friends faded into background noise. For some reason, he didn’t feel like adding to the conversation. He blamed it on the banality of a conversation both he and Tony had long decided on, but perhaps, it was because for once in his life, he considered taking Sam’s side on the topic. 

It was ridiculous, really, how fast you’d occupied his mind when it came to Sam’s comment about finding ‘the one’. He didn’t even know you aside from the ‘background check’ he conducted after his visit to your shop. That might have covered your personal details, but he still didn’t know if you were a dog person or preferred cats, or if you were vegan or vegetarian, or if you considered kids in your future. 

Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter when he felt the fluster creep up his neck. What the hell was happening to him? He wasn’t like this at all. Women occupied his mind for about as long as it took for him to make them come undone in his hands. When he was with them, his full attention was on them - he loved them - but he’d never let them control his life. James “Bucky” Barnes never even considered seeing them twice, let alone thinking about a future with them. 

Though, to Bucky’s displeasure - or pleasure (he hadn’t decided yet) - the thought of seeing you again wasn’t uncomfortable to him. On the contrary, he got a weird tingly feeling in his stomach when he remembered the smell of the flowers in your shop and how your delicate fingers carefully picked out the prettiest ones. Bucky sat his drink down with a clink. Maybe he’d had enough alcohol for tonight.

“Barnes, how come you’re not defending me here? Have you grown soft or something? Do you have a girl we don’t know about?” Tony’s nagging broke through to Bucky and the whole bar reached back into his consciousness.

“Sorry, what?” He stuttered, shaking his thought and trying to find a good answer to his friend’s remark. “I was distracted by Betty.” Bucky smiled sheepishly as he received a clap on his shoulder. 

“That’s my man.” Tony grinned and Sam huffed into his whiskey. And Bucky? He just sunk into his seat, feeling somehow shameful for the white lie he had made up.

❁ ❁ ❁

The SPS office was impressive. Amongst the old New York brick building surrounding it, it reached up into the sky with its glass front everything. But you wouldn’t be fooled by its fragile looks. This was one of the most secure buildings in the city. You’d read about it in an article some time back - the whole hype about the company was their way of making fragile-looking things indestructible. You couldn’t see through the “windows” from the outside. And you wouldn’t be able to launch a rocket through it either. SPS had patented their stronger-than-steel-glass years ago, making them the leading security company in the world. 

To say you had been a little surprised to see the very owner of said company on your side of town would be an understatement. But besides his incredibly adamant way of flirting, he was quite normal to talk to. He’d even asked you for advice on the cause they should donate to this year. And after having thought about it for the better part of what should have been your sleep time, you had decided to just try and pitch your idea. 

“Do you have an appointment Ms.?” A stunning redhead peered up at you from her desk, her nails clicked on the keyboard of her computer as she waited for your answer. You didn’t really know why you thought getting to Bucky was going to be easy. The security guard had already eyed you suspiciously at the front desk in the lobby. After you’d smiled at him as charmingly as you could, he’d decided to let you be someone else’s problem today - or maybe he just didn’t see you as a threat - whatever it was, it had gotten you this far. But what were you gonna say now?

Actually, I don’t have an appointment, but Mr Barnes met me yesterday and after thinking about him all night, I decided to pay him a visit today.

Yeah, that wouldn’t cut it. Not in this office. The redhead - N. Romanoff - was what her sign said, made that fairly clear with the way her lips pursed at the opened calendar on the screen. 

“You don’t happen to have to discuss something not suited for work with Mr. Barnes, do you? I know he tends to leave some of his meetings... open-ended.” 

Your eyes got wide. “God, no. I’m not-“ Your hands made a swishing motion between you two and then you took a breath. “I’m here to discuss business. Purely business. Mr. Barnes has made an order at my shop for the company fundraiser and I just want to discuss some details.” 

Her eyes glimmered when her lips pulled into a smile. “Did he now?” She peered over to catch the look of the blonde assistant a few feet next to her and then back to you. “Well if that is the case, please have a seat, I’ll tell him you’re here.” And with that, she got up, winked, and wrapped at the large wooden door presumably leading to Bucky’s office. 

She came back a minute later and gestured for you to enter. “Lucky for you, his meeting just got canceled, so you should have enough time.”

“Thank you.” And then Ms. Romanoff went back to her desk and started whispering to the blonde assistant. 

Bucky sat behind his desk, a sleek glass surface lightly cluttered with papers. Other than that, the room felt cool, the large rug by the seating area did little to cover the marbled floors. You stepped inside just as Bucky called out your name. You almost didn't see the wide smile on his face as the rising sun hung low on the horizon behind him, casting a halo-like glow around his silhouette. What a freaking entrance. Though Bucky surely couldn’t control the sun, you thought with a small smile, you really had to stop imagining this man was extraordinary. 

“You’re here.” He got up and walked towards you, his sleek back shoes echoing on the ground. And then he was next to you, leading you to the seat in front of his desk with his hand on the small of your back. “What brings me the honor of your visit, darling.”

He leaned on his desk with his arms crossed, a pleasant smile on his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that you came by, but you do have my number, don’t you?”

“I do.” You cleared your throat, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I was hoping you had some time to spare, actually. I find the phone to be a little... impersonal.”

Bucky’s eyes shined with intrigue as he leaned forward, pinning you to the chair with his gaze. He licked his lips. “Show me what exactly?”

“You’ll see.” You smirked. “I happen to know that your next meeting just got canceled.”

Bucky got even closer, his breath hitting your neck with every word he spoke. “And I’ll gladly cancel the rest, too.” A shiver shot over your arms, his cologne seemingly intoxicating you. But before you could respond, he backed up, grabbing his coat and gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way.” 

And so you did. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky was suspicious when you pulled him into the subway, but he decided against saying something. He had told you he trusted you after all, and though Bucky considered himself a lot of things, a flake was not one of them. So he let it happen. 

It wasn’t half bad, either. Somewhere between his office door and the train, you had taken his hand in yours to pull him along faster. Bucky had noticed his lips spreading into a smile. It didn't last long, unfortunately. Because as he had made eye contact with an elderly lady who had then proceeded to tell you what a beautiful couple you were, you had pulled your hand away with an awkward laugh. 

‘Oh, God, no, we’re not together, ma’am.’ 

Admittedly, Bucky felt a little sting in his chest ever since. In fact, he was rubbing his hand over his shirt at this very moment. You were walking along a street in Brooklyn, not too far from your shop. The neighborhood was a little more run-down than he was used to, certainly nothing like the part of town he lived in. But he kept quiet still. Maybe he was a little butthurt from your earlier aversion about the couple comment, but to be fair, Bucky wasn’t used to women denying him - except Nat. 

You suddenly stopped, making Bucky almost run into you and then stare at you in question. But when you gestured towards the sign above the two-story building, his gaze softened. 

There, above the blue-painted metal doors, hung a faded sign. Bucky could make out the orange and yellow stripes on the board, a big Sunflower painted in the middle of it all. ‘Sunflower -Shelter & Food’.

“Hey, are you coming or are you glued to the ground?” Your voice rang from the entrance, he hadn’t even noticed that you already moved inside. 

Bucky gulped when his eyes swayed back to you and then down his own body. If he was going to step in there in the outfit he was currently wearing, he would look like the biggest asshole on the planet. 

“I can’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

He just gestured towards his clothes, his Rolex glinting in the sunlight for good measure. But there was no reaction from you. You stood in the doorway, pursing your lips seemingly in thought, and then shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “I guess you’ll just have to deal with it then.”

“What?” He called your name. But when he realized you weren’t joking, he caught up to you as fast as possible. Because the only thing worse than showing up there looking like he did was doing it alone, he decided swiftly. 

“‘Think now might be a good time to mention that this is not a very good place for a date,” Bucky mumbled next to you before closing his coat, trying to hide the even more expensive suit beneath. 

“How would you know?” You turned to him. “This isn’t a date, is it?”

Bucky just smirked and then he watched you greet a young boy with a warm hug, and man he imagined what it would be like to have you hug him like that. 

“Peter this is Bucky, Bucky, Peter.” You pulled him towards you by his hand again. “I brought him along to help today, thought we always need an extra pair of hands around here.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Peter reached his hand out, slightly frowning when he took in his appearance but did not say anything. “Any help is always welcome here. Come, I’ll show you what we’re doing today.” 

Within ten minutes, Bucky had an apron and gloves on and was ordered to cut the biggest stack of potatoes he’d ever seen. You were happily chatting away with the other helpers and Bucky, for the first time in a long time, felt ...normal. 

Nobody was recognizing him in the crowd, there was no talk about business and investments, and there were no fucking cameras. Here, people recognized him for what he came to do, help. And it felt weird. Bucky wasn’t quiet about his lavish lifestyle around his crowds. He knew the privilege he had, and he had worked for it enough to be proud of it. But it was like he had entered a different universe in this part of town. All the things he deemed normal, were things so far from imagination here, they were left out of conversations entirely. So, he tried to remember this whenever he was offered a conversation. 

“You do this every day?” He asked into the kitchen while struggling to peel his 5th potato. 

“Whenever we can.” An older woman answered with a smile. She was the one who had shown him how to use the peeler faster. “They are people just like you and me. They have to eat every day, too, Bucky.”

Bucky just nodded in silence at the humbling answer, his cheeks felt hot with embarrassment at how naive he had been. 

Two hours later, he was standing by your side at the serving station, plating mashed potatoes and the accommodating ‘you’re welcome’ every once in a while. He rarely was out of his comfort zone, like today. But he also knew that, whenever he felt unsure, he’d look at you and you’d gift him an encouraging gesture that kept him going a little while longer. 

After everyone had their food, you gave Bucky a tour of the premises. 

There was a small courtyard, a couple rooms with telephones and a computer, some sofas and pillows. Nothing fancy but functional nonetheless. You led him through every room, explaining curtly what it was for and then you led him up the stairs.

On your way up, you passed Peter, who was helping a child find its toy and Bucky felt a lump form in his throat at all the new impressions he was fed today.

He cleared his throat. “Peter... is he?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. His parents died when he was quite young. Lucky for him, though, he has always been a bright kid. He got a scholarship for every school he ever went to. But he spends most of his free time here. He has this urge to help wherever he can. Took me a couple months to keep him from skipping his lectures.” You chuckled and led him through the next door. 

Bucky nodded with adoration. Not many people dedicated their time to something that would not benefit them directly. And while Bucky knew what a dedicated mind was capable of, he had to admit that his efforts were always motivated by personal gain. 

“He’s very admirable for that.” 

You just hummed in response. “I don’t think he chose it himself. Not that I think he wouldn’t. But this shelter belonged to his uncle and aunt. They died when he was in high school. He’s working hard to keep this place alive. As do we all.”

The next room you entered was resembling a classroom. “What happens here?”

“Most of the children are registered for the public school of this district. But they don’t always make it there. This room gives them the opportunity to catch up on missed work. We also have adult classes here, preparing for job interviews and such.”

The next hallway presented doors, all leading to bedrooms, as you explained to Bucky when you walked through the corridor. The last door was larger than the others - a double swing leading to a big sanitary area. Showers, toilets, and sinks lined the walls - all run down but functional. 

“This place could use some serious renovating,” Bucky mumbled, but he was sure you had heard him. Because you looked up at him now, a sad smile decorating your beautiful face. 

“We try to make it as clean and cozy as possible here, but we just don’t have the necessary financial means for it. It works for now. The people coming here need very little. But it’s only a matter of time until the roof needs redoing or the pipes or the windows, or the-“

“Yeah...” Bucky trailed off, making you stop and giving him a break to breathe. He usually wasn’t surrounded by people unable to get out of unfortunate situations. The clients he spent his time with ordered his services to protect the material things they’d bought for status and fun. It was something entirely different when you were robbed of your place to sleep. 

“Well, this completes my humble tour.” You clasped your hands together and proceeded to look at your watch. “I think it’s time to go home.”

You descended the stairs in silence, Peter hugged Bucky goodbye and when he stepped foot back on the sidewalk, Bucky turned around to the sign once more. You stood beneath it, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at him. It was dark out now. 

“Are you not coming?” He asked watching as you shook your head. 

“Peter has an exam tomorrow. I offered to stay the night.”

“Here? Alone?”

“Yes.” 

Bucky stepped towards you again. “Then I’m go-“

“Stop.” Your hand reached for his shoulder, the touch sending him straight back to a haze. “Don’t do this. I know how you feel. There’s this sadness inside you now. You saw this for the first time. It feels awful - I know.” You retracted your hand and pushed yourself off the doorframe. “But until you don’t see anything other than pity for these people, you can’t be here without breaking.”

“Doll...”

“Bucky, I'm serious. Go home. Sleep on it. Try to understand the situation.” 

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this helpless. He just stared at you, unable to move or say anything. He didn’t like the idea of you staying here alone at night. And though the feeling of caring for someone he’d only known for two days so much scared him, he pushed it aside. 

You leaned forward and hugged him goodbye and then the cold night surrounded him again. “Thank you for trusting me today.” And then you turned around and left him standing outside alone. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Your purple-inked pen marked the date in your calendar. 

“That’s an unusually big order, Steve...” You looked up at the blonde frequenting your shop every so often. He’d always get the pink carnations for his girlfriend. Apparently, she loved them after you bound them in the first bouquet you ever sold to Steve. He was a simple man, you could tell, so his usual orders were just as such. But not today. “Are you planning anything special?”

The handsome customer blushed with an innocent smile. “Actually...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m planning to propose.” He looked so sheepish when you clasped your hands in excitement.

“Oh, that’s amazing. Congratulations!”

“Well not yet.” He cleared his throat, visibly trying to compose himself. But this giant pretty man in front of you was adorably nervous. 

“I just know she’ll say yes,” you mused and made a note to reserve some more carnations for his order - a couple simple arrangements that held so much meaning.

“How do you know?”

You watched Steve peer over to you with hopeful eyes. “It’s not every day a man puts so much effort and thought into what bouquet to get his girlfriend on a casual Monday evening each week.” You winked and Steve nodded lost in thought. 

“To be honest, I haven’t even thought about her saying no. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much. You are a good man, everyone can see that. And just to be sure, I’ll make the most perfect flowers ever. Paired with your charming ways, there will be no other option but to say yes.”

He relaxed a little. “Great. Thank you.” And then he turned to leave your shop. 

“I’ll have them ready by Friday.” You smiled. 

“Thank you... so much.” Steve smiled and you knew there was so much more hidden in his gesture.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had become a habit that Bucky visited the shelter with you once a week. Admittedly, you were surprised he even cared enough to free his schedule so religiously. But as of the past four weeks, he had shown up at your shop, walked with you to Sunflower shelters, mingled with the people, and then even walked you home. 

It was actually kind of refreshing, seeing him so invested and kind of protective. There weren’t many guys in the city that cared enough to get you home safely. Peter offered more times than often, but you rather knew him safe at the shelter than try to fight a gangster double his size out of the kindness of his heart and the deep wish to somehow become a superhero one day.

So Bucky had to do it for now. Not that you were complaining. He was handsome and charming and interesting to converse with given the vastly different lives you lived. But he tried to adapt. Ever since the incident on the first day, he had even tried to wear less wealth-telling clothing, though he seemed to not always hit the mark just right. 

In a way, bucky was a little fashion icon. You’d noticed it in his colorful waistcoats, the intricate details on his shoes, or the fancy cufflinks adorning his oxford-cotton shirts. He tried to dress down. But to your surprise, the color remained. Instead of waistcoats and dress shirts, he wore regular t-shirts. His confidence never wavered.  

A little smile hushed across your face every time you looked at him. The pink shirt he wore combined with the green apron he had been given, made him look like a lollipop. A Beautiful one, that was. With a dashing smile and an adorable frown as he tried to separate the peas from the pod. 

“So... how is the gala coming along?” You teased him a little having noticed how unusual this task was for him. Throughout your few meetings, you had gotten to know Bucky quite well. And apart from his statement the very day he stepped foot into your shop, he revealed to you more and more how difficult the project was for him.

“Let’s just say I’m glad I can count on the flower arrangements,” he grumbles as a pea slipped from his fingers and across the table. 

“That bad, huh?”

His hands stopped working. “The Band canceled on me again and I seem to run after every other arrangement I have made so far. If I had known how much work-“ he huffed and then shook his head with an even deeper frown. 

“Hey, it’s okay to not be good at everything.” You encouraged him, your elbow nudging his side as you smiled lightly. “There has got to be something humbling you. Makes you seem more human.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I meant to ask you...” You picked up your task to avoid his eyes that were suddenly on you again. “How come you’re the one organizing the gala?”

Bucky chuckled, his head shaking for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “I made a deal with my assistant.” 

“What was in it for you?” You threw a couple peas in the strainer and Bucky did the same.

He shrugged. “I got to hand off some paperwork.”

Wow. “Seriously? A bit of paperwork seems like a poor trade for months of organizing something so important.”

Bucky laughed, the sound warming your stomach from the inside out and finally making you look at him again. It was little moments like this in which he felt so careless and relaxed. You liked to believe the shelter did it to him, or maybe even you. But primarily, you were glad he laid off his work self just then. “Yeah it might have not been my smartest move... but I don’t mind it really.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes locked and you suddenly became very aware of how close the two of you were standing. 

“If it weren’t for the deal, I would have never met you.” There was something so honest and pure about the way he had stated this so plainly. And for a moment, you liked to forget that he might have just meant your suggestion to donate to Sunflower. That maybe, the funny fluttery feeling in your stomach wasn’t one-sided, and that you too meant something greater to him than the coincidences that led him into your shop that day. 

A wide smile spread on Bucky’s face and then he winked. He freaking winked at you. And while you turned back to your peas, desperate to hide the fluster on your face, you had to remind yourself that this was Bucky fucking Barnes and that he knew what he was doing.

About two hours later, you sat amongst the people currently living at the shelter, sharing the meal you had prepared for them with the hopes of getting them through another day. You and Bucky were sitting with Gabe Jones, a veteran whose post-traumatic stress disorder had cost him everything after the Vietnam War. He was always telling stories of his time on the front - a way to cope with his horrible past. By now, you and Peter had probably heard every single one of his stories twice. But Bucky was on the edge of his seat. Listening with intrigue as the food on his plate remained untouched. 

“It was ’68 when I was sent out. There were soldiers who done already survived a year or so at the front. And, son, I am sayin’ survived ‘cause you couldn’t call that livin’.” Gabe shook his head before pointing his fork to his shoulder. “Caught a grenade in ’69 and on our way to camp, they shot at the helicopter. Lost my right arm and comrade that day. The damn arm’s gone but I’m gon’ have the memory forever.”

The words didn’t seem to affect the veteran anymore, but they never failed to leave their recipients shocked and wondering. It was always the same question: How can someone fight for a country, leave their life for a country, and end up here?

And honestly? You didn’t know. 

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Bucky swallowed as his eyes fled over to yours. “Thank you for your service.”

“Notin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” Gabe waved his hand and then pointed at Bucky’s plate. “You eatin’ that?” 

Bucky just shook his head and pushed his plate towards Gabe, a somber state overtaking his body. You did feel a little bad. But you also knew that Gabe wasn’t affected by sympathies and that he was happy at Sunflower - though he preferred the street over the beds here. While he had spent just another day existing, he had simultaneously opened Bucky’s eyes to the severity of making stories like his more known. 

By now you were pretty confident, Bucky would choose the homeless as recipients for his company’s fundraiser sum. But he surprised you by getting involved with the people here over and over again, willing to learn and to understand. 

The walk to your apartment building that evening was awfully quiet. Bucky had insisted he walk on the street side of the sidewalk, buried his hands in his coat pockets, and shut up ever since.

You knew he was contemplating, letting the day play on repeat in his mind. He probably had a lot of questions, a lot of frustration, and worry. Nothing unfamiliar to you, but something you’d learned to deal with ever since helping out at Sunflower. 

“Don’t feel bad,” you said when you stopped in front of the familiar brick building you called home. 

“How?”

“Feeling bad isn’t helping them. You have the power to change things.” It was an awfully dry response, but the truth hurt sometimes. 

Bucky just looked at you through hooded eyes, a knowing nod shaking his features as he watched slowly take a step back toward your front door. 

“Thank you,” he suddenly released - steady and calm. “For taking me. For helping me see...” 

You couldn’t help yourself. The confession overwhelmed you. Knowing you had succeeded in showing him what was so important to you overwhelmed you. You leaped forward and slung your arms around him, pressing tightly into his chest. 

Bucky’s arms found their way around you in an instant, the hug conveying so much more than just a goodbye. It was a ‘thank you’ a ‘this means the world to me’.

After about a minute, you leaned up to him and placed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m also glad you took the deal, Bucky.” You whispered into his ear, feeling the smile on his face on your cheek. 

When he finally released you, it seemed like the spell was gone. Bucky was back to burying his hands in his pockets, only the faint remnants of a smile hinting towards your earlier interaction. You hadn’t realized how much this would affect him. You had forgotten how long you fought with yourself until you could act normal around the people at Sunflower yourself. 

“Do you want to come up?” You threw your thumb over your shoulder at the entrance of the building with a lopsided smile. “Don’t want that cheap bottle of merlot to go bad.”

Bucky’s eyes brightened underneath the street lights and the wide boyish grin returned to his face. “We can’t have that, can we?”

❁ ❁ ❁

To say Bucky’s heart had skipped a beat at your invitation would have been an understatement. It did somersaults and ended with an impressive backflip. He’d not expected a move from your side. Especially, since the last time he had picked you up, the universe had flipped him the bird by sending two of his former one-night-stands your way. He had been able to shake them off before they were able to yell at him or reveal more of what their connection to him was. But that marked the first time he was a little embarrassed by his late endeavors. You had acted like nothing happened, but since that night, Bucky hadn’t stopped wondering what you thought of him. 

You lead him up the narrow staircase to a red wooden door, the color chipping by the floor as an indicator of having to kick it to open sometimes. Beyond the door, it was cozy and warm. Every corner of your place had a memory placed in it - a self-made quilt or a photograph. When you walked through it, Bucky could feel the love and time this place had seen. 

It was nothing like his own apartment: a penthouse standing high above the city, with sleek black surfaces and cold marble wherever you reached. Here, he felt the need to take his shoes off, to feel the fuzzy carpets on the scratched-up wooden floors. Your place wasn’t sterile like his, it felt... like a good hug. 

Bucky snorted as the result of a breath he released. Never before had he cared about what his place lacked. It was expensive and pristine, clean and big. And even though your apartment was about the size of his living room, it had so much more to offer. 

“The living room is right through there, you can choose a movie if you like.” Your voice called out from somewhere Bucky assumed to be the kitchen as he kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the rust-colored sofa that had more pillows than necessary. It was super comfortable, though. And the lack of space due to the pillows forced you to sit a little closer to him, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Your place is... cute.” He stated as you handed him a glass of wine and laughed. 

“It’s a shoebox but I do love it very much. Probably nothing compared to what you’re used to.”

Bucky shook his head and took a sip. The wine did taste cheap, but he did not care. “Bigger isn’t always better.” His arm was spread on the backrest but your whole body was turned to him. “It has a lot of character.”

“Oh god, please stop, you’re just making it sound worse.” Your hand came up to hide your face but your smile peeked through the gesture. 

Bucky laughed. “I didn’t mean it condescendingly. I really do like it. Reminds me of my childhood home.”

“Are you close with your family?” Bucky was surprised by the question. Maybe it was because his friends never talked about his family, or because the peers he hung out with tended to discuss business rather than sentimental. But he realized that nobody had asked him about it for a long time.

And so he began talking. Bucky talked about his parents and how both of them died early in his life. He told you how close he was with his sister until she got adopted into another family. He spoke about his childhood with Steve and how they’d met Sam and Tony in college, about the night they had the idea for Shield Protective Services, and finally the day he was told his sister had passed away. 

Throughout his story, you had leaned into him closer, hanging onto his every word until your hand had to support your body on his thigh and Bucky suddenly stopped talking. 

Your glasses were emptied, the bottle as well, and Bucky gulped when he felt the heat from your hand travel throughout his entire body. 

“So... that’s my story.” He had to clear his throat to gain his usual timber back, his hands becoming sweaty when you blinked next to him. “What about you, dove?”

“Dove?” You smiled, yet intrigued by the name that had slipped past his lips in the trance of the moment. He’d only ever called you that in his thoughts. Attributed the nickname to you the second he realized it was the most fitting one of them all. 

“You don’t like it?” He asked, his arm slipping towards your shoulder ever so slightly. 

“I like it.” You smiled. “I just want to know... why this one?”

A hush of giddiness crawled up his throat when he thought about his answer. It was the way you had welcomed him so easily into this world of yours. How you were willing to show him the things precious to you. That you trusted him with this very opportunity to help. Every day he spent with you he felt it, found that between coding his new security program and meeting with Hydra enterprises, its somber reality sent him into a feeling of breathing fresh air. You created a button that turned off the noise in his head. “Because you bring me peace.”

Your eyes stared at him in wonder when he tilted your chin with his thumb and index finger. There was appreciation and happiness, he could see it, feel it. 

Bucky was entranced by your stare when your voice whispered a response to him: “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever been told.”

You leaned forward and Bucky’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest, and then your face fell into his chest, your arms encasing him in the warmest hug he’d ever received. He willed his pulse to slow and wrapped his arms around you tightly. A little humbled and a little confused, but appreciative of the situation nonetheless. 

You stayed like this when you chose a movie to watch. Even after an hour, Bucky’s grip didn’t loosen. He peered down at you on his chest and watched as you fell asleep. And when he was sure you were far away in your slumber, he pressed a warm kiss to your head, lingering in the scent of your shampoo.  

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his computer screen as the pen in his hand clicked on his glass desk in perfect rhythm. The Shelter website displayed on the surface, portraying a brighter version of the sign you had dragged him to that very first day. 

But it wasn’t the heartfelt story behind the building or the way his pen clicked slightly more hollow every other tap because he turned it too much that had him zoned out at work. It was - as unbelievable as it sounded - a woman. Not just any, no. You. 

“Hey, I need a signature from you for this design draft.” Steve dropped his notepad on the desk, then rounded it and settled behind Bucky who had yet to recognize his presence. 

“This your charity suggestion?” He questioned with his hands on his friend’s office chair. 

Bucky nodded absentmindedly. Perhaps it was because he had decided to support your suggestion the second you had taken his hand on his way to the subway. Or maybe he was just letting his mind roam freely again. Mainly because it was a safe bet to call you into memory and he liked the feeling it provided. 

A pale hand waved in front of his face. “Earth to Bucky.” Steve snapped his fingers, making the brunette jump. “You seem oddly distracted.”

He had been thinking about you. Of course, he had. There seemed to be nothing else he could do lately. Every time Bucky read through his reports, he imagined what your voice would sound like reading them to him. Whenever he went down to IT, he envisioned the room decorated with your flowers and how much happier they would make the place. When he sat in a meeting with HR and watched their burnt-out faces stare back at him through their coffee haze, he wondered if you could make them as lively as you made him. 

Bucky could - so he realized after weeks of denial - not escape you. 

That was one thing. But the more chilling revelation was that he did not mind. He enjoyed the little admonitions his mind set out in his environment. He appreciated the quickening thumb in his chest, whenever he saw his calendar entries stating another meeting with you - so much so that he almost forgot how unusual it was for him. 

It was crazy. A month ago, if someone had dared to tell him he’d be finding something more than his regular flings, he would have laughed in their face. In fact, he actually did a few days before he met you. 

Bucky didn’t know what kind of magical spell you’d put on him, but within a few weeks, he’d started to become a different man. A better version of his thought-to-be-marvelous self. Now he realized what he was missing: a counterpart, someone who made life seem dull without them by his side. He wasn’t going to admit it to Sam or Steve immediately, but the idea of you being that very someone became more attractive each day. 

“Just a lot to do with the gala and all...” Bucky trailed off and spun around to Steve. 

“You know, I never took you for an event manager...” The blonde grinned and his eyes lit up in the office light. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I like seeing you try something new, but this feels very... out of place.”

“But you also know I never back down from a challenge. And I’ll be damned if Nat has something to hold against me for life.”

Steve’s head tipped forward. “We both know that woman has blackmail material for two lifetimes on us. 

“She really does.” Bucky sighed and then slumped back in his chair, the little issue he had been hiding from his best friend gnawing on his mind. 

He thought about Steve and Bambi and how he had just asked her to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, nobody expected otherwise. Steve - of all people - was living a magical fairytale life with the woman of his dreams. And here Bucky was, thinking he had figured it all out with women and relationships - or rather that he never wanted one - yet he found himself wondering why that decision bugged him so much when you came into the picture. 

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, not believing he was really going to ask Steve for dating advice.

“Always.”

“How did you know that Bambi was the one?” A stupid question, really. Bucky already knew there was nobody like you. But it was best to start this conversation off lightly.

Steve smiled widely again, his cheeks tinted pink. “Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And not in an I haven’t touched a woman in years kind of way... I couldn’t stop. Every second of every day, I imagined her with me. The thought of her made me happier even before she knew how I felt about her. And, well, it also hurt like hell when I thought she didn’t return my feelings... when she refused to talk to me for a day...” He cleared his throat and then eyed Bucky again. “Why do you want to know?”

“Nothing in particular. I was just wondering and I needed material for my best man speech.” But the blonde didn’t buy it. He caught Bucky’s chair when he attempted to turn away, pulling him right back in front of him. “Are you dating someone? Is it that woman from the flower shop?”

How did he know about you? “No??” Bucky squinted at Steve. 

“You know if you wanted advice, I do consider myself an expert to some extent now.” Bucky wanted to wipe the smug grin right off his friend’s face. 

“You’re an idiot.” He stood up and paced to the window.

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve followed suit, the playful grin ever present. “You teased me for years about my love life, can’t be mad now.”

“I’m not mad.” He was annoyed. 

They stood by the glass front for a while, watching the busy city unfold beneath them in the glow of the rising sun. Bucky could feel his friend’s eyes stare at him though. And after another moment of silence, the blonde finally spoke. “You should ask her out.”

“What?” He faced him again. 

“You like her. I can tell. And you’ve never acted like this about a woman, let alone put so much effort into a relationship. I know it’s not your style, but I think it would do you good to at least try.”

“The effort is for the gala.” Bucky corrected. 

“Right. Because that’s your thing... charity galas.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder and then tapped it and then he made his way to the door. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I really wish you would listen to your heart and not be a stubborn dickhead for once. This could be something life-changing - something great. And it’s your choice whether you welcome it or not.”

Life changing. Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. He liked to be in control of the situation and rule over his own life. However that aspect seemed to have left the building when you entered. 

He huffed. There you were back on his mind again, and he felt the tingle creep up his throat. There was no denying it. What Steve had described with Bambi was what Bucky had with you. 

With a shake of his head, he grabbed his coat, told Nat he’d be back in an hour, and then pressed the button for the elevator. He would deny it if Steve ever dared to take pride in convincing him to do so, but he’d also be damned if he didn’t at least try to find out if you felt the same. 

❁ ❁ ❁

There was a burly-looking stranger standing at the counter when Bucky entered your shop. He had willed the traitorous voice in his head to silence all the way here. But now that he saw the handsome older man taking all your attention to the point you hadn’t even noticed him stepping in over the customer's broad shoulders, the heat began to bubble up again. 

Bucky wanted to tell himself you wouldn’t prefer the salt-and-pepper-bearded man over him. But to be honest, he didn’t even know what your type was. Yes, you had cuddled on your sofa just the other night, but since Bucky wouldn’t consider himself an expert in anything other than one-night stands, it could have been a friendly gesture for all he knew. 

“Would that be all for you?” You asked the man and handed him his chance. Bucky watched as his thumb grazed over your hand, feeling a tinge of anger starting to consume him.  

“That’s all. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I hope to see you again soon, sir.”

“Oh, you can bet on it.” He winked then turned, nodded to Bucky in a brief greeting, and then exited the shop. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the door for a while longer. He took deep breaths as his jaw clenched and the bell above the entrance fell silent. 

“Hey.” A warm hand touched his arm, pulling him right back to your eyes. And just like that, the anger washed away a little. There were just you and him in your tiny oasis amid Brooklyn. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He forced a smile, but the frown on his face probably betrayed him. “Just thought that man was a little inappropriate.” 

“He’s just a sweet man buying flowers for his wife.” Your eyes glimmered with mischief when you bit your lip. “Bucky... are you jealous?”

Oh, hell no.

“Jealous?” Bucky wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be. There was nothing to be jealous of. He had no claim to you. Even if he really wished he did. And yet that man had angered him with only the touch of his hand. That was the only thing he’d ever get. Bucky knew what it felt like to have you in his arms, how your body lotion settled in his nose, how your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. “No.”

“But you should not be so naïve, dove. Married men are also flirting... and cheating.”

A short laugh escaped your throat before you caught yourself again and Bucky’s heart began doing that funny somersault thing. “Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I do know how the real world works.” You crossed your arms before your chest. “Besides, what do you care if he did ask me out? Maybe it has been a lifelong dream of mine to be a mistress.”

“It’s not. And I don’t. I just think you deserve someone better than a cheater.”

“Oh, like who? The percentage of good guys in this city is disappointingly low.”

Bucky snorted, guided by the excitement in his chest he opened his arms. “Please, I could name at least five guys off the top of my head who are better than whatever that was.” His left hand flailed in the direction of the door, referring to the previous customer. 

“Name one.”

“Me.”

The surprise sprung onto your features faster than Bucky realized what he had said. “What?” 

Well, this was certainly not the way he had planned to ask you out today. Damn jealousy. The only way for this to not be embarrassing was to own up to it now. It was what he had come here for after all, right?

Bucky looked directly into your eyes, his expression sincere and determined. "Yes, me. I may not have everything figured out, but I do know one thing: I care about you. I've seen the way you light up a room, the kindness you show to everyone around you. You deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates it.”

Your eyes softened when you shook your head, averting your gaze to the ground. “I don’t know, Bucky.”

He bit the insides of his cheeks, instantly hoping you’d say something else. Anything that would show him there was a chance you would change your mind. The silence was all-consuming, but he kept his mouth shut, careful not to fuck it up once again. 

“Bucky, I appreciate your honesty, I really do. But I don't think it's a good idea.”

Bucky's brows furrowed, his confidence wavering as your soft refusal hit him. "What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of frustration. He struggled to keep his composure, the unfamiliar feeling of rejection gnawing at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he searched for the right thing to say. His jaw tensed, betraying the hurt he felt deep down. "Forget it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel, his disappointment palpable in the air as he made his exit, leaving you to contemplate his unexpected confession.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Why, don’t you just look precious!” You bent down and picked up Sam’s daughter, Darla, who had eagerly stormed through the door as soon as he’d opened it because she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the handle yet. 

“You... I’ve missed you soooo much.” You nuzzled her into your chest and pretended to squeeze real tight. 

“Come play dragons with me!” The little one squirmed and then hopped off in her tiny knight costume.

“Nothing I would rather do,” you singsonged and then mouthed a ‘she’s grown so much’ to Sam before he closed the door with a shake of his head. 

“I know... she just does it without my permission. Unbelievable.”

About ten minutes later, you sat on the living room floor with a bunch of stuffed dragons, you had been instructed to play. Sam’s daughter was happily fighting the stuffies with her wooden sword and his husband handed you a cup of coffee with a smile. 

“So how have things been?” Matt sat down on the sofa and Sam instantly wrapped his arm around him. Your eyes lingered on the interaction for a second before your gaze wandered back to Darla. 

“Oh, you know, business as usual. The shop is doing very well... the shelters are holding up.” You smiled at her and then made a dragon fall backward in defeat. 

“Hm...” He frowned. “That’s weird... I had a feeling it was getting better soon.”

You smiled tight-lipped and wondered if you had butchered it all with your stubbornness. Matt wasn’t clairvoyant or anything crazy like it. But the joke of his other senses being heightened due to his impaired vision had carried on forever. And even though you never believed in supernatural magical things, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, there was a hunch of truth to it nonetheless. He had been right about many other things after all. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed and Darla excused herself to her room to ‘get more toys’. “Except for the shop, everything else seems to go a little downhill right now.”

“But you have been seeing someone, no?” Matt tilted his head and Sam squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to make him stop. 

“Babe, do we need to talk about appropriate prying again?” 

“Sorry,” Matt blushed, “Occupational hazard.”

You laughed and then turned serious again. “I have... but to be honest, I doubt it will have a future. It’s - I don’t know - it just seems a little too good to be true.”

“It’s been Bucky you’ve been seeing, hasn’t it?” Sam chimed in with a calm deep voice, making your attention snap to him. Your heart began to race at the mention of Bucky’s name. 

“How did you know?”

His fingers lifted in air quotes “A gorgeous girl with a flower shop in Brooklyn that somehow tries to convince him to donate to Sunflower shelters? You did not make it hard, honey.”

“He... he talks to you about me?” Well, that changes things, you thought as you watched Sam reassure you with a small smile. 

"More like a little birdy told me...." Sam shrugged. “What happened?” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding concern.

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to be one of his many trophies. And I’m scared, I just made the chase attractive by not putting out immediately.” Your eyes turned glassy. “What if he will lose interest when I do.” Your voice broke, making you almost whisper the last part into the living room. “Because I really really want to...”

Matt cleared his throat. “If it helps anything... I have a feeling you are not going to be just another one-night stand.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve never seen him like this.” Sam chimed in. “So butthurt about a girl or even put effort in a relationship that would only become a one night stand - which it is not - he wants more, he needs more. He sees a future with you. And as much as his bad-boy demeanor has made that pretty unbelievable in the past, he is changing. I just know, and it’s about time that he aims for peace and quiet and love and comfort.”

Turning your head with a suspicious grin, you answered: “Is Matt contagious? Because that sounded one hell of a lot like a prediction to me.”

Sam just shook his head with a smile, scooted forward on the sofa, and then took your hands in his. “Believe me when I say this: You are so amazing. And not even a douchebag like Bucky could deny it. Yes, he has had his fair share of women in the past, and he can be the most stubborn dickhead in all of New York City, but he’s not stupid. He knows something valuable when he sees it. And you, love, have given him the most precious thing he’s ever had.”

You held eye contact for a short moment, letting your friend’s words sink in and warm you from the inside until the butterflies in your stomach began to tingle. As much as you wanted to refuse, you had shown him love and acceptance every step of the way. And Bucky? Bucky had tried so hard to impress you. He had done so many things just for you, to spend time with you.

You just wrote it off as a means to get you to sleep with him. But at this point, that argument was farfetched. Because throughout the time you spent together, his presence was pleasant, casual, and... wanted. 

“So what do I do now?” You said with determination, making a smile spark on both Sam’s and Matt’s faces.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So, Barnes is unusually grumpy tonight.” Bucky heard Tony say when he came back from the bathroom, jamming his glas on the table to announce he was listening. “Did you get cockblocked or what?”

“Shut it, Stark, or I’ll personally demonstrate your very own cockblock.” Bucky pressed through his teeth. 

“Damn, Buck. What the hell could possibly throw you off this much?” Tony signaled for two more drinks to the bar as Bucky took a seat again. 

Sam looked at him with a raised brow - the fucker knew what was going on. But Bucky refused to get dragged into talking about his feelings. 

“I thought it was going good?” Steve chimed in, a question in his features. Steve, you punk. Shut up!

Bucky knew he was referring to the bouquets of flowers that subtly decorated the office now. First his own desk, then the kitchen. And when Nat had grown suspicious, he proceeded to place them on her desk to have her stop asking questions. 

It wasn’t his doing - not this time. You had just given him a bouquet of the flowers you couldn’t sell anymore every time you met. And Bucky couldn’t bring himself to throw them out. They also reminded him of you and were a nice little distraction from work. ...Not that it mattered anymore.

“Going good? What is going on? What are you talking about, Rogers?”

“Bucky met a- ouch goddamnit!” A kick was heard from beneath the table. And when Steve’s eyes snapped over to Sam, the man just tipped his head with a warning stare. “What the hell, man?”

“Okay, that’s it. I feel like you guys don’t tell me anything. I need details. Now.”

“No.”

Bucky didn’t need Tony to know. In fact, Bucky didn’t need anyone to know he had trouble talking to a woman. He, of all people, who never had any difficulties getting even the married ones - yeah he wasn’t too proud of that... But Tony would just make everything worse. And with his patience hanging by a thread right about now, he was not willing to play with fire. 

“Buck, we- they’re your friends. They deserve to know, especially if things are as serious as you told me.” Bucky just stared at Steve in silence, his gaze trained on the crystal class in front of him with the amber liquid untouched. Steve always had a need to calm the storm. And maybe, Bucky would let him do it this time. 

Truthfully, Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore. His friends would sooner or later hear about you - if he had not fucked it up entirely. So, it was better to rip the band-aid off now than peel it back painfully slow in the future. 

He crossed his arms and exchanged a brief glance with the blonde, and Steve understood that he was allowed to proceed. 

“Bucky met someone. He’s organizing the charity gala this year and she’s the florist doing the flower arrangements.” He had never noticed it before, but ever since Bambi had entered Steve’s life, his best friend’s fable for romance became more and more apparent to Bucky. 

“She’s also helped him find a cause to donate to. She’s been taking him to the Shelter she has worked at for years,” Sam chimed in and Bucky didn’t even question where he got his information from anymore. Steve and he had always been close, and though Bucky didn’t believe Steve would tell Sam his most private conversations, Sam always had a way of finding out. 

“Event planning? Florist? Who are you and what have you done to Bucky?” Tony looked seriously stunned, But Bucky didn’t expect anything less than incomprehension. He had always been the only one in the group Tony could relate to and talk to when it came to women and lifestyles. Now, that very thing was slipping away. 

Bucky just shrugged, uncertain how to answer. It was true: He had changed quite a bit ever since meeting you. But they weren't bad changes. He actually liked them. 

Steve cleared his throat. “I thought things were going great, just the other day he talked about asking her out. And there were all these flowers in the office, I just assumed...”

“Yeah well, they weren’t.” Bucky interrupted as he felt the frustration creep back up. There were so many new feelings mixing within him that he didn’t know what to do with them. 

“Well it’s good to have you back, I guess. Can’t imagine how that would’ve turned out.” Tony’s hand landed on Bucky’s shoulder, who immediately brushed it off. 

“What do you mean ‘turned out’?”

His head swayed from left to right and his hands turned outward. “Well, we all agree it would have never worked out right? You’re not the one for relationships and she was clearly using you for that charity money.”

What the actual fuck?

“You don’t know her. So don’t you dare assume anything about her.” Bucky sprung up, his hands hitting the table with a thump. “Dove has the kindest, most beautiful soul on this earth.” He wouldn’t let Tony, of all people, insult you. Not you. Not his dove. And, yes, maybe it also hurt a little that his friend did not believe Bucky could change for something truly important. And maybe it scratched his ego that this might have been the reason for your rejection the other day. But all of that seemed unimportant now. 

“Look at you growing all protective.”

“Tony.” Steve’s condescending tone rumbled over the booth. 

A look at Tony and Bucky wanted to smack the smirk off his face. Another look at Sam, whose eyes had grown soft with empathy. And one last look at Steve, who’d only wanted him to be as happy as him. Damn it. 

“You wouldn’t fucking know what I’m talking about, Stark.”

And then he stormed out of the Ironbar and into the night, head fuming, heart racing, and only one thing on his mind. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You were pretty sure Bucky would have kicked your door down had you not opened it the second time he wrapped his fist against it. Now he was standing in front of you, cheeks reddened from the cool night air, chest rising with deep breaths, but still devilishly handsome. 

“Hey, Bucky!” You smiled until you noticed the irritated look in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He seemingly ignored you, stepping into your home and then turning once you closed the door. “Do you think I can change?”

“What?”

“Do you believe I could change? That I could become the person you would date?” His eyes were pleasing, his head cocked to the side - fidgedy.

“Is... is this about the other day?”

Bucky looked nervous, vulnerable even. “Just answer my question, please.”

“I believe everyone has the ability to change. But I also know not everyone wants to.” You looked at your hands, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

“Then why... why do you think I haven’t. Through all the times we’ve gone to the shelter, through all the conversations. I’ve never had that with someone before... what I have with you.”

There it was. You knew you had to talk to him about it sooner or later. Sam and Matt had suggested as much. You just didn't know it would be this soon.

“Bucky, I just don’t want to end up as one of the women passing you on the street, throwing side eyes at the newest one you’re having on your arm.” Yeah... that encounter had been a rather awkard one. Not to mention how nervous you were that night, hopig Bucky had only played it cool in order to protect you.

“See, but that wouldn’t happen to you, dove. It wouldn’t. Because I realized that you are the reason that makes me want to change.” Bucky's gaze softened as he spoke, his tone gentle yet resolute he stepped closer. “I'm not perfect, but I promise you this: I'll always try my best for you. So, yeah, maybe it's a long shot, but I think I could be good for you. And if you'd give me the chance, I'd love to show you.” He took your hands in his, then closed his eyes and came even closer. “I know I'd treat you right.”

Throughout his confession, your gaze never faltered from his face. You could feel the desperate honesty in his tone, in the way his hands lightly trembled. He was scared, and he lay that emotion in your hands - for you to do whatever you needed with it. 

Your voice was shaky when you answered, a light hue of shame fogging the question on the tip of your tongue. “But how do I know...?” That this is not what you’re telling every woman in this godforsaken city? 

But Bucky understood. Because apparently that pull you'd had toward him had been there for a reason. “Because the things you make me feel scare me.” His face was mere inches from yours now, you could see every speck of color in his irises. “They scare me because I’ve never felt them before. Every time I’m not with you, I think of you. In every situation I am in alone, I imagine how much more exciting it would be with you in it. I’m going crazy. I’m lost without you, dove.”

A single tear ran down your face at his confession. This moment felt so raw, his words so sincere. But most importantly, it made your heart pound with excitement. 

“Will you be mine?” His forehead leaned against yours, his hands moving up your arms and to your neck. “Please say yes,” he whispered and his breath tickled your nose. 

He just felt so right. Bucky felt right in your home, in your arms, in your life. “Yes.” You finally answered and as soon as the syllable left your mouth, his lips came crashing onto yours. 

Within seconds, Bucky had you pressed against the door. His hands held your face lovingly, his hands warm and big on your skin. The kiss was deep and so unbelievably pure, it punched the breath from your lunges the second your lips connected. And suddenly you knew that Bucky’s words held far less emptiness than you had feared. Nobody could kiss like this and not be sincere. At least you hoped it to be true because once you’d gotten a taste, you knew you would never want to try anything else. You could get drunk off him. Forever.

Your hands wandered beneath Bucky’s coat, settling in the warmth of his back beneath the thick wool and feeling the muscles ripple when he pulled you even closer. 

You sighed into him because the moment felt so right, so perfect, so tailored to the two of you and Bucky brushed his tongue over your bottom lip. The tingle from the gesture traveled down your spine. Before you could hold yourself back, you let his touch swallow you whole. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky moaned, a feeling so warm and enjoyable taking over his body with every breath you stole from him. He had wanted for this to happen for weeks. And the real thing did not disappoint. 

Your hands roamed his back until they hooked onto his shoulders and began shrugging off his coat. He tried hard to keep your lips on his during the action, not wanting to miss a single moment without them anymore. You were here, you were his, and it was perfect. 

“Bucky,” you whimpered when his thigh made its way between your legs. A move so instinctually feeling for him. But all the other women he’d been with before only seemed like practice now. Preparation to be the best lover you’ve ever had and ever will have. Because you were the real thing, the grand prize, the best person to ever happen to him. 

You ground down on his legs in rhythmic motions, Bucky could feel the heat seeping through his expensive dress pants and it made him feel even hotter. He pushed his leg higher, reveling in the sounds that came from your lips and the very knowledge he was the one providing this pleasure. There was nothing more exhilarating. 

But still, it wasn’t enough. “There are too many layers of clothes between us, dove,” his wet breath brushed against your cheek as he pulled his thigh back for you to take off your jeans. 

“You’re so right.” You grinned and then pulled them down in one swift motion only to reveal a pink pear of panties underneath. 

In an instant, his body was pressed to yours again, his lips attaching to yours like magnets - he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. But instead of placing his leg right back to get you that delicious friction, his hand began traveling down your front until it disappeared in your underwear. 

If you were any other woman, Bucky would’ve gone down on you. He would have dropped to his knees and eaten you out because he knew it was the fastest way he’d make you come. And he took pride in the fact that the women he was with always had at least one orgasm more than him. But he didn’t do so with you. 

Why?

Because Bucky Barnes got high off of your lips, and he couldn’t possibly imagine not seeing your face, feeling your mouth shape in a silent scream when he would make you come for the first time. 

So his hand had to do for now. His fingers slipped past the thin pink cotton and over your mound to gather your slickness. He gasped when he reached your heated core. “You’re so wet for me, love. So ready.” He pecked the corner of your lips. “So perfect.”

“Yes!” You whined and pressed your pussy into his touch. Bucky immediately started to trace circles on your clit. He took his time to find the motions with which your breath staggered, or your fists clenched in his shirt. With every whimper, every stroke of his hand, he felt his dick strain his pants a little more - the aching exciting him for when he could finally sink into you. 

“Shit, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

“I don’t plan on ever stopping.” He growled into your mouth, his hand movements becoming more frantic, the wet noises filling your apartment. Frankly, Bucky didn’t believe he could ever stop giving you pleasure and having you writhe in his arms with deep sighs. Not until he knew how you sounded cumming on his hand, on his face, on his dick, on the sofa, on the bed, and every other surface he could possibly imagine. Your body was like ecstasy.

Your walls began to clench around his fingers, every drag becoming harder as he imagined his cock being squeezed by you instead. “There you go, Baby. That’s it.”

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed as your hand pulled on his hair, your body growing rigid with pleasure and Bucky kissed every curse word from your lips. 

After a minute, he slowly pulled his hand back, the other caressing the skin on your cheek. “Are you okay?” He whispered, his eyes boring into yours in genuine concern. 

“Are you kidding? I’m more than okay. That was incredible.” Bucky couldn’t help the small chuckle from leaving his lips at your praise. 

“You look really fucking pretty when you come.”

“I’m glad. Because I want you to make me do it again.” You kissed his cheek. “And again.” And then you gently stroked his cock through his pants. “And again.”

And the second you said that Bucky pulled you onto the floor with him. He took his time removing your clothes, kissed the trial of your bra strap all the way down your shoulder, licked and bit at your hips all the way down to your ankles where he finally pulled off your underwear and pressed his lips to the soft skin of your leg. And when you were fully naked, he paused. Bucky’s eyes roamed your body, taking in every divot, every mark and curve of yours.

He sat back on his haunches, his head getting dizzy when the butterflies took over. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Bucky softly wheezed, his hand slowly stroking your leg as you lay spread out in front of him. 

“Come here.” You gestured with your arms open, welcoming him in your embrace with a wide smile. Bucky supported his weight with his arms on either side of your head and let your hands bury in his hair. He closed his eyes letting the warmth of your touch overtake him. Your thumbs stroked over his brows before you whispered: “Look at me.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I doubted you. I feel the appreciation in the way you talk to me and touch me. It was unfair of me to assume you are your reputation.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not like I made it easy for you to believe me.”

You chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, I do now.” Your eyes locked with his and a new fire lit within them. 

“Good.” He smirked and then rolled you over so that you were straddling his waist. The cool wooden floor hit his bare back as you had bunched his shirt up on the way, now pulling it over his head and revealing your satisfied stare when your hands traced over his abs.

You shook your head and released a breath. “Shame on me for refusing this for so long.” Your fingers passed his happy trail and began working on his belt. Bucky’s thumbs stroked your thighs as he watched you undress him, the tent in his pants ever so present and growing with every brush of your fingers. 

“Don’t worry, dove. We have all the time in the world to make up for it.” When his pants were off he pulled you forward again, kissing you ferociously. “‘Cause I’m not planning on leaving.”

You smirked and ground down on his cock, interrupting his speech and ripping a guttural sound from his chest. 

He had been holding back. Ever since you'd dragged him into that shelter, he had not touched a woman, because you had him hooked the second you had taken his hand on the way. And now he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming in his boxers like a school boy. 

“Are you getting nervous, Bucky?” You grinned and moved again to tease him a little more.

“Can you blame me?” He clenched his jaw when you rocked forward again, his hand stilling your hips with a near-bruising grip. “I’ve wanted you ever since I stepped foot in your shop.”

“You did?” Your head cocked to the side, surprise washing over your face and his dick twitched making Bucky’s cheeks heat up. 

“Yes...” He confessed only to be attacked with your kisses again. He groaned and bucked his hips up until you were a moaning mess on top of him. His hands reached around you, settling on your ass and giving it a small clap. 

“Hand me my walled, baby. It’s in my pants.”

“Why?”

“We need a condom if you don’t want to keep dry-humping me.” He smirked, knowing, feeling there was nothing dry about this anymore. Your arousal was already drenching his boxers. The slick pushing him close to losing it. 

“It’s okay. We don’t have to, I have an IUD.” 

“As much as I want to, we should be safe...” Bucky swallowed and averted his eyes in regret. “Have to get tested again.”

“Oh, ok.” You were disappointed, he could tell. And Bucky was too. It was the first time he ever regretted all his one-night stands because he would kill to fuck you raw and feel all of you. And as hazy as your body made him, he could not ignore the fact that he did have several different sex partners before. It would have to wait a few weeks. And when he would come back clean, he would keep you in the bedroom for a week straight.

You must have noticed his misery because you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then you scooched back and retrieved the condom from his wallet. Bucky held his breath when your fingers hooked into his waistband. And when you pulled them down, his cock stood proud and thick with precum already pearling from his tip. 

He reached for the shiny packet in your hand but you pulled your arm up, your eyes stuck on his cock. “Let me.”

“Okay,” he breathed out as he watched you rip the packet. His shaft twitched when your careful hands rolled the condom over him, another bead of precum dripping into the condom and before he could collect himself, you rubbed your pussy all over him, coating him in your arousal. 

Bucky’s hands turned into fists at your sides as he watched you finally sink down on him - inch by inch, your heat welcomed him, his body sparking with pleasure all over. You moaned in unison when he was fully seated inside you, his cock being hugged tightly in your warmth - he’d barely held it together then. 

You planted your hands on his abdomen and rocked forward, sending the both of you reeling. It took a second for Bucky to collect himself. His eyes closed and his nose huffing, he reminded himself of what he had promised you and what he wanted his first time with you to be. When he opened his eyes again, his hands moved over your body with determination. One setting over your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, the other began tracing tight circles on your clit. 

Your head fell back, a vision of ecstasy and pleasure unfolding before him when he sent you over the edge a second time. He slowed your hips on his and rubbed your pussy with his thumb. He needed you to come again. And then again, and he had to hold out for that long. But the way your chest heaved, the light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, made his plan more than difficult. 

It took all of Bucky’s willpower to pull you off his cock and push you to his legs. He sat up and kissed up your neck until he reached your lips. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you asked for.” He mumbled against your skin and then licked over your nipple, the other being caressed by his fingers. His free hand found its place right between your legs again and when you moaned lowly, he slipped two fingers inside you. 

Your pussy was squelching, the lewd sound traveling across the living room as Bucky worked you towards another release. You were already squirming in his hands again. Your fists pulled at his roots, sending a shiver straight to his cock when you leaned his head back. “You’re amazing.” Your breath was hot, fanning over his lips only to be replaced by them again. His tongue slipped inside and mimicking the movement of his fingers in your pussy. 

“Right back at ya, dove. I can't wait to be inside you again.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to come again.” He bit your lip and sped up his fingers already feeling you squeeze him tightly. “So you’re satiated when I come deep inside you, feeling you squeeze me with that perfect pussy of yours until you see stars.”

“Shitshitshit. I’m coming!” A series of curses flew past him when you pulsed around his fingers, gushing all over his hand and lap until he finished rocking you through your third orgasm. 

“Fuck,” Bucky licked your juices off his fingers and his eyes rolled back into his head. 

“I don’t think I have another in me, Bucky.”

“Don’t worry, love. I got you.” And with that he hooked your legs around his waist, falling forward until you were with your back to the floor, Bucky hovering over you and aligning his length with your entrance. 

He couldn’t wait anymore, in one swift motion, Bucky fully bottomed out until his balls hit your ass. And when he was confident you were comfortable, he set a relentless pace. He had been on the edge this entire time. You had almost made him come just having him watch you let go. But there was nothing like the feeling of your pussy hugging him tightly, your body writhing beneath his, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and nails raking down his back. 

“You feel so good,” he grunted and you just moaned in response.

“Look at me, please.” His hand turned your face. “I need to see you.” 

Bucky snapped his hips into yours even faster, your walls already clenching tightly around him and he threatened to burst. Your eyes opened and fell to his and Bucky couldn’t stop his orgasm from ripping through him anymore. His strokes stuttered, his balls tightened, but he held eye contact with you, searching your hand behind his back to lock your fingers with his. 

The white pleasure exploded within him, elevated by your own peak hitting with full force. He kissed you then, feeling like he was somewhere between heaven and your living room floor. His mind was consumed by you, his body tingling in aftershocks as he rocked you through your highs. 

His damp chest fell into yours when you came down. He rolled on his back, taking you with him, pressed deeply into his body, his cock still buried inside you. Bucky’s chest was heaving, the last remnants of pleasure sparkling in his nerves. He kissed your hand and cuddled you closer. 

This was what he was made for. To be with you, to be consumed by your affection and warmth. 

He smoothed over your head and felt your lashes flutter on his skin. His heart was blooming with contentment - all the fear he’d felt to commit was miles away, lost somewhere between the Ironbar and your doorstep. There was nothing he was more sure of. 

“Let me do this right. Let me take you out.” He whispered into your hair with a smile, trying to remember a time he’d ever been this happy. 

You snorted as your hand gently stroked over his chest. “Bucky, you’re literally ballsdeep inside of me right now.”

Bucky chuckled as well, his hand rubbed down your bare back in a soothing motion when he kissed your head. “Nothing like a convincing argument, huh.”

🫵 You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer 💕

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i have. thoughts. many of them.

Warmth of Your Doorways - Chapter Seven

Jane Murdstone x dressmaker!Reader

A/n: In collaboration with @daydream-cement 🖤 If you wish to be added to the taglist please send me a DM!

Summary: Unbridled Rage.

November 6th, 1856

There will be no salvation for me. 

Time and time again, she came back to me. She begged for my love and what did I do? I called her a harlot. I degraded her and told her she was tarnishing my family reputation. 

Marjory refuses to speak to me and I cannot blame her. I hate myself as well. I know this is due to the hatred I have for myself due to my love of the fairer sex. I thought I had stamped out the flame of internal hate when I began loving the seamstress, but yet it was still glowing bright within me each time that sweet face brightened my doorstep. 

I am tortured as I relive those moments. She told me she regretted ever loving me. How I must have caused her such agony for her to ever say such a thing. 

This household is my personal hell. My only friend finds me despicable, my brother is proud of me for ‘remaining strong in my virtues,’ and my one true love hates my entire being. She deserves so much better than me, but I feel the need to rush to her and apologize. I want to crawl on my hands and knees through the depths of Hell in order to prove my repentance. She must understand that I have meant none of what I have said. 

Far too long, I have been held under my brother’s control. I must break free of this hold. I am not who I wish to be when he is near. I am not the woman my darling little violet deserves when I give his opinion more weight than is deserved.

I must find her. I must fall to my knees and let her know she is my one and only true love. I must do everything in my power to earn back her trust and love.

- J.M.

It had been over a week since Jane had seen you last. She could hardly eat, nor sleep, since her brother arrived nearly two weeks ago. The only task she found herself capable of was to reread her diary over and over, reminiscing the love you had shared.

After tonight’s diary entry however, she was feeling far less helpless. Her words filled her with a new sense of urgency - the need to be at your side and beg for forgiveness.

The next morning she awoke with the same vigor, gathering herself as best she could. She pinned her hair into place, put on her best dress, and gathered some of your favorite flowers from her garden before striding down the gravel walkway towards the shop. Her knees felt as though they would give out at any moment, her breathing rapidly increasing the closer she got to you. Her mind raced with every possibility, good and bad; you forgave her, you didn't forgive her, you loved her still, you hated her, you rushed into her arms, you spat in her direction-

Whatever the outcome, she knew she was responsible for it, and now it was her time to fight for you.

The shop loomed over her, and she felt a great weight in her chest just looking at it. She briefly recalled the first time she stepped foot inside, the first time she met you; how her heart had stuttered, her cheeks had flushed, how she couldn't get you out of her thoughts no matter how hard she tried. In this moment she longed for those early days, carefree and falling in love.

Unsure whether she was still welcome to use the back entrance, she chose instead to enter through the front door, the bell above it seeming far too loud. The shop was quiet, and Jane was surprised to see your workbench empty.

Much emptier than usual.

Odd.

She waited for a few moments, her stomach twisting in knots at the thought of seeing you again, still unsure what your reaction to her would be after she'd been so cruel-

"You're too late, I'm afraid."

The thick scottish drawl pulled her attention towards the back of the shop, where Mary was cleaning up after a day's work.

"I'm sorry?"

Mary laughed, continuing to wipe down surfaces and tidy up loose threads and needles.

"Well, perhaps if you'd said those words a little sooner you wouldn't be in the mess you are now, now would ye?"

Jane held her tongue against the blunt retort that lay on it. She knew she was in the wrong, and if getting to you meant getting through those around you, then so be it.

"Well, I'm here now, with every apology I can think of prepared. Is- Would I be able to see her? Please?"

The "please" caught Mary off guard- Jane Murdstone was not one to ever start or end a request with "please". Mary felt her resolve soften towards Jane, only a little, enough to be more upfront with her.

"Unless you're willing to hop aboard the next train, I'm afraid not Lass. She left for France shortly after you two had your final falling out. Said she couldn't live in a place where you existed and didn't love her anymore."

Jane had to steady herself on the nearest wall, a sudden wave of nausea overcoming her at Mary's words.

But I do love her.

I love her, I love her, I love-

"Thank you, Matron."

Jane all but stumbled out of the shop, the flowers she held in her hand tossed to the dirt as she strode back home.

You'd left. You were gone without so much as a goodbye- and why would you say goodbye to her? All of the cruel, hurtful words she'd thrown at you, the way she'd turned her back on you; she'd left you first. No explanation. No closure. The only difference was you'd seen fit to separate the two of you by countries. Could she really fault you for that, after all she'd done to you?

Upon returning to her cottage, the ravenette slammed the door behind herself. Her hands repeatedly combed over her hair, frantically thinking over what Mary had told her. How could you have gone all the way to Paris in a matter of days? Perhaps if she were to speak with Marjory, she could-

“Where have you been?”

The voice startled Jane from her thoughts and she was immediately filled with unbridled rage as she lay her eyes on the intruder who had opened her front door: Edward Murdstone.

“I find that it is really none of your business where I have been.”

Edward strode into the room, almost as if it was his own home, “Lord Barclay was here waiting to meet you Jane, but you deliberately ran off, no doubtably to commit some heinous sin.”

“Lord Barclay? Whatever for?” Jane snarled, remembering the older gentleman from moments in passing when he came to work with Edward.

“To marry you, of course.”

Jane saw red.

“You bastard! How-” Jane’s hands found the upper right hand corner of the bookshelf, and with a flourish of extreme strength, the ravenette pulled the ornately carved bookshelf to the floor. The right side of the shelf hit the wood table a few feet away, both pieces of furniture cracking and splitting upon impact. The sound of shattering glass of picture frames and the loud thuds of books hitting the floor filled the air, but none of it was as loud as the silent rage that radiated from Jane. The raging woman finally finished her thought as the sounds died down, “DARE YOU?!”

Edward was taken aback, unable to respond to his sister's rage; never had he seen her act in such a manner.

Jane’s volume only increased, her voice a full fledged scream, “YOU TOOK HER FROM ME! YOU ROBBED ME OF LOVE! AND NOW YOU DO THIS?! Are you so desperate in your need to control me that you must ruin my life at every turn?” She was snarling and spitting as she kicked though the mountain of books, wading closer to her brother.

“I-I-”

“ANSWER ME!” Jane roared, reaching out to a nearby decorative hurricane lamp, pushing it to the floor with a swift motion resulting in a crash of glass shattering.

Edward’s choice of response was to yell in return, grasping Jane by her wrist in an effort to keep her from breaking anything further, “Pull yourself together!”

“PULL MYSELF TOGETHER? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PULL MYSELF TOGETHER WHEN YOU CONTINUE TO KEEP ME FROM LOVE? I am so lonely, Edward... or at least I was until I MET HER AND YOU FORCE ME TO SEND HER AWAY. For what, Edward? Why?” Jane’s tone fluctuated as her thoughts flew from her mouth, tears beginning to spill from her eyes at the pure anger and sorrow she felt. She wasn’t withholding anything from her brother any longer. Today, he was receiving the full force of her wrath, “First it was Sarah, and then Elizabeth, and then mother and you forced me into a-a SOLITARY CONFINEMENT where I was forced to be at your side as you made a mockery of father’s name.”

With two long strides, Jane crossed the room of her home, eyes settled in on the China cabinet as she was determined to destroy every last bit of beautiful ceramics in her home.

Edward followed after her, his own rage building at her insinuation that he could be a disgrace to their family name, “You are the one making a mockery of our family’s name by- by... choosing to be so unnatural!”

His hand wrapped around her forearm, and in her frenzied rage, Jane’s free hand swung around at full force, clawing at her brother’s face and sending him to the floor. She loomed over him, her mind racing as she searched for an additional way to harm him. Jane needed him to understand the agony she felt inside.

Swiftly she gathered two of the fallen books from the floor, lifting the novels over her head and launching them downwards at her brother, “UNNATURAL? UNNATURAL? DO YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE FACED YEARS OF INCCESTANT ABUSE FROM YOU AND MOTHER IF I HAD CHOSEN TO BE LIKE THIS?”

Edward shifted away from Jane, scrambling across the floor as the books hit him. He was in utter fear of his sister. He had no excuses for his past or present behavior, and even if he did, Edward knew Jane had no true interest in hearing them. He had yet to notice the blood dripping down the side of his face from where Jane had struck him.

“GET OUT!” Jane blared, her voice becoming raw and hoarse from screaming louder than she ever had before. She repeated those same two words as she reached out and lifted piece after piece of fine China, throwing each of them against the far wall, “GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT-”

When Edward lifted himself from the cottage floor he launched himself towards the front door, quickly throwing it open and spinning back to attempt to steal back some of the power away from his sister, “You will marry Lord Barclay by the end of the month and that is final.”

His bravery was only momentary as he quickly slammed the front door shut, saving himself from the pieces of china being hurled towards him. As Edward stalked away from the home, he could hear Jane’s screaming from inside, but her words were hard to make out. Her cries of despair and the sounds of breaking glass and furniture would continue far into the night as Jane mourned for the loss of her love and freedom.

--

Tags: @weemssapphic @bitch-we-have-a-hulk @yourlocaldisneyvillain @renravens @thegoddamnfeels @dvrkhcld @blessmysouljessisonaroll @opheliauniverse @ahsfan05 @ness029 @carnivorousflowers @willowshadenox @mysaviorfalsegod @myzzjolanda @bigolgay

[uzurakis]

hi again!! (ik I just sent in a request I just had another one LMFAOOO) im back bc I got another request/idea!! jjk men (..yuta n Megumi 🙏 n whoever else u want :3) who got into a nasty argument (could be from ur argument post but it doesn’t have to be connected to that post!!) and then gets really injured on a mission right after the argument! it’s up to you if reader + jjk men end up making up, or it could end on a angsty route of them anxiously waiting for reader to wake up while trying to think to ways to apologize with regret; doesn’t rlly matter!! do what you want 😛😛

HEY, WAKE UP . . PLEASE?

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. yuuta okkotsu.

n. first, i apologize this one took a very long time because i wanted to carefully hit the right spots and nail the each character. second, i only make 3 characters this time ‘cause each one of them is long enough to read. third, i wanna make you guys suffer <3 enjoy !!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

megumi’s fingers trembled as he reached out to touch your hand, the memory of his harsh words replaying in his mind. “why didn’t i see it coming?” he muttered to himself, voice hardly above a whisper. the guilt was suffocating, the feeling that he had failed you as a partner, both in life and on the field, gnawing at him relentlessly.

he hadn’t slept since you were brought in, eyes red and heavy, his emerald pupils weren’t evident anymore with the dark circles underneath a testament to his vigil. every beep of the monitors felt like a countdown, each passing second a reminder of how fragile everything was. he kept running through what he could have done differently, how he could have prevented this from happening.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking with emotion, repeating the words tremendously. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—“

“i’m so sorry. i never meant for this to happen. i never wanted to hurt you.”

his mind was filled with images of your smile, your laughter, and the way your eyes would light up when you were happy. he wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, to hear your voice, to have the chance to make things right.

the silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines. megumi’s thoughts were a chaotic jumble of fear and determination. he knew he had to find a way to apologize, to show you that he cared more than he had ever managed to express. but how could he make up for the pain he had caused? how could he prove to you that he was truly sorry?

he squeezed your hand gently, as if the simple touch could convey all the words he struggled to find. “please wake up,” he pleaded softly. “i need to tell you how much you mean to me. i need to show you that i can do better. that i will do better. please, just wake up.”

as the hours dragged on, megumi’s resolve only strengthened. he would make things right, no matter what it took. the door to your room opened, but megumi didn’t look up. his focus was entirely on you, silently willing you to open your eyes. he wouldn’t leave your side until you did. he couldn’t. the weight of his regret was too heavy, his love for you too deep.

“please,” he whispered again, each syllable filled with desperation. “come back to me.”

GOJO SATORU

“you’re always so damn reckless!” gojo had shouted, his voice echoing in the small office.

“maybe if you weren’t so arrogant all the time, you’d understand why!” you had snapped back, feeling the sting of his words cut deep.

now, the same guy sat by your hospital bed, his usually confident demeanor shattered. his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, blood seeping from where his nails dug into his palms. the sight of you lying there, pale and unmoving, tore at his heart. he cursed himself repeatedly, the words tumbling out in a desperate, angry whisper.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he muttered, voice breaking. “why the hell did this have to happen? why couldn’t i fucking save you?”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to give him some sign that you were still there with him. the argument replayed in his mind, each harsh word a dagger in his chest. he wanted to take it all back, to tell you how much he loved you and needed you.

“shit,” he hissed, slamming his fist into the armrest of the chair. “i’m supposed to be the strongest, but what the hell does that mean if i can’t even protect you?”

a hollow aching threatened to eat away at his chest, a gnawing remorse. tears blurred his vision as he looked at you, voice a broken whisper. “wake up. i want to apologize. i want you to know how sorry i am.”

the room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor. gojo’s thoughts were a chaotic swirl of guilt, also his helplessness. he had faced countless curses and enemies without flinching, but this, seeing you like this, was unbearable.

he cursed again, the words raw and filled with pain. “damn it, why didn’t i stop you? why didn’t i fucking do something?”

his mind raced, trying to think of ways to make it right, to fix what had been broken. but all he could do was wait and hope. he reached out, gently taking your hand in his, his grip trembling.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “i love you. please, just wake up. i don’t know what i’ll do if you don’t.”

YUUTA OKKOTSU

yuta, who was normally expressive, was pale and drawn as he sat beside your bed. his voice was crushed by the weight of his remorse, and he was unable to speak. he was completely broken by the sight of you there, so still and vulnerable, in ways he never imagined. his fingers barely touched yours as he extended a shaking hand, fearing that the slightest touch could break you.

memories of the argument replayed in his mind, each moment seared into his consciousness. your angry words echoed in his ears, mingling with his own harsh retorts. he remembered the flash of hurt in your eyes, the way your voice had cracked when you told him you were done talking. he had let you walk away, his anger blinding him to the danger you were about to face.

tears welled up in yuta’s eyes, but he couldn’t let them fall. he had to be strong for you, even though you couldn’t sense a thing. the guilt gnawed at him, a relentless beast that whispered of his failures. he had promised to protect you, to be there for you, and yet here you were, injured and unresponsive, because he had let his anger get the better of him.

“it’s all my fault,” he grumbled, voice barely audible in the sterile room. “i should have stopped you. i should have been there.”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to open your eyes and tell him it was okay. but you remained still, your breathing steady but shallow. yuta’s mind was a storm of regret and self-recrimination. he blamed himself for everything, convinced that his failure to resolve things before you left had led to this. if only he had followed you, things might have been different.

“wake up, please,” he begged, voice breaking. “you can’t do this to me..”

he felt a sob rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, determined not to break in front of you. he had to be strong, even if it felt like he was falling apart inside. the thought of losing you was unbearable, a gap that threatened to swallow him whole.

“why did i let you go?” he murmured, his fingers tightening around yours. “why didn’t i fight for us?”

the minutes stretched into hours, each one an eternity as yuta sat by your side, his heart heavy with guilt and fear. he couldn’t imagine a life without you, couldn’t bear the thought that he might have lost you because of his own stubbornness.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered again, voice choked with emotion. he stayed there, silent and unmoving, the weight of his regret a constant presence. all he could do was wait and hope, praying that you would wake up and give him the chance to apologize, to tell you how much you meant to him. until then, he would sit by your side, holding on to the hope that you would come back to him.

“i love you. please, just give me a chance to make things right.”

@uzurakis

[acid-ixx]

why now? (again &. again chapter excerpt)

ft. yandere! damian wayne x kidnapped! reader

read until the end for an author's note. slight spoilers below.

"damian, tell me, why now?"

why now? you question that to yourself more often than you would want to. why now, instead of the past 13 and a half years when you were a nobody to the family? why now, when you had finally learned to love yourself and let go? why now, when you were finally out of their arms.

"huh...?"

your youngest brother snaps out of his focus on painting a canvas of you, body turning to your direction, curiousity peeping in his eyes. he acts like whatever you had said was bewildering, but you know he knows what your question meant, he doesn't need a repeat of your statement because damian is a no-bullshit brother— he simply wants to hear your voice.

his eyes used to look at you with contempt and disgust. you'd rather that than the current gaze of adoration from your brother, who now stares at your form seated on a papasan chair, now his muse for his current painting.

"why now, damian? why is it now that all of you guys are suddenly interested in me?" you repeat; exasperation, disdain, apprehension, all an amalgation of emotions in your tone. if he wants to play stupid, then fine, as long as you get what you want in the end.

you continued mumbling, voice echoing inside the room-turned-atelier. "last i checked, you were intent on murdering me just 'cause you hated me."

it was a quip, truly, a mere tease to his past actions. you didn't know just how much your statement offends him, eyebrowns furrowing as his gaze seems to harden.

it took him seconds to fully register what you had said. you wished you were quick enough to take those seconds to your advantage to bolt out of the room, to run away, but you can't.

"(name)," he sighs, standing up from his chair and easing his way to your seated form. you stand, too, not wanting to back out of what seems to be a forming argument.

he may be shorter than you by an inch or five, but you didn't want to admit just how much smaller he makes you feel.

"i have never told you i hated you." he says, as if it is a matter of fact, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe him, to believe what he wants you to hear. the wringing in your ears provides you the slightest bit of solace, but it wasn't enough to distract you from the words that come out of his mouth, words that contradict his past actions towards you.

"i may have injured you in multiple occasions, said hurtful things beyond redemption— for that i am deeply sorry for treating you, my older sibling, that way. but my intent to hurt you in the past never stemmed from hatred. i have never hated you, (name), and i do not have any reason to hate you."

you didn't know whether he was trying to convince you, or himself. you don't know how to feel, you don't want to feel anymore. fuck, you regret even talking to him in the first place. you feel so trapped, like you were in a dead end of a maze. you want to get out but you can't.

you didn't even know just how much you were heaving, tears welling in your eyes as you shiver; all the lies you had fed to yourself now biting you back in the ass.

you expected him to shift the conversation to something else, anything else, or even tell you to sit the fuck down so he could return to painting you.

what you didn't expect was, was his sudden turn of actions as his arms locked you in an embrace, his head nuzzling your chest as he pouts, head turning up, eyes gazing at you fondly like you meant the world. like he never once hurt you with his words and with his actions.

'push him away,' your mind tells you, but your heart clenches, beating erratically as if it was screaming at you to not let go.

you hate this. you hate that you feel conflicted, appalled at yourself for even fucking reciprocating his hug. it scorches you, you hate everything, you hate that you had always wanted this. you hate yourself for tearing up, hand shakily finding itself on his head, running through his hair.

you hate how warm you feel, how your chest aches at his affection, how both your grip on each other were strong as iron. how damian nuzzles deeper into the embrace, how he feels so vulnerable in your arms.

"why now, you ask? you always wanted this, right, (name)?" his words were muffled by your clothes, but you couldn't drown his voice out even if you want to. god, you wish you never asked him anything.

he continued, pretending as if you weren't choking on your own predicament, "dick was always the most experienced, tim the smartest even if i do not wish to admit it..."

he drawls on, listing every traits of your family, relishing in the thumps of your heart.

"—but you..." he stares at you deeply, fingers dig deep into your skin. but it doesn't scar you, not anymore.

"you are the most emotional... my older sibling, the one who got away. you're finally back..."

damian makes a show of tightening his grip, the space between the two of you near to nonexistent.

you had every strength to push him away, to send him tumbling to the floor unexpectedly. but he was always stronger than you, damian was always one step ahead of you. you're too tired to fight back, you want more. you need for him to let go but—

he has you in his arms.

you don't know how much time has passed.

"... i miss you and i love you, (name)."

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 974 words. inspired by this panel. sorry for the delay for the new chapter so i'm giving you guys this erm, i was experiencing massive writer's block and mood swings (and a bit of imposter syndrome when it came to my writing). this is a drabble for a future chapter (not the next one) where they had already kidnapped you. damian is one manipulative fucker and writing contradicting feelings hurts my brain lmao !!

[pimento-playing-hopscotch]

OHHHHHH.

One moment while I find that gif of Tom Hanks -

Found it!

OVERHATED CHARACTERS POLL: Owen Strand (9-1-1: Lone Star)

Feel free to explain your position in the comments or tags, but any harassment, over-the-top fighting, or personal attacks will result in you being blocked. Do not attack real people, be they fans or creators, over fictional characters.

[wttcsms]

proof of love;

physical traces that reveal just how much you truly mean to him

ft. tobio kageyama, kiyoomi sakusa, atsumu miya

KAGEYAMA, your skincare routine in his bathroom — tobio lives in a stereotypical bachelor pad; you walk into his apartment and it's the very definition of bare-bones. thin, cotton navy sheets line his bed, with one single flat pillow. he doesn't own a dining table, and instead just stands near his kitchen counter to consume his meals. he blushes and tells you that he's just a minimalist. despite it all, though, after fun nights out, you find yourself heading back to his place with him, sleepy and drunk and pouty. you wake up, instantly regretting not washing off your face, moping because "i'm so gonna break out now, tobio!" when kags visits your place, he opens his notes app to get the names of all the skincare products lining your sink. the next night out, you're being carried into his apartment, mumbling drunk incoherencies. instead of setting you down on his bed (which now has two fluffy pillows and a fruit-print comforter that he bought for you), he guides you two to his bathroom where he places you on the counter and starts trying to figure out which steps to do first to help you remove your makeup. drunk-you guides him every step of the way, and the warmth you feel in your chest and cheeks isn't from the drinks — it's from the gentle care of your boyfriend rubbing in an oil cleanser to strip off your makeup.

SAKUSA, your lipstick stains on his water bottle — kiyoomi likes everything in his life to be neat and tidy. he carries a tide pen in his pocket that he ends up using on your clothes more often than his own. he's particular with how his belongings are treated, and you know better than to mess with anything of kiyoomi's. you respect his boundaries and find his oddities endearing, but you feel so much more secure in your relationship when you realize just how loose his boundaries are when it comes to you. on a road trip, you're thirsty and he offers you his water bottle. you don't think too much about it until you finish drinking and instantly widen your eyes at the sight of pink encasing the rim — remnants of your lipgloss. before you can say anything or try to wipe it off, he reaches over and takes a swig from it without a second thought. you try telling him not to drink yet, but he just glances over at you before focusing back on the road. "why would i be bothered by that? i kiss you all the time, don't i?" it's his subtle way of telling you that what's his is yours; you don't need to walk on eggshells with him.

MIYA, a cheap ring that came in a plastic egg — the proposal doesn't go as atsumu plans. things rarely ever go as atsumu plans, but this time — this is the one time he needs everything to go perfectly. and it does: the photographer is well hidden and on time, the decorations came out fantastic, and the ring! the ring is stunning. it's what's on everyone's pinterest boards. the only issue is that he put the ring box in the wrong pants pocket! with sweaty palms and a pink flush creeping from his neck to his cheeks to his ears, he gets down on one knee. he manages to stammer out his proposal speech to you, and you're listening with tears brimming in your eyes and a watery smile on your face, and then, those beautiful eyes of yours widen in surprise when you see, not a velvet ring box, but a plastic orb being revealed to you. he quickly explains that this is not your real ring (no duh), but that in typical atsumu fashion, he messed up. "it's just a placeholder!!! i'll buy you five diamond rings, just don't say no!" you're not marrying atsumu because of the ring, you remind him, but you allow him to slip on the cheesy ring. it's made out of plastic and it's one of those cheap prizes that are available in those weird machines outside the grocery store; the machines where you insert a quarter and twist the knob and a mysterious plastic ball surprises you with a prize. he tells you it took him a dozen tries to get a ring. you're laughing and saying it's meant to be since the ring manages to fit you perfectly. even after getting your real engagement ring, you still keep the cheesy ring to this day. it's evidence that no matter what happens, atsumu will always go the extra mile for you.

[sluttylittlewaistenthusiast]

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list

@gutsby

⭒ Wedded Bliss

The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

@samthemarvelfan

⭒ Bad Romance

In Brooklyn, everyone knows the unwritten rule: you don’t cross James Barnes. When you return after nearly half a decade, things are anything but the same. After the murder of your Uncle, you begin to learn that no one is who they say they are, and that you may have accidentally given your heart to a mobster; The White Wolf of Brooklyn. More dangerous than that, he’s given you his.

@anonymityisfunwriter

⭒ Two Sides of the Same Coin

⭒ You're Losing Me

Your fairytale ending is crumbling before your eyes. You don't know how to love someone who can't tell you're dying. You fear you're fading away, begging him to do someone, say something, choose something. You fear he won't be able to resuscitate you this time. This time, he's losing you.

⭒ Alone Together

It was always been you and Bucky, alone together, you'd say. But suddenly, you're just alone.

⭒ Uptown Girl and the Brooklyn Boy

Everyone knows that all any Uptown Girl needs is a Greaser from Brooklyn to make her forget all about her uptown world.

@pellucid-constellations

⭒ For the Love of the Game

Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it. 

@barnesafterglow

⭒ Friday (I'm In Love)

every day you love bucky. every friday he pretends to love you too

@sinner-as-saint

⭒ Tempestuous

With his kingdom flourishing in peace, and no threats from enemies; recently crowned King - James Buchanan Barnes sets out at sea. With his finest ship, the best crew ever recruited, and a deep desire to see whether the edge of the world truly exists; the King sets sail. Hoping to find the marvels of the ocean, to find beauty and magic even; however he ends up finding a fiery soul – one he cannot get enough of. But then again, no love story is ever perfect, is it? 

⭒ Ruin

You work at a café owned by your family, close to your uni. And most of your days are pretty laid back and calm, but that is until you catch the eye of the mob boss. Your cute skirts and soft sweaters make him weak. Your innocence captivates him. And he wants you, badly. He wants you in his bed, wants his hand under those cute little skirts… he wants to ruin you. 

⭒ A Sweeter Place

Years after a messy break-up, and now seeking stability, infamous mob boss James Buchanan Barnes finds himself reunited with an old flame of his. Instant guilt and regret wash over him when he finds out that his reckless ways back then, changed an innocent girl’s life forever. 

⭒ You're No Saint

Steve and Bucky have been friends since they were young boys. They are inseparable, so naturally when you married Steve you were aware that Bucky came along with him. Every event, every vacation, even as the best man at your wedding - Bucky was always there, alongside you and Steve. He was one of your best friends as well, so you’ve never thought of him in a sexual way, ever. That is until one certain night, when you see something you’re not supposed to and you like it a little too much. You deny your desire towards Bucky, but Steve knows you better than anyone. He knows what you want and need, and he’s determined to fulfil your fantasy; because what his wife wants, she gets. 

⭒ Run For Your Life

He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with. 

⭒ All Yours

One of your students confess their feelings for you and things get interesting... 

@mellowsaturns  

⭒ In Losing Grip, on Sinking Ships

when the avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of hydra was destroyed. one unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but bucky knows it. he could recognize those eyes anywhere.

⭒ All to Myself

after bucky finds out why you've been acting up ever since his company's party, he teaches you a lesson and remind you that you're the only one for him

@renxzs

⭒ Redemancy

Maybe it was a bit naive to think moving in with your best friend and long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, was going to be some smooth road that led to an admittance of mutual feelings for one another and a happily-ever-after ending, wrapped up nicely in a bow. Naive indeed; especially when you have to consider the fact that Bucky is the biggest womanizer you know.

@cryptidcasanova

⭒ My Devotion

The one where Bucky doesn’t take your breakup well.

⭒ Loverboy

It's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky.

@subwaysurf45

⭒ She's Not Mad

Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways. 

@adrinktostopyourthirst

⭒ Sniper

Reluctantly, you get thrown into an assignment with Bucky and Yelena, but Bucky doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. When he's proven to be correct, it turns out you're still a hell of a good team.

⭒ Three Hundred

Bucky always makes sure his best friend is okay, because that is what you need. He's caring, but very passive and nonchalant, because you need it. Not him. He doesn't need that. He doesn't need you. Does he?

⭒ Variant

The chaos of the multiverse is quite literally holding up a mirror to Bucky. Turns out, it's very easy to get under someone's skin when you have a universal connection to them.

⭒ Underground

The Underground is the last way for you to survive whatever is left of the world after the Blip. Natasha introduces you to the Winter Soldier whose wing you're under until you find your way around. He's a stoic Underground fighter and you're... useless.

⭒ One Shot

Bucky and you have a hard time staying away from each other. And though you try to push him away, every time he finds you again, the universe finds a new way to pull you apart.

⭒ Satisfied

Drunk sex with Bucky.

@thenhewaswrongaboutme

⭒ Your Hands Have Made Some Good Mistakes

Bucky has to spend six months locked up with a stranger.

⭒ Time Out

Need me a boy who is so needy and whiny when he cums inside for who knows how many times, and yet he still begs as soon as he's done "please, please again? I'll be good, I-I swear, I just need it so bad, just one more baby I promise–"

@bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

⭒ After All This Time

impending danger puts you and your ex, Bucky, in close quarters.

⭒ Why Are You At The Wake?

Bucky sits by your hospital bed, anxious for you to finally open your eyes. He’s got to set the record straight, and apologize for what he said before you got hurt.

⭒ The Rain Is Always Gonna Come If You're Standing With Me

A hurtful article in a low-budget gossip magazine throws your relationship with Bucky for a loop.

⭒ I Can Go Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home

Bucky doesn't talk to you anymore, and he's less than enthusiastic when he runs into you out of the blue. But when he calls from a strange phone number, the puzzle pieces fall together.

@noceurous

⭒ Get You Back

You hated that you loved Bucky Barnes, and he loved that you could not hate him.

@violentdelightsandviolentends

⭒ Honey Girl

The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

@notafunkiller

⭒ You Were Just Mine Yesterday

It's been a while since your break up with Bucky happened, but you're still not over him. You try to move on, go out, and have fun with your friend, Steve, but you end up in the same bar you two went to often. It also just happens that Bucky is there too, with Natasha by his side. It doesn't take long for you two to end up getting into old habits.

⭒ Out Of Style

A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.

@queers-gambit

⭒ Curiousity Killed The Cat

after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

@cherryblossom-heart

⭒ I Loved You Once

Loving Bucky Barnes was never easy but breaking your heart seemed to come naturally to him. A love story about your heartbreak,his betrayal and a chance at redemption.

@rookthorne

⭒ Purity

Softness was a trait you unwittingly carried - the wings of a dove taking you higher and higher, elevating you in the eyes of the devil. And that devil did not want to wait any longer. It was time to collect.

⭒ His Girls

Cars were all the same to you — classics, imports, you name it, they were all the same. Well, they were, until you were nonetheless forced to visit your local mechanic and saw the man that would pique your interest in not only every single make and model of classic car, but his charming smile; the air of righteous arrogance that flowed from his tattoos, and that damned cheeky glint in his bright eyes.

⭒ Hollywood Boulevard

All it took was one night, one song - hell, one note - and you were gone for him, hook, line, and sinker. Turbulent times lay ahead, but in the afterglow of ecstasy, forced to feel emotions in such intensity for someone you’d never expect, you couldn't help but follow him anyway - he was irresistible, after all.

@boxofbonesfic

⭒ You're Gonna Give Me Six

@gogolucky13

⭒ Mean It

You and Bucky get trapped overnight in the safe house after a mission. Everything should be okay, except he's your ex and thanks to his carelessness, the situation gets a little more complicated.

@intrepidacious

⭒ Almost Believing

You and Bucky aren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. That doesn't mean you're getting out of having to pretend to be married for a mission.

@buckybarnesdiaries

⭒ Please

Bucky needed to be spoiled.

@buckys-darling

⭒ Face The Sun

To ensure the prosperity of their two kingdoms, a determined Princess and reluctant King are to be wed. She is willing to commit, but he can’t seem to let his lover go. 

⭒ Will You Love Me Tomorrow?

You and Bucky are friends who fuck and nothing more. That’s what you’ll keep telling yourself, at least.

⭒ Electric

Flirtation has a different meaning with Bucky, and his patience doesn't last long when it comes to you.

@straywords

⭒ Kiss It Better

You’re not entirely sure your boss with the staring problem even likes you, but you’re determined to do your job either way.

@little-miss-dilf-lover

⭒ Fifteen Minutes

@bucksfucks

⭒ The Feeling's Mutual

the amount of times you and bucky have seen each other masturbating is alarmingly high. might as well do it together.

@ellemj

⭒ Bigger Than He Was

Bucky pretends to be your new man when you run into your ex in public. However, the little act of pretending sparks something inside of him that he didn't know was there.

⭒ Strawberries

Bucky, the man with a long list of girls on his roster, gets exposed to a sex pollen in the field. Will he fuck the first girl he calls or the girl he's wanted for the last two months?

⭒ Breathe

Bucky hates the way you take unnecessary risks in the field, the way you're so mesmerizing and yet so hard to work with, and he especially hates the way you get on your knees for him during a dangerous mission. Finding out how pretty you look on your knees is the last thing he needs.

⭒ Flustered | part 2

Bucky seems to thoroughly appreciate all women...except for you. When he finds out one of your weaknesses, he can't help but use it against you, which only makes you hate him more.

⭒ Inevitable

While on a mission with Sam, John Walker, and Bucky, you're the only person exposed to a sex pollen. Bucky sure as hell isn't going to let anyone else take care of you.

⭒ Blurred Lines

When choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you.

⭒ Does It Hurt?

Bucky never would've gone out of his way to help you if he knew that HYDRA was still watching his every move, if he knew that it would shift their focus to you. When you're targeted and taken, it's his fault and he'll do anything to save you. Anything.

@viixenvi

⭒ Red

You work at a strip club and Bucky is a regular. Tonight he specifically asks for you in a private room. You never thought he'd love the color red on you so much.

@ro-is-struggling

⭒ Self Care

Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.

@kinanabinks

⭒ Silent Girl

After a traumatizing event, you aren’t the friendliest or most talkative of people. Bucky understands, and in turn becomes the one person you soften your hard exterior for.

⭒ Special Girl

Being friends with benefits definitely has its perks, especially when the friend in question is as hot as Bucky Barnes - but when you're feeling insecure about the arrangement, Bucky makes it clear to you that you're more than just a friend.

@angrythingstarlight

⭒ Roommate Bucky

@wkemeup

⭒ Cold, Cold Water

While on a stakeout in the heart of Russia, Bucky learns that touch can bring something more than pain and he will willingly give himself over to the ice if it means keeping you alive.

⭒ Drunk On You

Bucky has always been nervous around you. When he’s tasked with caring for you after a night of heavy drinking and suddenly you’re kissing him, Bucky doesn’t know what to do. You couldn’t possibly want him sober, right?

⭒ Honey and Chamomile

Four cups of tea, four distinct moments in time, and each pulls you in closer beyond the walls surrounding Bucky’s heart.

⭒ Suburbia

Posing as husband and wife, you and Bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a Hydra hacker. Perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.

⭒ Eclipse

When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface. 

⭒ Back to Bourbon Street

When you’re badly injured on a mission, Bucky works desperately to keep you alive. Only, it might not be enough. 

@espinosaurusrexex

⭒ Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers

Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

@navybrat817

⭒ Reconnect

Bucky Barnes is your best friend. You're also in love with him. After his recent breakup, the two of you get a chance to reconnect during a weeklong vacation together. Is it long enough to get your happy ending?

@dyspneagrime (wattpad & ao3)

⭒ No Privacy

You're stuck on a mission that never seems to end, in a completely destroyed studio apartment, with absolutely no privacy. And no privacy means- you haven't cum the whole time. Thing is, neither has the ancient, half-cyborg, psychopathic, hobo-lookin' asshole that you've been partnered up with.

⭒ Little Wing

The year is 1973. All Dove Rogers wanted was a relaxing summer. Just one last hoorah before being thrust into the adult life. Yet everything shifts when her new houseguest and long standing enemy- Bucky Barnes, arrives. In the thick of sun-kissed relaxation, the two of them are forced to face the awakening and burning desire growing between them.

⭒ Possessed

Margaret Everlee is a meek little thing. Living her life as a struggling artist in New York, trying to find her place in the world. That is until the formidable CEO with a dark past, James Barnes sets his sights on her. His infatuation is instantaneous, becoming a man obsessed with making her his own little doll.

@stardustdreams-andcaffeine

⭒ The Thin Line

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

@buckybabesonly

⭒ Wanna Be Yours

You are afraid to believe that someone like Bucky might actually love you back.

@lovelybucky1

⭒ Flirting and Football

@kurogxrix

⭒ Drunkenly In Love

you and Bucky ‘accidentally’ get married after a drunken game of truth or dare with the avengers.

@stxrvel

⭒ Hate Is A Strong Word

you hated Bucky and you were convinced that he hated you back. until one time he was talking to you and it started to sound... lovely? what was happening?

@kikixreverie

⭒ Its Called: Freefall

Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.

@brunchable

⭒ I Don't Want You Like A Best Friend

Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt.

@thyme-in-a-bubble

⭒ Just For Tonight

before you could even consider the possible consequences, a desperate request then fell from your lips, “well, what if I’m not asking you to be with me? What if it’s just for tonight? What if I’m only asking you to be with me for one night? Would you give me that?” you blinked up at him, scarcely breathing at all, “would you be mine just till the sun comes up?” 

@aquaticmercy

⭒ Sleeper

When Bucky falls in love with the antihero he’s sleeping with, he offers her a place in the Thunderbolts.

⭒ My Own Soul's Warning

You, an immortal being, falls in love with the very mortal Bucky Barnes. You would do anything for him, even if it meant you had to strike a deal with Death herself.

@skaye44

⭒ Coffee Companion

You and your friend Bucky enjoy going for coffee dates as friends. Bucky sees the names and numbers of two flirty baristas on your cups. He's jealous and wants to be the one you date, so he takes matters into his own hands.

@ultralightpoe

⭒ Juno

[spider-stark]

INFINITELY YOU

part two // crullers & constants

SUMMARY - In every universe, Peter Parker seems destined to fall in love with you. And, in every universe, he realizes it too late. When universes collide and two of them are granted a second chance at rectifying their biggest mistake, neither of them are willing to let the opportunity go to waste–even if you end up not being the person they thought you were.

WARNINGS - 18+, story will contain mentions of blood, broken bones, weapons, suggestive language, and more. I will try to update warnings accordingly for each chapter, but please read at your own discretion

WORD COUNT - 4.2k

// masterlist // series masterlist // send me your thoughts // no way home fan fiction // rewrite

name key: tom!peter = peter // andrew!peter = parker

Peter Pan Donuts is a sacred place. 

Or, rather, it was a sacred place—and walking back into the shop now felt awfully strange. 

Back when you and Peter first started high school, it had become a tradition to end every Friday with one of the renowned pastry shop’s legendary frosted crullers. You considered it a well-deserved reward for surviving another week of more drama than either of you could stomach, thankful that the weekend was finally upon you and that you could finally breathe without inhaling the reek of the unwashed teenage boys that lined the halls of Midtown. 

Peter Pan’s quickly became a haven. A safe place where the two of you could tuck yourselves away at the end of the bar, talking for hours about the teachers you hated and the bullies you hoped would fall from the face of the Earth. There was nothing that you couldn’t talk about, no secrets kept between you and Peter. 

Or, at least, none that mattered. 

But things changed as time passed, as they so often do. 

It started with the inclusion of Ned. You didn’t particularly mind his presence, even if the conversations had begun to shift towards less intimate topics, focusing instead on movies that you all wanted to see or upcoming video games that you would all try to play. 

Then came the inclusion of Mj a few months later, after she landed a job at the shop. That was when everything truly changed—when it was no longer you and Peter tucked away at the bar, but you and Ned, left to pick at your food and watch as Peter leaned across the front counter and talked to Mj over her shift. 

After a few months of testing every donut on the menu with Ned, you stopped going altogether. 

And Peter never even asked why. 

“I was surprised to see you texted me,” you quip as you slid onto the free barstool, “what happened to not wanting me to get involved?” 

Peter exhales sharply through his nose, and even though his eyes are glued to his phone, you can tell that he was already regretting asking you to meet him here. “I already told you that what I want doesn’t matter.” 

And how true that must have been. 

There had been nothing kind about his text to you this morning, although there was nothing inherently rude about it either, you supposed. It was simple—meet me at Peter Pan’s asap, need 2 talk—but you could almost sense the begrudging nature with which he had typed it. And, sitting next to him now, you could almost feel it, too. 

He didn’t want you here, even if he had been the one to invite you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he had decided to involve you at all—especially so soon. What had changed in a single night? 

Sitting on the barstool to your left, Parker pops his lips. “Well this is fun. I’m not at all uncomfortable right now.” 

You turned towards him, acknowledging just how different he looked in the civilian clothes that he donned in place of his suit—black jeans that certainly looked worse for wear and an old Ramone’s t-shirt that you immediately recognized as yours. Oversized on you, the short sleeves clung rather tightly to his well-muscled arms. Did he seriously go through your stuff?! 

 “Why are you even here?” You ask, perhaps a little sharper than necessary. You weren’t angry that he had gone sifting through the armoire in the spare bedroom, especially since he couldn’t just parade around as Spider-Man all of the time. But he could’ve at least asked. “Shouldn’t one of you be busy patrolling?” 

It was hard to tell if the offense on his face was real or feigned, but you didn’t care much either way. “Peter wanted answers about my world, I wanted food,” he shrugs, gesturing at the crème-filled donut in front of him. “And Peter 2’s handling patrol.” 

Peter 2—you had almost forgotten about him, the version of Peter that hadn’t wanted to come with Ned and Mj to your apartment last night. As far as you could tell when you woke up this morning, he hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night, either—no trace of Parker or anyone else when you had finally stumbled out of your room to get ready after reading the text from Peter. 

You didn’t figure it was really your business where the mystery Peter was, but you were a little surprised to hear that he was still out patrolling. Was he not exhausted?  

“Ametaur move getting crème-filled,” you tell him, ignoring everything he said. “Should’ve gone with the frosted vanilla cruller, it’s way better.” 

“No way,” he gapes, grabbing the half-eaten pastry and shaking it for emphasis as he said, “this is god-tier, alright? No way anything’s topping it.” 

The expression on his face was actually hilarious, his brown doe eyes alight with pure euphoria as he took another bite of the donut. An exaggerated moan slipped his lips, coated with bits of sugar and crème. It was hard not to laugh at him, especially when you knew that was probably his goal—to combat the evident tension between you and Peter. 

Chuckling, you lift your hands in mock defense. “Suit yourself, Parker. But if you ever wanna experience true pleasure, then you know what to order.” 

Parker looks as if he's about to continue his borderline-lustful tangent about the donut, but Peter spoke up instead, his attention snagging on the name you used. 

“Parker?” He echoes in disbelief, letting his phone clatter against the bar. 

Peter’s sudden resurgence to the real world left Parker silent, sinking back against his stool and taking another bite. 

“What?” Your brow arches, your voice laced with incredulity. “Did you really think I’d keep calling him Peter 2? No offense to Ned, but everything about that feels stupid.” 

Peter’s eyes narrow, coupled with a subtle shake of his head that indicates he doesn't care nearly enough to have this conversation right now. 

You didn’t care much either, and so you steered the conversation in a more productive direction. “So what is this grand plan of yours?” You ask with a somewhat sarcastic lilt. “And where do I fit into it?” 

Another huff of breath escaped his nostrils. “We don’t even have a plan. Not yet,” he reluctantly admits. “But I tried talking to Doctor Strange last night, to see if he had some sort of magical spell or something that would let us go back and fix all of this.” 

Your lips press together, nibbling on the skin and pretending you didn’t notice the hidden meaning behind his words. He hadn’t just gone to Doctor Strange to find a way to get rid of the villains now lurking in your world, because if he had, then he wouldn’t have gone specifically seeking out a spell that would let him go back—not just to stop the villains from ever coming here, but to save May, too. 

“Did he?” 

Peter reached for his cup of iced coffee, if only to occupy his now-fidgeting fingers. “No,” he murmurs, the sound of sloshing ice nearly overpowering him as he swirled the cup. “He didn’t.” 

You frown at the tinge of disappointment that snuck through his otherwise even tone, your chest aching. You had to fight against the urge to say I’m sorry, remembering what he had said to you last night—he didn’t want your apologies, nor did he seem to want anyone else's. 

In truth, you weren’t sure what Peter wanted; or what you could do to help him. 

“Well did he have anything useful?” 

He shook his head, lifting the cup to his mouth. “Define useful,” he scoffed, sounding uncharacteristically sharp. He took a sip of his drink, his nose scrunching as soon as the coffee hit his tongue—too bitter. 

Despite the coffee’s pale color that indicated it was more cream than coffee, you weren’t surprised that it was still too strong for him. Peter had never truly developed a taste for coffee, only pursuing a caffeine addiction for the sake of combating the exhaustion that came with being Spider-Man. That didn’t mean he had ever grown to like it though, masking the taste with copious amounts of sugar and syrups. 

“Something that will keep multiversal villains from tearing our world apart?” You venture half-heartedly, guided by pure instinct and muscle memory as you reached over to take his cup from him, snagging a few packs of sugar from the plastic canister on the bar to0. 

“He has a theory,” Peter gives you a tight-lipped smile, born of pure frustration. 

“A theory? And he expects us to save the world with this theory?” You ask, a bit more derisive than you would have been if Doctor Strange were around to hear. 

Peter scoots closer to you, his voice purposefully low. “Do you remember when I told you about him using the Time Stone before Mr. Stark died? To look through all the different outcomes with Thanos?” 

Ripping open the sugar packets and dumping them in his cup, you managed to mask a wince at the mention of Peter’s dead mentor. You only nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you tried for any sort of verbal affirmation. 

“Well… when he did that, he thinks that he might have actually seen through the multiverse—he just didn’t know for sure at the time.” 

Your forehead creased as you popped the lid back onto his cup, sliding it back towards him. Given his advantage of Spidey-sense, he easily caught it before it could slide too far and end up on the floor—which is what would have definitely happened pre-Spider bite. 

“And you don’t consider that to be useful to our current situation?” 

“No. I don’t.” Peter answers firmly. “Because at the center of it all—in every universe the Stone showed him—all he saw was you.” 

You nearly laugh, your lips curving as you rose a brow at him. “Me?” 

Peter gave a nod as he took another sip of his drink. This time, his nose didn’t scrunch. 

“But it’s been almost a year since the Avengers took down Thanos,” you reminded him, your stunned amusement beginning to fade into confusion. “If he saw.. Me, when he used the Stone, then why didn’t he say anything until now?” 

By no means would you consider yourself to be close with New York’s resident Sorcerer, and so you wouldn’t have expected him to come to you with this knowledge. But Peter—he knew Peter, and he knew that you were Peter’s best friend, and so it didn’t make any sense to you why Doctor Strange chose to wait until now to mention what the Stone had shown him. 

Given the aggravated expression Peter wore, it was clear that he was thinking the same. “I don’t know, and trying to get answers out of Doctor Strange that he clearly doesn’t want to give is like pulling teeth.” 

“But what does that mean?” You couldn’t stop yourself from pressing further, concern starting to bubble up inside of you. Regardless of his answer—if he had one—you had a feeling you wouldn’t like it. “I don’t get how I’m at the center of every universe.” 

Peter blew out a breath, his fingers going back to tapping against the sides of his plastic cup. “Alright, so there are probably well-over a hundred thousand different parallel universes, okay? Some of them are probably super similar to ours, and then there are others that are the complete opposite.” 

“O-kay,” you drone, your brows drawing together. You felt the start of a headache coming on as you prepared yourself for the confusing science-talk that was surely about to start pouring out of his mouth. 

Perhaps noticing your pained expression, Peter tries to find a way to simplify whatever explanation he was about to use. “Try and look at it like this,” he started, “think of the multiverse as some giant, cosmic loom, alright? Now imagine that each thread on the loom signifies a person. As the loom weaves all of these different threads together, different decisions get made and different actions are taken—and with every choice, a new thread is spun, branching off and creating a variation of the original tapestry.” 

“So it’s like you and Parker, right?” You interrupt him, rubbing at your temples. “Same thread, different reality?” 

“Exactly! And, technically speaking, that’s how it’s supposed to be. As the loom weaves and alters reality, each thread continuously evolves into something different.” He paused, his fingers finally falling still. “But now imagine that—in the center of all of these branching tapestries—there exists one thread, entirely unbroken and unaltered by this ever-weaving tapestry of existence, okay? A glitch in the cosmic fabric, a constant that’s woven into infinite realities and yet, somehow, remains fundamentally unchanged. How does that work?” 

You couldn’t ignore the sense of dread creeping up your spine, nor could you escape the slight wobble in your voice as you said, “It doesn’t sound like it should.” 

“You’re right, it shouldn’t work.” Peter confirmed, his expression nearly impossible to read. “But according to Doctor Strange, you are that thread. A constant anomaly that defies every potential law of the multiverse.” 

Nausea bubbled in your gut. God, you did not want to deal with this right now! 

“And let me guess,” a bitter laugh follows your words, “that’s as much information as he was willing to give, wasn’t it?” 

“Yep,” Peter pops his lips, leaning back into his stool. His brows raise slightly in a silent I told you so before he says, “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to be involved, right? Now you’re at the center of everything-” 

“I said I wanted to help you,” you correct him sharply. “Not that I wanted to be at the center of Doctor Strange’s weird Time Stones fantasies!” 

He only shrugs, barely acknowledging the dirty look you gave him as he plucks his phone off of the counter, clicking on a notification. “Same thing, isn’t it? Either way, you get what you want.” 

“What I want?” You echoed, your mouth hung open in disbelief. 

“Doctor Strange seems to think that whatever is wrong with you might help us solve all of this. That you might be connected to the multiverse somehow, or that you’re at least immune to it. So yeah, you get what you want. You get to help,” he spat the word out like an insult, too focused on typing something to even notice how rude he sounded. 

If it weren’t for the feeling that stomach acid was about to come crawling up your throat, then you might have taken some time to unpack the bitterness in his tone or be hurt by the claim that something was wrong with you—but you didn’t. Even if you had, you weren’t sure that it would have gotten you anywhere. 

You weren’t stupid. Peter was wielding his insolence like a shield, purposefully trying to hurt you as an effort to keep you at arms length—and, if you had to guess, Mj and Ned were probably receiving the same treatment right now. 

“Well this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said I wanted to help,” you admitted, one hand going to rest against your cramping stomach. At least the throbbing in your temples had died down… 

Peter only shrugged at you, shoving his phone in his back pocket and rising to his feet. “Too bad,” he told you, offering a smile that most definitely wasn’t genuine. “I’ve gotta go, but make him walk you home, alright? I’ll text you if I hear anything else from Doctor Strange.” 

Parker frowned beside you, and whether it was because Peter was speaking about him like he wasn’t here or because of his attitude in general, you couldn’t tell. 

“Whoa, hold up! You didn’t even tell me what your plan is until you hear from him!” You argue, reaching for his wrist to keep him from walking past you until he answered. 

He pulls his hand back from your grip, but not before your stare snags on the reddish hue that stains his nails—blood. Noticing it only served to make you feel sicker, and to make your concern for Peter grow larger. Was he really still walking around with May’s blood caked under his nails? Has he rested at all since last night? 

“Same plan as always,” he told you, your eyes snapping up to meet his, suddenly noticing how rimmed with exhaustion they were. “Stop the bad guys.” 

He didn’t leave any time for protests or further questions before turning his back to you and heading straight for the exit. When the little bell on the door chimed as he shoved his way back out onto the streets, you couldn’t stop the worried sigh that escaped your lips. 

Peter was an Avenger by every right. He had battled alongside a Norse God and helped take down a literal Titan, and so knew that you shouldn’t have any reason to doubt his capability when it came to taking down whatever villains had crossed into your world. 

But it wasn’t that you doubted his ability to survive against them, or even his ability to stop them—you were worried about whether he could handle the weight of it all. 

The weight of him placing yet another thing on his shoulders. Another villain, another fight, another burden, another chance to lose someone. 

Thinking of that, it suddenly dawned on you that maybe Mj and Ned weren’t getting the same treatment as you. Maybe you were getting the worst of it, if only because now whatever connection you had to the multiverse was just another weight he thought he had to bear, another person he had to worry about protecting. 

Guilt flooded your veins, and even as you tried to remind yourself that you hadn’t caused this, you still couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that it was somehow your fault anyway. 

“Y’know, I get that this probably isn’t the right time for this,” Parker starts. When you look at him, your attention immediately snags on the dozen donuts that he had ordered while you were talking to Peter. “But I think it’s so cool that you guys have magic in your world!” 

He takes another bite of the donut in his hand, powdered sugar falling from his lips as he says, “And these donuts! It’s a tough call, but they might be even better than magic!” 

You didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell if he was intentionally trying to lighten the mood or if it was just incidental, but it worked all the same. Laughter poured from your mouth, and it wasn’t until it died down that he said anything else. 

“Sooo… That was tense, wasn’t it? Like, it wasn’t just me, right?” 

You groan, propping your elbows against the counter and placing your cheeks in your palms. “Was it that noticeable?” 

Parker snorts a laugh, stretching an arm past you to reach for Peter’s abandoned coffee. “Oh, yeah. It’s actually painful to be in a room with you two.” 

His playful tone made it clear that it was just a joke, but it still made you feel bad. You already didn’t like how hostile things felt between you and Peter, even if it was only one-sided, and to know that others felt it too just made it that much worse. 

“Things are just.. Difficult, right now.” You tell him, choosing your words carefully. 

“So it hasn’t always been like that with you guys?” He asks, and the delicate arch of his brow made it seem as though he were shocked by the possibility that things had ever been civil between you and Peter. 

There was a chance that you had misread his expression though, as it was very quickly wiped away once he took a sip of Peter’s half-drank coffee, gagging as soon as it hit his tongue. “Holy shi-” he started coughing, cutting off the vulgarities that threatened to spill out. “How does he drink this?!” Parker yelped as soon as he could take a full breath, looking utterly disgusted as he shoved the cup back across the bar. “It’s literally just liquid sugar!” 

You found it hard to stifle your amusement at his suffering, even as he shot you a teasing scowl for it. “No,” you answer his previous question, trying to ignore his melodramatic display, “believe it or not, things between us actually used to be really… I don’t know—easy, I guess.” 

Parker was still smacking his lips to try and rid himself of the cloying aftertaste. “What changed?” 

In retrospect, you realized that it probably would have been smarter for you to bite your tongue. To offer him some cheap, cop-out excuse rather than tell him the truth. After all, you already had experience in hiding from the truth and it wasn’t like you really knew Parker, and so lying to him shouldn’t have been a hard task. 

Yet, for some reason, you told him the truth anyway. 

“Mj happened.” 

Parker’s brows furrows. “The girl from last night, right?” 

“Yep. That’s the one.” 

“Y’know, I don’t really like her all that much,” his words were spoken like a balm, seeking to ease the dejected look etched upon your face, but tinged with enough playful sarcasm for you to know he didn’t actually mean them. “She threw a bread roll at me. A few of them, actually.” 

It was hard not to laugh at the thought considering that it was such an Mj thing to do. “Sounds about right,” you crack a smile, although you don't feel particularly happy. “She’s always been slow to trust, especially complete strangers.” 

In an odd sort of way, the statement felt like a lie. Not because it actually wasn’t true—because Mj was wary of strangers—but because Parker didn’t quite feel like a stranger in your mind. While last night had been a bit awkward, you now felt like talking to him was effortless, each sentence rolling off your tongue with unnatural ease. 

“But she trusts you?” Parker asks, picking a crumb off another one of the pastries and popping it into his mouth. 

You sucked in a breath. 

“I don’t know,” you answer him, with a bit more honesty than you're comfortable with. “I mean, I know that she used to trust me. But now… I’m not even sure if she likes me anymore.” 

His brow snapped up. “What changed?” 

Suddenly the truth no longer felt so easy, and you found yourself wishing that you could change the subject altogether. You didn’t want to talk about this—especially not with him, some boy that you had known for less than twenty-four hours. 

But you had backed yourself into a corner, and so in an effort to try and satiate whatever interest he had developed in the story you had told, you settled on offering a vague half-truth. 

“She started dating Peter,” you tell him simply, putting effort into looking disinterested. “They got together a few months ago and things just… It just got weird, y’know? It’s always awkward when two of your friends get together, I guess. Creates too much drama.” 

“Yeah, for sure,” Parker hums, agreeing with you. “Especially when you have feelings for him, right?” 

An incomprehensible noise escaped your throat, best categorized as something between a laugh and a cough. Your mouth fell open to try and defend yourself, to try and deny his claim—but he didn’t even give you a chance. 

“Oh c’mon!” Parker groans, grinning when he notices the now rosy complexion of your cheeks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I mean, let’s be real here, alright? That whole sugar thing earlier?” He jutted a finger towards Peter’s abandoned iced coffee, “Was a dead giveaway.” 

“You’re insane,” You declare, shaking your head and masking your embarrassment with uncomfortable laughter. “I don’t have feelings for Peter—and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter! Regardless of what it’s done to our friendship, Mj is literally perfect for him and-” 

“I think it’s cute,” he interrupts, a delicate smile gracing his lips. Noticing the way your brows furrow, he elaborated, “How much you care about him. And how much you care about her, too, since you’re so willing to pretend like you don’t like him.” 

“I’m not pretending-” 

Parker jokingly cut his eyes. “Yeah, sureee.” 

Blowing a frustrated breath, you push yourself up from the barstool. “Alright, I think it’s time to go home.” You tell him, far too flustered to try and come up with a good defense to his teasing. “You can take the rest of your donuts to go, Bug-boy.” 

There was a subtle shift in his demeanor as the taunting nickname fell from your lips, and he almost felt as though his heart had stopped dead in his chest. 

“Fine,” Parker yields, rising to his feet and snagging the box of donuts from the bar. “But I really hope that you have your wallet—cause I definitely don’t have a way to pay for these.” He flashed a crooked smile before continuing, “Or we can just run really fast and hope they don’t call the police on us for stealing pastries.” 

“I can’t imagine that robbery would be very good for your reputation as a hero,” you chide sarcastically, your own lips curling into a half-smile, “so I’ll pay—but only if you give me every cruller in that box. Deal?” 

Parker spares a quick glance down at the dozen box of donuts in his hands. Half of them were already gone, but through the small cellophane window he could see that there were three frosted crullers left. “Deal.”

series masterlist

a/n - for those who read IY before the rewrite, you may already be able to note some rather major changes going on lmao. i genuinely can't describe how much i actually enjoy rewriting this story, as i'm finally able to collect my thoughts enough to write the plot the way i originally wanted to.

as always, please leave any feedback, opinions, etc.! any and all comments/reblogs definitely encourage me to write/edit faster! and, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know!

part three, titled "spitfire", to be released april 15th