#i know so many mutuals have moved on but COME BACK just for a bit to celebrate!!!

[the-winter-spider]

I Love You, I'm Sorry

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 25k+

Warnings: Angst, fluff, sweater, small bit if barley anything smut

A/N: LMAOOO this is so unnecessarily long, I hope you like it! I definitely started to edit this and then just half assed did it and let this edit thing i have take over so hopefully it turned out okay because i was going cross eyed lol

I Miss You, I'm Sorry

-----

It had been almost two years since you’d last seen Bucky.

Two summers of carefully constructed avoidance. Two years of dodging mutual gatherings, leaning on Natasha and Wanda to run interference, and filling your days with work, hobbies, and everything else you could think of to keep yourself from looking back.

For the most part, it worked.

You had finally started to feel… free. Or something close to it. Your friends told you how proud they were, how much you were thriving, and sometimes, you almost believed them. You’d moved forward. You’d learned how to smile and laugh without his shadow hanging over you.

But there were cracks in your façade, ones no one else could see.

At night, when the world was quiet and there was nothing to distract you, your mind always drifted back to him. To the way his voice sounded when he said your name, the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way his arms would feel around you, the way his lips would peck your skin and the way his words would soothe you. Till they didn’t but even then it was Bucky. He’d been your person—or at least, you thought he had been.

The right person, wrong time. You held onto that idea like a lifeline, the tiny hope that maybe someday, when you were both different, both ready, it could work. You hated yourself for holding onto the hope of it all, especially with how he treated you. But hope was a fickle bitch.

But that didn’t stop you from trying to move on. You tried, over and over again. New faces, new kisses, new hands brushing against yours. And yet every time, your mind would betray you, comparing each new guy to Bucky.

They didn’t laugh like he did.

They didn’t understand you like he did.

They didn’t know you like he did.

They didn’t make you feel like he did.

You hated yourself for it. For clinging to something that had already broken you one too many times. For hoping for something that wasn’t yours anymore, something that truly never even was.

But you always brushed it aside.

When Maria invited you to her engagement party, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. She was your friend, after all, and Natasha had promised she’d come too. It wasn’t until the day of the party, when Natasha called to say she couldn’t make it—“I’ve caught some kind of flu. Don’t worry, you’re gonna be fine, its not like Bucky will be there” That made your stomach churn, because of course Bucky wouldn't be there, why would he, he wasn't friends with Maria, but the fact Natasha even said his name in itself made your anxiety spike. And Steve knew Maria but he wouldn't bring him when he knew you were going.

You reminded yourself that Natasha wouldn’t steer you wrong. “He doesn’t even know these people,” “Steve wouldn’t do that to you” she had said, her voice reassuring. “You’ll be fine.”

So you put on a dress you hadn’t worn in ages, did your makeup, and told yourself you could handle this. It had been two years. You were fine. He won’t be there.

The party was already in full swing when you arrived. The apartment was beautiful, a spacious loft with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the New York City skyline. You mingled easily, sipping champagne and chatting with Maria and her fiancé, Chad, who were positively glowing with excitement.

An hour in, you’d almost forgotten your anxiety.

Almost.

“Wow, you look amazing,” a familiar voice said, and you turned to see Steve standing beside you, his kind smile softening the sharp cut of his suit.

“Hey, Steve,” you said, your voice steady as you returned his smile. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckled, glancing around before leaning in slightly. “Listen,” he said, his tone dropping to something quieter. “I need to tell you something.”

Your stomach twisted at the seriousness in his voice. “What?”

He hesitated, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to gauge how you’d react. “Bucky’s here.”

The world seemed to tilt for a second. “What?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Your hand started to shake, making your champagne spill over.

Steve reached out wrapping his hand around yours, trying to ground you. “He works with Chad,” Steve explained, wincing slightly. “I guess Chad got hired at Bucky’s company, and Buck invited him out to show him around New York. ”

Your mind reeled, piecing it together like a puzzle you didn’t want to solve. Of course.

Steve touched your arm gently, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Are you going to be okay?”

“It’s been two years,” you said, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “I’ll be fine.”

Steve nodded, but the way his eyes lingered on you made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced. “I’m sorry, I know what he put you through.”

You grabbed his arm before he could walk away, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Is he, um here with anyone?”

Steve hesitated, then shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “He hasn’t really dated in the last couple of years.”

Your heart clenched, but you forced yourself to nod. “Okay.” It wasn’t a huge party by any means but there were enough people crowded in the small house that there was no way he’d be anywhere near you, right?

But then you heard it. It was like all your senses finally turned into your surroundings. The laugh, his laugh. And you started to spiral thinking of the smile and the head toss that went along with it.

You tried to focus on the party, but your nerves buzzed under your skin, your gaze flickering to every corner of the room, your eyes searching for him involentarly.

And then, finally, you saw him.

He was standing by the bar, laughing at something Chad said, a drink in his hand. He looked different—his hair shorter, his beard neatly trimmed—but he was still him. It was still Bucky. His nose still scrunched when he laughed.

And then his eyes locked with yours from across the room.

Everything stopped.

The noise of the party faded, just the thumping of your heart beat was heard, the world narrowing to just the two of you. It was like something out of a movie, and that terrified you because this wasn’t a movie. This was your life, and he’d already broken your heart one too many times.

You couldn’t do it again. You wouldn't.

You made up your mind quickly. You weren’t going to wait around for him to come over, to say something that would unravel everything you’d worked so hard to rebuild. You were panicking.

You found Maria, congratulating her again and leaving your engagement gift with a polite smile. “Natasha sends her congratulations,” you added. “She’ll be at the next party, I promise.”

You headed for the door, your chest tight, your mind racing.

The cool night air bites at your skin as you step out of the building, your heels clicking against the pavement. The distant hum of the city feels a world away from the chaos swirling inside you. You just need to get away—away from the noise, the memories, and him.

But then you hear it.

Footsteps behind you.

And then, his voice.

“Wait!”

Your body stiffens, your heart slamming against your ribs. You don’t turn around. You can’t. Not yet.

“Please,” Bucky says again, his voice closer now, raw and pleading. “Can we talk?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, before finally turning to face him. He stops a few feet away, his chest rising and falling heavily like he ran to catch up with you.

“Bucky,” you say, your voice sharp as his name leaves your lips for the first time in years, cutting through the silence. “What is there to talk about? There’s nothing I want to hear from you, and there’s nothing I want to say to you.”

He flinches like your words are a physical blow, but he doesn’t back down. His blue eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you say anything.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, his hands trembling at his sides. “Please,” he whispers, the word barely audible.

The weight of his gaze makes it impossible to move, to breathe. You hate how much power he still holds over you, how much his broken voice and watering eyes make your chest ache.

So you linger. You linger in the stillness, saying nothing.

And that’s when he begins to speak.

“I love you.” he says simply, his voice raw and unsteady.

“No.” The word slips from your lips, fast, sharp and broken. “You don’t know what love is.” Your chest heaves as the anger bubbles up, tears pricking at your eyes. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have been with all those other girls. You wouldn’t have let me think, so stupidly, that I was the only one who had that part of you.”

His face twists, the words hitting him like a physical blow. “You were,” he says, his voice cracking as he takes a step closer. “I wasn’t with any of them when I was with you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “That is such bullshit, Bucky! I saw you. Multiple times, I might add! I know damn well you saw me too, out with different girls every other week like it was nothing—like I was nothing.”

His jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he takes another step closer. “No. I wasn’t with them,” he says, his voice desperate now. “I wasn’t sleeping with anybody else when I was seeing you. And for the record, you were never nothing to me. You were—you are everything.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask, your voice sharp and trembling. You laugh again, a hollow, cutting sound. “Because ‘for the record,’ we were never seeing each other, Bucky. You made damn sure of that.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You know what I mean,” he says, his tone softer now, almost pleading. “And I truly wasn’t sleeping with anybody else but you. Because I couldn’t.”

The words hang between you, heavy and raw, and your chest tightens as your breath catches in your throat.

“You couldn’t?” you ask, your voice trembling with disbelief. “Why? Because you were saving me from something? Because you didn’t want to hurt me?”

“No,” he says quickly, stepping closer. His hands are trembling as he lifts them slightly, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. “Because I didn’t want to. I didn’t want anyone else. I still don’t. Not like that. Not the way I want you.”

The admission feels like a knife twisting in your chest, and you take a shaky step back, shaking your head.

“And what? It took you completely ruining me to figure that out?” your voice cracks, your emotions spilling out like a flood. “Why couldn’t you have figured that out two years ago, Bucky? You hurt me so badly.” Your voice cracked.

His shoulders slump, and the defeat in his posture almost makes you falter. “I know,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I did. And I’ll hate myself for it for the rest of my life.”

Your throat tightens, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Then why? Why didn’t you just let me in? You made me feel like I was nothing, like I didn’t matter, when all I ever did was try to love you!”

His eyes snap to yours, the intensity in his gaze making your heart lurch. “Because I didn’t think I could love you back the way you deserved,” he says, his voice cracking. “I thought if I let you in, I’d ruin you. I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was make it worse. Because, God, do I love you more than anything.”

Your chest heaves with the weight of his words, and you wrap your arms around yourself as if it could stop the ache spreading through you. “You didn’t just make it worse, Bucky,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You broke me.”

He steps closer, his hand reaching out like he wants to touch you but stops just short. “And I’m trying to fix it,” he says softly. “I know I can’t take it back, but I’ll spend the rest of my time trying to make it right if you let me.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh slipping past your lips. “You think it’s that easy? That you can just say all the right things now and I’ll forget about the years I spent breaking myself over you?”

“No,” he says quickly, his voice firm. “I don’t think it’s easy. I don’t expect you to forget. I just… I want a chance. A real one. To show you that I can be better. That I am better. I'll do anything.”

The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, broken only by the sound of your shaky breathing.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

“I’ll earn it,” he says softly. “Every single day, I’ll earn it. Please, I love you.”

Your heart aches as you stare at him, the war between your love for him and your fear of being hurt again raging inside you, “I'm sorry” you say softly with one last glance at him you turn around and leave.

---

The morning after the confrontation with Bucky, you find yourself sitting at a coffee shop with Wanda, Sam, and Natasha, it isn't unusual, the four of you have at least one day a week to catch up on life events, something that Natasha implemented years ago, nothing changed minus Steve wasn’t always here and Bucky no longer came for obvious reason. The usual lighthearted banter feels like it belongs to another world, one you’re struggling to reach. Your fingers wrap around the steaming cup in front of you, the warmth doing little to thaw the chill in your chest.

Two years. That’s how long you managed to avoid him and seeing him for two minutes was enough to break down all the walls you worked hard to build.

Two years of carefully declining invitations where you knew Bucky would be, of sharing group messages where his name lingered in the background like a ghost. Two years of never asking Natasha or Wanda about him and dodging Steve’s carefully neutral mentions of “Buck.”

And now, here you are, breaking the unspoken rule you set for yourself.

You sit at the café table with your untouched coffee cooling between your hands. The three of them are laughing about something—some story Sam’s telling about Steve being too stubborn to ask for directions—but the sound feels distant.

When the words finally tumble out of you, they cut through the conversation like a blade.

“I ran into Bucky last night.”

The laughter stops.

Natasha freezes, her coffee cup paused halfway to her lips, her sharp green eyes snapping to yours. Wanda’s brows knit together in quiet concern, her hand resting on her mug as if she’s bracing herself. Sam, seated across from you, leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. His expression hardens instantly, his jaw ticking.

You feel terrible the moment his name leaves your mouth. Horrible. Stupid. Guilty. It feels wrong bringing him up to them, like tearing open an old wound you’d all worked so hard to ignore. They knew everything—every tear you shed, every question you asked when you couldn’t figure out why things fell apart. They were there for every breakdown, every “why am i not enough?” They bore witness to the wreckage, the raw, ugly truth of what Bucky had done to you.

And now, here you were, dragging his name into the one space he hadn’t tainted.

You knew they still saw him. They had to. Bucky was part of the group, no matter how much you wished he wasn’t. But they did a damn good job keeping you out of it. For two years, they’d honored the unspoken rule: No Bucky around you. No you around Bucky. It was messy, but it worked. Sam even went nearly a year without seeing him, a Herculean effort considering how tight Bucky and Steve were, and how close Sam and Steve had gotten.

You’d never forget the night Sam nearly lost it—when he almost went after Bucky, fists clenched, ready to beat some sense into him or shit out of him. Sam had always been protective of you, but that night, his anger burned hotter than yours. It wasn’t until that moment—seeing Sam about to cross a line he couldn’t uncross—that you realized what you’d become, how much of your pain was spilling onto the people who loved you.

The group dynamic had never been the same after you and Bucky started… whatever that was.

It had been perfect before. Bucky and Steve had been inseparable since they were kids. You and Sam were childhood best friends until his family moved away, forcing you to find new ones. You met Wanda not long after, then Natasha a few years later, and things clicked. Natasha introduced you to Steve, who introduced you to Bucky. When Sam came back into your life during college, it felt like fate—like all the pieces of the puzzle had finally snapped into place.

But you and Bucky had thrown everything off balance.

When it was good, the group had learned to tiptoe around it, even accept it. But when it was bad—when it was tears and shouting and silence—they all felt the ripple effects. And sides were taken.m, drawing a jagged line between the group.

And now here you were, breaking the unspoken truce.

For a moment, no one says anything. The silence is thick and suffocating, pressing down on your chest like a hand. You can feel Natasha’s stare, sharp and assessing, and Wanda’s soft, silent empathy. But it’s Sam who breaks the tension, like always, his voice clipped and tight.

“What do you mean you ran into him?”

You glance down at your coffee, your fingers tightening around the mug to steady yourself. The words sit heavy on your tongue, reluctant to leave. “He was at Maria’s engagement party,” you say quietly, your voice barely cutting through the tense silence. “I didn’t know he’d be there, he wasn’t supposed to be.”

“Steve,” Natasha mutters under her breath, setting her cup down with a sharp clink that makes you flinch. Her green eyes narrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Of course he invited him.”

“No, he didn’t,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “Chad works with Bucky.”

“Who the hell is Chad?” Sam asks, his voice dripping with skepticism as he leans back in his chair.

“Maria’s fiancé,” Natasha replies, her tone clipped, like it’s obvious. She barely spares him a glance, her fingers drumming against the table.

“And who’s Maria?” Sam fires back, his brow furrowing as his annoyance builds.

“Oh my god, Sam, it doesn’t matter!” Natasha snaps, rolling her eyes with exasperation.

Wanda lets out a quiet sigh, leaning forward slightly, her gentle presence cutting through the rising tension. “Are you okay?” she asks softly, her voice calm but steady. Her dark eyes search yours, filled with concern. “What happened?”

You swallow hard, your throat dry as your gaze drops to the coffee again. “We… talked,” you admit, your voice tight, like it hurts to say the words out loud.

“Talked?” Sam repeats, his tone sharper now, disbelief flickering across his face. He leans forward, crossing his arms on the table. “What the hell could you possibly have to talk about after two years?”

“Sam,” Wanda says gently, her hand reaching out to rest on his arm. There’s a warning in her tone, but her touch is grounding, calming.

Sam exhales sharply, glancing at Wanda before turning back to you, his jaw clenching. “I just don’t get it,” he mutters.

You stay quiet, the knot in your stomach tightening. The weight of their stares feels unbearable, like you’re under a microscope. The silence stretches between you, and for a brief moment, you wish you’d never said anything.

But he doesn’t back down, his gaze locked on you. “No, seriously. After what he put you through, after how long it’s taken you to get to this point—what could he possibly say that’s worth hearing?”

You flinch, the words hitting harder than you expect. “He said none of them meant anything,” you say quietly, not looking up. “The other women. He said they didn’t mean anything to him, that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else while we were…” You trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

Natasha’s voice is like ice when she finally speaks. “While you were what?” she asks, her words razor-sharp. “While you were breaking yourself over him? While you were bending over backward to love someone who couldn’t love you back the way you deserved?”

You glance up at her, tears stinging your eyes. “He said he was scared. That he didn’t want to feel whole because then he’d have something to lose.”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” Sam let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Classic Barnes. Always finding a way to make his damage someone else’s problem.”

“Sam,” Wanda says again, but this time, her voice is quieter. She looks at you, her expression filled with the kind of sympathy that only makes the ache in your chest worse. “What did you say?”

“I told him he hurt me anyway,” you admit, your voice trembling. “That all his excuses didn’t matter because it doesn’t erase what he did.”

Natasha leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Good.”

“Then what?” Sam presses, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to catch you in a lie. “Please tell me you walked away and didn’t give him anything else.”

You hesitate, your silence stretching too long, betraying you.

Natasha’s sharp green eyes lock on yours, narrowing slightly. Wanda tilts her head, her lips parting like she’s about to ask something, but Sam beats her to it, his voice cutting through the quiet tension.

“Oh, come on,” Sam says, throwing his hands in the air. “Don’t tell me you let him get to you again.”

Your head snaps toward him, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “I didn’t let him get to me,” you snap, your tone sharper than you intended. “I didn’t say anything….”

The admission silences the table, but the tension only thickens. You can feel their stares boring into you, each one carrying a different weight—Sam’s frustration, Wanda’s concern, Natasha’s quiet scrutiny.

“But…” you start, your voice faltering.

“Always a but,” Sam groans, rubbing a hand down his face.

You look away, weary and defeated, the words catching in your throat before you finally manage to force them out. “He said he loves me.”

The words land like a grenade.

Sam’s jaw tightens, his eyes widening slightly before narrowing again in disbelief. Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, her fingers drumming against the table. Wanda’s brows knit together, the soft concern on her face twisting into something closer to pity.

No one speaks. The weight of the admission hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Natasha breaks the silence, her voice low and measured. “And what did you say to that?”

You exhale sharply, your gaze fixed on the empty glass in front of you. “Nothing,” you say quietly. “I didn’t say anything. I just… left.”

“Good,” Natasha says firmly, though her tone is softer now, less cutting. “That’s what you should’ve done.”

Wanda leans forward slightly, her eyes searching yours. “How do you feel about it, though?” she asks gently. “About him saying that?”

You shake your head, your hands clenching into fists in your lap. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how I feel. Part of me wanted to believe him, but the other part…” You trail off, your throat tightening.

“The other part knows it’s bullshit,” Sam finishes for you, his voice hard. “He’s said crap like this before, hasn’t he? Made you feel like you’re the only person in the world, just to rip it all away the next second?”

“Sam,” Wanda says softly, placing a calming hand on his arm.

“No,” he says, shaking her off. “She needs to hear this. You can’t let him keep pulling you back in, Y/n. He’s only saying it because he knows you’re moving on, and he doesn’t want to lose that grip he has on you.”

“That’s not fair,” you say, your voice rising slightly as you turn to him. “You don’t know what he meant. You don’t know how he said it, he’s never said the word love to me before Sam…”

“Oh, I know exactly how he said it,” Sam fires back, his tone dripping with frustration. “Because it’s Bucky, and he’s been playing this game for years! Doesn’t matter, why the hell would he drop the L word after two years!”

“Enough,” Natasha cuts in, her tone icy and firm. Her eyes flick to Sam before landing on you, her gaze softening slightly. “What matters isn’t what he said. It’s how you feel about it. So stop deflecting and just be honest—what did it mean to you?”

You look down, your chest tightening as their words swirl around you. The truth is, you don’t know how to answer that question. Hearing him say those words—I love you—had shaken you to your core. It wasn’t what you expected, and it wasn’t what you wanted to hear, not like this. But that didn’t stop the part of you, buried deep down, that ached to believe him.

“I don’t know,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what it meant. All I know is… it hurt.”

Wanda leans back, exhaling softly as she folds her hands in her lap. “That’s valid,” she says gently. “It’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to not have an answer right now.”

“But it’s not okay to let him back in just because he said the right thing,” Natasha adds, her voice firm but not unkind. “Words are easy, Y/n. Actions are what matter.”

Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m coming off too harsh. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again. Not by him.”

You nod, your throat tightening as you look around the table. These were your people, the ones who’d seen you at your lowest and never walked away. They were only trying to protect you, but the weight of their concern felt suffocating.

“I get it,” you say quietly. “I do. And I’m not planning to just… run back to him. I’m not stupid.”

“No one’s saying you’re stupid,” Wanda says quickly, her voice soothing.

You glance at her, offering a small, tired smile. “It just… it threw me, okay? I wasn’t expecting him to say that, he wasn’t supposed to be there, that’s all.”

Natasha sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I swear, Steve and his damn loyalty to Bucky…”

“Don’t blame Steve,” Wanda says gently, glancing between you and Natasha. “This isn’t about him.” She turns to you, her voice soft. “This is about what you want. What you’re going to do next.”

You shake your head, your chest tightening. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sam exhales sharply, his frustration simmering just below the surface. “You want my advice?” he says, his tone blunt. “Do nothing. Block his number, delete his name, and move the hell on. Because if you don’t, he’s going to drag you right back into the same cycle.”

Wanda gives him a look but doesn’t contradict him. Natasha remains silent, her jaw tight as she studies you.

“Whatever you decide,” Natasha says finally, her voice steady but laced with warning, “just remember what it took to get to this point. Two years, no Bucky, and you’ve been good. Don’t throw it all away unless you’re damn sure he’s worth it.”

The words linger in the air long after they leave her mouth, sinking into your chest like stones.

You nod slowly, even though your thoughts are a chaotic mess. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I’ll think about it.”

But as you leave the café later, the cool breeze brushing against your skin, you can’t help but feel like it’s not really a choice at all. Not when his words are still echoing in your mind.

“I’ll earn it. Every single day, I’ll earn it.”

It’s late when you get home, the city quiet outside your window. You drop your bag on the counter and collapse onto the couch, the weight of the day pressing down on you like a physical force.

Bucky’s words won’t leave your mind.

“None of them meant anything.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I love you.”

You lean back, closing your eyes, but the memories come flooding in: Bucky with his easy charm, the way he used to pull you in so effortlessly, the way he made you feel like the only person in the world—until he didn’t.

You grab your phone off the coffee table and open your messages. His name is still there, right at the top from the missed calls and texts you haven’t answered.

There’s another message waiting for you now.

“I meant what I said. Please just let me explain.”

Your finger hovers over the notification, your heart pounding. You could call him back right now. Hear his voice, let him pull you back in like he always does.

But then Sam’s voice cuts through the fog in your head. “Block his number, delete his name, and move the hell on.”

You toss the phone onto the couch beside you, burying your face in your hands. You hate how torn you feel, how deeply he’s gotten under your skin even after all this time.

Your thoughts race, bouncing between your friends’ words and the way Bucky looked at you last night—like he was sorry, like he was breaking apart in front of you.

He’s always sorry after the fact, you think bitterly. But what about before?

You stand abruptly, pacing the small space of your living room as if movement will make the war in your head easier to handle.

On one hand, you’ve spent two years rebuilding yourself, proving you can live without him, even if it hurt like hell. On the other hand, the love you had for him—the love you still feel, no matter how hard you try to bury it—won’t let you forget how much you wanted him to choose you.

Your phone buzzes again. You don’t need to look at it to know it’s him.

You let it buzz this time, the sound grating against the quiet. You walk to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of water, and try to focus on the simple task of breathing.

But the questions won’t stop coming.

What if he’s really changed?

What if he means it this time?

What if I say no, and this time, it really could’ve been different?

Your eyes fall to the notes app on your phone, and before you can stop yourself, you open it. The unsent letter you wrote months ago still stares back at you, every word a wound you thought had healed.

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“I hate what loving you does to me.”

“I wish I could stop waiting for you.”

You stare at the words for what feels like forever, your chest tightening. This is the part of him you know, the part of you he’s left behind time and time again.

But then you hear his voice in your head again, softer this time. “I didn’t want anyone else. Not like that. Not the way I wanted you.”

You slam your phone down on the counter, frustration bubbling up in your chest. It feels impossible—choosing between the life you’ve built without him and the possibility of something better with him.

Finally, you grab your coat and head for the door. The walls of your apartment feel too small, and you need space to think.

As you step outside into the cool night air, you glance at the lit-up city skyline and whisper to yourself, “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

---

The next day, you text Bucky. Just one line, short and to the point: “We need to talk. Can you meet me at the park in 20?”

Your phone buzzes almost immediately with his reply: “I’ll be there.”

You don’t let yourself think too hard about it—what you’ll say, how you’ll say it, or what it will mean. If you overthink, you know you’ll spiral. Instead, you grab your coat, slipping it on as you head out the door.

By the time you arrive at the park, the cold air has crept into your fingertips, and you shove your hands deep into your pockets. The bench you choose is damp from the morning dew, but you sit anyway, bracing yourself against the bite of the cool metal.

You focus on the world around you to keep your thoughts from drowning you. The faint rustling of leaves. The distant sound of children laughing. The hum of traffic just beyond the trees. It all blends into a calming rhythm, but your hands still won’t stop shaking.

When Bucky finally shows up, you feel him before you see him.

That familiar leather jacket, the way his hands are stuffed into his pockets as he walks toward you with hesitant steps. He stops a few feet away, lingering like he’s waiting for you to say something, to invite him closer.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice careful, measured.

You nod, gesturing for him to sit. He does, keeping a respectful distance between you, but it feels like miles.You hate that you have a need, a want to have him close.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The quiet feels fragile, as if one wrong word could send the whole thing crumbling. Finally, you take a deep breath, the cool air stinging your lungs as you turn to face him.

“I can’t do this, Bucky,” you say, your voice calm despite the storm swirling inside you. “Whatever this is between us, it doesn’t work. It never did.”

He blinks, the words visibly hitting him, but he doesn’t react right away. His brows furrow, and he shifts to face you fully, his expression a mixture of confusion and frustration. “That’s not fair,” he says, his voice low. “You can’t say it never worked. There were good moments—”

“There were,” you interrupt, your voice sharper now as you meet his gaze head-on. “But they weren’t enough. And you know it.”

He exhales sharply, leaning back on the bench. His hands rub over his thighs as if trying to ground himself. “So, what? That’s it? You’re done?”

You shake your head, the weight of it all pressing on your chest. “No, I’m not done,” you say softly. “But things need to change.”

He watches you, his expression guarded but waiting.

“I realized something last night,” you continue, your voice trembling but steady. “You and I? We were never really friends, Bucky. We jumped into… whatever that was—passion, chaos, love, I don’t even know. But we didn’t build a foundation. And I think that’s why it was so easy for you to hurt me. Because you didn’t really see me. Not like a friend does, not like a friend should.”

His jaw tightens, and his brows knit together as he looks at you, struggling to process your words. “What are you talking about?” he asks finally, his voice quiet but laced with disbelief. “We were always friends. You were always my friend.”

You let out a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “No, Bucky, we weren’t. Friends don’t treat each other the way you did. They don’t take without giving back. They don’t leave when things get hard. We skipped right past being friends and dove headfirst into something that was doomed from the start.”

He flinches slightly at your words, his jaw clenching as he looks down at the ground. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with regret. “I never wanted to, please know that..”

“I believe you,” you say softly, your fingers tightening around the edge of your coat. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you did. And I let you, because I thought love was enough to fix everything. But it wasn’t.”

The silence that follows feels heavier than before, filled with things neither of you knows how to say.

His hands grip the edge of the bench like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded, and when he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “So, what do you want from me now? What do I need to do? Because I can’t go any longer without you in my life.”

You swallow hard, your voice trembling as you respond. “I want to try being friends. Real friends. No more mixed signals, no more blurred lines. Just you and me, figuring out if we even know how to be in each other’s lives without falling apart.”

He turns to you, his blue eyes searching yours for something—answers, reassurance, maybe even forgiveness. “You really think we can do that?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, the honesty cutting through you like glass. “But I think it’s the only way we have a shot at something real. If we don’t start over, this will just keep happening.”

He nods slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he exhales, his breath visible in the cold air. “Okay,” he says finally, his voice steady. “Friends.”

You raise a brow, watching him carefully. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes,” he says, more firmly this time. His gaze doesn’t waver. “If that’s what you need, I’ll do it. Friends.”

The corner of your mouth lifts into a small, hesitant smile. “Okay.”

----

The friendship started quietly, almost tentatively.

At first, you kept your distance, careful and wary. It was easier that way. Safer. You told yourself it wasn’t about punishing him, it was about self-preservation. You weren’t ready to let him back in not fully, not even halfway, not after the chaos he’d left behind.

So you kept things light, meeting only at group gatherings or for the occasional coffee when he reached out. You’d sit across from him, smiling politely while waiting for the cracks to show. You braced yourself for the moment he’d remind you why you were so afraid of letting him close again. You were skeptical to say the least.

You expected the old Bucky to resurface—the one who smiled too easily at strangers and let his charm mask the ways he didn’t show up when it mattered. But as the weeks turned into months, something unexpected happened:

Bucky kept showing up.

Every. Single. Time.

It started with the way he carried himself. Before, being with him felt like bracing for a storm, like you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’d been restless, distracted, always somewhere else in his mind. Now, though, he was steady. Grounded.

It was subtle—the way he lingered a little longer during conversations, the way his eyes didn’t dart around the room looking for an escape when things got serious. Instead of deflecting with a joke or brushing off questions about himself, he actually stayed. He listened.

You saw it in the small, quiet ways he started to show up for you.

“Your usual?” he asked one afternoon, sliding a coffee across the table toward you as you sat down.

You blinked, surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, his lips curving into a small smile. “You like the extra cinnamon, right?”

It wasn’t the coffee that caught you off guard—it was the way he said it, like it was something he’d filed away in his mind, something important to him.

“Thanks,” you said softly, wrapping your hands around the cup.

For a while, you just sat there, the silence stretching between you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though—not the way it used to be. He didn’t fidget or rush to fill the quiet. He just was.

When you finally spoke, your voice was quieter than you expected. “You’ve been… different lately.”

He tilted his head, studying you with those piercing blue eyes. “Different how?”

You hesitated, unsure how to say it without sounding accusatory. “I don’t know. Calmer. Present.”

His smile faded slightly, his gaze dropping to his coffee. “I’ve been working on that,” he admitted.

It wasn’t a dramatic declaration, but it stayed with you long after the conversation ended.

The little things, those were what really starting to get to you.

It was the way he remembered details you’d barely mentioned, like your favorite bagel order, the book you’d been meaning to read, the way you liked your eggs in the morning.

You had casually mentioned how the café’s muffins looked good but were overpriced. You didn’t think much of it until the next time you met him, and he slid a muffin across the table without a word.

“What’s this?” you asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Thought you deserved to try the overpriced muffin.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond. Before, he’d been inattentive, distracted, always somewhere else in his mind. But now? Now he paid attention. To everything.

“Thank you Buck,” you said softly, the warmth in your chest catching you off guard.

His mouth slightly parted, his cheeks lightly blushed with hearing you call him Buck “It’s just a muffin,” he said lightly trying to act cool, taking a sip of his coffee. But the way he avoided your eyes told you it meant more than that.

Of course, you still waited for him to slip. It was hard not to. You’d been burned before, and trust wasn’t something you could rebuild overnight.

At group gatherings, you watched him from the corner of your eye, waiting for him to flirt with someone new, to slip back into his old, careless charm.

But he never did. Not yet anyway.

At Wanda’s birthday party, you saw a woman lean in too close, her hand brushing his arm. The pang of jealousy hit you instantly, sharp and familiar. You tried not to look, but your eyes betrayed you, darting toward him as the moment unfolded.

And then you saw it.

Bucky gently stepped back, shaking his head with a polite smile before walking away.

When he sat down beside you later, balancing a beer on his knee, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “You’re not interested?”

He raised a brow, his expression confused. “In what?”

“In her,” you said, nodding toward the woman. “She’s beautiful.”

He followed your gaze before turning back to you, his tone soft and matter-of-fact. “No.”

When you didn’t respond, he studied your face for a moment before adding, “That’s not what I’m here for. That’s not who I want.”

His words hung in the air, their weight pressing against your chest. You looked away, unsure how to respond, but the warmth spreading through you was undeniable.

It was in moments like these that you saw the difference in him, the way he wasn’t just trying to be better, he was. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was steady, patient, and consistent.

And slowly, so slowly you barely noticed it happening, he started to feel safe again. Like the way had once made you feel when you only had glimpses of him like this but now it was everywhere.

A few weeks later, you found yourself sitting on a park bench with Steve, waiting for Natasha to join the two of you. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the trees as you watched the shadows stretch across the grass.

“It’s nice to finally hang out with everyone again,” Steve said, his voice easy and warm. “To hang out with you again..”

You raised a brow, giving him a skeptical look. “You mean without the constant awkwardness of me avoiding Bucky?”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Something like that. But honestly, it’s been good. For all of us. Especially for him and I missed you, y’know?”

You hesitated, your chest tightening slightly. “What do you mean?”

Steve leaned back, resting his arms along the bench as he stared out at the park. “He’s more… himself. It’s like I’ve got my best friend back.”

His words caught you off guard. “Really?”

Steve nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah. He’s been putting in the work, you know? Seeing a therapist, digging through all the stuff he’s been carrying for years. I think he’s finally starting to let it go.”

The words stopped you in your tracks. “He’s seeing a therapist?”

“Has been for over a year,” Steve said with a small smile. “I think you’re part of the reason, honestly.”

You blinked, your stomach twisting. “Why would I be the reason?”

“Because losing you made him realize he had to change, that the emotional and self destructive path he was going down wasn’t a good idea ” Steve said simply. “And he talked about how he didn’t feel right months before you decided to keep him out of your life but he never changed anything but after Sam almost beat the shit out of him, and he realized you were actually done with him…he didn’t just say it—he did it.”

You looked down at the ground, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your coat. Bucky going to therapy? The man who once couldn’t even admit when he was wrong? It didn’t feel real.

“He’s really putting in the work?” you asked softly, still not quite able to believe it.

Steve nodded again. “It’s been good for him. Really good. He’s more present now, more grounded. It’s nice to see.”

You fell silent, your thoughts swirling as Steve’s words sank in. “For what it's worth, I missed you to Steve.”

--------

The friendship was delicate, like glass balanced on the edge of a table. Every step you took felt measured, calculated, careful not to tip it too far. Bucky was trying—you could see that. He was showing up, being present, doing all the things you’d always wanted him to do.

But trust wasn’t something that came back just because someone tried. And that was the problem.

It had been months of careful rebuilding, of letting him inch closer without letting him in entirely. You told yourself you were protecting yourself, guarding the parts of you he’d once broken. But the truth was, no matter how much progress you made, the cracks were still there, and some days it felt like they were growing.

It started small, the fights.

You were at his apartment, your first time back there in years. He’d invited you over for dinner, just you it was nothing fancy, just pasta and wine, and you’d agreed because things had been good lately.

Easy.

But something about being back in that space, sitting on the same couch where so much had gone wrong, made you uneasy. The walls seemed to hum with the echoes of old arguments, of broken promises and words you wished you could take back.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Bucky said, breaking the silence as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. He was watching you carefully, his brows furrowed in that way he always did when he was trying to figure you out.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, too quickly, your fingers toying with the edge of your wine glass.

He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You always say that when you’re not.”

“I said I’m fine, Bucky,” you snapped, sharper than you intended.

The tension in the room shifted immediately. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “Okay,” he said slowly. “But if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. That’s what this is about, right? Our friendship?”

You hated the way his words made your chest tighten, hated how calm and reasonable he sounded. You felt the crack inside you widen, your unease bubbling to the surface in a way you couldn’t control.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked suddenly, your voice trembling as you looked at him.

His brows knitted together in confusion. “Doing what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely around the room. “Cooking dinner, asking me how I feel, trying to—” You broke off, your throat tightening. “Why are you trying so hard?”

The frustration on his face was immediate, his calm demeanor finally breaking. “Because I want to, I told you I would..” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Because I’m trying to show you that I’m different, that I’m not going to screw this up again. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I don’t know!” The words came out louder than you intended, your hands trembling as you set the wine glass down. “I don’t know, Bucky. I don’t know what I want.”

He stared at you, his chest heaving as he tried to process your words. “I don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “I thought we were doing okay. I thought this was working.”

“It is!” you said, the words tumbling out of you too fast. “It is, but… I don’t know. There’s this feeling, this—this gut feeling that something’s going to go wrong, and I can’t ignore it. I can’t pretend it’s not there.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bleeding into every movement. “What am I doing wrong?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly. “Tell me, because I don’t know. I’m trying so damn hard, and I don’t know how to fix this if I don’t even know what’s broken.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong!” you yelled, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.

The room fell silent, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge and the pounding of your heart in your ears.

He looked at you, his expression somewhere between heartbroken and exhausted. “Then what is it?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, your arms wrapping around yourself as if it could stop the ache spreading through your chest. “I don’t know what it is, Bucky. It’s just… there. This feeling that no matter how hard you try, I’m going to get hurt again, that you’re going to hurt me, that I'm going to see you with another girl…and I don’t think I could handle that again...”

His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, you thought he might give up entirely. But then he took a step closer, his voice trembling with frustration and something deeper, something raw.

“I don’t know what else I can do to prove to you that I’m not that guy anymore,” he said, his hands trembling at his sides. “I’ve spent the last two years trying to figure out how to be better, how to be the kind of person who deserves to have you in my life. And now you’re here, and I’m trying—I’m trying so damn hard—but it feels like nothing I do is enough.”

You felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your heart breaking at the raw honesty in his voice.

“It’s not about you not being enough,” you said quietly, your voice shaking. “It’s about me not being ready to believe it.”

His face fell, his shoulders sagging under the weight of your words. “So, what am I supposed to do?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just wait? Keep showing up and hope one day you’ll believe me?”

You didn’t have an answer for him. You didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t his actions, but the scars he’d left behind that wouldn’t let you trust him completely.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, the words heavy with defeat.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at you like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face. Finally, he nodded, the movement slow and resigned.

“Okay,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’ll wait. I’ll keep showing up. But you have to meet me halfway, okay? Because I can’t keep fighting for something if you’re not even sure you want it and if you don’t that's okay too but please tell me.”

------

The restaurant was bustling when you arrived, laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. The table was already crowded with plates of appetizers and half-finished bottles of wine. Natasha spotted you first, waving you over with a bright smile.

“Finally,” she said as you slid into the chair beside Bucky. “We were starting to think you got lost.”

“Or bailed,” Sam added, smirking as he poured himself another glass of wine. “Not that I’d blame you, Steve’s been going on about his workout routine for the past ten minutes. We’re all suffering.”

Steve, seated across from Natasha, rolled his eyes. “I mentioned the gym once, Sam.”

Natasha smirked, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at Steve. “You do talk about it a lot, Rogers.”

“I don’t talk about it that much,” Steve said defensively, glancing around the table for support.

“You literally just told Chad last week that you PR’d on your deadlift,” Wanda chimed in, raising her glass of wine. “And then you made him guess how much it was.”

“That was relevant to the conversation!” Steve protested, his cheeks flushing.

“Oh my god,” Natasha groaned dramatically, leaning over to kiss Steve’s cheek. “It’s okay, I like your gym stories.”

“Gross,” Sam groaned loudly, tossing a piece of bread onto his plate. “Seriously, get a room.”

“Maybe we will,” Natasha shot back, smirking as she leaned closer to Steve.

“Guys, please,” Sam groaned again, turning to Wanda for backup. “Can’t you two keep your domestic bliss to yourselves for one dinner?”

“Oh, leave them alone,” Wanda said with a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re just mad because you can’t deadlift half as much as Steve.”

“Wow,” Sam said, feigning offense. “You know what, Wanda? You’ve officially lost your spot as my favorite.”

Wanda smirked. “I was never your favorite.”

“True,” Sam admitted. “But I was trying to be polite.”

“Who’s your favourite then?” Natasha asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Isn't it obvious?” Bucky’s voice cut through the conversation “It’s y/n, he almost beat the shit outta me for her.” He laughed

Sam raised his glass “And don’t you forget it!”

The group burst into laughter, and while you tried to join in, it felt hollow. The noise pressed in around you, too loud and overwhelming after the day you’d had.

Beside you, Bucky shifted slightly, leaning closer. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that no one else could hear.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, not looking at him.

“Y/n…” he started, his voice gentle but concerned.

“Bucky, don’t,” you said quickly, your tone sharper than you intended. His jaw tightened, and though he didn’t push, you could feel his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he leaned back in his chair.

As the plates of food arrived, the jokes and banter only grew louder. Natasha and Wanda leaned over to share bites of each other’s pasta, while Sam and Steve got into a debate about which of them would survive longer in a zombie apocalypse.

“It’s me, obviously,” Sam said, gesturing with his fork. “I’ve got street smarts. Steve’s out here still trying to give people the benefit of the doubt, like, ‘Maybe the zombie just needs a hug.’”

“First of all, that’s not true,” Steve shot back, laughing. “And second, I’m stronger than you. I’d take them down before they even got close.”

“The gym thing again! And strength isn’t gonna save you when they’re sneaking up on you,” Sam countered. “You’d be too busy lecturing them about morality or something.”

Natasha snorted, twirling her pasta onto her fork. “He’s not wrong.”

Steve looked to her, feigning betrayal. “You’re siding with him?”

“Of course I am,” Natasha said, smirking. “Sam’s got a point. You’d probably try to negotiate with the zombies.”

“I’m starting to feel attacked,” Steve muttered, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

“Oh, poor baby,” Natasha teased, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek again. “We still love you.”

“Seriously, get a room,” Sam said again, throwing a napkin at them.

“Could we use yours? ” Natasha asked innocently, stealing a bite of Steve’s food.

“God, I hate you both,” Sam grumbled, but the grin on his face said otherwise.

Through it all, Bucky stayed quiet, occasionally chiming in with a comment or a chuckle, but his attention kept drifting back to you. Every so often, he’d glance your way, his brow furrowing slightly when he noticed the way you kept fidgeting with the edge of your napkin or how your smile never quite reached your eyes.

Midway through the meal, as the group debated whether to order dessert or move on to the bar, Bucky leaned in again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Hey,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “I know a bad day when I see one. If you need to get out of here, just let me know. I’ll go with you.”

His words caught you off guard, and when you turned to look at him, his blue eyes were steady and calm, filled with an understanding that made your chest tighten.

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. Finally, you nodded, your voice barely audible. “Thank you… and I’m, uh, sorry for snapping earlier.”

His lips twitched into a small smile as he shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize to me,” he said softly.

Beneath the table, his hand brushed yours, and before you could pull away, he wrapped his fingers gently around yours, his thumb moving in slow, comforting circles. The gesture was so quiet, so him, that it almost brought tears to your eyes.

Before either of you could say anything, Sam’s loud laugh broke the moment.

“To the bar!” Sam declared, raising his glass triumphantly.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna be on your ass after two drinks.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Romanoff,” Sam shot back with a grin.

When the group moved to leave for the bar, you declined, mumbling something about being tired. Bucky didn’t hesitate, standing up beside you. “I’ll walk you home,” he said simply.

No one questioned it. Natasha raised a brow but didn’t comment, and Steve gave you a knowing look before following the others out the door.

The night air was cool, the breeze brushing against your skin as you walked side by side. Bucky didn’t try to fill the silence, and for that, you were grateful. His presence was steady, grounding, and for the first time all day, you felt like you could breathe.

But as the quiet stretched on, the weight of the day caught up with you. Your breath hitched, your vision blurring as tears began to well in your eyes. You tried to blink them away, but the lump in your throat only grew.

The moment the first tear slipped down your cheek, you stopped abruptly, turning away from him as you furiously wiped at your face. “God, I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice shaking. “I’m a mess.”

“Hey,” Bucky said softly, stepping closer. His voice was gentle but steady, the kind of tone that made it impossible not to feel like you could fall apart and still be safe.

You shook your head, your back still to him. “I hate this. I hate crying like this. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Not to me. Not for this.”

You felt the warmth of his hand on your shoulder, hesitant but grounding. That simple touch broke the last bit of resolve you had left. A shaky breath escaped you, and the tears came faster, slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them.

You didn’t turn around, but your voice cracked as you tried to explain, to justify your unraveling. “Work was a nightmare. My boss—he kept piling things on me, and then there was this meeting where nothing I said was taken seriously. And then—” Your voice hitched as you gestured helplessly. “And then the subway was late, and I was late, and I just—”

Your words dissolved into a sob as you clenched your fists, hating how small and exposed you felt.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said again, stepping closer. “Come here.”

This time, he didn’t wait for permission. He gently turned you toward him, his hands settling on your arms. You resisted for a moment, your pride warring with the need to let someone see you like this. But the warmth of his touch, the steadiness in his eyes, broke through your defenses.

Before you knew it, you were in his arms.

Bucky pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you with a care that made your chest ache. His hand moved slowly up and down your back, soothing in its consistency.

“You’re okay,” he murmured against your hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

The words hit something deep inside you, and the dam broke completely. You clung to him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as sobs wracked your chest. It wasn’t just the stress of the day pouring out of you—it was everything. The years of pent-up frustration, the heartbreak, the lingering hurt that you’d buried so deep it had started to feel like a part of you.

“I’m so tired, Bucky,” you choked out, your voice muffled against his chest. “I feel like I’m failing at everything. I’m trying so hard, and it’s just—” Your words crumbled into another sob.

His arms tightened around you, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. “You’re not failing,” he said softly, his voice steady and sure. “You’re doing more than anyone else sees, I know you are. You’re just carrying too much, and it’s okay to let some of it out.”

You pulled back slightly, wiping at your face, though the tears didn’t stop. “I hate crying,” you muttered, your voice thick with emotion. “It feels so stupid, like I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Stop that,” he said firmly, his hands moving to your shoulders. His thumbs brushed over the fabric of your coat, grounding you as he leaned down slightly to catch your eyes. “It’s not nothing, Y/n. You’ve been holding this in all day—hell, probably longer. You’re allowed to cry, and you’re allowed to feel like this. It doesn’t make you weak.”

The sincerity in his voice made you falter, your gaze dropping as your throat tightened all over again.

“I just… I don’t know how to make it stop,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “It feels like it never ends.”

Bucky’s hands shifted, one moving to brush a tear from your cheek while the other cupped your jaw, holding you steady. “It’s not always gonna feel like this,” he said quietly, his blue eyes searching yours. “I promise you. It won’t. Only up from here right?”

The softness in his voice, the quiet conviction, sent a shiver through you. The spark between you was undeniable, and for a moment, you felt the world slow. The sounds of the city faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, intimate bubble of this moment.

It scared you.

You stepped back abruptly, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to create some distance. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Bucky said firmly, shaking his head. He took a step back, giving you space but keeping his gaze steady on you. “You’re allowed to have bad days, Y/n. You’re allowed to fall apart and I’ll always be here to catch you.”

You nodded, wiping at your face again as you tried to steady your breathing. “Thank you,” you said softly.

By the time you reached your apartment, the tears had stopped, though your eyes were still puffy and your cheeks were flushed. Bucky walked beside you the entire way, his presence quiet but solid, like an anchor keeping you grounded.

When you reached your door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the handle as you glanced at him. “Do you… want to come in?”

His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he might say yes. But then he smiled softly, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

“I want to,” he admitted, his voice low. “Believe me, I do. But…”

You looked down, your chest tightening. “There’s always a ‘but,’” you muttered bitterly.

“Sweetheart, it’s not like that,” he said quickly, his voice gentle as he stepped closer. “It’s just… we’re not there yet. You’re not there yet. And this time, it has to be right. I can’t—I won’t risk screwing this up again.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you felt tears threaten to rise again. But you swallowed them back, nodding as you looked down. “I understand. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, cutting you off. His hands reached out, brushing gently against your arms before pulling you into a soft, lingering hug. “It’s okay.”

When he pulled back, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead that lingered just long enough to make your breath catch.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he said softly, stepping back toward the stairs.

---

It was slow—not like before, when everything between you and Bucky had burned too hot and too fast. This time, the way things started to shift felt more like the gentle pull of a tide, subtle but impossible to ignore.

You told yourself it was still just friendship. That’s all it could be, all it should be. But the lines had begun to blur in quiet, unspoken ways.

It was late afternoon, the city basking in the golden light of an early summer evening. The streets were alive with the hum of conversation and the occasional laughter spilling out of cafes. Walking together had become something you did more often, something easy that didn’t require a plan or an excuse.

Today, the two of you strolled aimlessly, weaving through the crowd with no real destination in mind. The heat of the day had given way to a softer warmth, and the light breeze carried the faint scent of street food and blooming flowers.

You were mid-story, animatedly recounting a tale from your childhood, your hands gesturing as you spoke. “So there I was, stuck on top of the fence, and of course, he’s at the bottom laughing at me, not helping—”

You didn’t see the biker coming.

Out of nowhere, the sharp whirr of tires on pavement cut through the air, and a cyclist sped past, too close, the corner of his handlebar brushing the edge of your sleeve.

Before you could fully register what had happened, Bucky stepped in front of you, his arm instinctively reaching out. His hand brushed lightly against your arm as he guided you closer to the safety of the sidewalk.

“Careful,” he said, his voice low, steady, but protective in a way that made something tighten in your chest.

The world seemed to pause for a second. You stopped mid-sentence, the words caught in your throat as your eyes flicked up to meet his. He was close—closer than you’d realized—and the faint lines of worry etched on his face made your pulse stutter.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice quieter than you intended.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His hand still lingered near your arm, and his blue eyes searched yours, like he was trying to make sure you were really okay. The way he looked at you sent warmth flooding through your chest, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little rough as he cleared his throat and glanced away, dropping his hand. “No problem.”

The moment should have passed quickly, and in a way, it did. The two of you resumed walking, and you tried to pick up where you left off in your story, but the words didn’t flow as easily as before.

You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your arm, and the faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air between you, warm and grounding. You sneaked a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His expression was neutral, maybe even a little guarded, but there was something in the way his shoulders stayed slightly tense, like he wasn’t as unaffected as he was trying to seem.

“Anyway,” you said finally, forcing a lighter tone than you felt, trying to shake off the moment. “I eventually got off the fence—no thanks to my brother—and my mom grounded him for laughing at me instead of helping.”

Bucky huffed out a small laugh, glancing at you with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sounds like he deserved it.”

“He did,” you replied, smiling back. But even as the words left your lips, your chest still felt too tight, the air between you charged with something unspoken.

For a moment, silence fell between you again, the sounds of the city around you filling the space. You thought about changing the subject, maybe shifting the focus to something safer, but then Bucky spoke again, his voice quieter this time, almost tentative.

“You never told me that stuff before,” he said, his gaze flickering to yours briefly before dropping to the sidewalk in front of him.

Your breath caught, the simple statement hitting harder than you expected. “You never asked,” you said softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He froze mid-step, his expression tightening as though your response had struck a nerve. Slowly, he turned to face you, his brows furrowing. “You’re right,” he murmured, his voice heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. “I didn’t. I should have. I… God, I was such an ass.”

The rawness in his tone, the weight of his words, caught you off guard. You stopped walking, your arms crossing instinctively as you looked at him. “Bucky…” you started, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to handle the way his voice cracked slightly at the end.

“No, let me say this,” he interrupted gently, holding up a hand. His eyes were fixed on you now, their usual guardedness giving way to something more vulnerable, more open. “I didn’t ask because I didn’t take the time to. I didn’t take the time to know all the little things about you, to ask the questions I should’ve asked. And you deserved better than that.”

You stared at him, the lump in your throat making it hard to respond. Part of you wanted to brush it off, to lighten the moment with a joke or deflect the way you always did. But the sincerity in his voice, the regret etched into every word, made that impossible.

“It wasn’t just you,” you said finally, your voice soft but steady. “I didn’t exactly make it easy for you to ask. I didn’t want to… I don’t know, bother you with that kind of stuff.”

His expression twisted, a mixture of frustration and sadness flashing across his face. “You could never bother me,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I just… I didn’t know how to show you that. And I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. You weren’t used to this version of Bucky—the one who didn’t deflect or shut down, who didn’t hide behind charm or easy jokes.

You looked away, your arms tightening around yourself as you tried to collect your thoughts. “You’re not that guy anymore,” you said quietly. “At least, not the way you were back then.”

When you glanced back at him, his lips twitched into the faintest hint of a sad smile. “I’m trying not to be,” he admitted. “But I’m still scared sometimes. Scared I’ll screw it all up again.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in his voice, at the vulnerability he wasn’t even trying to hide. For so long, you’d wanted him to let you in, to let you see the parts of him he kept locked away. And now that he finally was, you didn’t know what to do with it.

“You’re not screwing it up,” you said softly, your voice trembling just enough for him to notice. “Not this time.”

His shoulders seemed to relax slightly, the tension in his posture easing as he nodded. “That means a lot, coming from you,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours again.

You smiled faintly, the warmth in your chest battling with the lingering unease that never quite left you when it came to him. “Well,” you said, trying to lighten the mood just enough to steady yourself, “don’t let it go to your head.”

A small laugh escaped him, and the sound was enough to ease some of the heaviness between you. “I’ll try not to,” he said, his voice lighter now, though the softness in his eyes remained.

As the two of you started walking again, the tension between you began to ease, replaced by a quiet understanding that felt… different.

“So, what happened after your brother got grounded?” Bucky asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

You glanced at him, surprised. “What?”

“With the fence story,” he clarified, his lips quirking into a small smile. “I feel like there’s more to it.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, unexpected but genuine. “There isn’t, really,” you said, shaking your head. “Unless you count me swearing off fences forever.”

“I don’t know,” he teased, his smile widening. “Sounds like a pretty big life lesson to me.”

The conversation felt easy again, the weight of the past moment lifting as you fell back into a rhythm. But even as you laughed and talked, a part of you held onto the warmth of his earlier words, the quiet vulnerability he’d let slip through.

As you walked, the city swirled around you, but the warmth in your chest lingered, stubborn and insistent. You told yourself it was nothing, just a moment of shared connection, the kind you could have with a friend.

But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart had raced when he’d stepped in front of you or the way his voice had dropped, low and protective, when he’d told you to be careful. And you couldn’t forget the way his eyes had lingered on yours.

---

The house was warm, filled with the smell of pizza and the faint tang of beer. Someone’s carefully curated playlist hummed softly in the background, though it was mostly drowned out by the laughter and loud debates that erupted from the living room.

The night had been a blur of board games, drinks, and playful arguments. Sam was his usual loud self, dramatically accusing everyone of cheating during Monopoly, even when he was. Wanda sat cross-legged on the floor, giggling at his antics while Natasha smugly stacked up her fake money, clearly winning. Steve, meanwhile, tried—and failed—to keep everyone in line, his voice cutting through the chaos.

“Sam, you can’t just take money from the bank whenever you feel like it!” Steve exclaimed, gesturing wildly at the board.

“It’s called resourcefulness, Rogers,” Sam shot back, grinning as he leaned back on his elbows.

“It’s called cheating,” Natasha said dryly, exchanging an amused glance with Wanda.

“Call it what you want,” Sam said, shrugging. “I call it strategic gameplay.”

“You’re impossible,” Steve muttered, rubbing his temples as Wanda giggled beside him.

You sat on the arm of the couch, sipping your drink and watching the scene unfold with a smile. Nights like this felt comfortable, even easy—though the comfort was always tinged with a quiet tension whenever Bucky was nearby.

From across the room, you caught sight of him leaning against the wall, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he watched Steve and Sam go at it. His hair was slightly mussed from earlier, when Natasha had flicked a piece of popcorn at him during a heated round of Codenames. He looked relaxed, but every so often, his gaze would flick to you, lingering just a little too long before shifting away.

As the night began to wind down, people started drifting off. Natasha leaned back against Steve’s chest on the couch, flipping through channels, while Sam loudly declared that he was “retiring undefeated” from board games. Wanda laughed softly, shaking her head as she began stacking up the pieces from Monopoly.

You slipped into the kitchen to rinse out your glass, grateful for a brief moment of quiet. The sink ran softly as you washed the remnants of red wine from the bottom of the cup.

A familiar presence entered the room a moment later, filling the small space without saying a word.

“Need help?” Bucky asked, his voice soft and low.

You glanced over your shoulder, finding him leaning casually against the counter. His sleeves were still rolled up, and his hair was falling into his eyes in a way that made your chest feel uncomfortably tight, your fingers twitching wanting to run your fingers through it.

“No, I’m good,” you said, turning back to the sink. But he didn’t leave.

Instead, he stepped closer, grabbing a towel from the counter. His presence was steady, grounding, but it made the space between you feel smaller, more intimate.

“You sure?” he asked lightly, and you could hear the faint smile in his voice.

You nodded, drying the glass in your hands. “Yeah. It’s just a couple of glasses.”

He stayed anyway, leaning a little closer as you reached for the towel he was holding. Your fingers brushed against his, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt up your arm.

You froze, your breath catching as you quickly pulled your hand back.

“Sorry,” you muttered, your voice too quiet.

“Don’t be,” he said softly, his tone gentle but firm.

When you finally looked up, you found his eyes already on you. The softness there caught you off guard—blue and steady, full of something unspoken. It was the kind of look that made your heart race, your thoughts scrambling for something to say, anything to break the silence.

But you couldn’t. You were frozen in place, caught in the quiet gravity of him.

The air felt heavier, charged, like the world outside the kitchen had faded away. Your fingers gripped the counter behind you for balance as he leaned in slightly, his gaze flickering briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“Y/n…” His voice was low, almost hesitant, and it made your chest tighten painfully.

You could feel his breath, warm against your skin, and for a moment, you thought he might actually close the distance. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to, weren’t sure if you’d stop him if he did.

But before either of you could move, a booming voice broke through the moment like a crack of thunder.

“Steve, I swear to God, I didn’t cheat!”

“Sam, you literally took money out of the bank when you thought no one was looking!” Steve yelled back, his voice full of exasperation.

“It’s just a game!” Wanda called out, clearly trying—and failing—to mediate.

Bucky exhaled sharply, pulling back slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. “Monopoly isn’t just a game,” he murmured, his voice light but tinged with humor. “It’s a lifestyle.”

The comment was loud enough to carry into the living room, and Natasha’s sharp laugh cut through the noise. “He’s not wrong,” she called back.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, though your chest still felt tight. The moment was gone, but the tension lingered, humming faintly in the space between you.

As you moved to step past him, his hand brushed lightly against yours again, a touch so brief it might have been accidental. But when you looked up at him, his eyes were still locked on yours, steady and unreadable.

“Y/n,” he said softly, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, his voice pulling your attention back to him.

But before he could say anything else, Natasha poked her head into the kitchen. “Hey, are you two gonna join us, or are you just gonna hide in here all night?”

The spell broke again, and you stepped back, putting more space between you and Bucky as you smiled faintly. “We’re coming,” you said quickly, brushing past him as you headed toward the door.

He lingered for a moment, watching you go, before following you back into the living room.

-----

The bar was packed, music pounding through the room as laughter and voices swirl together in a cacophony of chaos. You’re sitting at a table with Wanda and Natasha, nursing a drink and laughing at something Natasha said. Across the room, you catch a glimpse of Bucky leaning against the bar, his relaxed smile softening the hard lines of his face.

It’s one of those nights where everything feels easy. Because everything has been, you can't help but smile at the fact that letting Buck in your life was the right decision and you were grateful that you made it for once you felt that you were both close to crossing that line again but this time you were doing it right and your heart swelled up the thought of him being your right person at the right time finally after years of back-and-forth.

Until she shows up.The one from the farmers market, when you swore off Bucky for good.

You don’t notice her at first, too caught up in the conversation at your table. But when Natasha’s gaze flicks over your shoulder, her smile fading slightly, you follow her line of sight.

She’s tall, gorgeous, and entirely too familiar. And the feeling in your guy is dark, anxious and makes you feel sick.

Your stomach tightens as you watch her approach him, her confident smile and the way she places a hand on his arm. You don’t miss the way she leans in, her lips brushing his ear as she says something you can’t hear.

You force yourself to look away, trying to focus on the drink in your hand. But you can’t stop the wave of jealousy that crashes over you, your mind spinning with all the worst-case scenarios.

“Are you okay?” Wanda asks quietly, her voice barely audible over the music.

“I’m fine,” you lie, your throat tight.

You glance back toward the bar, and that’s when you see it.

She leans in, her lips pressing against his in a kiss that feels like a knife twisting in your chest.

For a moment, you can’t move. Your brain struggles to catch up with what you’re seeing, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and devastation.

You look away immediately, not waiting to see him kiss her back. When you finally decide to look, one last time before you leave.

His eyes are scanning the room, panic taking over his face. And then they land on you.

The hurt in your expression must be clear, because his face falls when he realizes you saw. “Wait!” he yells, rushing toward you.

But you don’t wait. You grab your bag and slip through the crowd, ignoring Wanda and Natasha’s calls after you.

Sam watches as you storm past him, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on?” he asks, trying to reach out to you, when you ignore him he turns to Natasha.

“Trouble,” she says simply, her eyes following you before flicking back to Bucky, who’s shoving past the crowd and running after you.

Sam starts to follow, “That mother fucker…” but Natasha grabs his arm, stopping him.

“Leave it,” she says firmly.

Sam glares at her, his jaw tightening. “I don’t care if he was fooling all of us, she's my best friend.”

Natasha’s expression softens, but her grip on his arm doesn’t falter. “This time is different, Sam” she says quietly. “I can tell. He’s not going to let her walk away again.”

Sam exhales sharply, but he doesn’t argue. “For her sake, I hope you’re right.”

You’re halfway down the street when you hear him frantically calling after you.

“Wait! Please, just wait!”

You don’t stop, your chest tight with anger and betrayal. But his footsteps are faster than yours, and soon he’s in front of you, blocking your path.

“Move,” you say sharply, your voice trembling.

“No,” he says firmly, his hands up in surrender. “Please, just listen to me.”

You fold your arms over your chest, your whole body trembling with anger and something deeper—something you don’t want to name. Your eyes are burning as you glare at him, hot tears pooling at the edges of your vision. “I saw you, Bucky. I saw it! God, I’m so stupid!”

“I didn’t kiss her back,” he says quickly, his voice frantic, almost panicked. “I didn’t even know she was going to—she just showed up, and before I could stop her, she—”

You shake your head, cutting him off before he can finish. “I don’t care. I don’t care, Bucky. This—” You gesture wildly between the two of you, your voice cracking. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this with you. Why I didn’t want to trust you again!”

Your voice rises, each word sharper than the last, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill over. “You don’t understand what it’s like to feel this way, to love someone so much it hurts, and then watch them ruin you over and over again.”

His jaw tightens, and he takes a step closer, his hands raised slightly like he’s afraid to spook you. “I do understand,” he says, his voice low and hoarse. “I understand it because I feel that way about you. Every day.”

You laugh bitterly, a hollow, broken sound. “If you felt that way, you wouldn’t keep breaking my heart.”

He looks at you like the words physically hurt him, but you don’t stop. “Do you have any idea how hard this has been for me? How much it’s taken for me to even let you this close again? And now, after everything, I’m supposed to just stand here and believe you?” You poke him in the chest, your voice trembling as tears stream freely down your face. “Why should I?”

His lips part as though he’s going to respond, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just stares at you, his eyes wide, his expression wrecked. Finally, he whispers, “Because I love you.”

The words hang in the air between you like a live wire, crackling and sparking.

“You’re funny,” you snap, the anger masking the ache in your chest. “You love me? All you do is hurt me and make me cry, Bucky. I don’t even know why I’m still standing here!”

He flinches but doesn’t move, his blue eyes locked on yours. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifts a hand, brushing away the tears trailing down your cheek. His touch is impossibly gentle, like he’s afraid you might shatter under his fingertips.

“I didn’t kiss her,” he says, his voice raw and quiet. “I don’t want to kiss her. I don’t want to kiss or feel or be with or love anyone but you.”

You close your eyes, his words hitting too close to the place inside you where the ache lives. “You can’t blame me for not trusting you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“I’m not blaming you,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “I’m not. I know I’ve screwed up before, more times than I can count.I know I’ve hurt you, and I hate myself for it.” His voice breaks, trembling at the edges. “I know I ran out of chances years ago. But please, you’ve gotta give me the benefit of the doubt with this one. Just this one, please.”

His desperation makes your throat tighten. You look at him, your heart pounding painfully in your chest. He looks completely wrecked, his blue eyes wide and pleading, his entire body tense like he’s holding himself together by sheer force of will.

“I don’t know if I can,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Yes, you can,” he says quickly, stepping closer, his voice soft but insistent. “I know you can. Please don’t walk away from me. Not again—I can’t do that again.”

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stop, but they don’t. They fall faster now, hot and unrelenting. “I’m so scared,” you admit, your voice breaking. “I don’t think I can survive this if you hurt me again.”

His expression crumbles, and for a moment, he looks like he might fall apart too. But then he takes another step closer, his hands trembling as he reaches for yours. “You won’t have to survive it again,” he says quietly. “Because I’m not going to hurt you. I swear to you, I’m not. I can’t lose you. Not again. You mean everything to me.”

The raw sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache so badly it’s hard to breathe. You don’t move, torn between the love you still feel for him and the fear of opening yourself up to more pain.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” you say softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“That's okay, I’ll make you believe me,” he says, his voice steady despite the tears shining in his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… don’t give up on us. Please.”

The world feels like it’s tilting beneath your feet, every emotion colliding at once. You look at him, your tears mingling with his as his hands tighten gently around yours.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you whisper, the vulnerability in your voice making you flinch.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he says softly. “I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ll show you every day if that’s what it takes. Just… don’t walk away.”

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence is heavy, but it’s not empty—it’s full of everything you’ve both left unsaid, full of hope and hurt and the possibility of something better.

Finally, you nod, just barely, the movement so small it’s almost imperceptible. But he sees it.

His shoulders sag with relief, and he steps closer, his forehead nearly touching yours as he exhales shakily. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You don’t say anything, your chest still tight, your emotions too raw. But when his hands brush against yours again, you don’t pull away.

----

The routine of meeting Bucky for coffee came to a halt after you saw the kiss. Or, more accurately, her kiss him. It didn’t matter that you knew what you saw wasn’t the full story; it didn’t matter that you knew in your gut that he wasn’t the one who leaned in first. The sight of it had cracked something in you, leaving all your old doubts and fears to spill through the cracks.

For a week, you ignored his texts, his calls, even the coffee shop where you’d fallen into the rhythm of meeting him. He hadn’t pushed—not at first. He gave you the space you needed, though you could feel his presence lingering like a shadow.

It was Wanda who called you out, her name lighting up your phone screen as you sat on your couch, staring at the untouched glass of wine on your coffee table.

You answered on the third ring, your voice tight. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, her tone light but laced with something careful. “How’s it going?”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Fine.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly not buying it. “So… are you just going to keep ignoring him forever?”

Your chest tightened, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of a blanket draped over the couch. “I don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

Wanda didn’t say anything for a moment, and the silence made you squirm. “He keeps asking about you, you know,” she said finally. “Every time I see him, it’s the same question: ‘Is she okay?’”

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Wanda. I just… it’s hard. He keeps saying he’s different, and I do believe it, I do. But then I see something like that, and all I can think about is how it felt before—when he ignored me, when he brushed me off like I didn’t matter.”

She sighed softly. “I get that. I do. But you should know… he didn’t kiss her back. I was there. He didn’t even hesitate before pushing her away.”

“I know,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “I know that. But it doesn’t make it easier. Because nobody gets to me the way he does, Wanda. Nobody ever has. He has this… hold on me, and it’s terrifying to feel that way about someone who’s hurt you before.”

Wanda’s voice softened, filled with sympathy. “I understand, Y/n. I do. It’s hard to let yourself be that vulnerable again when you’ve been burned. But I think… I think he’s trying, really trying. And maybe—”

There was a knock at your door.

You froze, your breath catching as you glanced toward the sound. “Hey, Wanda, I’ll call you back,” you said quickly.

“Bucky?” she asked knowingly.

“I’ll call you back,” you repeated before ending the call.

You hesitated for a long moment, your hand hovering over the doorknob. When you finally opened it, there he was.

Bucky stood there, his broad frame filling the doorway, a book tucked under his arm. His hair was slightly messy, and his blue eyes, normally so guarded, were filled with something soft and unsure.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice a little rough.

You blinked, surprised. “Bucky.”

He held out the book, almost like a peace offering. It was the one you’d mentioned weeks ago during one of your coffee meetings, a passing comment you’d thought he wouldn’t remember.

“What’s this?” you asked, your voice tentative.

He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but the faint flush creeping up his neck gave him away. “Saw it and thought of you.”

You stared at him, your fingers brushing against the cover as you took it. The gesture struck you harder than it should have, and you felt the familiar ache in your chest. “Bucky…”

“It’s just a book,” he said quickly, his voice faltering slightly. “Nothing big.”

But it felt big. It felt impossibly big.

“Thank you,” you said softly, running your fingers over the cover.

There was a pause, a heavy silence that seemed to stretch out between you. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“You gonna let me in, or should I go?” he asked lightly, a faint, hopeful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You stepped back, gesturing for him to come inside. “Um yeah. Sure.”

The air between you felt charged as he followed you into the kitchen. You set the book down on the counter, trying to focus on the mundane action as a way to steady yourself.

“Do you want some tea or something?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

“Sure,” he said, leaning against the counter. His eyes never left you, and you could feel his gaze like a physical weight.

As you filled the kettle, the silence grew heavier, the unspoken words between you pressing down like a storm cloud. Finally, Bucky broke it.

“Y/n,” he started, his voice soft but steady. “I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, but I need to say something.”

You didn’t look at him, your fingers tightening on the kettle handle. “Bucky…”

“Please,” he said, stepping closer. “Just let me say this.”

You exhaled shakily, setting the kettle down and turning to face him. “Okay.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to struggle with the words. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and raw. “I messed up. Not just last week, not just with her, but before—all of it. I know I hurt you, I knew I was and I can’t take that back. But I swear to you, I’m not that guy anymore. I’m not.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, your heart pounding. “How am I supposed to believe that, Bucky? How am I supposed to trust that this time will be different?”

“Because it already is,” he said quickly, his voice rising slightly with urgency. “I’m trying, Y/n. I’m going to therapy. I’m showing up. I’m doing the work because I want to be better—for you.”

His words hit you like a wave, and your throat tightened as you blinked back tears. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to let someone back in after they’ve broken you?”

“I do,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “Because I’m terrified every day that I’ve lost you for good. But I can’t let you go without trying—without proving to you that I can be the person you deserve.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache, and you looked away, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’m scared,” you whispered. “I’m scared that if I let you back in, you’ll hurt me all over again.”

“I won’t,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “I promise you, I won’t. Just… let me try. Please.”

You didn’t move, your heart warring with your head. The love you felt for him was still there, buried under the hurt and the fear, but it was there.

He reached out slowly, his hand brushing against yours. “I love you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you so damn much.”

For a long moment, you didn’t say anything, your mind racing. But as you looked up at him, his blue eyes filled with nothing but raw, aching honesty, you felt something inside you begin to crack open.

“I can’t promise you anything,” you said softly. “But… I’ll try.”

A flicker of hope lit in his eyes, and he nodded, his hand squeezing yours gently. “That’s all I need.”

---

The trip to the cabin was Steve’s idea, of course. “We all need a break,” he had insisted weeks ago, his voice full of conviction. “No distractions, no work, just friends, fresh air, and some well-earned relaxation and of course alcohol.”

It had taken very little convincing to get everyone out there. The cabin was nestled deep in the woods, surrounded by towering pine trees and the faint sound of a nearby creek. The air smelled fresh, crisp, and you almost forgot how much you’d hesitated about coming—about being this close to Bucky, about opening yourself up to feelings you weren’t sure you could handle.

The first night was loud and chaotic, in the best way possible. Everyone gathered in the living room after dinner, the fire crackling in the stone fireplace. Bottles of wine and beer were scattered across the coffee table, along with a half-empty bottle of whiskey Sam had brought along and a stack of mismatched board games Natasha had insisted on bringing.

Natasha was leaning against Steve on the couch, her legs draped over his lap as she sipped her drink. Sam had claimed one of the armchairs, gesturing wildly as he recounted some ridiculous story about his time in the military. Wanda was curled up on the floor next to him, her cheeks pink from laughing too hard.

“And I swear to God, the guy thought he could outrun the damn helicopter,” Sam was saying, his hands moving animatedly.

Wanda snorted, nearly spilling her wine. “Oh my God, did he?”

“Obviously not!” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. “But he gave it his best shot. Dumbest thing I’ve ever seen, but you’ve got to respect the effort.”

Steve shook his head, chuckling. “I feel like you’ve told this story at least three times now.”

“Yeah, and it gets better every time,” Sam shot back, grinning.

“Maybe for you,” Natasha quipped, smirking. “For the rest of us, it’s just confirmation that you’ve always been impossible.”

“I am a delight, Romanoff,” Sam said, mock-offended.

“You’re something,” she muttered under her breath, making Wanda laugh.

Across the room, you were perched on the edge of a chair, nursing your drink and watching the back-and-forth unfold. Bucky sat on the arm of your chair, close enough that his shoulder occasionally brushed against yours.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You glanced at him, startled by his closeness. “Just enjoying the show,” you replied, gesturing toward Sam, who was now debating something ridiculous with Steve.

Bucky smiled faintly, his eyes warm. “It’s good to see you like this,” he murmured. “Relaxed. Happy.”

The comment caught you off guard, and you felt a warmth rise in your chest that had nothing to do with the fire or the whiskey in your hand. “I guess I’m starting to figure things out,” you said quietly.

His gaze lingered on you, soft and unreadable, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. But then Natasha made some sarcastic comment about Monopoly, and the group burst into laughter, shattering the moment.

As the night wore on, the group slowly began to drift off. Wanda yawned and declared she was calling it a night, and Natasha soon followed, dragging Steve along with her despite his protests that he wanted to stay up. Sam was the last to go, grumbling about how he wasn’t tired even as he stumbled toward the stairs.

Soon, it was just you and Bucky.

You stood in the kitchen, rinsing out your glass. The firelight flickered faintly from the living room, and the cabin had grown quiet, save for the occasional creak of the wooden beams.

Bucky walked in, his footsteps soft against the hardwood floor. He leaned against the counter, watching you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and careful.

You nodded, not looking at him. “Yeah. Just winding down.”

He stepped closer, his presence filling the small space. “You sure? You seemed a little… distant earlier.”

You sighed, setting the glass down and finally turning to face him. “It’s just been a long day.”

His eyes searched yours, and you felt the weight of his gaze, the quiet intensity that always seemed to disarm you. “If there’s anything you want to talk about…” he started, but you shook your head.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you said softly, offering a small, tired smile.

He nodded, though his expression remained thoughtful.

Later, you paced your room, your thoughts racing too much to settle. The cabin was quiet now, the kind of quiet that made everything feel sharper, more immediate. You couldn’t stop replaying the moments from earlier—the way Bucky had looked at you, the warmth in his voice when he said it was good to see you happy.

It was too much, and not enough all at once.

Finally, you decided to leave your room, the air feeling too stifling. But as you stepped into the hallway, you nearly collided with someone.

“Sorry,” you muttered, taking a step back.

“Y/n?”

It was Bucky.

You froze, your eyes locking with his. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you palpable.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

The space between you felt impossibly small, and as his gaze held yours, you saw something there—something raw and unguarded. Slowly, he reached up, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

His hand lingered, his thumb grazing your cheek. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your breath hitch as his thumb trailed down, brushing against your bottom lip.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He didn’t move, his blue eyes searching yours as if waiting for permission.

Your hands lifted, hesitating for just a moment before resting against his chest. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms, and the warmth of him made your chest ache.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop.

And then you kissed him.

It was soft at first, hesitant, but the second his lips moved against yours, the floodgates opened. His hands cupped your face, holding you like you were something precious, and the kiss deepened, heat and longing pouring into every movement.

You stumbled back slightly, your back hitting the wall as his body pressed against yours. The air was thick with the heat between you, and his lips left yours just long enough to murmur, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice shaking with certainty. “Yes, Bucky. Please.”

Bucky's lips found yours again, urgent but soft, like he couldn't quite believe this was happening. His hands were firm and steady as they cupped your face, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks as though trying to memorize every inch of your skin.

Your fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. The heat of him pressed against you, grounding and consuming all at once.

The tension that had built between you for so long— weeks, months, years-was finally unraveling, pouring out in every kiss, every touch.

"Bucky," you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling.

His forehead rested against yours for a brief moment, his breath warm and uneven. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured, his voice rough and filled with restraint.

You shook your head, your hands sliding up to rest on either side of his face. "I don't want you to stop," you said, your words firm despite the shakiness in your tone.

Something flickered in his eyes-relief, longing, something deeper. He kissed you again, his hands sliding down to your waist as he gently guided you backward, step by step, toward your room.

The door closed softly behind you, but neither of you noticed. All that mattered was the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands settled on your hips before gliding up your sides. You gasped as his fingertips brushed the hem of your shirt, and he paused, his eyes searching yours.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading.

"Yes," you said, your voice firmer this time. "Yes, I'm sure."

He nodded, his hands steady but his touch reverent as he helped you pull your shirt over your head. His lips found your neck, leaving a trail of warmth that made you shiver. Your hands roamed his chest, slipping under the fabric of his shirt until he let out a low, shaky laugh and pulled it off in one motion.

Every moment felt unhurried yet desperate, like the two of you were trying to savor every second while making up for lost time. You didn't think about what came next, didn't think about the consequences. All you could focus on was the way Bucky whispered your name like it was sacred, the way his hands held you like you were something he never wanted to let go of again.

When the two of you finally came together, it felt like the world outside your room didn't exist anymore. He moved with care, his lips finding yours again and again, his voice rough as he murmured your name in between kisses. He asked if you were okay, if you needed anything, if you wanted him to stop.

And every time, your answer was the same.

"Yes, Bucky. I'm sure."

When you woke up the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the window felt harsh, almost intrusive. Your head was still heavy with sleep, but the events of the night before came rushing back in vivid detail.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your hands over your face as panic began to creep in. What had you done? You had told yourself you'd be careful with Bucky, that you'd protect yourself this time. But now? Now you'd opened yourself up completely, and the fear of what came next made your chest tighten.

Your heart sank as your gaze flickered to the empty side of the bed. He was gone.

You sat there for a moment, your hands gripping the edge of the blanket as the familiar ache of heartbreak began to settle in. "Of course," you whispered bitterly to yourself. "Of course, he left."

But just as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the door to the bathroom opened, and Bucky stepped out, a towel draped around his neck.

He froze when he saw you, his expression softening immediately. "Hey," he said, his voice still rough with sleep.

You blinked at him, relief washing over you so quickly it made you dizzy. "Hey," you said softly, your voice trembling.

His brows knit together as he crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you said quickly, but the way your voice cracked betrayed you.

"Don't lie to me," he said gently, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

"What's going on?"

You hesitated, your fingers twisting in the fabric of the blanket. "It's stupid," you muttered.

"It's not stupid if it's got you looking this upset," he said, his voice firm but kind. His thumb brushed lightly between your eyebrows, smoothing out the small crease there. "Put that worry wrinkle away, sweetheart."

You let out a shaky laugh, but your chest still felt tight. "Please don't get mad at me," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"Mad at you?" he said, his tone incredulous. "I could never get mad at you. Just talk to me."

You took a deep breath, your eyes dropping to your hands. "I thought you left," you admitted finally. "When I woke up and you weren't here, I just... I panicked."

For a moment, he didn't say anything, and you risked a glance up at him. His jaw had clenched, his expression flickering with something you couldn't quite place-guilt, maybe, or frustration. But whatever it was, it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by quiet understanding.

"I get it," he said softly, his voice steady. "And I'm sorry. I should've said something, told you i was just getting up for a minute. But I'm not going anywhere this time. I’m sorry I made you feel that way."

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten, and you nodded, swallowing hard.

"Okay," you said quietly.

He reached out, his hand covering yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. "You believe me?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "I do."

He started to lean in but the moment was broken by a knock at the door.

"Y/n?" Steve's voice called out from the other side. "Have you seen Bucky?"

Before you could respond, Natasha's laugh rang out from the hallway. "Steve, give it a rest. He's probably hiding from Sam."

"Or in the bathroom," Sam's voice chimed in. "Probably pooping. Breakfast is ready, by the way!"

You and Bucky exchanged a look, both of you bursting into quiet laughter.

"I guess we should join them," you said, smiling softly.

"Yeah," he said, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. "We should. Are we okay?”

You nodded “Were okay.”

---

The cabin had been a turning point for both of you, though neither of you dared to say it aloud. That night, tangled in the sheets and each other’s arms, had felt like a step forward—and yet, when morning came, the step wasn’t as certain as you’d hoped.

You hadn’t told anyone about what happened that night. Not Wanda, not Natasha, not anyone. They hadn’t suspected a thing, and honestly, you preferred it that way. Keeping it to yourself made it feel less complicated, like something you could push to the back of your mind when you needed to.

And after the cabin? Everything had gone back to normal. Or at least, you pretended it had. Bucky didn’t push or pry; he didn’t mention the night, didn’t ask for more. Instead, he gave you space—space to think, space to process, space to figure out what you really wanted.

For two weeks, you existed in this limbo, circling back to the quiet, steady friendship you’d rebuilt before the cabin. It was easier that way. Comfortable. Safe.

And yet, you couldn’t ignore the tension lingering beneath the surface. Every look, every touch, every shared laugh felt weighted, charged with unspoken words. You were grateful for his patience, but it terrified you too. Because the truth was, you didn’t know how to take the next step—or if you even could.

The room was alive with energy. It was the kind of night where the drinks flowed freely, the music hummed in the background, and everyone seemed to be in good spirits.

You’d lost count of how many drinks Sam had handed you, but you weren’t complaining. The warmth of the alcohol helped take the edge off, loosening the knot that always seemed to form in your chest when Bucky was around.

Wanda was perched on the armrest of a chair, laughing at one of Steve’s terrible jokes, while Natasha sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully stacking playing cards into a makeshift tower. Sam was dramatically recounting a story from his military days, gesturing so wildly that he knocked over one of Natasha’s stacks.

“Sam!” Natasha groaned, glaring at him.

“You can’t blame me for being animated!” Sam shot back, grinning.

“Nat, you should know by now that Sam’s hands talk more than his mouth does,” Steve teased, earning a laugh from Wanda.

“Hey, don’t drag me into this,” Wanda said, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just here for the show.”

You stood by the bar, sipping your drink and smiling faintly at their banter. The atmosphere was easy and familiar, but your gaze kept drifting across the room—to him.

Bucky.

He was leaning against the wall, laughing at something Steve said, but his eyes kept flicking to you, like he couldn’t help himself.

Wanda noticed, of course. She always did.

“You’re staring,” she said softly, nudging you with her elbow.

You startled, quickly looking away. “I’m not staring,” you muttered.

She raised an eyebrow. “Sure you’re not.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “It’s fine, Wanda. We’re fine. We’re friends.”

“Friends who spent the night together at the cabin and haven’t addressed it since?” she asked, her voice careful but pointed.

You froze, your grip tightening on your glass. “We’re fine,” you repeated, your tone sharper this time. “I’m okay with the way things are.”

“Are you?” she asked quietly, tilting her head. “Is he?”

You didn’t answer, and she sighed. “Look, I know why you’re scared. And I get it—you’ve been through a lot with him. But don’t you think it’s worth figuring out what you actually want? Instead of hiding behind what feels safe?”

Before you could respond, Sam called out from across the room.

“Y/n! We’re playing charades, and you’re on my team!”

You rolled your eyes, grateful for the distraction. “Duty calls,” you said, ignoring Wanda’s knowing look as you moved to join the group.

--

After an intense game of charades that somehow devolved into everyone laughing more than guessing, Sam threw his hands in the air as you acted out his final clue—a ridiculous, flailing impression of a penguin that left the entire room in stitches.

“That’s it!” Sam shouted, pumping his fists in the air. “Team Sam for the win, baby!”

“Barely!” Natasha called from across the room, rolling her eyes as she leaned back against Steve’s chest. “You two cheated!”

“We didn’t cheat,” Sam argued, grabbing your hand and spinning you around dramatically. “We’re just that good.”

You laughed, breathless as Sam gave you an exaggerated hug, lifting you off the ground before setting you back down. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head as you tried to catch your breath.

“And you love it,” Sam said with a wink before grabbing a beer from the table.

The room was still buzzing with laughter and chatter as you headed toward the kitchen to grab another drink. The warmth of the alcohol and the easy, familiar energy of your friends made you feel lighter than you had in weeks.

But as you opened the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water to offset the buzz in your head, you felt it—that familiar shift in the air.

When you turned, there he was.

Bucky stood a few feet away, his shoulders tense, his expression unreadable as he watched you. There was something in his eyes that made your chest tighten, though you couldn’t quite place what it was.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer.

“Hey,” you replied, offering a faint smile as you twisted the cap off your bottle. “Having fun?”

“Not really,” he admitted, his voice low.

The response caught you off guard, and you raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Instead of answering, he looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening. Then, with a deep breath, he met your gaze again. “Can we talk?”

You hesitated, your grip tightening on the bottle in your hand. “Now?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Please.”

Something in his voice made it impossible to say no, and you nodded, setting the bottle down on the counter. “Okay.”

He led you to a quieter corner of the room, away from the noise and laughter of your friends. The firelight from the living room flickered faintly against the walls, and the hum of conversation faded into the background as he turned to face you.

You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling exposed under the intensity of his gaze. “What’s going on, Bucky?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders stiff as if he was bracing himself for something. “I can’t do this anymore,” he said quietly.

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and your stomach dropped. “Do what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing between the two of you. “Being your friend.”

You blinked, your heart pounding as your mind scrambled to catch up. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quickly, his voice low and insistent. “It’s not you, it’s me. I can’t, I can’t just be your friend anymore.”

Your arms tightened around yourself as you stared at him, confusion and hurt swirling in your chest. “Bucky, what are you talking about?”

He exhaled sharply, his hands flexing at his sides as he looked away. “I’ve been trying,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve been trying so damn hard to keep it together, to respect what you want, to just be here for you. But every time I see you, every time I hear your laugh or watch you smile, it’s like—”

He cut himself off, shaking his head as if the words were too much.

“Like what?” you pressed, your voice trembling.

His eyes snapped to yours, raw and vulnerable in a way that made your breath hitch. “Like I’m falling all over again.”

The weight of his confession settled heavily between you, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“I can’t do it anymore,” he continued, his tone desperate now. “I can’t just stand on the sidelines and pretend I’m okay with being just your friend. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop wanting to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you.”

Your chest tightened, your pulse thrumming in your ears as his words washed over you.

“What do you want from me?” you asked softly, your voice shaking.

“Everything,” he said without hesitation, his voice raw and steady.

The word lingered in the air, heavy and unshakable.

His hand lifted slowly, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch so gentle it made your knees weak. His thumb traced along your jaw, his touch reverent and careful, like he was afraid you might break.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I’ve loved you this whole time.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your breath hitching as you struggled to process his words.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he added quickly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. “I just needed you to know. I can’t keep pretending anymore.”

The room felt too small, too quiet despite the distant hum of the party behind you. Your thoughts raced, a million emotions colliding all at once—fear, longing, hope.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he said softly, his forehead lowering to rest against yours. “I know, and I don’t blame you, I just wanna be with you already.”

Your hands lifted to rest against his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you closed your eyes. The sound of his heartbeat beneath your palms was steady, grounding, and for the first time in weeks, you felt the smallest flicker of hope.

“Okay,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “But no more running.”

“No more running,” he promised.

This time he made the first move, he leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that felt both tentative and certain, like he was pouring every unspoken word into the moment.

Behind you, someone (definitely Sam) yelled, “About damn time!” followed by Natasha’s dry laugh.

But none of it mattered.

When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his hands steady as they cupped your face. “Let me show you,” he whispered. “Let me prove it to you, I’m gonna prove it to you…”

----

The difference this time was undeniable.

Before, being with Bucky had felt like reaching for something you couldn’t quite grasp—like he was always just out of reach, holding back pieces of himself he didn’t think you could handle. But now? Now, it felt like the walls had come down. He wasn’t hiding anymore. He wasn’t running. He was just… there, steady and present, and it made you feel like you could finally breathe.

The first time you really noticed it was about a week after Sam’s birthday party. The group had gone out for drinks at one of your usual spots, a cozy bar with low lighting and worn wooden tables. The air was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses, and you were in the middle of laughing at something Natasha had said when you felt it—Bucky’s hand resting on the back of your chair.

It wasn’t hesitant or uncertain like it used to be. No, this time, his touch was solid and deliberate, like he wanted everyone to know you were his.

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “You good, baby?”

The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, your heart stuttering in your chest. You looked up at him, and the soft smile on his face made you melt. “Yeah, I’m good,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He kissed your temple, quick and easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world, before straightening. His hand slid down to rest on your shoulder, not in a possessive way but in a protective, grounding way that made your chest ache in the best way.

When you glanced around the table, you caught Wanda smirking at you, her brow raised knowingly. Steve, seated across from you, gave Bucky a small nod of approval, a silent acknowledgment that spoke volumes.

It felt good. It felt right.

Later that night, while Bucky was off getting another round of drinks with Steve, you found yourself alone at the table with Wanda. She was swirling the last of her wine in her glass, her eyes twinkling as she looked at you.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her.

She shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing. I’m just… happy for you.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t start.”

“I’m serious,” she said, leaning forward. “You deserve this. And honestly? It’s about damn time he got his act together.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I don’t know. Sometimes it still feels… fragile, you know?”

“Fragile?” she repeated, her brow furrowing.

“Like… I’m still waiting for something to happen, to go wrong,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I know he’s not the same as he was. I can see it. But it’s hard to forget how things were before.”

Wanda reached across the table, her hand covering yours. “Y/n, listen to me. I know what he put you through, and I know how scared you are. But he’s not the same guy he was two years ago. He’s different. You can see it in the way he looks at you.”

You hesitated, her words sinking in. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she said firmly, squeezing your hand. “And I think you know it too. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here with him right now.”

Before you could respond, Bucky returned to the table with a fresh drink in hand. He slid it in front of you with a soft smile before sitting back down, his knee brushing against yours under the table. Wanda shot you one last knowing look before turning the conversation to something else entirely.

A few nights later, you found yourself on the phone with Sam, who had called under the pretense of asking about a new restaurant but quickly steered the conversation elsewhere.

“So,” he said, his tone far too casual to be innocent. “You and Bucky, huh? Is it official?”

You groaned, flopping back onto your couch. “I knew this was coming.”

“What? I’m just checking in!” he said, feigning indignation. “As your best friend, it’s my job to make sure this guy isn’t screwing you over again.”

“Sam…” you warned, though there was no heat behind it.

He laughed, but his tone softened. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. Honestly, I’m happy for you. I really am.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “You are?”

“Of course,” he said. “I mean, look, I was ready to kick his ass a few years ago, and I’m still on standby if you ever need me to.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh my God, Sam.”

“But,” he continued, his voice steady now, “I don’t think I’m going to have to worry about that. Not this time.”

The warmth in his words made your chest tighten, and you stayed silent, letting him continue.

“Bucky’s always looked at you like that, you know,” Sam said after a moment. “Like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. He just… wasn’t ready before. And I didn’t want to tell you that back then because I knew it’d only hurt you more. But now? Now I think he’s finally figured his shit out.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Sam said firmly. “And no one deserves happiness more than you, Y/n. Not after everything.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt tears prick at your eyes. “Thanks, Sam,” you whispered.

“Don’t get all mushy on me now,” Sam teased, though his voice softened at the edges. “Seriously though, just know I’m here if you need me. But… honestly? I don’t think you will.”

You smiled faintly, your grip tightening on the phone. “I hope not,” you whispered, the words barely audible.

There was a pause, and you could almost hear the grin in his voice when he spoke again. “Anyway, I’m booking that reservation for the weekend. Make sure you fill your man in for me, will ya?”

“Sam!” you groaned, though you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Uh-uh,” Sam cut you off, his tone playful. “Don’t even start!”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed at his words. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll take that as a thank-you for always looking out for you.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.

“Anytime,” he replied. “Just don’t forget to tell Bucky he owes me one for letting him off the hook.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “I’ll be sure to pass the message along.”

“You’d better,” Sam quipped. “Now go enjoy your night. And don’t worry so much, okay?”

“I’ll try,” you said, smiling as you hung up.

----

The next few weeks were a quiet kind of revelation. The Bucky you were getting to know now was someone entirely different from the man you’d fallen for before. Not because he’d changed into someone new, but because he’d finally let you see the parts of him he’d kept hidden for so long.

He started coming over more often, always bringing something with him. Flowers, your favorite coffee, a book he’d remembered you mentioning in passing weeks ago. He never showed up empty-handed, and every gesture felt thoughtful in a way that left your heart aching.

One Friday morning, you were rushing out the door for a long day at work when you nearly tripped over a small box sitting on your doorstep. Inside was a muffin from your favorite café and a note written in his messy scrawl: For the busiest girl I know—don’t forget to eat today. Love, B.

When you texted him a thank-you, he replied almost immediately:

You deserve it. Now go kill it today.

It was in the small things, the quiet moments, that you realized how much he’d changed.

-

The group met up for dinner at a lively restaurant. The table was loud, everyone shouting over one another as Natasha and Sam argued about who was better at pool. Wanda kept flicking her straw wrapper at Steve, who was trying—and failing—to mediate.

Bucky sat beside you, his hand resting lightly on your knee beneath the table. It made you feel like the room could fall apart around you, and you’d still be okay.

“Nat, just admit you’re terrible at pool,” Sam teased, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin.

“I’m not terrible. I’m calculated,” Natasha shot back, narrowing her eyes.

“Sure,” Sam said, drawing out the word. “You’re so calculated that Steve had to make half your shots last time.”

“Excuse me,” Steve interjected, looking mildly alarmed. “I thought we weren’t bringing that up again.”

The group dissolved into laughter, and as you leaned forward to take a sip of your drink, Bucky reached over, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

When you glanced at him, surprised, he just smiled and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “What? You’re beautiful.”

The table fell quiet for half a beat. Natasha raised a brow in surprise, Wanda exchanged a look with Sam, and Sam grinned wide enough to split his face.

“Barnes,” Sam drawled, shaking his head. “Look at you, all smooth. Who are you, and what have you done with the grumpy man we knew?”

Bucky just shrugged, completely unbothered. “He’s retired.”

But as much as you were finding your rhythm with Bucky, there was one thing that hadn’t quite settled: being at his apartment.

Every time you were there, you felt… uneasy. Not in an obvious way, but Bucky noticed.

You sat on the edge of the couch instead of sinking into it. You fidgeted more, your eyes flicking around the room like you were looking for something—or avoiding something. And when you thought he wasn’t looking, your gaze lingered on the places that held the weight of old memories.

It was after one of these moments that Bucky found himself talking to Wanda. She’d stayed late after a group dinner, and the two of them were cleaning up the kitchen when Bucky finally asked, “Do you think she’s okay?”

Wanda paused, a glass in her hand. “Who?”

“Y/n,” he said, running a hand over the back of his neck. “She seems… I don’t know. Off. Especially when she’s here, am I doing something wrong? I thought everything was going perfect.”

Wanda’s eyes softened. “Bucky, it’s not you. It’s just… this place. There are memories here. Moments she can’t shake.” She hesitated, then added, “It’s like the air still held pieces of her sadness. And she’s trying, but being here? It’s hard for her.”

Bucky listened, his expression unreadable. But later that night, as he lay awake in bed, her words stayed with him. Because of course, why didn’t he think of that all the times he held you and told you, you were everything and then just to leave you high and dry the next day. All the times he called you over for his own selfishness just to wash you away less than 24 hours after.

It wasn’t long after that when you noticed something different. Bucky was quieter, distracted, like he was carrying something he hadn’t figured out how to share yet.

After dinner at your place, you finally asked.

“Okay, what’s going on?” you said, setting your glass down and turning to face him.

He blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been weird all night,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Is everything okay?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair before leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been thinking about moving.”

Your brows furrowed in surprise. “Moving? Why?”

Bucky shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he tried to keep his tone casual. But you could see the flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes, something he wasn’t sure how to say out loud. “Out with the old, in with the new, right?” he said, forcing a small smile before letting it fade.

You tilted your head, studying him, waiting for the real reason to come out.

He hesitated, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of the table before continuing, “That place… it’s got too much history. And if we’re going to do this,” he gestured between the two of you, his voice softening, “I want to do it right. I don’t want you to feel like you’re walking into a past you didn’t ask for.”

The sincerity in his words hit you like a wave, making your throat tighten. You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers as you tried to steady yourself. The memories of his apartment, those nights you spent waiting, wondering, hurting, flashed through your mind, and you realized he wasn’t just talking about moving to a new place. He was trying to move on from everything that hurt you.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm and steady, grounding you in a way that made the ache in your chest both better and worse. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

You nodded, your eyes stinging as you squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice so full of quiet conviction that it made your chest ache.

He leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead before leaning back to grab the remote, a small, easy smile playing at his lips. “Okay, enough heavy stuff. Let’s pick a movie before we end up debating for an hour.”

You laughed faintly, the warmth of his kiss still lingering. But as he started scrolling through Netflix, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The way his shoulders relaxed when he was with you, the soft hum he made under his breath when he was thinking—it was so different from the guarded, distant man you’d known before.

And that’s when the question slipped out, unbidden but insistent.

“Hey, Bucky?” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” he replied instantly, turning to look at you, his attention focused entirely on you.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. But then you forced yourself to say it, your heart pounding. “What are we?”

The question hung in the air, the silence stretching just long enough for doubt to creep in. But then Bucky set the remote down, turning to face you fully. His expression wasn’t hesitant or uncertain like it used to be, it was serious, calm, and sure.

“You’re mine,” he said simply, the words soft but unwavering. “And I’m yours. That’s all I know, and it’s all I want to be.”

Your breath caught, your chest tightening as the weight of his words settled over you. His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Does that work for you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost shy, like he wasn’t sure if he’d said too much.

You nodded, swallowing hard as emotion bubbled up in your chest. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It works.”

His lips curved into a small, relieved smile, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Good,” he murmured, his thumbs still tracing soft patterns against your skin. “Because I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You just sat there, breathing him in, letting the weight of his words wash over you. The space between you didn’t feel like it was filled with doubt or hesitation, it felt solid. Real.

“Now,” he said after a beat, pulling back just enough to kiss the tip of your nose before reaching for the remote again. “What cheesy rom-com are we watching tonight? Because I know you’ve got one in mind.”

You laughed, the sound light and unguarded, as you reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. “You say that like you’re not the one who secretly loves rom-coms.”

“Hey,” he said, feigning indignation. “I’ve got a reputation to protect, doll.”

“Yeah, sure,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

He smiled at you, and the look in his eyes, the quiet joy, the undeniable love, made your heart ache in the best way.

You felt like you weren’t just falling. You were landing somewhere safe.

--

The sun was warm against your skin, filtering through the leafy trees that lined the bustling farmer’s market. The scent of fresh flowers, ripe fruit, and baked bread swirled in the air, mingling with the chatter of vendors and the hum of conversations. People moved through the stands, their arms laden with produce and bouquets, but the only presence that mattered to you was Bucky’s.

He was beside you, his shoulder brushing yours every few steps, his hand gripping the bags of produce you’d insisted on buying. Every now and then, he glanced at you, flashing that crooked smile that still made your stomach flip.

“Do you really need more peaches?” he asked, his voice laced with mock exasperation as he eyed the basket you held.

“Yes,” you replied, feigning offense as you picked out two more and gently placed them into the bag. “You’ll thank me later when I make that peach cobbler you won’t stop talking about.”

He grinned, leaning down so his forehead lightly bumped yours. “Fine. Cobbler wins. But only if I get to eat it straight out of the dish.”

You laughed, nudging his arm with your elbow as you moved toward the next stall. “Only because its your housewarming gift..”

“You're the best” he murmured, his voice warm, before placing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

At the flower stand, the vibrant colors caught your eye. Bouquets of sunflowers, daisies, and tulips spilled across the table in a wild display of life. You reached out, letting your fingertips brush the soft petals of a sunflower as you admired its brightness.

You didn’t notice when Bucky stepped away, too absorbed in the moment. But when he returned, you turned to find him holding a small bundle of daisies, their white and yellow blooms bright against his dark shirt.

“For you,” he said softly, his voice low, almost shy.

The gesture made your heart ache, the simplicity of it filling you with warmth. You took the daisies, your fingers grazing his as you did. “You’re getting really good at this boyfriend thing,” you said, your smile teasing but sincere.

He smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Just trying to keep my girl happy.”

Your heart stuttered at his words, and you looked away, pretending to study the flowers so he wouldn’t see the way your cheeks burned. “You’re doing a pretty good job,” you admitted quietly, more to yourself than to him.

At the next stand, baskets of apples were piled high, their shiny red skins gleaming in the sunlight. You picked one up, turning it over in your hand. “What do you think?” you asked, holding it up for Bucky’s opinion.

He leaned closer, pretending to inspect it with exaggerated seriousness. “I think it’s an apple.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned, grabbing an apple and tossing it into the bag. “Fine. You pick the apples, and I’ll carry them. That’s the deal.”

“Deal,” you said, sticking your hand out dramatically for a handshake.

Instead of shaking your hand, he pulled you closer by the wrist, his hand settling lightly on your waist. His thumb brushed against your side absentmindedly, the touch sending a spark through you. It was such a small thing, but it rooted you to the moment—a quiet reminder of how far you’d both come. You couldn't believe this was the same stand you stood at 3 and a half years ago watching Bucky breaknyour heart and yet here you were now.

By the time you’d finished making your rounds, your bags were full, and so was your heart. You both found a spot on a nearby bench, the wooden surface warmed by the sun. Bucky set the bags down at his feet and pulled out a basket of strawberries you’d picked up earlier.

“Fresh strawberries,” he said, plucking one from the pile. “Can’t beat this.”

You reached for one, but he held it just out of your reach, grinning mischievously.

“Bucky,” you laughed, leaning forward to grab it.

“What’s the magic word?” he teased, his voice playful.

You narrowed your eyes, your hand hovering. “Please.”

He finally let you take it, laughing as you popped the strawberry into your mouth. “Gotta keep you on your toes,” he said with a wink, leaning back against the bench.

The moment was so simple, so easy, and yet it felt monumental. His arm draped over the back of the bench, his fingers brushing your shoulder absentmindedly. His other hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours like it was second nature.

The world felt quiet. Peaceful.

“Are you happy?” Bucky’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he broke the comfortable silence. His tone was so quiet that it almost got lost in the sounds of the world around you, the distant murmur of conversations, the occasional rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. But you heard it. You always heard him.

You turned to look at him, your chest tightening at the way he was watching you. His blue eyes, soft and searching, held a depth that made your heart ache in the best way. It wasn’t just a casual question. It was something deeper, something raw. Like he needed to hear it, needed to know that he was doing enough, that this, what you were building together was enough.

“Yeah,” you said honestly, your voice steady but tender. “I am.”

For a second, Bucky didn’t move. He just stared at you, like he was trying to memorize the way you looked at him, the way you said it. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a small, warm smile, the kind that reached his eyes and softened the sharp edges of his features.

His thumb brushed against the back of your hand in slow, deliberate circles, a quiet gesture that said everything he couldn’t put into words. “Good,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I’ve never been happier.”

The sincerity in his words wrapped around you like a blanket, filling every crack you hadn’t even realized was still there. It wasn’t loud or grandiose. It was simple, honest, and real.

You leaned into his side, letting your head rest against his shoulder. His arm tightened around you instinctively, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, it was all so familiar, yet so new. It felt like home, but a version of home you’d never known you needed until now.

This was different. This was real. This was everything you’d both fought for.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

You felt him stiffen slightly, his breathing hitching as the weight of your words hung in the air. His arm around you loosened just enough for him to pull back and look at you fully, his expression a mix of disbelief and something else, something vulnerable and raw.

“You do?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly as if he didn’t dare believe it.

You met his gaze, your eyes soft but unwavering. “I always have,” you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. “And I never stopped.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, but not in a bad way. It was full of everything unsaid, everything you’d both held back for so long. And then you saw it, the way his eyes watered, the way his lips parted like he was trying to find the words but couldn’t.

You reached up, your thumb gently brushing away the tear that slipped down his cheek. “Hey,” you murmured, your voice soft and teasing despite the lump in your throat.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his voice so low it almost broke. His hand came up to cup your face, his touch gentle, reverent, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. “So much.”

You smiled through your own tears, your chest aching with a kind of joy you hadn’t thought you’d ever feel again. “Yeah, I know,” you said softly, your tone teasing but warm.

A shaky laugh escaped him, the sound raw and full of disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the moment. He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm and shaky. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just breathed each other in, the world around you fading into nothing.

“I never deserved you,” he said finally, his voice trembling with emotion. “Still don’t.”

His words hit you square in the chest, and you felt your throat tighten. You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand still resting on his cheek. His blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his vulnerability laid bare in a way that made your heart ache.

“Bucky,” you said softly, shaking your head. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” he insisted, his voice breaking. “You gave me everything, and all I ever did was hurt you. And even now, after everything, you’re still here. I don’t know why, but…” His voice trailed off, and he let out a shaky breath. “I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be the man you deserve.”

You felt your chest tighten even further, a lump rising in your throat as his words washed over you. You cupped his face in both hands now, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to spend the rest of your life proving anything to me,” you said firmly, your voice trembling. “You’re already enough, Bucky. You always have been, even before.”

His lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, he just stared at you, as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you gently, like you were something fragile and precious.

“Do you really mean that?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “Every word,” you whispered. “I don’t care about the past anymore. All that matters is this. Us. Right here, right now.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, you saw the walls he’d spent so many years building start to crumble. He let out a shaky laugh, leaning into your touch. “God, I love you,” he murmured. “I don’t even know if I can say it enough to make up for all the times I didn’t.”

“You just did,” you said with a soft smile, leaning in until your lips brushed his.

The kiss was slow, tender, and filled with a quiet kind of intensity that made your heart feel like it might burst. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any distance between you.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together again, your breaths mingling in the quiet space between you.

It wasn’t about wrong timing or unfinished promises—it was just you and him, finally in step, finally ready. Right person, right time, and this time, you both got it right.

[knnichs]

my eternity

young love, loyalty, and admiration. a gentle reminder from your dear friend that he will stick with you, even after you've gotten sick of him.

c. kingdom messenger sethos x royalty gn!reader

t. character(s) are friends with reader but have romantic feelings, mutual pining (ish??), royalty au obviously, friends to something more but less than lovers LOL, reader is the princeps/princess/prince of the vehero kingdom, dehya obviously knows about readers crush on sethos & sethos' crush on reader, fluff, not proofread we die like bamoun, POSSIBLY OOC SETHOS ??? wc: 4.1k WOOHOO

taglist. @thestarswhisper @honeyney @pneumosia @tragedy-of-commons @gl4di0lus @ariadnehelx @azuresaqua @mikashisus @yuomizuu-> join the taglist here!

author notes at the end !

The sun had already begun to set, but your day was far from finished.

Being the future ruler of the Vehero Kingdom, you had quite the list of responsibilities. It wasn’t as simple as attending your classes on time and doing homework once you got back anymore–despite being homeschooled your whole life. No, you now had to help with managing the events, attending meetings, and political discussions. You have to watch your every step as even the smallest mistake may lead to war.

Now is a time where you truly had to be aware of everything you say. The annual banquet was just around the corner and you had prepared a hefty bit of it. So, safe to say that you have put in a ton of effort just to make this event possible this year. It’s not that your parents didn’t trust anyone to do it for them, or they didn’t have the time to manage it–you were of age now. Maybe it’s time you take part in these events, they said to you.

You’re tired of it, though. Incredibly tired.

In between your duties–you caught glimpses of a familiar dark brown haired fellow come and go in the palace; talking with the maids, laughing while playing cards with the guards, and leaving once more with his bag filled to the brim. Sethos, your kingdom's beloved messenger. 

You remember telling him to deliver the invitation letters in the port's post office after the last group of messengers failed to bring it as they ‘lost’ them (they really just went to the tavern and completely forgot about it.) He’s quite efficient with his work–usually a quick trip to the port would be around 30 minutes by foot, yet he manages to come back 15 minutes earlier. 

Ah, yes. His “secret power,” as he loved to say. Especially when the king, your father, compliments him for his diligent work and asks for his route–he simply shrugged and said “I just move fast.” 

There he is, in the flesh, several doors away from you; your best friend of many years now. He’s come to teach you many things about the palace. Secret doors that lead to underground tunnels, hidden doors in the library… You wonder why he knows all of this. 

You lean on the wall, shoulders shrugged as you crossed your arms and sighed. You couldn’t wait until night came around–changing into your silk robes and lying on the soft mattress while reading a book you liked, or falling asleep immediately.

“Your highness,” Dehya coughed, seeing your prolonged stare at the window. You hadn’t noticed you zoned out already–no wonder your eyes felt heavy. “Is something wrong?”

You shook your head as you faced the girl, greeting her with a small smile. “Nothing in particular, Dehya.” 

She glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of Sethos immediately. And she grins. “Boy problems? Why don’t you go talk to him?” 

For some odd reason, the idea makes you a little excited. After a really long day, a good talk with your… friend, would be pretty rewarding. Sethos is quite an entertaining person–you thought to yourself many times, questioning if he could possibly feel the same way to you.

But again, it probably wouldn’t happen at all. 

“Ah, yes! Let’s go bother someone who is clearly busy. Great idea.” You roll your eyes.

“Come on, your highness. I don’t think he’ll mind,” Dehya takes a few steps closer to you, hand pointed at the window as she looks at you encouragingly. “See? He’s wavin’ at you right now.”

You went to look at the window–watching what was going on. “No, he isn’t.”

“Oh my god–just go approach him!”

“And I’m telling you, I’m doing something.”

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” Dehya puts her arms up in defeat, eyes closed as she looks down at the floor and grinned. “I’ll see you later, your highness.”

She walks away, leaving you alone in the hallway filled with tiles and marbles and old paintings that look almost alive. You stare as she opens the doors and goes to the many living rooms in the palace. A part of you thought that she was right–maybe you should. But you somehow couldn’t get the courage to.

“He’s busy.” You repeat–mostly for yourself.

 “We both don’t have the time.”

It’s been a hectic day. You’ve walked maybe ten thousand steps today from preparations alone, you wonder how it would be like on the event itself. You’ve talked with the maids, told the band what to play during the dinner, you cleared the menu your parents created as they weren’t appropriate at all for a banquet, so you ended up creating another menu and checked with the chefs if they were possible. There were just so many more that it’s hard to list them all in your head. 

Now, you were fresh out of a hot bath, some chamomile tea on the side of your nightstand. You were laying in your bed, wrapped in the softest blanket, dressed in loose clothing, and you had just finished reading your book. The night was cold, so your balcony was halfway opened to bring some air into your bedroom. The moon is shining on the carpet, it’s comfortable, it’s nice. 

But you can’t sleep. Not at all.

Some thoughts are rushing in your head–and there are no thoughts at all. The blanket is soft, but you feel too hot, and when you take it off you feel cold. Your head sinks into the pillows but it makes you dizzy, your tea was too sweet and now you wonder if you somehow added too much sugar and ended up getting the energy to do things. You’re tired, but not at the same time.

Does that make sense?

On nights where you find yourself restless, your first thought is to go to the gardens. There, you’re alone, only with the moon's gaze and the flowers you tend to when you have the time. Tonight is no different. Once again, you’re looking up at the sea of stars above you to find comfort.

If being an heir to the throne was this stressful, you wonder how much worse it’ll be when you do eventually become their leader.

“In deep thought, your highness?” A familiar voice calls just behind the bushes, to where the swing is. Usually you’re all alone on these nights, but it doesn’t necessarily mean a certain someone joins you from time to time.

“Sethos,” you push a few stray vines from the tree, ducking down from the branches and looking at the white swing. “Apologies… for the silence. I didn’t notice you were here.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t say anything anyway.” He pats down the space beside him, moving a little to make more room. You smile, taking a seat and nodding a thanks to the boy.

Silence wasn’t uncommon when it came to the two of you. He understood your duties drained you socially and physically—which is why he usually fills the silence with his voice. Talking about his day, what he did, or reminiscing a little on memories from the past.

“You’ve been out and about, what brings you here at this hour? I’d be too tired to even make the trip.” His voice had a raspier edge than usual—proof of his exhaustion from the day as well.

You look at the sky again, “I don’t know, actually. I felt too tired to sleep. Quite odd, isn’t it?” 

He laughs, the sound bringing a certain warmth burst in your stomach. 

“I’ve got just the idea then.” The boy stands from the swing and it sways the slightest bit from the sudden movement. He reaches a hand to you, offering to help you up. “Wanna join me, your highness?”

“Sethos, my friend—I trust you, but… is this okay?” You held the ends of its saddle. With a huff, Sethos successfully brings the two horses you got for your 16th birthday out of the stables. Without alerting anyone at that. 

He blows the flame in the lamp, leaving the room dark as you two head out to the streets. “Yes, yes. It’s fine, completely fine.” 

Although, you're not the least bit assured. If your parents catch you sneaking out late at night–without a small group of guards with you–the scolding would last weeks. All Sethos is doing is taking your hand in his, nodding as a promise. We won't get caught, and you won’t have to suffer through their endless yelling.

The sounds of their hooves tapping against the stone floor echoes throughout the streets. It’s a sound you pay no mind to in the morning–especially during events, where there are more horses to count. But at night, everything just seems to be louder. But you push forward, seeing as your little friend is exceptionally confident that nothing would go wrong. Oh, to see the look on his face when he does get caught sneaking out with the heir of the royal family this late at night–it makes you curious. Would he feel guilty, or would he feel playful and try again another time?

“This way,” He whispers, redirecting the two of you into an alleyway. You know this place, you often head through here when you need to reach the gatehouse quickly. 

Which has you wondering, where is he even taking you?

There are not many places in the kingdom that would require you to pass by this specific alleyway to the gates. Well, there are none at all. The gates have only one use, and it’s to exit and enter the walls of your kingdom with ease–so why is he bringing you there with not one–but two horses?

Is he planning an escape? There is that possibility, the only problem being that he never told you in advance–how were you to get clothes and daily necessities without any mora on hand? You didn’t even fill a single pouch with the coins, like what they do in drama plays when the main character elopes with the love interest!

If that’s the case, then is this some kind of proposal? It’s true that you find Sethos attractive–you liked the way he carried himself in conversations… his smile, the way he urges you to do the most random things. Like, five years ago when he asked you to play in the mud with him after a storm. Who even offers to do that as a pastime? Your clothes would’ve gotten stained with the dirt, but he insisted otherwise. 

So he’s seriously asking you to elope with him, this is just insanity!

“Sethos–wait!” You stop in your tracks, holding your palm up to his face when he turns around. “Is there… something you want to say?” 

He pauses for a moment, blinking in surprise. What, had you finally caught on? Did you figure him out, with the way he’s acting right now? Holding your hand, guiding you through the kingdom–gods, he hoped not.

He laughs, “What are you even talking about? Read too many fantasy books?”

“I just–” 

“No, I’m not trying to kidnap you–or anything of the sort. We’re going out to a spot I know that could help you relax.” Sethos takes a few deep breaths, no doubt trying to calm his heart from exploding at that very moment. He puts your hand to his chest, looking at you with those bright eyes of his. “Trust me. I won’t do anything to harm you, your parents would kill me if I did.” 

That, they would. But you don’t say it outloud. Instead, you gently nod your head and he smiles.

“Aren’t there any guards around?” You ask, hiding behind a crate–you can’t say the same about your companion, on the other hand, and the horse you’re with right now. (Her head is peeking over the tall crates stacked on top of another, but she looks adorable doing it.)

Sethos has his arm raised in front of you. “Well, yes. But look closely.” 

You squint as you do, but you see Cyno–the highest ranking knight–lead the other guards stationed by the gates to a game of TCG. It was just a sight to see, truly, you knew Cyno loved playing the card game–but not this much.

You try to hold back a chuckle but Sethos catches on, nudging you with his elbow, his lips curving. 

“Let’s go, before they come back.” The boy says, holding the lead rope and leading the three of you to the gates. 

“Did you pay Cyno to do this?”

“Maybe.”

The first thing that greets you outside of the kingdom walls is the familiar blow of the cold night wind, the earth's somewhat comforting dirt smell, and the deafening sounds of crickets around you. Sethos helps you up as you hop on your horse, gesturing for you to follow him into the forest. 

The air only gets colder as you move, racing through the trees as Sethos speeds up. If anyone would pass through the woods now, the first thing they would hear is the laughter you two are letting out. One moment Sethos is in front of you, the second you turn he’s already behind you, preparing to scare you.

You slow down when you realize you were all alone. The trotting of Sethos’ horse can’t be heard, and no matter how loud you shout for him, he wouldn’t pop out of nowhere. You thought this might just be an elaborate set up for another scare he was going to give you, but you’re shocked to see that even after a few moments pass by, he still cannot be found.

Great. It’s the middle of the night, you’re stranded in a forest and you have no clue how to get back to the kingdom, and you have no knight with you. You don’t even know how to use a dagger. This is exactly a plot for an assassination, based on the books you’ve read. 

After some seconds of struggling to get off your horse, you pat her back as a thank you. You’re not sure why you did that, exactly, the gesture just seemed nice. 

Then, the sound of rustling reaches your ears.

It was from behind you–as you turned, you saw nothing but bushes. It was quite dark–so except for the moonlight shining on the field right now, you could barely see anything past the trees. Maybe it was just a rabbit, it always is. So you turn,  paying no mind to the potential danger that could lie beyond it.

Suddenly you’re tackled on the ground, rolling over the patch of grass as someone has their arms around you. You’re tense, trying to break free from their hold–but once you had opened your eyes, you found out it was just Sethos who had, once again, scared the soul out of you.

“What is wrong with you?!” You yell, though playfully–you try to get him off, but he wouldn’t budge. Not at all. In fact, he impossibly hugs you tighter.

The boy doesn’t respond, instead letting go and helping you sit. You try to brush off the grass on your clothes, and once you look up, a yellow-orange glow surrounds the both of you. Fireflies. There are about a handful of them around the field, they look like stars from afar, it’s a mesmerizing sight, really. 

“How do you like it?” Sethos whispered, sitting beside you. 

You smile, “It’s beautiful.”

“I’d hope so. I found out about this place when I was out delivering the letters,” He plucks something from the ground, then reaches for your chin. He gently makes you turn to face him, and you notice the orange glow reflected in his eyes as he does. He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, placing a flower right on top. “Is it to your satisfaction, your highness?”

The action makes your heart skip a beat–you almost think that the two of you were having a moment until he ruffled your hair playfully and looked away. You don’t answer the question.

“Dehya told me you saw me this afternoon lazing around near the guardhouse,” He muttered, his voice softly muffled since he kept his hand on his mouth. “I was actually chatting with them. A lot of the guards seem to like you now that you’re running around the castle more often.”

“Really?” 

“They kinda look forward to seeing you now,” He hummed, “I guess the same could be said for me… Except–I was first, of course.”

“Oh, so you only liked me now, is that it?” You reached over and poked his sides teasingly, the boy laughed in response, trying to get your hand out.

“No–no! Of course not! I mean… I’ve always liked you, you know? But in like–not in a weird way.” Sethos looks away once again, but you catch a glimpse of the red dusting his cheeks. The boy was a liar, and you knew that. 

He cleared his throat before speaking up once again, trying to clear up the awkward tension in the air.“A-anyway, how’s the banquet preparation going?”

The banquet was the last thing you wanted to talk about, if you were being honest. You came here to relax–not to talk about this again. You groan when you let yourself fall into the grass, Sethos turns his head from the sudden movement. He laughs,  “Well, not a fan of the topic?”

“Talk about something else. I beg.” 

“Okay then,” He reaches for something in his leather bag, he doesn’t take his hand out yet.  “My friend, Tighnari. Oh, not to talk about it again but, you guys should totally invite him–well, his kingdom, to the banquet.”

You roll your eyes when he mentions the event once more, “I don’t think that’s talking about something else.”

“Anyway,” The boy grinned, trying to continue the topic anyway. “He’s a botanist, so he’s great with flowers. One day, he told me that if you pressed flowers, you could get a pretty good bookmark.”

He gives you said bookmark, smiling. “So, here. White roses in resin, since you like to read.”

Your lips curved as you received the box, sitting back up and muttering a thank you.  A singular flower could be seen in the middle, its petals made to look as if it was still blooming. There were a few scattered branches around, and some leaves on the side for decorative purposes. The translucent resin only added to its beauty, it wasn’t too thick–nor too thin, definitely a bookmark you could use for your reading. You struggled finding random objects to mark the page you were on anyway.

“Thank you, Sethos.” You muttered shyly, “You just know everything, don’t you?”

You still held the bookmark in your hands, admiring the details of the flowers–the placement alone is already something to be amazed about. Everything fits perfectly, right to your preferences. You wondered if the flowers itself represent some sort of meaning–Sethos may not look like it, but he says things with hidden hints most of the time. 

“How did you meet Tighnari?” You asked, glancing over the bookmark once more. “You mentioned he was from another kingdom, I’m wondering how you got to know him.”

He leans back, hands supporting his weight from behind his back. “Pure coincidence,”

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah. Cyno and I got assigned to a mission, we were just going to accompany the King and the Queen for their afternoon tea time.” He continued, “Asked Cyno to come with me and walk around, we were bored to death. He refused and just stayed put. I walked around and saw the guy in their garden fiddling with the plants.”

“He was complaining about the placement. ‘The flowers won’t get any sunlight from here, and it’s way too unaligned!’ ” He imitated, you chuckle at his horrible impersonation. 

You smile, “I’d like to get to know him someday.”

“Oh, you should! His skill is just impressive. Once you’re done chatting, you’re bound to know a thing or two about plants.” He grins.

“You know, you always seem to bring people like that into your life.” You say, “People who are really good at what they do. Tighnari with his plants, Cyno with–whatever he’s doing, and you with your… well, everything.”

Sethos turns to look at you, a look of disbelief and playfulness. “What? My charm? Come on, your highness. I’m honored but–”

“No, I meant more with your ability to just… click,  with anyone. You’re not charming, not one bit.” You reply softly, seeing the way he looks almost sad with what you said–even if you knew he was just acting. 

“Okay, maybe add the charm, too. You do have a way of making people comfortable.” 

The boy chuckles, clearly flattered–but deflects the compliment with a shrug. “It comes natural to me, nothing impressive.”

“If you say so. I think otherwise,” You lay back down, looking at the stars. “But you are lovely to be around.”

Sethos is quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands–pondering your words. He had known you for many years now, but still, moments like this are… uncommon. Very rarely does Sethos open up to you, and the reverse. He thinks it may just be the exhaustion letting you speak freely. At the end of the day, you have a reputation to keep up as royalty.

He tilts his head, giving you that easygoing smile of his–a slight red still visible on his cheeks. “Someone’s gotta look out for you, your highness. I know Cyno or the other guards may just be more capable than I am, but–” 

The boy finds a place beside you, laying on his side and turning to face you. “I have certain things that they don’t have. I’ve certainly known you for longer, I think that’s a plus.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, “I’ll hold you to that. Now you must follow me when I go to the market early in the morning.”

“Don’t I already do that?” 

You hum, “Oh, I guess you do. You’re even more fitting, then.” 

A silence, once again fills the air.

“I have much to do tomorrow,” You mumbled, eyes slowly closing with your fatigue. “Will you have some free time during the afternoon? Let’s eat lunch together,” 

“I doubt it’s appropriate for a messenger to be dining with royalty alone.” He says. 

You yawn, subtly stretching your back before rolling over to lay on your back, where you wouldn’t face him. “Don’t worry. It’ll just be like… friends eating together.”

Friends. The word is unfamiliar in your throat–It’s something more than friends, what you two have. Definitely not lovers, despite the feeling you get in your stomach when you see him look at you in a way anyone else couldn’t. You weren’t just friends either–assuming that the softness in his tone whenever he speaks to you was only reserved for you. 

He nods, saying why not?  You smile in response, falling asleep in the bed of flowers. It’s oddly comforting, actually, and quite cozy. You’ve never slept on the ground before. 

“Your highness,” Sethos whispers, checking if you were awake. The sun had already started to rise, and the kingdom was starting to get lively once more as he heard the chatter of the guards just a little beyond the forest. He smiles, realizing you indeed have fallen asleep. He’s glad that you somehow found comfort, even if you weren’t at home. 

He reaches to carry you in his arms, gently raising you up–careful not to wake you when you’re sleeping soundly. “Come on, highness. Hold tight.”

When he reaches to call for the horses, he wonders if you’ve ever stopped to think about what he truly feels towards you. It’s the saddest thing ever, that you don’t know his heart is full of you. He adores you more than words could express–yet you don’t have a clue, only because he never had the guts to tell you, not once. 

Sethos walks towards the kingdom, you in his arms, and the lead ropes wrapped around his wrist. The sun shines on your face, and he wonders if you’re bothered by the sudden brightness, especially after spending the night in the woods. 

As much as you hate it–he’s proud that you’re now the person organizing the yearly banquet. He knows how much you dread the event the day it comes, you hate socializing with people you barely knew. But he wishes that maybe you’ll change your mind this time around now that his friends would be coming along. People from the Akademiya, even if you don’t know them, he’ll be the one to introduce you to the people he also treasures.

Being the future ruler of Vehero, you certainly do have a longer list of responsibilities than he does. Although… he hopes that one day, his name wouldn’t be something on an endless list of chores.

@ knnichs 2023 ﹑ do not repost, republish, translate, feed to ai or modify any of my works. doing so can and will result into me blocking you.

reblogs with comments are INCREDIBLY appreciated! go scream go feral idc i will eat all of them up and run away with a familiarly shaped reblog in my mouth, thank you.

wow this was an eyesore to write. dawg i AM NERVOUS ABOUT THE DIALOGUE THERE ARE SO MANY IM SO SCARED ITS REDUNDANT i hate dialogue i say i hate it. this was so hard to write but i lowkey enjoyed it too (no1 party anthem on loop I WAS SO LOCKED IN) this took so long too .... ong i am GLAD its finally over hell yeah :pray: i MIGHT do a part two (keyword MIGHT) where they finally get together . .. But probably not im too lazy thank you goodnight

[toziers]

i don't know how much interest there might be but i want to try and run(?) some sort of like. fic/art posting? for the five year anniversary of it2019? i know i myself will be posting a fic but it would be so cool to flood the tags with a round of fresh content in honor of the half-decade. any ideas any concepts from the crowd...?

[burymagdalene]

New Year's Wish - S. Reid x Reader

In which reader has to "deal" with their horny boyfriend attached to their hip all night, leading them to sort him out in the bathroom.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Fluff & Smut (18+ pls pls) tags: subbyish spencer, semi-public sex, fondling, masturbation (m receiving) just a bit of crying, overstimulation.. smut, and love! wc: 2.2k. a/n: My first fic that came to fruition after a flu spell! I had a vision for the vibe of this but didn't know how to attach them in the cute 3 pictures above a fanfiction way.. sorry-- I DID IT

New Year’s Eve always feels like that holiday where you always have high hopes for, but consistently falls flat. Luckily, this year you have your sweet boyfriend, Spencer by your side to help you through the social interactions with mutual friends all night. Though, the alcohol helps alongside that as well. 

You’re looking into the mirror with squinted eyes at your reflection, analyzing what more to add to your outfit as Spencer gawks at you from your bed. “Spence, should I have my striped tights with this dress, or no tights? I’m worried I’ll be freezing.”

Spencer forcibly peels his eyes away from your curves in the tight dark gray dress you have on. “Tights. Yeah.” He pulls his lips in for a polite smile.

“Roger that!” You walk over to retrieve the tights from your dresser, Spencer’s music plays softly from a speaker and you sway along to it, “I like this one.” You walk back over to your boyfriend who still sits rigidly on your bed, despite how many times he’s been in it. 

“Would you like to do the honors?” With a hand reached out, you display the tights to Spencer.

Spencer gives you a full-tooth grin, “Why yes I would” and pats the space next to him on your bed. You dramatically plop down as Spencer stands up, between your legs. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you smile at Spencer as he starts to pull one of your stocking legs up your foot. Slowly shimmying it up, he traces over your ankle and up your calf. 

“I’m a little nervous for tonight, I haven’t been to this house party in a couple years, but it was pretty fun last time,” you make conversation. Your good friend Tatum had invited you and Spencer to come to a New Year’s Eve house party at her boyfriend, Eric’s house. You had been a few years prior in support of her endeavors of seducing said Eric, which obviously went well. 

Spencer hums and once the other leg has been covered, takes your hands to pull you up so that you’re standing and he can pull the tights up your waist. His hands flip your dress up to pull over your underwear and straighten it back down once the tights are on. “So pretty,” he starts laughing “you look so pretty you don’t have to be nervous about anything ever.”

“Shut up,” you giggle and pull him by his neck in for a kiss. “Let’s go, the sooner we leave the sooner I can rummage through Eric's stuff.”

Within 30 minutes you have arrived at Eric's, made pleasantries, taken a shot with your friend and some of her friends you pretend to know the names of, and are sitting on the couch side-by-side with Spencer, who has his hand freakishly high up your thigh.

Conversation goes better than your pre-party nerves prompted you to believe, there’s a good amount of people so that you can watch, and the wine being served was not bitterly disgusting. 

Spencer now rests his head on your shoulder, his side pressed neatly up against yours as he draws mindless circles into your patterned tights. He slowly moves up to your ear “kiss?” he mumbles softly. 

You position yourself so you're craning down a bit to make eye contact, and raise a suspicious eyebrow. PDA is not something Spencer is obsessed with, so kissing in a room with a large group of people should’ve been your first warning of how Spencer was feeling tonight. Regardless, you relent, how could you not kiss him in any circumstance? You lean down and peck him softly. 

Spencer sighs into the kiss, and sighs even harder when you pull away. You giggle and poke his side softly with your index finger. “I think we’re supposed to save all the kissing for midnight, love.” 

He lazily laughs, shifts his head and plants a wet kiss onto your exposed neck, which causes you to blush with how open he’s being in front of everyone. “Who made that rule,” he whines “I thought you’re allowed to kiss whenever but are supposed to especially kiss at midnight.”

“Hmm, well actually I don’t kno-” he cuts you off with a giggle and a firm kiss to your lips. You pull away, blush covering your face. “Okay.. ummm” you fidget a bit and stand up for a moment after plotting, pulling Spencer up by his hands. 

You take him upstairs to the bathroom for guests of the host, not the bathroom downstairs for every other partygoer, and shut the door behind you both. “Spencer!” you laugh as he softly pushes you up against the door and whines a pitiful “sorry” between the kisses he’s peppering on your neck and chest. 

Your eyes instinctively flutter shut for a moment as you whisper “just for a bit.. I wanna hang out some more still…”

Spencer laughs against your neck, “yeah, sure.” You shake your head in disbelief at how cocky he is, well, rightfully is. He pulls away and tucks your hair behind your ears, eyes staring at your face. Spencer trails his hands from where they’re cupping your face slowly down your neck, tracing your skin, to where your dress scoops down on your chest. “This dress.. So perfect.” He smiles at you. 

“Hmm, thank you. Thought that you might like it.” You play with his tie around his neck, untightening it just a bit. You use it as leverage to pull him towards the sink, which you are now hopping up on to take a seat. Spencer menuevers himself between your legs, wraps his hands around your waist and deepens the kiss. 

Typically, it shouldn’t shock you that Spencer can get hard relatively quickly when kissing you, because you yourself are getting a little shifty with desire as the kiss continues. However, the firmness of his boner against your inner thigh makes you want to mock him for it anyway. 

“Spencer! You’re hard!” You laugh and push him back a little so you can look at it. Though you enjoy embarrassing him for it, the desire you have to immediately look at it, touch it, talk about it, reveals how excited you are about it. 

Spencer lets his head fall back, “I can’t help it! Please stay here a little longer.” He begs softly with a grin of amusement. 

You trace your fingertips down his button up shirt and unbutton the bottom three buttons slowly, moving them to his side so you can properly graze your nails against where his happy trail begins above his pants. “I dunno…” you tease and work your hand around the outline of his dick through his trousers, a rush of air blowing out of Spencer's nose. “It sounds like they’re having a lot of fun down there.” 

“I could be having a lot of fun down there!” Spencer quips, referring to his boner that's painfully twitching against his leg now. 

Testing his limits, you slip away from him and jump back down to the floor, readjusting your dress. “How about you just take care of yourself baby?” You joke, expecting a huff and a petulant eye roll coming from Spencer in return.

Instead, he lets out a deep sigh immediately followed by a quiet “kay,” as he quickly unbuckles his belt, stunning you. 

You stare at his ministrations, quite frantic with how desperately he’s trying to take his dick out. Spencer pulls his underwear down just enough so that he can grip himself, his leaky tip not going unnoticed with the carefully constructed bathroom mood lighting. 

Spencer takes his shaky hand and carefully rubs his tip with his palm covering it, he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure as his jaw drops.

Your jaw is also dropped as you watch your boyfriend whine with every tug he’s giving his dick. You’re stuck between staying and watching, maybe even giving this poor soul a break and helping him out, and continuing your teasing nature with getting ready to go back downstairs. You two make eye contact in the mirror.

You pull up your purse from the ground onto the sink, rummaging through it to find your lipstick. Looking in the mirror, it's all smudged off and your hair is a bit of a ruffled mess with how Spencer’s fingers were just pulling through it. 

Spencer continues to work himself staring at you in the reflection. You apply your lip liner and he twists his fist around his dick, a small trail of precum dripping from his knuckles. You take out your ruddy lipstick and he grabs the counter with one hand, watching and working desperately hard to keep his eyes trained on your reflection. “Ah, my god, baby-” Spencer mumbles, the high pitched tone in his voice indicating just how unfair you’re being towards him. 

You gulp, feigning apathy, and toss your hair a bit in the mirror, fixing some strands and making it look like you were not being groped in the bathroom moments prior. Giving Spencer an award winning smile in the mirror he grips the base of his dick, holding off the inevitable so he can stare a little bit longer at you in the mirror.

Reaching over beside him to grab toilet paper, ignoring how his whines escalate as your body brushes his, you put the small piece of paper between your lips, dabbing off access lipstick onto it. You look over at Spencer's pinched eyebrows and hand him the toilet paper with your lipstick stain with a chuckle. 

Spencer makes a high pitched “mmn” as he grabs the paper, shaking his head at the situation, embarrassed with himself. Between his pointer and middle finger of his left hand the toilet paper is held loosely, his right hand starts moving up and down again.

Shuffling from side to side, every pass of his fist, every soft moan, makes your legs numb to the directions from your brain screaming at them to leave the room, join the festivities downstairs. “Jesus, Spence.” Your eyes travel directly to where he’s pumping himself, breaking eye contact. 

“Don’t want you to go,” he mumbles again. You can tell by the way he’s talking, mumbling and hushed that he’s focused only on cumming now. “Want, uh… wanna watch you till I-”

As much as you pride yourself in being a nonchalant, charismatic tease, the way your boyfriend's bottom lip quivers and his eyes wet, you absolutely cannot bring yourself to leave his shaking frame to cum in solitude. You’re not evil!

So you scoot towards him, butt pressing against the sink again as you pull Spencer in by the tie, sucking a mark into his flushed neck. He gasps and runs his thumb over the spot below his tip that makes him see stars and cums all over the lipstick printed toilet paper you gave him. The right side of Spencer’s neck now sporting the same lipstick print. 

The first time you try to help him out through this process is also a form of torture for Spencer. You push his hand aside and grip him yourself, sticky cum covering your hand immediately as he sucks in a sharp breath “I dunno..” he says through gritted teeth.

You pump him into overstimulation as he rocks his hips into and away from your fist, not knowing if he wants to accept the red hot pleasure coming from your hand right now or to hide from it. Pressing your body close to his was a mistake since now your pretty striped tights now have a suspiciously cum-looking stain on them.

“S-sorry,” Spencer feebly makes out as he catches his cum rolling down the fabric. “Shitt.” He draws out and squeezes his eyes shut in remorse and the only reaction you have is to laugh. The dramatics of his cum on your leg not impacting you as hard as Spencer, who is the one with oxytocin flowing down to his toes. 

You hum softly, slow your hand down his softening length and run your clean hand through his hair, moving it from his face. “That's okay baby, feel good?” Smiling dreamily at him, he cracks his weepy eyes open with a nod. 

“You actually c-cannot put that dress on again. I feel like a neanderthal.” Spencer's head falls against your shoulder. 

“Huh, well you might be in luck because I’m not sure I can put this dress on again because there is a gnarly cumstain on the bottom of it now.” You tease lightly and take his jaw in your hand for a kiss. 

Spencer winces and looks down, “Nuh uh! Just the tights. Cruel woman.”

The efforts you made to make yourself presentable earlier had to be repeated, alongside Spencer who you cleaned up with toilet paper and dabbed his eyes dry again. The two of you had actually missed the countdown into New Year which you are sure is because Spencer was whining too loudly for you two to hear the “3…2..1..” from voices downstairs, but most likely you two were kissing anyway, so whatever the rule is for kissing on New Years, you and Spencer rang in the New Year properly.

[yoditopascal]

Sweetest Pie

summary: The Worst Logan isn’t so bad after all. (logan/wolverine x fem black reader)

content warning: Wade is your best friend that’s a warning all on its own, some angst (like literally the tiniest bit) cussing, mutual pining, making out, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, dirty talking? (I’m so bad at writing it lmaoo), creampie, actual pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it fellas), dacryphilia, post DP&W, breaking the bed, scent kink, overstimulation, he technically sniffs your underwear??, Deadpool being Deadpool, MINORS DNI

a/n: The Sweetest Pie by Megan the Stallion is playing in the background while y’all fuck, that’s all.

tag list: @allmyn1ghts @figsnpassionfruits @dragonqueen89 @shebby-the-webby

Ducking down out of the way, Wade just barely makes it out of the line of fire as a glass mug hits the wall behind him, shattering on impact.

“You wanna run that by me again bub?”

“That was my favorite mug!”

“Repeat what you fucking said!” He snarls, hand balled into tight fists, it’s taking everything in his power not to maul the idiot with his claws….again

“All I said was you're more pent up than a nun doing squats in a cucumber field!” Wade said looking back at the wall, there was already a dent forming, one of many that had been popping up since the older mutant had decided to move in with him.

It's been 3 months since Logan started living with Wade and Blind Al and he’s about fucking had it. Laura had moved out after the first month, needing her own space, but she still frequently visited, he honestly was tempted to join her but figured she wouldn’t want her old man around all the time cramping her style.

Logan could feel a headache coming on as he pinched the bridge of his nose as Wade spoke again.

“You, my little honey badger, are lacking in the hanky panky department and no amount of self loving in the bathroom mirror at midnight is gonna fix that.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” He asked, sometimes he felt like instead of forming actual sentences Wade just put a bunch of random shit together so he could hear himself speak.

“Oh my gooood you’re so old, I’m talking about sex grandpa, you know, fucking? The horizontal hula? Bumping uglies? Filling the cream donut?”

“Stop.” Logan said with a look of disgust.

“I can smell your sexual frustration from here.” Wade groaned. “You need to spend a little less time brooding around the house like you're a DC character, and maybe spend a little more time doing hot yoga.” He was as he holds up a finger and boops Logan on the nose.

Logan swats his hand away but Wade continues paying no mind to his attitude as he points toward the front door.

“It just so happens that I know a great friend o’ mine who’d have absolutely no problems taming the beast for you bub and oh look at that, she happens to live right across the hall.” He said with a wink

“Don’t bring her into this.” Logan said, waving him off as he went to sit on the couch. Unfortunately Wade knew exactly how he felt about you, having figured it out during their whole ordeal with his variants, Paradox and Cassandra and the bastard had yet to let him live it down.

“Come on Wolvie you can cut the sexual tension you two have with a knife, it’s so thick!” He groans again, throwing himself on the couch beside him dramatically. “It might even be thicker than ours!” Wade said as he leans on Logan’s shoulder fluttering his scarred eyes at him. He shrugs him off, turning the tv on hoping the sound of whatever was on would drown him out but Wade just kept going.

“Stop being a pussy and talk to her!”

“Oh like how you talked to Vanessa?” He snapped back, his anger reaching its limit.

“First of all, we’re a working progress right now and second of all, ouch! Who hurt you?”

Growing tired of Wade and his endless jabbering Logan stood going to grab his jacket from the closet so he could leave.

“Where are you huffing and puffing off too big bad wolf?”

“Anywhere but here.” He said slamming the door shut behind him.

After a few drinks at Sister Margaret's and time to cool his head, Logan returns home to get some chores out of the way. He was far over due to wash his stuff and his hero costume was really starting to fuck with his nose, so, shoving a few handfuls of quarters from Al’s disco dust fund jar into his pockets,he loaded up his hamper and heads down to the laundry room in the basement.

Upon entering he almost immediately bumps into you. You were kicking the dryer when he found you, pissed because it ate your quarters, not paying attention to your surroundings at all.

Digging around in his pockets he bumps his shoulder to yours to get your attention. Startled you nearly jumped out of your skin as he held a hand up in surrender, not meaning to scare you.

“Sorry, just thought I’d offer up some of mine.” He said, pulling a handful of change from his back pocket.

“Oh. that’s ok, I’m-” you start but are stopped when he grabs your hands with one of his and unceremoniously dumps the change into your palms.

“I wasn’t suggesting, take 'em I got more than enough.”

With a silent nod you thank him as he shrugs you off with a “Don’t mention it.”

Logan starts to load up his laundry into the washer next to yours, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you toss your wet clothes into the dryer. You don’t notice as a piece of yellow fabric falls to the floor between you, Logan turns his head to say something, at first not realizing what it was, until it dawns on him that, holy shit, it's a pair of your underwear…and they had Wolverine on them.

They were boxer briefs, nothing inherently sexy about them, but the scent they gave off, clean laundry soap mixed with the smell of your core had Logan reeling.

A small smirk crawled across his face as he started to imagine you wearing them around your house, nothing else adorning your body except for an oversized tee shirt that looked eerily like one of his own, he thought it was cute. Turning his head back to finish his task he kept loading his clothes not showing interest in the underwear to keep from making things awkward. One thing he couldn't deny was your scent. The scent of your core that lingered on the fabric was making his head swim, it was utterly intoxicating, this definitely didn't help with growing his frustration.

After he loaded the washer he pulled a flask from his pocket taking a shot of liquor inside to compose himself as he realized you still hadn’t noticed you dropped them. “You uh dropped something sweetheart.” he nodded towards them. Horrified, you snatch them up and throw them in the dryer.

“Oh god I-I’m sorry! I-“ you start to stutter, at a complete loss for words you slam the dryer lid close and grab your basket ready to leave and hide away in your apartment for the rest of your life until Logan stops you with a strong hand that engulfs your wrist.

“No I-uh I get it. He was your hero right?”

“Yeah he was… but so are you!” You started but quickly press a fist to your forehead in frustration.

“Sorry I don’t want you to feel like you're obligated to live up to him or anything, you’re your own person! I just-“ you were interrupted by Logan closing the distance between you. In your frustration a few of your locs had slipped from your ponytail and were hanging in your face. Logan reached towards you moving one from your face tucking it behind your ear, his bright hazel eyes scanning you carefully taking in your features with a smirk.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” He said, your scent was sending his sensing into overdrive, he could smell your sweat mixed with the soap you used with the spicy aroma of your arousal starting to peek through.

You look down to the ground still slightly embarrassed but mostly warm from the close proximity before you feel a finger lift your chin causing your gaze to meet Logan’s once more. “S-sorry I ramble when I’m nervous.” It came out almost as a whisper, causing Logan to chuckle. It was an annoying habit you had picked up from your best friend Wade over the years he noticed. The intensity of his stare was starting to send your stomach into knots but not in a bad way.

The sound of the laundry room door opening and closing as another tenant enters quickly separates them. Silently the pair looked away from each other as the tenant loaded up his belongings in the open washer. He quickly spared a passing glance between the two of you who awkwardly tried to stare at anything but each other before shrugging his shoulders and leaving.

An awkward silence blanket over the two of you as you shuffle your feet before you scooped up your basket again.

“Listen Logan-“

“Darlin I-“

You both started at the same time. A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest causing your cheeks to feel warm. You smiled down at your feet and tucked another stray loc behind your ear before Logan spoke again.

“You first.”

“I was just gonna ask, did you maybe wanna come over for dinner tonight?”

Logan thought of a million different reasons why he shouldn’t. As if you could see the hesitation across his face you spoke up again.

“Before you say no, I got booze. Something a bit stronger than what I normally drink but it’s right up your alley. It was a gift from Wade.”

Of course it was from Wade.

“I’m also making pie.”

Well shit.

He let out a small sigh, looking down at your big pleading doe eyes before he shrugged; “Sure,why not.” Afterall how could he say no to you when you looked like that?

He could almost imagine Wade fist pumping the air in excitement at the aspect of the two spending alone time together, the blubbering idiot.

You flashed Logan another bright smile before heading to leave, you paused in the doorway for millisecond, before asking “See you at 7?”

“It’s a date doll.”

Seven o’clock rolled around much too quickly for either of them. Logan was busy fussing with his hair in the mirror trying to get the tufts of hair that usually stick up to lay down when Wade walked into the bathroom unceremoniously.

“Don’t you look positively ravishing tonight, got a hot date peanut?”

“Fuck off.” He growls, giving up with his hair and going to throw on a flannel over his wife beater.

“Wait, you do! Holy dick cheese Batman it’s finally happening!” Wade squealed excitedly

“What the hell are you even doing in here?” Logan asked in the doorway of the bathroom observing Wade, he was dressed in a tee shirt and a pair of hello kitty pajama pants and slippers, Logan rolled his eyes before heading to the kitchen to grab a beer.

“Had to take a shit, thanks for asking, but don’t change the subject!” Wade said following him into the kitchen “Who’s the lucky gal?” He asked leaning on the island, his head propped dreamily on his fist. “Or guy we don’t judge here. Wait wait wait! It's not who I think it is, is it?”

Logan didn’t say anything as he guzzled down his drink pre-gaming for the night, turning to grab another from the fridge before plopping down on the couch behind him.

At his silence Wade kicked his feet and clapped his hands excitedly, swinging around in his seat to look at Logan. Mary Puppins barked from her spot on the couch beside him.

“Fuck the Bachelorette and Love Island! The producers are going to make a killing outta this!” He paced excitedly flopping down beside him struggling to keep his composure. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?! We are gonna make millions, no fuck that billions off your sex tape alone! I mean you two love birds are going to blossom in internal passion as the stars align with the future of the virgin Mary!” He said hugging Logan from the side.

Confused as fuck he shrugs Wade off him with a frown as he stands to his feet looking at his roommate with a raised brow. Downing the last of his beer he puts the empty bottle on the counter and heads for the door not wanting to be late.

“Oooh don’t forget to wear a condom, peanut! Remember wrap it before you tap it, before you attack her wrap your whacker! And if you’re not gonna sack it, come home and-!“

Logan slams the door shut before Wade could finish anymore of his bullshit.

He raised his hand to knock at your door but hesitated for a moment. Memories of the you from his timeline flooded his brain for a brief moment and he lowered his hand. He had really fucked you over royally in his own timeline and then you had died before he had a chance to fix that. Was he even worth your time in this one?

He shook the thoughts from his head and squared his shoulders, this was his second chance, a chance to fix all the shit he messed up before and he’d be damned if he was gonna waste this opportunity.

Just as he raised his hand to knock again you tore the door open with wide eyes.

“Logan hi!”

“Hey- you ok kid? You look outta breathe.” He questioned looking you up and down in concern while also unabashedly checking you out.

“Y-yeah I’m sorry I was about to come over and ask Wade if I could borrow something but I-it’s fine come on in!” you said ushering him in before the door behind you both.

The inside of your apartment is cute. The layout is much the same as his own place that he shares with Wade and Blind Al but yours just felt a little more homey to him.

Movie posters and works of art decorated your walls, there was a bookcase in the living room full of all kinds of books and knick knacks that you had collected over the years. On a table by the tv was a record player with a decent sized stack of vinyls. The whole place just screamed you.

“Dinner’s just about ready!” You said drawing his attention back to you. You had changed clothes since he last saw you in the laundry room, your outfit hugging your soft curves in all the right places.

“I was comin’ over to see if Wade had some ice cream for the pie, but I guess we could go without it.” You said leading him into the dining room with a smile, you’re always smiling at him, he noticed. “I hope you like blueberry!”

Logan never thought he'd see the day where someone would cook a nice meal for him let alone the variant of someone he treated so callously before.

He winced internally trying not to think about that. He was here now, not in his old shitty universe where you were gone, but in a new one, one where he had friends, a daughter, a family. It was a chance to start over.

“Sounds great darlin, I’m starving.”

Once you sit down for dinner Logan immediately tucks in, he could smell what you were cooking hours ago from across the hall and damn if it wasn’t the best thing he ever put in his stomach.

The two of you made light conversation as you ate, you poured yourself a glass of wine while Logan had the hard stuff, single malt scotch on the rocks. It had been a gift from Wade after one of his missions, an expensive one at that, and Logan savored every drop of it.

After a few more drinks the pair cleared their empty plates, wrapping up the leftovers of their meal up in portions so Logan could take some home with him. You were pulling the pie from the oven when you heard the telltale sound of running water, looking over you see Logan, rolling up his sleeves with a dish towel draped over his shoulder as he started to do the dishes.

You bite your lip to physically keep from moaning and embarrassing yourself on the spot, domesticity looked damn good on him.

His nose twitched as he smelled your arousal spike for a second, thinking it better to keep that to himself he shifted on his feet as he dried a dish and put it on the rack.

“You don’t have to-“ You started pulling off your oven mitts. They were Star Wars themed, nerdy like the rest of your apartment.

God you were such a geek! You thought flustered, while shoving them onto the counter behind you.

“Nah you cooked, it’s the least I could do.” He said not moving from his spot at the sink

“Logan.” You said firmly placing a hand on your hip. “You’re a guest.”

“And you cooked.” He reiterated,cocking an eyebrow your way. “I’m not budging on this darlin.”

You sigh defeatedly as you grab the towel from his shoulder. “Fine, at least let me help.”

The two of you do the dishes in silence, him washing and you drying, your fingers brushing against each other every so often.

“Dinner was great.” Logan said awkwardly trying to break the stifling silence that enveloped you.

“Good I’m glad you liked it.” You smiled down at your hands timidly, refusing to let him see you cheesing as hard as you were.

“Sorry for not being better company, I know you’re more used to people talkin’ your ear off.”

Wade begrudgingly crosses his mind.

"I'm just uh not so good with people. Makes me anxious.” He admitted, it took a lot for him to come out and say it but he was comfortable with you, he trusted you.

“I get it, I’m the same way that’s why I’m always around Wade. He usually does all the talking for me.” You say fondly thinking back to all the times Wade had been your emotional support extrovert.

Logan honestly had no idea how you put up with him.

“Besides I think your company’s just fine Logan, I like having you around.”

I like being around you too, he wanted to say but he couldn’t get it out. Instead he settled for brushing his shoulder against yours, a small smile dancing across his features as you smiled back up at him.

Flicking the water from your hand as you both finished up, you dry your hands on another rag before offer it up to Logan, his fingers brushing against yours for the umpteenth time that night.

When you look up he’s staring at you, his eyes taking in your features again, flickering between your face and your mouth. You can’t quite place what the emotion is behind his eyes but it makes your belly feel warm and your chest flutters.

Maybe it’s the alcohol you both had, though you know for a fact it takes a whole hell of a lot more than what you had to get you both drunk, but you could have sworn he was getting closer to you.

You start to back up just as he moves to close the distance between you. Chest to chest, or more like chest to sternum as he was almost a whole foot taller than you, Logan starts to lean down sniffing you as your back hits the counter behind you.

“Your heart’s racing.” He says

You had almost completely forgotten about his heightened senses. You were so nervous this whole evening, hoping that everything would go right, could he hear you this whole time? Oh god could he smell you?

“You smell good too.” He says moving to stroke your face with the back of his hand, confirming your fears. You clench your legs together tightly, hoping to at least dampen the smell of how wet you were becoming, causing him to chuckle.

“No use hiding it doll, I can smell you from a mile away.” He said leaning down so that his face is closer to yours.

“Logan…” you whisper. His eyes never leaving your mouth.

“Hm?”

“T-the pie…” You stuttered nervously as your own eyes drifted down to his mouth. You worked so hard on the pie you didn’t know if you’d hate it more if it went to waste or if he moved away from you at that moment.

You wanted more than anything for him to stay where he was, caging you in at the counter like a frightened little mouse.

“It can wait sweetheart.” He said, finally claiming your lips as his own.

He pulls back for a moment to look at you, dipping to place a gentle peck on your lips, as if he’s asking if this is ok.

You wrap your arms around him, dragging his mouth back down to yours, he moves his hands to the back of your thighs hoisting you up onto the counter behind you, grinding himself into you as the kiss deepens.

Logan hesitates in the kiss for a moment, pulling himself away from you as if he realizes something. When you try to lean back in and kiss him again he stops you, holding you at arm’s length searching your eyes for something, anything he could use to make you hate him in this timeline like you undoubtedly did in his old one but he found nothing but adoration.

“You-“ he starts to speak, his voice a little shaky “You don’t want this sweetheart, I’m not a good man.”

I’m not your hero, he meant to say.

You place a hand on his cheek rubbing softly at his mutton chops with your thumb.

“Please stop telling me what I fucking want.” You say leaning back in to peck at his lips. “I want you, not a hero, or this timeline’s Logan, or any other Logan out there, just you. You’re not the Worst Logan, you're just you and I want all of you.” You finish while leaning up into him, waiting for his response.

Raising an eyebrow and at a complete loss for words, having rarely heard you cuss, Logan smirks before leaning back down to meet you the rest of the way recapturing your lips with a “Yes ma’am.”

His right hand comes up to cup your jaw, gently running the pad of his thumb over the skin before running his hand up to weave his finger through your locs.

You hop off the counter, grabbing him by his flannel your mouth reconnects with his as you lead him into your bedroom, he kicks the door shut behind him.

You start to kiss down his jaw before Logan stops you with a growl. He picks you up and tosses you onto the bed before his lips reconnect with yours.

His hands find their way under your clothes to paw at you, as you free him from the confines of his flannel. Tossing it behind him, it hits your iPod dock causing music to start playing but neither of you care, too enraptured in each other to even notice. Logan pulls away from your mouth only long enough to pull your shirt over your head, his hands trailing down to pull down your pants and underwear next.

He grabs you by your hips dragging you to the edge of the bed, as he kneels down in front of you, eye level with your hot core.

You throw your head back with a moan at the first drag of his tongue. Your legs finding their way around his shoulders as he drags his nose and tongue up and down teasing you.

He presses his mouth against your clit, sucking on it before pulling away and flicking it with his tongue, drawing circles and nipping at it with his teeth.

Watching you through dark lashes, he drags his hand down your body bringing it to his mouth, he licks his finger, bringing it to your wet cunt as he slowly begins to move it in and out of you, curling it against your gummy walls searching until he finds the right spot. You let out a strangled half-sob as he leans back down pressing his mouth against your clit again, sucking and flicking at the hard nub.

“Shit,” you rasp out, reaching out for him. He knew you were getting close, he could tell from the way you pulsed around him as he added another finger.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you felt your orgasm building. “Please, right there!” You choked, eyes closing as you threw your head back.

“So fucking wet for me already and I barely touched you.” Logan chuckles. You stifled a noise as your impending orgasm builds in your gut.

“I-I’m gonna-!” You start to cry out but are cut off by a sob.

“I gotcha darlin, I’m right here.” He mumbles into your pussy as he reaches his free hand out to hold your hips open for him, your hands frantically bury themselves in his hair, desperate for something to hang on to. He carries on lapping at you as you squirm talking you through your orgasm as he rubbed his nose to your clit, drawing it out of you as his fingers continue to fuck in and out of you.

“That’s it sweetheart.” He sighs as he keeps fucking you on his fingers, his intensity increasing as he latches himself back onto your clit devouring you like a man starved, you come almost instantly. It’s when he looks up at you, hazel eyes dark and hungry, that you finally lose it, your second orgasm of the night ripping through like a freight train.

Standing back to his feet Logan licks your residue from his lips and fingers, chin glistening with your slick.

You sit up immediately grabbing at his belt, fingers rushed and fumbling with the buckle, he replaces your hands quickly unbuckling it before pulling the hem of his shirt up over his head.

Reaching behind you, you free your chest from your bra, just as he kicks his pants off. Logan pushes you backwards, your back hitting the soft mattress beneath you as he stalks over towards you on his hands and knees.

He inhales deeply through his nose taking in your scent, the aroma of you mixed with your arousal is intoxicating and is driving him absolutely feral, with a wet kiss he bites down hard where your neck and shoulder meet, where your scent’s the strongest, nearly drawing blood, before he’s back on you, covering your mouth with his own kissing you viciously as if you’d fade away from existence if he let you go.

He laps at the spot he had previously bitten you as he slowly pulls away, soothing the skin there. The mark was already gone, thanks to your healing factor, but god you could still feel it and you secretly ached that he’d do it again.

You soon feel the head of his cock running along your folds, it’s thick, and hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick hole. Then without warning he’s pushing into you, sheathing himself inside of you with a single thrust.

Logan threw his head back with a loud groan. He promised himself he’d go slow with you, take his take opening you up for him but fuck if this didn’t feel right, good it felt oh so good.

“Fuck” he grunts out into your mouth as he drops his head down to drag you into a hard smoldering kiss swallowing your moans as he sinks in fully.

He lets you adjust for a few moments before he pulls back and thrusts into you instinctively, repeating the harsh action as he begins to slowly pick up his pace. If you had been completely human, the force of his thrusts would’ve surely shattered your pelvis or at least threw them out of alignment.

Reaching up to grab onto the headboard of your bed to anchor himself Logan locks in fully, gripping the wood bar in a death grip as he pushes into you. You reach up too, grabbing a handful of sheets by your head with one hand and his hips with the other, desperate for something to anchor yourself with as Logan’s brutal pace has you reeling.

“L-Logan!” you cry out, body shaking from the force of his thrusts. His cock sinking deeper and deeper as he angles your legs over his shoulders, hitting that sweet spot inside of you repeatedly making your legs tremble in unadulterated pleasure.

An audible crack is heard from where Logan is still holding onto your headboard but you both could careless, your heads completely clouded over with lust.

Just when you were starting to think it was all too much, his thumb finds your clit again and starts to rub fierce quick little circles.

“Gimme one more darlin.” His voice is strained and rough, as he leans down to your neck inhaling your scent again as he licks up to your neck nipping at your jaw and neck as he pulls away.

You scrambled to get away, pushing at his chest as the over sensitivity was proving to be too much.

Logan lets go of the headboard and grabs both your hands with his much larger one, locking them firmly to his chest right over his rapidly beating heart.

“Don’t try and run from me kid, you wanted this remember?” He chuckled darkly, picking up his pace even more if that were possible.

Tears stream steadily down your cheeks as your barreling toward your next orgasm, it’s here, with your hair fanned out around your head, cheeks puffy and tear stained while you pant desperately trying to get away and keep up with him at the same time , that he thinks this is the most beautiful he’s ever seen you.

“Come on my dick, baby.”

Your body completely locks up at his words, your back arching off the bed as you scream, your orgasm wrecking through you as you clench around him like a vice. Logan drops your legs, yanking you up into a messy kiss as he takes you through it.

“Good fucking girl.” He grunts against your lips, he gives you a few moments to come down from your high, burying his face into your neck before he resumes his punishing pace.

You think you’re at your limit as fat tears fall from your eyes, never have you ever felt this good, this full before, it’s far too much for you.

Just as you were about to tap out, he grunts into your neck, his hands move to grip your ass bringing it up to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck, tell me where?” He growls out. He wraps an arm around your back bringing you chest to chest as he fucks you on his lap, the new angle making him hit that sweet spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

At first you don’t quite understand what he’s asking, your brain too foggy to comprehend much of anything right now, but as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, nearly drawing blood again, you finally understood, he was close and so were you again.

“Inside, please I wanna feel you.” You whimpered as he pounds into you. He groans at your request and picks up the pace rutting up into you desperately like an animal. His hammering is deep and unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it feels too good to make him stop, you’ll definitely have a hard time walking in the morning.

With one last harsh flick of his thumb to your clit you’re coming hard on his dick, clenching around him as your body quivers uncontrollably, almost blacking out for a moment.

He growls as his hips stutter against your own, as he cums into you, the force of his final thrust knocking you both bad down onto the mattress. Logan thrusts a few more times, pumping his load as deep inside of you as he could, claiming your mouth once again in a deep searing kiss.

You run your hands through his hair as he nearly drops himself on you, his forearms supporting the weight of his adamantium skeleton. He’s still buried inside you as you're peppering his face and neck with light kisses.

It’s quiet for a moment before he lifts himself up, pulling himself from inside you with a grunt. He pushes stray locs from your face as he kisses your forehead and flops over onto the other side of the bed dragging you with him.

At the weight of his adamantium bones dropping down onto the already crack and barely hanging on frame your bed frame finally gives out dropping your mattress to the floor with a loud thud, startling the both of you.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You panted too shocked and tired to move from your spot on his chest.

“Sorry baby, I’ll get you a new one.” Logan laughs lightly as he pulls you to his chest.

A comfortable silence fills the room as the two of you lay on the floor, your breathing starting to return to normal. Leaning down to inhale your scent again Logan’s met with the pleasant tang of you covered in him and pulls you tighter snuggling you into him.

“You still with me?” The rough edge of his voice brings you back to your senses.

You smiled up at him from his chest with a big dopey smile, eyes completely dazed as you answered with an “mm-hm.” Too fucked out to fully speak properly. You laid back down on his chest, eyes closed as you shiver, he runs a hand up and down your spine as you start to drift off.

He chuckles at your response or lack thereof and pulls your sheets over the both of you. The temperature in the room had started to come down dramatically as your sweat covered bodies cooled in the night.

Just as Logan was about to close his eyes and join you in what was hopefully a peaceful night’s rest for the first time in years, your bedroom door bursts open revealing Wade, still clad in his hello kitty pajamas helping himself to a piece of the pie you had left out.

“Jesus Wade!” You yell eyes practically bulging out of your head as you scramble to grip the sheets to your chest.

“What the fuck asshole?!” Logan growled trying his best to shield you from view with his arms. His hazel eyes were seething with anger.

“My sweet virgin eyes!” Wade said, covering his eyes but still peeking through them through a gap in his fingers with a smirk as he chewed loudly. “You two sounded like an indoor jungle gym but instead of a shit ton of kids it's just you two.” He laughs shoving the rest of the slice into his mouth as he moves to sit on the edge of the broken bed on the floor, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You, young lady, have some pipes on you. Could hear you practically singing about the Wolverine.~” he teases with a tsk.

“And you sir!” He points to Logan who growls at him as he swats his hand outta his face. “Where do I even begin?” He tsked again as he shook his head “You really had some pent up frustration didn’t you, you slut? Did you break her? I know she has a healing factor too but good god man have some restraint!” he leans back on her broken bed as he spreads himself out on the end.

“And her poor bed! I hope you're planning on replacing it, bee tee dubs.” Wade rolls over onto his side propping himself up on his elbow at the couple’s feet. “Did he even use a condom?” He whispered to you loudly before adding “Nice tits by the way.” as he winked at Logan. “I don’t think creampie was the type of pie she had in mind when she invited you over for dinner, old man.”

“Who knew Wolverine was a cuddler?”

You roll your eyes at Wade’s antics completely used to him over the years of knowing him but Logan on the other hand had clearly had enough. Ripping the sheets from himself you watch as Logan comically chases Wade out of the room, buck ass naked.

Slamming your bedroom door shut Logan turns the lock with a grunt, finally returning to your side he pulls you back to his chest and flings the sheets over you.

“He’s not so bad, y'know when you get used to him.” You shrug with your eyes closed as you snuggle into his chest. Adrenaline, now dying down, sleep had started to wrap you in its dreamy embrace and it was hard to keep your eyes open.

“That little cockroach is gonna be the death of me.”

You laugh at him one last time before finally drifting off. Your soft snores were the last thing Logan heard as he too snuggled into your warmth and drifted off.

Who knew the Wolverine was such a cuddler.

[hitomisuzuya]

hi again, teehee. my request is just reader and scara who are enemies that got forced on a road trip by their mutual friends. the two are sitting at the back of the van, but reader has to sit on his lap cause theres not enough people!! that leads to reader cockwarming scara pretty dejectedly, cause she wanted a peaceful car ride; which ended up with her squirming in discomfort on his cock!! but of course, no one can see them cause they still have their clothes on!! byebyee 🫶

- 🎧

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. cockwarming. some humor. enemies to lovers. a bit of degrading sexting.

this request was a fun challenge for me to write since the situation doesn't offer room for dialogue😌

scaramouche hates you for a number of reasons. he hates that you smell good all the time. hates how your hair always looks so pullable. hates how soft your skin looks. hates how hard he can feel himself getting when argue back with him, and call him out on being on an asshole when he is in fact being an asshole.

and you hate scaramouche for plenty of very valid reasons. he is selfish, arrogant, and incredibly egotistical. rude and a bit self absorbed. you swore he purposely picked fights with people because he thought it was fun. he legit stuck his tongue out at like child, with this stupid fucking smirk that just wanted to kiss right off his face.

normally, you like being a passenger on road trips at night. there was just something so peaceful about just sitting and looking out the window and listening to music.

unfortunately for you, you got to enjoy none of those things.

sometimes, with road trips more people ended up coming along than there was even room for. which in turn left you sitting in scaramouche's lap. you are sore, there are so many so many ways you could sit in someone's lap. all you wanted to do was get to the hotel, check into your room and fall asleep cuddling your jeff the shark plush.

and to top it all off, scaramouche would not stop texting you. he was impossible to ignore, especially when he could clearly see you were trying to ignore him.

'you know, you can turn the other way if you want. i can brace my arm behind your back or you could rest it on my shoulder." you grit your teeth reading scaramouche's text message.

thing is he wasn't being nice. doing any of that would require you straddling him. this wasn't the first text you'd gotten from him like this. he much preferred this position. he could feel the heat between your legs right on his cock. the bumps in the road were easily felt sitting in the back of the van, shifting you in his lap and causing you inadvertently rub on his cock.

'are you cold?'

you sighed and texted back 'i am good sitting the way i am, thanks. and no, i am not cold.'

'okay, well i am so grab the blanket for me.'

you reached over and yanked the blanket back to you over the seat, and threw it at him. "the hell you are cold," you said your first words in hours outloud. you swore you heard him laughing even though you had ear buds in.

scaramouche maneuvered the blanket around the both of you. he wasn't an idiot, in fact he was very sure of a lot of things. you were undoubtedly sore, especially in your neck and back. and you are most definitely cold. you would have to change positions sooner or later.

you felt your phone vibrate in your hand again. 'look i am not exactly comfortable either.'

'didn't say you were.' you texted back, squirming a little in his lap. your body had been crying for awhile for you to change positions. you sighed heavily and moved so that you are straddling him. for the third time that night.

scaramouche sincerely thanked whatever stars aligned in his favor for the fact that you'd chose to wear a skirt that day, which was no doubt hiked up more than little hidden underneath the blanket. he was positive he could feel your panties up against his jeans, especially when the van went over a bump. especially.

'exactly, what with you grinding on my lap,' came another text.

you rolled your eyes, your hand tightening on your phone. 'oh like i plan every bump in the road,' you were more than aware of him between your legs, and feeling he was hard at times was unavoidable. and top it all off your phone battery was half way drained, being sucked up by scaramouche's texts.

you heard him sigh as a bump shifted you in his lap. 'you sure sound comfortable.' you texted.

'awfully concentrated on me, aren't we? you like this, don't you? or maybe you have thought about this?' you knew his text was a taunt. he knew he was close to stamping on your very last nerve.

'get over yourself.' he could feel how scathing your text was. and it was such a turn on for him.

'you really haven't thought about fucking me? not even once? be honest.' you grit your teeth, and looked up at him to see him raising at you with a smirk on his face. god he is so smug.

'no,' your response was quick and simple. but truth is, you had. you hated how smug he looked just knowing he was right. you had spent some long night thinking about him. shamelessly.

'i don't mind being in this position,' you admitted in a text back, feeling a little bad about how snappy you'd sounded. you thought he felt pretty good between your legs, becoming more than a little away of thick he really is. 'yes, i have thought about it,' your heart pounded realizing you had pressed send.

scaramouche looked up, surprised at your text. you hadn't given him a inch this entire time. you look so fucking adorable looking away from your phone screen shyly, an embarrassed flush on your cheeks.

slowly you looked down at your phone when scaramouche texted you again. 'you wanna cock warm me for awhile? it would be more comfortable for both of us.' it was ideal that a blanket was around the both of you.

'..are you serious?' you texted back, hardly believing how this had happened. your pussy has clenched just reading the text, as infuriating as his text was. scaramouche was making you realize how touch starved you were.

' ...yes.' you texted back. he made you realize just how badly you wanted his cock inside of you. you squirmed knowing it was probably going to be uncomfortable after a few hours, but the thought was making you wet.

scaramouche knew in a few hours you wouldn't care how uncomfortable it felt. you wouldn't feel any discomfort. you would be wet and squirming, soaking on his cock because the van going over bumps would nudge his cock head into your sweet spot at random consistency. he couldn't fucking wait.

no one noticed you shifting into a position to peel your panties aside, the blanket concealing your movement. to everyone else it would look like you were trying to alleviate stiffness in your muscles from sitting in one position to long.

scaramouche freed his now straining cock from his jeans, silently swallowing a groan as he maneuvered his cock inside of you. you lowered yourself back down into his lap. it helped he saw the struggle to not make noise in your eyes as his stretched you apart.

'remember to keep quiet, slut. or everyone will hear how good you feel to finally have my cock inside you,' your pussy clenched reading his degrading text. texts he kept on sending you. the van went over a well placed bump, nudging his cock right into your sweet spot.

your toes curled as you squirmed a little. scaramouche on the other hand was in heaven. his cock was finally inside the girl of his dreams in a very erotic way. he could sit back and enjoy your tight warmth squeezing around his cock, your pussy oozing juices feeling it throb.

he couldn't resist idly playing with your clit underneath the blanket while he scrolled through his phone. you had to thankful to be turned away from everyone. the throbbing in your swollen clit was almost unbearable, making his cock feel twice as good inside of you.

'go ahead, kitten. roll your hips a little, no one will notice. it will make you feel better.' he pinched your clit, wagging his finger on the sensitive nub while he texted you with one hand.

the shock of pleasure made your thighs quake under the blanket. you moaned loud in your head as your hips twitched to roll down onto his cock.

'you slut. fuck that felt good. do that too much and i am gonna cum inside you.' scaramouche texted back.

your breath hitched in your throat reading his text. more wet pooled onto your pussy reading his text. your hand shook as you texted back 'promise?' you could barely even think with his cock buried that deep inside you. you want to rub and grind against him, nuzzling his neck and licking at his mouth submissively while you told him how good his cock felt.

his response was quick. 'when we checked in at the hotel, you are coming to my room and i am fucking you raw.'

'yes, please.' you texted back. he knew you couldn't wait judging from how tight your pussy felt on his cock.

scaramouche gave you break after awhile. he would have to have his cock back in his pants well before arriving at the hotel. he kept you straddling his lap though.

[jilixthinker]

slowly to me

=͟͟͞♡ virgin!felix × noona!fem reader

=͟͟͞♡ bestfriends/roommates to lovers

word count: 7.4K

content warning: explicit sexual content, sub!felix, soft dom!noona reader, felix is a virgin, corruption kink if you squint, mutual masturbation, clit play, fingering, cock play, dirty talk, unprotected sex (as usual), creampie, they are clueless idiots in love.

a/c: i wanted to write this for the longest time and now i am kinda nervous sharing it because it feels more personal (?) and intimate than usual. hope you will enjoy it ♡

=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!

[00:17 AM] fefe 🧚‍♀️

noona 💙

are you awake?

please tell me you are

I can't find my keys 😪

i know it's late

don't hate me

You blink your eyes open a few times. The sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand is insistent over the chattering noise coming from your laptop. You must have fallen asleep more than 30 minutes ago, considering that you are not familiar with the episode of the anime you are currently watching. Your fingers brush against the cover of your phone and you finally grab it with a sleepy grunt. When you unlock it, not without typing the wrong code twice, you notice that your chat with Felix is already open, a few notifications popping on the screen.

[00:18 AM] fefe 🧚‍♀️

noona 😪😪

[00:18 AM] you

where are you now

[00:18 AM] fefe 🧚‍♀️

outside 😪

noona, my savior

my only light in the darkness 💙

You force yourself to sit on the bed as you yawn. When you read the last text, you chuckle despite of how sleepy you feel. It's a little bit late to be coming back home, even for Felix, but you don't mind. Felix usually stays awake till dawn, always prone to chat and watch tv series together whenever you cannot sleep. You help each other in your own ways, yours being the responsible counterpart in your household.

You find your slippers with your feet and you finally stand up, heading outside of your room and to the corridor. It's pretty warm already this time of year, and you don't even bother putting on something over your light pajamas. It's just Felix anyway, he did see you at your worst so many times that you cannot even remember.

When you open the door, Felix is fighting with the zipper of his denim jacket. He is dressed casually, almost as if he didn't put any effort on what he was going to wear. A pink hoodie is picking out from his black slacks, and his hair is styled in a messy bun, a few locks escaping from the hair tie and covering his eyes.

"Noona, I owe you." he huffs, offering you a toothy smile as soon as you let him in.

"Don't mention it. I don't even have plans for tomorrow morning, I can just sleep in." you yawn in response, plopping on the couch and closing your eyes again.

Felix hums and throws his jacket on the nearest chair of your shared living room before letting himself fall next to you, face immediately finding its favorite place into the crook of your neck.

"How was your date?" you ask him, circling his shoulders with your arm and letting him scooch closer to you.

You feel his cold nose nuzzling against your collarbones and you chuckle, bringing your hand to the top of his head and starting to untie the loose bun. Felix puffs and you can hear his lips curving into a small pout.

"As always." he mumbles. "He was cute. Funny. He paid for my order."

You nod, and your fingers find their way up to his scalp, scratching it lightly and pulling a soft grunt out of his lips. "But..." you add, waiting for the inevitable epilogue.

"But..." he shifts from his position to lay down with his face on your lap. "- I felt nothing. He was very handsome, and smart. He was nice. I could tell he would make a great boyfriend. But I just looked at him and... I couldn't see myself kissing him, or touching him. It felt like looking at a nice painting, you know? I don’t know what is wrong with me."

"Nothing is wrong with you, Lix." you murmur in the dark. Your thumb moves from his soft locks and start circling the plump skin of his cheek. Felix huffs again and rubs his nose against your lower stomach. He does it often, and it makes him look like a small kitten looking for some comfort. Your heart always sinks at that.

"I am serious." you continue. "Feelings cannot be controlled. It's not your fault if you didn't feel attracted to him. Maybe he just wasn't the one."

Felix looks at you from his position, his big pleading eyes are a little tired.

"And who will be the one, noona? I am 23 and I didn't find a single person yet. I didn't even... you know." Felix lets out a sarcastic chuckle. "Can you tell how hard is it to reach this age without experimenting with anyone? I feel left out."

"Does it bother you so much? Being a virgin?" you ask him. Felix and you are used to talk a lot about everything without any sort of embarassment, but he only mentioned the topic of his inexperience a few times in your many years of friendship.

You didn't believe him at first. Felix was... Felix. The most precious human being on earth, smart and kind, generous and funny, witty and reliable. Your bestfriend, your proclaimed soulmate, and the prettiest person you've ever seen. Him being a virgin sounded like a joke to you. He confessed it when he was 18 at the time, and he was a little tipsy after a few bottles of beers you two had shared after moving into your new apartment. You could tell it was an uncomfortable topic for him, and you never asked him again. You just told him that he was young, and that the situation would change quickly in the following months.

But years passed, five to be exact. And Felix didn't have sex with anyone. He finished college, started working and met people, he started dating even, but as soon as the people he was seeing asked him for something more, he shut everything down and disappeared from their lives.

"It does bother me, yes." he answers quietly. "Because I am not afraid of intimacy itself. I just... don't feel the right attraction. I want to, but I can't. All these pretty boys I met, and the furthest I've gone is kissing. I don't know what to do, noona."

Felix shudders and you pull him closer to you. His voice is almost a whisper and his breathing is getting a little heavy. Your fingers go back to stroke through his hair gently, as you try to calm him down.

"Have you considered dating girls?" you ask him. "You told me you felt more comfortable with them."

Felix's arms circle your waist as he hugs you tight. He looks at you intently with a shy smile. He looks so tiny all curled up like this.

"I do love girls. More than boys actually. I thought about that a lot." He murmurs as he pulls you so close that your stomach is pressed completely against his cheek. "But I feel shy around them. I cannot help but thinking that I would mess everything up. With boys... it would be easier. I know how a male body works. But I have no clue on how to, uh —"

You chuckle at his words and you lean forward to pinch at his nose, amused by his reaction. "How to touch them?" you smile at him.

Felix laughs and lets out a breathless sigh. He pulls away slightly, though keeping his eyes locked on you. You can see a light blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

"Uhm, yes. That." His voice is still playful, but you can hear the nervousness in his breath as well. "You know I have never kissed a girl before. Just boys. Uh��, I know nothing, noona." he exhales.

You scrunch your nose and you let yourself relax against the sofa behind you. Felix's arms are still linked tightly around your waist. "There is nothing to be ashamed of, Lix," you breathe out. "Human nature will do its thing. When you'll find yourself in that situation, your body will know what to do."

"I'm not so sure." he murmurs, starting to rub his nose against your hipbone, sniffing at the fabric like he always does when he is feeling a little overwhelmed.

Your hand finds its way toward the back of his neck and you apply a slight pressure on the skin there. Felix lets out a shaky breath.

"You will see. With the right person, you won't feel uncomfortable at all. It's normal to don't know stuff, you know. We've all been there. And each body, each person, is different. You can figure things out along the way, by asking and learning." You try to reassure him. "It's not a performance. You should just focus on feeling good and let the other person feel good too. I promise it's not so complicated as you think."

Felix hums quietly and a mellow silence falls around you. The room is still dark, it should be around 1 a.m. now, but a beam of moonlight shines through the window, reflecting small glimpses of silver upon Felix's hair.

Felix feels small and soft on your lap. He is still hugging you, and you know him enough to sense that he is restraining himself somehow. You can feel the distress in the way his tiny hands are fisting the cotton of your pajamas around your waist.

"Lixie, sweetheart..." you murmur, voice little higher than a sigh. Felix holds tighter on you, as if he is scared of you running away. As if you could.

The fact is that you love Felix. You always did, in a way. You cannot tell exactly when you fell in love with him, but it happened sometime between your last year of highschool and your freshman year of college. You remember Felix grabbing your hand when you graduated in summer, sweat under your dress from being exposed to the hot sun, waiting for your speech. You remember him intertwining your fingers and smiling at you with devoted eyes when he helped you moving in your new dormitory. You remember him wetting your shoulder with warm tears because you were going to be separated from each other for the first time. And, oh. At a certain point you just knew.

You never talked about that, of course. You didn't think you needed to. Things between you were perfect already, and you were happy you've managed to slip neatly into your routine. Felix needs you in a way nobody else can comprehend. And you need him too, in a slight different way. And it's okay, you've always been good at managing your own feelings.

"Noona..." he answers timidly.

"What are you thinking about? I can hear the sound of your brain working no stop." you shrug, looking at him. The moonlight looks the ideal light to admire him, you find yourself admitting.

Felix looks over at you, his lips upturned with a reluctant smile. "It's just... I don't think I will ever find this person." he sighs softly.

"Why so? I cannot imagine anyone who wouldn't want to be with you. You are perfect." you say, eyes jumping down to Felix's delicate frame. His button nose covered in freckles scrunches a bit over the line of his plump lips. They look moist. They must be soft.

From his gaze, you can see that your words are the last thing Felix was expecting to hear from you. "Because–" he stutters while the pressure of his hands on you becomes almost too much, "–there is already... ugh, nevermind."

The silence that follows his semi-confession is heavy on you. You freeze at the admission, and you can tell from his eyes that he didn't mean to let that slip. That's it – you think – there is someone. Someone who Felix cares about, maybe that he even loves, and that is keeping him from living his life freely. Someone who apparently doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, given that Felix is trying to see other people and complaining about them with you.

Fuck, that hurts. You could have seen it coming, but it still hurts.

You open your mouth to formulate any sort of coherent words of encouragement that you can master, but Felix decides to move from his position at the same time you shift on the sofa to look at him. The impact of your bodies gives gravity a push, and you both go down with a loud humph, landing on the couch with your limbs all entangled. Felix groans as his back collides with the leather, and you open your eyes to check up on him, only to stop as soon as you realize how close you are to each other.

His lean and warm body is all pressed up against the cushions, and suddenly any trace of stoicism has fled the situation. You don't even remember what you were going to say, to be honest. All you are conscious of is Felix's body and the way his eyes are looking at you, making you flush with an unknown tenderness. You take a deep breath and the realization that you can feel his parted thighs caging your hips and his arms pawing at your shirt hits you hard. And maybe it's the late hour, maybe it's because you've spent the last hour talking your hearts out – and the last years repressing your feelings –, or maybe it's because Felix looks so vulnerable like this.

Whatever it is, instead of laughing everything off and move from this awkward position, you keep looking at him as some strands of hair fall onto his forehead and his breathing gets a little quicker. You find yourself thinking that maybe this is the most beautiful Felix has ever looked.

"Noona." he murmurs, and you can feel how the air shifts around you. His make-up is a little bit smudged around his eyes, you notice, and you lift your hand to rub at the corner of his eyelid with your finger. Felix trembles lightly as you touch him, and desire tugs at you, pushing you towards a path that you know is not wise.

"Noona–" he breathes out again, this time not much louder than a whisper. "I want to try something."

"Felix," you say unsteadily as Felix's hand grabs at your pajamas a little more firmly. "This isn't a good idea."

"Why so?" he asks, voice all tiny, shifting closer to you anyway. Everytime you try to look away from his lips it's like your eyes have been glued in place. "You said that with the right person it wouldn't feel uncomfortable. I– you.. I don't feel uncomfortable with you."

You sigh at his words. You are sure there is almost a thousand reasons why you shouldn't be doing this. First of all, Felix doesn’t love you. Not the way you do, at least. And he is hurting now, he is sad. He is not in the conditions of taking such a decision. But you can hardly manage a coherent thought right now, with him being this close to you.

He doesn't like you back, you cannot do this.

"Felix, I am honored that you trust me this much. I really am." you manage, but your voice sounds faint. "But this is not the right thing to do now. You don't want it to happen this way."

At that, Felix pauses and looks at you. He bites his lip, as if he was looking for the right words, and his eyes looks different, almost watery. "Don't you..." he stutters, "am I not good enough?"

You blink in confusion and a thick layer of guilt fills your stomach to the brim. You hate seeing Felix in distress, you cannot stand the way his timid smile leaves his face. You would give him the moon if that would make him happy.

"Oh no, Felix, sweetheart," you confess, bringing your hand to cup his cheek. The freckled skin feels soft and warm under your fingers. "this is not what I meant. I just– fuck," you swear in protest. "I just don't think I am the right choice. You deserve the right person for this."

Felix’s gaze fractures and he suddenly lets out the tiniest sigh, a pleading look framing his delicate traits. He turns his face to the left, leaning on your touch and he rubs his nose on the palm of your hand.

"Noona, you are not the right person. You are my person." He shyly admits, voice muffled on your skin. "But I can understand if you don't want this. If you don't want me the way I do. I am sorry for bringing this out, I should have kept that for myself."

You freeze, guilt becoming dread and pooling on your stomach. Oblivious to any of this, Felix gives you a small, sad smile and continues, "I tried to ignore it, believe me, I did. I kept myself from feeling this much because I knew it wasn't the same for you. But I can't help it, noona. I started seeing other people in the hope that it would eventually fade away. But it didn't. And now I am making a fool out of myself." Felix looks over at you and his smile is not the one you are used to see on his face. "Sorry for ruining everything," he sighs, "I just love you."

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

You feel a fist of air being pushed out of your lungs like a truck. Felix's eyes are big and sweet, and a single tear escapes from his lashes to roll down the apple of his cheek. You fucked up. You fucked up so bad. You misunderstood everything. Guilt nestles in your chest like a stone, scraping at your heart.

"Felix," you say, your voice sounding foreign and groggy, "Felix. You love me? You love me?"

Felix's eyes jump down to your lips just for a second, and then back at you. He sniffs as he brings his free hand to his face, rubbing the tear away. "I do." he admits. "I really do."

The truth in his tone has you let out an inaudible gasp. Then, in the span of a second, just the time of a blink, everything changes.

"Say it again." You whisper as your eyes lock into Felix's. And then Felix opens his mouth, just barely, and his muttered words stay still on the tip of his tongue.

"Say it." You repeat as your thumb shifts, stroking slowly along his jaw and down to his chin. "Wanna hear it again."

Felix blinks, and he looks like he can't come up with something to say at all. "Noona, what are you, uh–" he gasps when your fingers catch his bottom lip, pinching it a little to enjoy its softness.

"Lix, sweetheart..." you whisper, letting your face fall slowly down to his neck. The insides of your tighs press against the outside of Felix's as to trap him there. "You want me, uh? You love me?" you tease him, your hand coming up to steady him by the chin, keeping him still while your mouth finally founds the tender skin of his neck and you place a single peck under his earlobe. "I wanna hear you saying it."

A weak whimper makes itself known at the bottom of Felix's throat when you angle your head to the side and leave a humid trail of kisses all along the column of his neck. "Noona, I... why are you – ah – why are you doing t-this?" he mutters with a sigh.

You grin against his skin at the sound of his affected voice, and you nose at his chin blowing another tiny peck there. "Just say it." You repeat.

Felix's eyes are semiclosed now, but his pupils are wide and dark, and your grip on his jaw tightens a bit. Just another wet kiss on his Adam's apple is sufficient to convince him to give you what you're asking for. "I want you." He grumbles as his legs start to tremble under your weight. "I love you." He breathes.

And that's it. Felix doesn’t have the time to even realize what is going on before you are pressing down with purpose, your lips firm against his and your hands buried in his hair as he lets out a tiny sob. His mouth is cherry red and sweet, and your lips slid against it, applying just the right amount of pressure to have him melting against the couch. The kiss feels almost electric, and the low groan Felix exhales bubbles up into the back of your throat.

Felix is soft, and his body becomes malleable and pliant beneath your touch as soon as he clings onto you with fervent hands, a little desperate to keep hold of how good he is feeling. He moans beautifully every time your lips detach from his to catch some breath, and his fingers find your face too, curling against your cheeks and keeping you close to him.

As soon as your tongue licks languidly at his bottom lip, his mouth opens up to let the warm muscle slip into his mouth with a low grunt. You can feel that Felix is not experienced in the way he is unable to do anything but tremble with pleasure in the bracket of your arms as your lips glide against his, slick and wet. He lets out another whimper when your tongue licks at the roof of his mouth and your head feels dizzy and heavy with desire.

You cannot remember the last time you felt this good and this right, to be honest. Felix’s confession is still lingering in your brain as your hips press against his in a swift movement, coaxing a soft moan out of the boy under you. You smile in the kiss, feeling as if everything in the universe is finally in its designed place and, at the same time, all condensed in the way the two of you are wrapped up in each other so tightly that you can’t keep track of where one of you starts and ends.

Reluctanly, you force yourself to separate from Felix's tender mouth just a few millimiters. "Lix, baby," you whisper lovingly on his lips. "You have no idea how long I wanted to do this."

"Y-you wanted this?" he pants, parting his legs more and allowing you to slot your body inbetween of them. His breath is sticky and hot and you feel yourself getting restless on top of him.

"Sweetheart. You have no idea how much I love you. How much I want you." You confess.

"But... but you've never–" he stutters under your gaze. "Oh God, don't tell me we've been this stupid!"

You chuckle and nod slowly. "Apparently, yes, we have been." You smile, and your chest is so full of fondness and love that it's hard to breathe. "And we wasted a lot of time. But at least we're here now."

Felix nods timidly and you lean in again, this time just kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin under his chin. You move closer to Felix's ear and then back towards his jaw. He starts to breathe harder, hands clutching the shirt of your pajamas, and his thumb brushes against the hardened nub of your nipple, making you hiss quietly.

Felix moans when you start licking at his lips again.

"Good?" you ask, smiling against his skin.

Felix nods. "Yeah. Y-you can keep going."

You comply, because you could never deny anything to him. You softly suck his upper lip between your teeth and let it go with a loud pop. Then you move to his neck again, and you bite him carefully a few times until Felix starts to squirm beneath you. The thought that you are the first person, the first woman, doing this to him has heat rushing to your face and you wonders if Felix wants to do more, or if he wants to keep things over the clothes. You are okay waiting. You've waited for years.

"Can I… can I ask you something?" he stutters when your hands find his hips and you start caressing them in tiny circles.

"Of course, Lix. You can ask me anything." you reassure him, rising your head from the crook of his neck and looking at him fondly.

"You know what we were talking about before," he breathes shyly, eyes big and teary. "I wasn't able to do anything with all the people I dated because... they were not you," he admits. "and – uh, I don't know how to say this. It's embarassing."

Felix sighs as he tries to hide his face behind his hands, but you stop him by grabbing his wrists.

"Do you want to try? Now?" you ask calmly, ignoring the burning lava that is flooding into your veins at the thought of having Felix like that, just for you.

Felix nods again, all soft and timid. "I wanna try. With you." He mutters as his hips buck involuntarily against yours for the first time. And that's when you notice that Felix is hard under you, cock stirring to life when you grind down into him as a response to his movement. "B-but I don't know anything, noona. You have to show me."

You hover your face over Felix's for a moment, searching something into his eyes before diving in again for a kiss. Felix hums languidly against you and you pull his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it before letting it go slowly, teeth dragging. Felix groans deep in his chest and you can feel the vibrations go straight to your pussy. Then the realization that you are finally doing it hits you.

You. And Felix.

I need to stay focused, you think when you start feeling your head becoming too clouded with desire. Felix feels so tender and warm against you, and it's difficult to concentrate when your arousal begins to pool in your panties, just a few layers of fabric separating your core from Felix's poor neglected cock. The kisses get sloppier but Felix doesn’t seem to mind, and you quickly find a rhythm between the movements of your lips and the gentle rocking of your body against his.

"What do you want to do, sweetheart? You can tell me." You hum as your mouth latches again onto the spot between Felix's neck and shoulder, sucking and then soothing the skin with your tongue.

"Ah, fuck…" Felix curses when your hand finally trails down his chest and lightly grazes his cock from over his pants. He feels sensitive and overwhelmed in the best way possible, and he feels like he is losing his mind already. "W-want to touch you, noona, please. Please, I've been wanting to touch you forever."

A tiny moan escapes from your parted lips at Felix's confession and you are pretty sure that your panties are now ruined for good. You can feel the hot stickiness gluing them to your entrance.

"Okay, baby." You sigh, shifting your weight in order to lift your hips a little from Felix's body. "You can touch me. I'll show you how. Is that what you want?"

Felix pants and his fists close again on your shirt as if he's trying to steady himself. "Y-yes please. Show me." He answers, and he looks completely blissed out, hair as a messy crown around his beautiful face.

"Okay." You concede, gathering all of your weight on your right arm to pull down both your pajamas shorts and underwear with just one quick motion, air finally hitting pungently the heath of your pussy.

Felix gulps and you see his Adam's apple bobbing deliciously as he stares at the way a sticky string of slick is connecting your entrance to the cotton of your panties. You feel your core pulsing at the sight and you let the garnments fall on the ground, climbing back to Felix's body and straddling his lap.

Felix looks up to you, but his eyes keep flicking back between your face and the mound of your pussy, and you try to thrust gently against the hard fabric of his jeans, just over his hardened erection. When you rock your hips tentatively on his bulge, your clit gets caught on the cold metal of his belt, making you hiss. Your pussy throbs, releasing a gush of arousal over where Felix's cockhead should be.

"Lixie, baby." You breathe out. "Noona needs your hand for this."

Felix cheeks are as red as cherries and he hiccups at your request, nodding twice and pliantly offering you his right hand. He places it just near your thigh, not daring to get any closer to your heath without any given permission.

You smile softly at him and you wrap your thumb and index around his wrist, bringing his palm to the front of your pussy and letting it brush against the hood of your clit for just a second. "I guess you watched porn before, uh, baby?" you ask him grinding gently on his hand. "I think you know a bit about female anatomy already."

Felix sighs and a wanton moan rises from his throat when he feels your engorged clit bumping against his skin. "Y-yes, I have." He blushes.

You laugh breathily at his shyness and you let his hand slide past your front to eventually press on your labia, guiding his slim fingers to spread the wetness gushing from your hole.

"Usually I prefer to be stimulated here," you say, nudging the pad of his thumb against your sensitive bud. "In little circles." and you move your hand in tandem with him, circling your clit and trembling a little from his insecure touch. Another spurt of arousal drips from your pussy and coaxes Felix's fingers, making him moan.

"But now I want it inside." Your voice is sickengly sweet, and Felix looks like he is one step away from hyperventilating. His teeth dig on his bottom lip and he sighs in pleasure.

"Please," he whines. "Please, let me."

You roll your hips so that the tips of his fingers catch your entrance, and suddenly you sink down in just one motion. His middle and ring finger meet you halfway, and he watches your face in adoration as the two digits push into you. You let out a small whimper when his palm finds your mound again, and you finally sit on him fully.

"Ah – noona. G-god." He keens as he feels his fingers being wrapped up with your warmth.

You lift up from him, desperate for some friction, your hand still grabbing his wrist to guide him and help him. "Baby, fuck, finally." You grunt as your hips swing forward and back to create a sort of rhythm. "Wanted you like this for the longest time, you have no idea."

Felix mewls as he hears the squelching sound of his hand against your throbbing cunt. The schlick schlick is filthy and loud, and his head starts spinning. "Noona, you are so soft, so warm. Fuck, why are you so wet?" He cries, eyes big and round and locked at the way your pussy is engulfing a part of himself.

The drag of his fingers makes your head floaty and you grind further down onto his knuckles, the stretch making you want more and more.

"That's how it's supposed to be with a woman, sweetheart. We are programmed to take." You chuckle breathily as you slowly but steadily fuck yourself onto Felix's fingers. "But you are too, right? My sweet boy. You are just taking what I am giving to you, isn't it?"

Felix moans and his pads involuntarily curl upwards, brushing against your gummy spot as his head falls back, deep groans tumbling out of his parted lips. "Ah – too wet noona, too wet. I wanna, w-wanna..."

"What? What do you want, baby? Tell me, I wanna hear." You sound rightfully out of breath while you fuck mercilessly Felix's digits and you flood his hand with your juices. You shift forward to kiss him on the mouth and his palm finds your clit again, sending jolts of pleasure through your spine.

"Wanna... w-wanna be with you. Please, noona, I've waited. I need – oh, God – I need you fully. I l-love you so much, I always wanted it to be with you." He sighs against your mouth before you can slot your lips together and lace your tongue on his, sucking the wet muscle slowly until Felix is reduced as a squirming mess under you.

"Oh my sweet boy, my angel," you praise him as you try to slow down your movements. If you keep going with this pace you will cum too soon, and you want to finish together with Felix for your first time.

Felix follows your mouth and with his free hand he timidly brushes your left breast, staring at the way it bounces with every thrust of your hips on his hand. It looks mesmerized by the way your body moves and gets wet over him, preparing itself to welcome him inside even if he doesn't properly know what to do.

With a low grunt, you force yourself to stop your thrusts and you peck Felix on his tumid, soft lips. His hand falls uselessly on his hip while you balance your body on his waist to finally get rid of your last piece of clothing, throwing the filmsy shirt of your pajamas away.

Felix looks at your naked body as he if he was admiring a painting and, despite of your confidence, you find yourself blushing a little under his devoted gaze. You dreamt about this moment so much, pondering that it would never come, and now it feels almost surreal to have Felix all for you as you always wanted.

"I love you, Felix." You whisper lovingly, a tear stuck on the corner of your eye. "I love you so much."

And Felix beams. His eyes, watery with pleasure, lit up and bring a smile to his beautiful face, the face that you wished you could caress and claim as yours for so many years. "I am yours, noona. Please, make me yours." He murmurs softly.

You kiss him again, and it's hungrier this time, even more than the kisses you already shared. And then the kissing melts into licking, and then into biting, until Felix's hand finds your waist and then falls to cup your ass.

"I need you out of these clothes in 10 seconds." You mutter with a breathy sound, and Felix is fervent to obey, quickly getting rid of his pants and underwear and throwing his pink hoodie away, far from you.

When you crawl back into his lap, Felix is sitting on the couch. You find your place on his legs, straddling him until you are face to face and you can hear the sweet sound of his erratic breathing against your ear.

"I want to do it like this." You breathe out, gently nipping at his lips and then placing a small kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Wanna see you."

Felix sighs and his aching cock, now finally free from the constriction of his pants, throbs against your lower belly, spurting a gush of precum which dribbles into your navel. "I can't believe this is really happening." He hiccups, pleasure making his head feel dizzy.

You smile fondly. "Me neither." And you bring your hand down, resting your hot palm over his shaft and giving pressure until you are dragging the skin of his cock up and down. Felix melts with a breathy mewl.

Felix has a perfect cock, you think, and then you say it out loud. "You have a perfect cock, baby."

Felix gasps and he throws his head back, hitting the cushion of the couch. You can see that his face is flushed with arousal and embarassment, and that makes you feel lightheaded.

"So perfect," you continue, playing with your fingers and bringing your thumb to the engorged tip, smearing the thick droplets of precum all along his aching muscle until you graze his balls. "Perfect size, perfect girth, perfect color. You know how pretty your cock is, baby? Not too long, but chubby. I love it."

"Noona," Felix sighs painfully, thighs parting under your weight to give you more space. He looks fucked up, and you barely touched him.

"I want to play with it forever," you say, picking up your pace and jerking him fully. "And I will do it. I will touch this sweet cock all day long, making it cum so many times, making it feel so so so good."

"Please, please, please." Felix keens and throbs again on your hand, now hard as a rock and trying to stay as still as he can.

"It looks so tasty, too. Wanna slurp it in one bite." You whisper as you swirl your index on the slit of his cockhead and Felix lets out the sweetest groan you could imagine. It's so easy to pleasure him, and he responds to you so well.

"But not now," you reassure him. "Now I need you inside of me. Need you as deep as you can. Need you to be mine."

Felix forces his eyes open and his hands grip into the underside of your thighs, bringing you closer to him. You cross your arms behind his neck, slotting your lips together once again because you just can't get enough of Felix's breathy moans as you bring him to the edge with you.

"Noona, I don't, ah– I don't have a condom." He urges to tell you when you circle your hips against him and his tip catches the entrance of your pussy.

"We don't need a condom. I am on the pill, and I am clean." You pull away to mouth at Felix's neck, and you suck at the column until you are gliding your mouth over his Adam's apple. "And you are too, obviously. Don't worry about that, sweetheart. I need to feel you all hard and raw inside of me."

You kiss Felix again, breaths coming out in restless wisps, hips frantic. "Can you take it?" you ask against his lips, your right hand gripping Felix's wet cock. Felix nods, gulping loudly. With your arm reached behind you and your head dipped forward, you slap the tip against your cunt, eyes never leaving his face.

Felix swallows, and you can feel his heart racing as you nudge his cockhead against your heath, pussy clenching and unclenching for pleasure. You look at him in the eyes for one last time, and then you sink.

When Felix's tip breeches, you whimper at the stretch with you head lolled to the side. You push your hips down, taking Felix's chubby cock slowly until you’re seated on it. And, with his cock fully inside, Felix groans and tears finally spill from his eyes, wetting his cheeks and rolling down to his chin.

"Ah– oh, God, please! P-ple eh e-ease." He cries as he grips your hips so tight that he is gonna leave marks.

"Easy, baby. Easy." You pant, eyes rolling on your skull at the way the head of his cock presses perfectly on your spongy spot. Felix's tongue lolls out from his mouth, and you take the tip between your lips, suckling lightly on it before lifting your hips up and then slamming back again.

"It's too tight, too tight, too w-wet," Felix sobs, a dribble of saliva forming a tiny bubble at the top of his upper lip. You lower your head to look at the way you are taking Felix to the brim, his swollen balls resting on the curve of your ass, and you let out a lewd sound at the view.

But it's not enough, because this is Felix's first time, and you just know from the way he is trembling that he is not gonna last long, the poor angel he is. You played with him a bit too long considering his inexperience, and now you can feel him twitching inside of you, bringing you close as well with just a few pumps.

"I know, baby, I know. You feel so fucking good too. You fill me so well, look." And you take one of the hands that are gripping your hips, making it slide against your pussy to let him feel the point were you two are connected.

Felix grasps the base of his cock with his wrist and he tries to push it even deeper inside of your wet heath with a loud groan. "It's so, s-so good." He repeats mindlessly.

You gather all of your strength, gripping into Felix's shoulders in front of you and letting you knees carry your weight as you finally begin to ride his cock. You raise your ass up just to feel the tip catch at your rim only to force back down, fast and hard.

"Noona, ah– noona!" Felix grunts out, "F-fuck, I can't, I c-can't!"

At a particularly deep thrust, Felix cries out again, a slew of filthy words and many slurred versions of your name coming out of his red, juicy lips.

"Baby, Felix, baby." You moan, letting yourself fall against his chest and beginning to move your hips in circles. You feel his cock hitting deliciously at your cervix and your clit rubbing on Felix's hip bone.

"I lo-oh-ove you." Unable to help it, Felix begins to thrust up quickly, grinding his cock inside of you and smashing his warm cheek against your shoulder, as you involuntarily squeeze your walls around his shaft.

You are trying to make this last a little bit more, but a tight coil of pleasure starts to form in your lower belly, and Felix's heavy and raspy whines tell you that he is in your same conditions. "Feels so good, sweetheart. So thick and hot, you are making me cum, ah– so quick." You blabber, head feeling floaty. "Are you close too? Tell me you are close. Wanna come with you."

Felix hiccups and his thrusts become messy and erratic, cock leaking inside of you as you clench around him. "Close, close, s-so close." He picks you up by your thighs to throw you onto his cock as if you were weightless. "Can I, ah a-ahhh, w-where can I–?" he sobs out with every thrust.

"Inside, Lix, my love. Cum inside," you praise him. "So good to me. So good." And you whine as Felix fucks desperately into you, a thick layer of sweat on his freckled skin.

Two more pushes are what it takes to have your pussy clenching hard and tight around Felix, and as your clit rubs one last time against his pubic bone, your eyes roll backwards and you cum with a filthy long moan, flooding Felix's cock with your juices.

As the orgasm hits you, you smash your lips against Felix's and suffocate your whines on his mouth. As soon as Felix feels you pulsing around his drooly cock, you see him going cross-eyed. Then, he pushes almost violently into your heath and comes with one final, deep smash of his cock, filling you up.

Voice hoarse with pleasure and a little out of breath, Felix moans softly, face finding its comforting place in the crook of your neck. "I love you." he whispers.

You both stay silent for a couple of minutes, and you loll your head to the side to huff warm breaths that tickle Felix's temples.

"How do you feel?" You asks, bringing your fingers to slowly pet Felix's damp hair. You tongue feels heavy inside your mouth, and your legs muscles sting. But you are happy.

"I feel like I waited for this moment for my entire life." Felix's words are slow and shy, despite of what just happened between the two of you. You can feel him chuckling against your shoulder. "I still have to process what is going on."

"We have time." You murmur, kissing his forehead and hugging him lovingly, keeping him safe in your arms. "Now we have all the time in the world."

Felix smiles. The room is not dark anymore.

©️ jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

[satoruxx]

PARACOSM OF THE GODS.

PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 11.5k words

SUMMARY: ok here we go, canon au, angst, fluff, best friends being in love, stsg being whipped but unable to express it, reader is clueless as usual, timeskips, canon compliant deaths, bittersweet, longing, mutual pining, emotionally stunted teens, dad!gojo makes an appearance, hopefully that’s it i'm tired of typing

RHEYA'S NOTE: highkey lowkey stressed posting bc this has been sitting in my wips for 4 years now. i honestly didn't have to add much to it i basically just proofread. but yeah when you maladaptive daydream and create a plot where you're a character in jjk and you're also in love with gojo and geto this is what happens. a little sad to let this go but it's time !! plus i can add more parts later. but anyways pls lmk what you think, i'm super curious to know <33

i. the unknown

satoru's first impression of you is anything but kind.  

his words come casually, free into the wind without care, and they aren't meant for you to hear. instead, they fall only to suguru's ears, evoking a deep chuckle and a slight shake of his head. his bangs swish a little with the movement, but satoru is too busy eyeing you over the frame of his shades to notice. 

you're lucky to have not heard it, because the intent with which it was said would have probably made your brow tick with frustration. he says it without a thought, as if he hasn't the slightest bit of interest in you as hints of arrogance fill his tone. 

"who's the rookie?" 

satoru and suguru sit outside against the patio railings of the classroom they had chosen for the day. it overlooks the grounds of the school, where they have a clear view of who approaches the main entrance. suguru absentmindedly clicks his lighter—shoko had gone to get another pack of cigarettes. 

it is from this higher point that they have a clear view of you. you're so obviously new to this, satoru thinks as he watches how you awkwardly stand in front of yaga sensei. 

he already wants to label you as a side character. it's mean, he realizes—cruel even, but he can barely bring himself to care. 

"yaga sensei mentioned that there'd be a new student joining us this week," suguru says, fingering the bangs hanging in front of his eyes. they roam over you with only slight interest before uttering your full name, just as his teacher had said it.

satoru repeats it with a hum. "not a big name or anything. a small-sized family of sorcerers i think." he shrugs carelessly. "but honestly i never really paid attention to all those stupid clan and jujutsu family lessons." 

suguru only responds with a good-natured chuckle, tearing his eyes away from the scene to look at his friend. "no shit." 

the two sit in quiet silence, watching yaga's lips move in structured, emotionless greetings as he shakes your hand. satoru is especially focused on the hunching of your shoulders and the way your eyes nervously dart around. 

suguru is the first to interrupt the peace. 

"maybe she's strong?" 

"are you kidding?" satoru scoffs as he stands up straight, shoving his fists into his pockets. he turns his nose up slightly. "that's not the attitude of someone who's confident in their abilities." 

ii. routine 

"can i ask you guys a question?" 

a cool breeze tickles your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake, and you suppress a shiver. the smell of the air tells you winter is fast approaching. 

"you just did," satoru hums, his snowy hair splayed out against stems of green grass. suguru's chuckle reverberates deep in his chest, and you have to push back an exasperated smile. 

"another one then," you press, leaning over satoru's face to force yourself into his view. his blue eyes pierce through yours over the dark-rimmed frames of his glasses, and even after seeing them so many times, they still feel as dominating as the first. he hums again, and you take that as your cue. 

"what did you first think of me when we met all those months ago?" 

satoru sits up quickly, and you can already feel your shoulders dropping when you catch a glimpse of the teasing smirk on his lips. he shifts so that he's directly facing you, leaning close so that the two of you are barely a palm's distance from one another. 

"thought you were an annoying little rookie~" he sings and you immediately shove at his shoulder.

"'m not a rookie anymore," you huff, and satoru laughs joyously. suguru only grins, his eyes darting between the two of you happily. satoru moves himself into a proper sitting position, digging his long fingers into your bag of chips and popping one into his mouth. you swat at his hand, even though you don't mean it, because though you complain about gojo satoru all the time, you would give him the whole world if you could. 

you and satoru take turns reaching into the bag. you wonder if the sound of crunching disturbs suguru. he's not asleep—he's just doing that thing where he keeps his eyes closed and escapes to his own land of tranquility. you'd like to give him as much peace as you can, so you stay quiet. satoru does too, but you think that's just because you aren't talking to him. 

the quiet is nice when you're with them. sometimes silence makes you feel alone—paranoid. it feels like there is some impending doom hovering over your shoulder, and all you can do is wait for it to come. but with them it is different. you know that any danger in the quiet will be caught by the two of them. maybe that's why it's so easy to let your guard down around them. you trust that they won't let you die.  

"i thought you were weak," satoru pipes up after a few minutes of silence. "you didn't seem like you were confident in your abilities, and that's a sign of weakness." 

after spending so much time with satoru and suguru, the word weak has permeated almost every one of your conversations. later you learned how much more significant it was for them to label someone as strong. you chase after the word—crave it.

"and turns out that wasn't true." suguru adds with a smile, his head leaning back against the trunk of the tree. his eyes are still closed serenely and you wonder if he can feel the way you're gazing at him. 

"yeah and now you act like some big hotshot," satoru grumbles, as though he doesn't want to admit to his old mistake, but you can hear his smile. it annoys you, the way his once degrading little nickname has now somewhat turned into a term of endearment. you would rather die than admit that you like hearing him say it. 

"well, I'm glad that i was able to prove you both wrong."

the conversation ends there. 

shoko returns a few minutes later, tossing you a can of soda and suguru a pack of cigarettes. as soon as she sits down in her spot under the tree you're forcing your head into her lap and kicking your feet onto satoru's legs. you ignore his complaints, because you know that in just a little bit he'll quiet down and his hand will rest over your ankle, fingers soft but firm. they'll occasionally drum some rhythmic tune, or draw nonsensical patterns against your skin.

shoko's fingers thread through your hair, just like they always do, and you know that in a few minutes you'll doze off in her lap, just like you always do. it's clockwork, this thing that you have with them. they make the days keep going—time doesn't stop for you. 

a part of you wishes you could freeze time at that moment. 

but you can't. 

iii. halcyon

"hey suguru?"

"hm?"

"how come you always do your hair the same way?"

suguru glances up from his book. he's seated at your desk, and for a minute, the breeze pushes your curtains so that they block your view of him. satoru groans lightly from your left, turning on his side to snuggle deeper into your pillow, and slumber overtakes him once more. him and shoko remain quiet, faces free of worry as they dream in a land that is so unlike the real world you live in.

"what do you mean?" suguru asks in response to your question. he has an amused smile on his face as he places his book on your desk, though his thumb and pointer finger keep his page.

"well…" you suddenly feel stupid for asking, but he's looking at you so intently now. "you have such nice hair. you could style it in so many different ways."

"are you saying you don't like my hair the way it is?" he frowns.

"no no!" you scramble, shaking your head emphatically. quite the opposite actually you think he's so so attractive—how on earth did you screw this up so badly? "that's not it i just—"

he laughs, tilting his head fondly. "i'm just messing with you, hotshot."

you blanch, before crossing your arms with a huff. "asshole…"

he chuckles, before lifting a calloused hand up to finger the tie that holds his hair in a bun. he glances back at you, before a michevious smile settles on his face. he gives the tie one sharp tug, and the bun falls away. black hair drops, resting on his shoulders, and you stare at him—oddly parched. wind brushes through the open window, tickling your curtains, tickling his now open hair. you had seen his hair down before, of course. in the few seconds after a sparring session when the bun had gotten loose, or when too many strands escaped the tie and fell in front of his face (he always pushed them away with an agitated huff). but now he looks different—good, you realize. he looks good.

"how should i style it then, hotshot?"

his question shakes you out of your daze. you hum in contemplation. "i don't know."

he laughs quietly, as to not wake the other two. "didn't you just say there were so many ways to style it? enlighten me then," he teases, reaching over to grab a small scrap of paper from your desk. he slots it where his fingers are holding place, and then closes the book. he swivels in the chair to face you completely, rolling over so that he's right in front of you.

"well…" you start, biting your lip in thought. "a ponytail maybe?"

suguru bunches his hair into his fist, holding it up against his head. "and? how do i look?"

you grin, eyeing the new style with a stifled laugh. "fantastic."

he laughs again, louder this time, before dropping his hand.

"it looked good though!" you laugh and he rolls his eyes fondly.

"yeah yeah," he dismisses with a wave of his hand. he looks back at you, eyes tracing over your hair before he grins wide.

"i like yours."

you blink. "mine?"

"the way you did your hair today," he points to the half up-half down style you've thrown together. a dark blue ribbon holds the hair in place—satoru had said it matched nicely with your uniform. suguru's eyes gleam as he appraises it. "it's nice. it looks really pretty on you."

something in your chest feels like it fell off a cliff.

"oh—" you stumble, before smiling at him because that's all you can do when he makes you feel like this. "thanks suguru."

"do mine like that," he says quickly.

once again, you blink owlishly and all you can manage is a stupid "huh?"

"do my hair like that," he repeats, getting up from the chair to sit at your feet, back towards you. he crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap, patiently waiting.

"you can't do it yourself?" you tease, scooting closer to the edge of the bed.

"i can," he replies and you can hear the easy smile in his voice. "but i want you to do it for me."

"okay then!" you laugh before gently parting sections of his hair out. and then you work in silence, putting more effort into his hair than you've ever done with your own.

iv. fragility

"lady riko does not have any relations. when she was young, her family was involved in an accident…since then, i've been her caretaker. so please let her at least spend time with her fr—" 

"—so that makes you her family then." 

suguru's words seem to stun kuroi, the weight of riko's situation finally making itself clear as her face crumbles. 

"…yes." 

you listen to the way her voice wobbles, and try to suppress the poisonous lump forming in your throat. 

"then we do everything we can to make her happy," you say solemnly, leaving no room for argument. suguru seems to agree and says nothing—some deeper part of you feels something more than thankful towards him. 

"you're awfully sensitive for a jujustu sorcerer, you know that?" satoru comments offhandedly. you turn to look at him, meeting his piercing gaze over dark rims. 

"maybe," you concur. "is that considered weak?" 

satoru seems to ponder his answer, before shrugging, a light smile on his face. "to some people, maybe." 

you manage to smile back, and he takes in the expression with an odd look on his face. "say what you want, satoru. but you agree with me, don't you?" 

he looks away, eyes gazing out to the distance where you know riko is currently in class with her friends, trying to live the life she wants, and something in them softens considerably. 

"we'll do things the way she wants us to." 

it's one sentence, said without a smile or laugh, but hearing it fall from satoru's lips makes you beam at him. 

that's just your kindness, isn't it, satoru?

your heart leaps when you notice the tips of his ears tinge with rouge. 

v. longing

riko's hand is warm against the coolness of your fingers. your body feels hyperaware of your surroundings, toes deep in hot sand and salty air sticking to your skin. for some odd reason, you can't seem to relax. unconsciously, you tighten your grip around the young girl's palm. she glances up at you, but when you look down at her, she's wearing the biggest smile you've ever seen. 

satoru's presence makes itself known behind you—his shadow looms over yours in the sand. "it'll be fine," he says.

you can't see his face, nor can you see suguru who stands at his side, but your shoulders drop slightly, and you find yourself smiling back at riko. 

"i'm getting in the water!" she squeals eagerly, before dragging a helpless kuroi with her. satoru laughs—a clear, pristine sound—and follows after her. you watch the three of them with a fond smile, something akin to content settling deep within you.  

"and what are you planning on doing?" suguru asks. you turn to look at him, watching the way his heavy eyes stay focused on you. 

"hmm," you quirk a brow mischievously. "build sandcastles with me?" 

suguru blinks owlishly before he breaks out into a good-natured laugh. 

"deal." he walks closer to the water's edge, where the sand is damper, and crouches down. he turns to look at you over his shoulder. "don't make me do all the work, hotshot." 

you stand there, taking him in—really taking him in. he's just as clear as the sky behind him, and the sun shining on his face makes his smile glow. you want him to continue smiling at you like that well into the future. the waves crash onto the shore, as though the ocean is chasing his radiance, and an overwhelming feeling of unfiltered affection swells in your chest. 

your feet carry you forward, and you think that they might always lead you back to him. 

the sun rises as time passes, and occasionally you spare a glance at satoru and riko, who are screaming as they splash water at one another. and then you catch a glimpse of kuroi, who stands with her feet in the water, a soft smile on her face. 

and in that moment, nothing can be ruined. 

"what's wrong?" suguru's voice calls out, and you tear your gaze away from the others to look back at him. he stands behind you with two strawberry ice cream cones in his hands. 

"nothing," you hum, a serene smile on your face. "everything's perfect."

his eyes trace your face, stopping to linger on your smile, and they soften. "it is, isn't it?" 

he turns to the ocean, watching satoru and riko, and his eyes sparkle. "i hope it stays like this always." 

"me too." 

he bends down to take his place at your side before he hands you a cone. you take it from him. suguru's eyes drift away from you to look down at his castle. 

"i think it looks great," he expresses, before taking a lick of his ice cream. 

you roll your eyes with a huff. "yeah, because you made it look so nice. you're unnecessarily good at this, suguru." 

he laughs, waving his hand dismissively. "no no, we did it together! and yours is nice too!" 

"maybe," you grin, looking at his castle. "but yours is extra pretty." 

he smiles back, before pointing at a small hole in his sand tower. "see this room? it's yours." 

"mine?" you chuckle.

"yeah, all yours," he hums softly. "this is my castle and you get your own room." 

"oh? and why's that?" 

suguru's gaze lingers on you, and his dark eyes soften considerably. "because you'll always have a place in my home." 

you stare at him, speechless—something hammers away at the inner crevices of your chest. 

"and this one—" he points to another hole a few inches away from the first. "—is my room." 

"well in that case, that room is mine too!" you declare.

"what?" he barks out a laugh. "how does that work?" 

"well…" you grin at him, the sun burning into your cheeks. "because my home is wherever you are!" 

suguru's cheeky smile fades and his eyes widen. he looks at you, mouth agape, and you're about to say something else before sticky coolness trickles down your wrist. 

"ack!" you hurry to wipe away the strawberry ice cream dripping down your skin and you completely miss the red that creeps up his neck and seeps into his ears. 

vi. ice bath

shoko's fingers are unbelievably soft. you're grateful that you were unconscious through most of her procedures on your battered body—you don't think you would've handled the pain too well. she's quiet as she works over the large wound that now covers almost half of your torso. the man with the scar on his lip had done quite the number on you, and you don't think you'll ever forget the searing ache of his blade slicing through your flesh. he had left you in a bloodied pile, isolated, and you hadn't seen what had happened to suguru after the man shot riko. you could only lay there, vision swimming as a bitter taste filled your mouth—a reminder of the life you failed to protect.

the pain had been the only thing you could focus on, until satoru was on his knees at your side and tightly gripping your shoulders. your hazy focus was drawn to his lips as he spewed curses and insults at you. 

"why didn't you run away, you little shit," he had shouted, a feral look in his eyes. there was something different about him—a change in his very being that you could see even in the throes of death. "shoko's coming, do you hear me? for fuck's sake, keep your eyes open, hotshot!" 

you swore you saw his eyes shine behind that look of uncontrolled anger. he had been talking a mile a minute and your focus had waned until you could only see his lips move, no sound reaching your ears.

you've never thought satoru looked more godly than he did at that moment.

suguru eventually found his way into your field of vision—knelt at satoru's side. his large hand had squeezed your limp fingers in a death grip. he was sweating, and his eyes were darting back and forth between your pale face and bloodied torso, something akin to guilt swimming in them. you wished that you had the strength in you to squeeze his hand in return. the last thing you remember seeing is his dark hair falling in front of his face as he turned to shout at whoever was approaching.

now you're awake. disoriented and bleary, but awake, and all you can look at is the way shoko's bangs fall over her furrowed brows. she's taken care of the bleeding, and now all that's left is a dull throbbing, reminding you of how close you had toed the line with death. you don't know this yet, but the scar will remain for the rest of your life, and that dull throbbing will be a permanent reminder of your narrow escape. 

shoko hasn't said a word since she noticed your eyelids flutter open. you want to ask her so many things. important things that cannot wait: 

where's satoru? how about suguru? i saw them both. satoru's alive, right? and suguru, too? the man—with the scar. where did he go? he said that satoru—riko….where is riko? and—and kuroi…i—i..couldn't save riko. when did you get here, shoko? and why am i the only one who's being taken care of by you? 

you want to ask her. but she's making a very odd expression as her hands ghost over your body. you've never seen it before, this odd quirking of her lips. her teeth sink into the bottom one, and she chews and bites and nibbles like it's some kind of nervous tell. 

"shoko?" 

it's all you can manage to say—all you dare. your voice is dry, shaky, and sounds almost foreign to your ears. you're going to ask more, at least one of those thousand questions you had asked in your head earlier, but you don't get to because she speaks before you. 

"shut up," she spits, and the wobble in her voice has you pinching your lips shut and feeling closer to death than you did before. 

vii. acid rain

the sound of clapping is deafening. you don't think you've ever heard a sound so horrid in your life before, and you feel as though your ears are bleeding heavily. you can faintly make out the conversation between satoru and suguru, your ears struggling to pick out the tones of their voices. 

"no…" you hear suguru say quietly. "it doesn't matter if I'm fine…"

you can feel satoru's eyes roam over your motionless body, watching the way you gaze out into the crowd impassively. 

"let's get out of here, guys."

your feet carry you numbly, and you aren't aware of anything except the way riko's arm is swinging in front of you lifelessly. there are no mirrors around—no way of catching the track of tears cutting over your cheeks. the places where the salt touches burn like acid. you say nothing. 

satoru's gaze feels intrusive. he doesn't need to ask you anything—he just knows. it's like your body is radiating the emotions tumbling around in your gut. 

you're awfully sensitive for a jujutsu sorcerer, you know that?

"do you want to…kill them all?" 

the question stuns you, and for the first time, you can shake yourself out of your daze to look at satoru directly. blood is smeared over the left side of his face, cerulean eyes dimmed, as though something had pulled the shine out of them. red seeps into the fine hairs of his restless eyebrows. 

"right now, i probably wouldn't even feel anything," he continues, staring at you listlessly.

you think satoru might be feeling just as numb as you are. you don't know what happened to him yet. the last you had heard, gojo satoru had been killed by the man with the scar. he had boasted about it to you before he attempted to kill you too. but then satoru was at your side again, completely alive as he ran your battered body to shoko like a crazed man. 

you'll find out later who the man with the scar on his lip was, and what kind of legacy he had left behind. but for right now, all you see is a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you know your answer.

satoru could help the pain go away; he'd be able to make the clapping stop—maybe then your ears wouldn't bleed anymore. but you couldn't ask that of him. 

"forget it. it's pointless," suguru mutters, and you're glad he's on the same page as you. not because any of these people deserve pity, but because satoru deserves a break—one less burden for him to carry. 

you hear suguru say more, but you can't focus. you continue to listen to the sound of the clapping, and once again lose yourself as you stare at riko's bloodied fingertips. 

"pointless, huh?" satoru mumbles in response to suguru's answer. "does there need to be a reason?" 

"of course. it's important," suguru's voice doesn't carry the same pleasant tone it always does. instead, it sounds strained, and tired beyond belief. unsure. "especially as jujutsu sorcerers." 

satoru doesn't respond, but you know that he's measuring the weight of his friend's words. that's how it was with the two of them. they both balance each other out—their moral compasses influenced by one another. but then you feel satoru look up from riko's body and turn to you. suguru follows suit, and before you can wonder why, it hits you: satoru had asked you both. 

you suck a deep breath in, feeling unusually breathless. the flesh of your stomach tingles with a painful reminder of what might've been, and you make up your mind. 

"killing them won't change anything," you say, breaking your silence. the tears on your cheeks have dried, but they leave a rigid trail in their wake—a trail that still stings. "let's just leave it at that." 

viii. fever dreams

satoru lies next to you. 

a few nights have passed since riko's death, and you've chosen to stay holed up in your room. you're not sure why—death has always played a big role in your life. you don't understand why it's different this time. 

tonight is different as well. while you've maintained a distance from everyone since that day, save for classes and passing by people on school grounds, today you've decided to let someone in. satoru's the lucky one, mostly because he would've pestered you until you opened your door for him anyway. 

it's strange though. he had knocked over and over, and when you finally opened up with a snappy jab at his annoying personality, he had brushed straight past you and laid across your bed. he hadn't said a word since then, and you've found yourself lying next to him in silence for quite a while. 

his hand stretches out in the darkness and you can feel his fingertips brush over the skin of your arm. it's delicate, like he's testing his limits, but you understand. it's just to ground himself—to know that you're still here, with him. to be sure that you're still alive.

you think the scar that goes down your body bothers him a lot more than it bothers you. 

"'m here," you mumble sleepily. your fingers reach up to bump against his knuckles, and you hear him inhale deeply. his voice is throaty when he replies. 

"i know." 

ix. doubt

satoru learns that you've never been kissed before and he teases you for it.

not in a mean way, but in a way that has your cheeks heating and your eyes avoiding his. suddenly it feels like the gap between ages 16 and 17 is huge. he's barely even a year older than you and you're in the same year, but it feels as though he knows so much more about the world than you do. you want to ask suguru if it's bad that you've never had a kiss, but you don't. suguru rarely talks these days. sometimes he'll have conversations with you but won't look in your eyes when he speaks. 

"hey listen, hotshot. if you don't get a kiss by…" satoru hums, an eager smile on his face as he swings an arm around your shoulders and contemplates his words. "…let's say 27, then i'll give one to you!" 

there's an odd note of glee in his voice. 

"shut up, toru," you groan, heat flooding your cheeks. "quit joking around." 

he laughs loudly, pulling your cheek teasingly. "aw, i'm just playing. it's not a bad thing i promise!" 

your shoulders relax slightly as the snowy-haired sorcerer continues to speak. 

"i just thought that you would've kissed someone by now," he shrugs. "wasn't there that one guy you went on a few dates with? the one you met when we went to yokohama?" 

there's an almost sour expression on his face as he speaks, but you're too frustrated to care. "just because i went on a couple of dates with him doesn't mean i kissed him!"

a broad teasing smile appears on satoru's face. "is that so?" 

"ugh, i'm only 16!" you hiss, shoving him away from you. "besides i'm saving it for someone special!"

"good," you hear suguru speak up, and you turn to look at him. his fingers are interlocked, elbows resting on his knees, and he's staring down at his hands like they hold the answers to some deep questions he has. "it is something irreplaceable after all." 

x. shadow

satoru's grin is proud as he stands before the three of you, his loose shirt billowing in the summer breeze.

you stare at him, heart thumping as shoko lets out a confused gasp. "huh? what the hell was that?"

"did it automatically choose the target for your technique?" suguru asks.

"yep!" satoru stresses the word, spinning the pencil suguru had thrown as he explains. "though i am the target. i've pretty much automated what i used to have to do manually."

your head is spinning.

"now i can tell an object's danger levels based the strength of its cursed energy, its speed, mass, velocity, shape—whatever. i want to be able to discern poisons too but that's pretty hard right now." satoru's voice is even when he explains, though you can make out the hints of pride that permeate his tones. you think his voice has gotten a little deeper too. "basically this is gonna allow me to keep my limitless technique active all the time!"

"that's gonna fry your brain!" shoko interjects, shaking her hair out of her eyes.

"yeah but i can do it while i continuously generate energy on my own. that way my brain stays fresh."

you can't help but let out an amused scoff. "what brain?"

satoru chucks the eraser at you, and you laugh as it bounces off your shoulder harmlessly.

"i've been working on shortening my hand signals so i can activate red and blue simultaneously." he continues, lips twitching upward as he gives you an exaggerated glare. "after this the only things i need to work on are domain expansion and long-distance teleportation. which i should be able to do if we set up some training courses here at school."

you think if someone examined you closely, they would see the stars in your eyes when you look at satoru.

"shoko~" he calls out, grinning eagerly. "think you could get me some lab rats?"

shoko groans as satoru bounds over to pester her more emphatically. you watch him, thinking you've never seen a person quite so magnificent.

god personified into a 17-year-old body. and yet it is a body that stays so close to you—well within your reach. maybe there's nothing so godly about that at all.

"don't you get tired of getting stronger and stronger, jeez?" you complain, crossing your arms as you raise a brow at him. satoru wets his lips as he throws you a smug smile.

"don't worry hotshot, you'll catch up to me someday!" he gives you an exaggerated wink over the frames of his glasses, and you shake your head somewhat fondly.

"no way! i never want to be at your level," you huff. "i'm very comfortable living in your shadow, thank you very much!"

a strange look passes over his face, almost puzzled, but the dip in his brows melts away as he approaches you. "well—" he slings an arm over your shoulder. "if my shadow makes you happy then you're more than welcome to stay there."

you don't have time to reply. pale lashes flutter at you—a backdrop of cerulean. you think white and blue may be the prettiest combination of colors in the world.

"suguru?" satoru's voice is casual, yet the amusement has dropped from it. his arm is heavy around your shoulders. "have you lost weight? are you okay?"

you look up, seeing tired eyes behind dark stands of hair. suguru's cheekbones are prominent, and you have the sudden urge to reach out and trace your fingers over them.

his lips twitch upward weakly. "it's just the summer heat…"

his lavender eyes drift to your face as he says it, and he tilts his head as he scrutinizes your worried expression. "…i'll be fine."

xi. hellfire

you hear suguru before you see him.

his breaths come loud as he pushes the door to the morgue open, the metal clanging heavily. his eyes bore into your back, taking in your clenched fists and raised shoulders that seem to tremble.

you wonder who told suguru you'd be here. maybe nanami, who was here not long ago, and had sent you a text that merely said: the mission went badly.

or maybe it was satoru, who had been chatting with you near the entrance of campus when he saw the myriad of emotions pass over your face as you read the text. he had probably called suguru as soon as you left.

it doesn't matter—you can't bring yourself to care.

you can only think about the way haibara had smiled at you before he left that morning.

now that smile is covered by a dirty white sheet, and you can't tear your eyes away from it. the taste of blood and vomit is heavy on your tongue.

suguru says your name quietly. you can't even look at him—you're scared that you'll cry if you do.

you don't ever want to cry in front of him. or satoru—so weak in front of those who are so strong.

"he asked if i wanted to go with them and i said no because i was lazy," you hiss, teeth clenched as you spit out the words with venom. "if i had just stopped thinking about myself for a second—"

your fingers dig into the flesh of your palms—deep, deep, deeper.

you hear suguru click his tongue, and his hands wrap around yours. he yanks your fingers apart fiercely, thumbs smoothing over the bloodied indents you've made in your own skin. you tear your eyes away from the body to finally look at him.

"don't—" his breath catches as his thumbs still over your flesh, eyes going hard as he takes in the blood.

he blurs in and out of focus. his head whips up when he hears you sniffle, and his lips slant ruefully. "you—"

"i'm fine," you interrupt, blinking pointedly and taking a deep breath. "it's fine—i mean it's not fine—but i c—"

"stop." suguru grabs your shoulders, giving you an even stare. you don't know how you didn't notice it before, but he looks thinner, older. there are dark circles under his eyes—poison seeping into his skin. "you need to rest."

you stare back at him silently, but you don't feel like you agree. something about this is making you feel restless, like there is so much you need to make up for. his grip tightens, before he's wordlessly leading you to take a seat—he finds his place next to you.

"satoru took over the mission." he stares at the lifeless body on the table as he speaks. you lower your gaze.

"and nanami?" your throat feels like it's closing. suguru inhales deeply.

"he went back to the dorms."

"okay."

you try to figure out if there is any meaning in having this conversation. despite everything, weren't you expected to wake up tomorrow morning and head out on a mission once more? and when you return, you're sure that there'll be another faceless body taking haibara's place.

the cycle continues—clockwork. it scares you, just how replaceable you are.

haibara, nanami, you, another, nameless—interchangeable.

not like satoru. not like suguru. not like the strong.

you lean your head against suguru's shoulder, fingering the hem of your uniform skirt. the fabric is cool to the touch—it seems darker, heavier. heat radiates from the body next to you, and there's something about him that's making your stomach churn with nerves. "suguru?"

his voice sounds far away. "hm?"

"are you okay?"

he stiffens and you suddenly fear you've said too much—nosy, intruding, out of place. you stumble. "it's just, we haven't talked much lately."

"i'm fine," he answers, and you can hear a smile in his voice—whether it's real or fake you can't tell. "just a little tired."

you know there is truth to this. but it scares you, how this tiredness of his has lingered for months. you don't know how to tell him that.

"okay…" your voice is barely a whisper, heavy with unspoken words that you don't know how to formulate. somehow you find that silence has always been your only option.

but like usual, silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable.

haibara's smile burns behind your eyelids.

"it should be a relatively simple mission. if you're not doing anything today senpai, would you like to come with us?"

his voice tickles your ears.

"that's alright! i'll get going then! oh right, today's mission is a little farther than usual, so we'll probably be back late! what would you like me to bring back for you?" 

hypoxia crushes your lungs, your blood burns. selfish selfish selfish. you've only ever cared about yourself.

suguru's arm curls around your shoulder before you even realize you're crying. his palm is warm as it smooths over your hair, and all you can worry about tainting him with your ridiculous tears.

you don't ever want to burden him—just want to quietly live in his shadow.

"i don't—" you internally cringe at the throaty rasp of your voice, swiping a hand at your nose. "i shouldn't be so sensitive about—"

"it's not your fault." he quietly hushes you, grip tightening imperceptibly. through your tears you can see him adam's apple bob, and for some reason that makes you feel worse. you're too scared to look at his expression, even though his voice is resolute. "none of this is our fault."

something has changed in the way he speaks now. something has settled, a confirmation of some idea that has been brewing for a long time now.

you don't say another word, but somehow he manages to sear himself into your very being. he's warm, and fuzzy, and he smells like sandalwood and incense. 

you don't know how long suguru let's you pathetically sob into his shoulder.

but you think you're embarrassed that he has taken pity on a wounded animal's cries.

xii. split

he looks different, but also the same. you've seen him wear that sweater before. it's plain black, no patterns, and you know that there's a loose string on the inside of the left sleeve that he was always too lazy to cut. you've always liked that sweater—always liked the way he looked in it. 

you liked it so much that you've even stolen it a few times yourself. 

but now it looks different. older and dirtier—as though soiled by some unknown curse. 

that's what everything came down to, right? curses. 

suguru stands in front of you, almost no trace of emotion on his handsome face, and his expression makes you want to turn and run. you miss the calm serenity that normally graced his features, wishing that you had some kind of cursed technique that could turn back time. but you aren't blessed like that—you wonder what sin you might've committed in a past life that made you so unlucky in this one. 

"you look confused," he comments. you reel at how casually he speaks to you, like it's just another afternoon sitting under that stupid tree. like he's leaning his head back against the trunk and watching you and satoru bicker with that fond look in his eye. 

"suguru," you speak, an odd strain in your voice. you struggle to comprehend this odd turn of events. you've had time to understand that he's now a different person than the one you once knew. you know that he's responsible for killing 112 innocents, including his own parents. you know that he's now an enemy to jujutsu society and you know that you should kill him right at this moment.

but he looks so much like suguru, like your suguru, that you can only manage to stand there, frozen in place. his eyes drift over your body, taking in your pajamas, the bath towel in your hands, and the small drops that trickle from your hair, and you can see the familiarity settle in his expression. 

"why are you here?" you choke out. you feel an overwhelming sense of danger in your gut, knowing that your family is just a few rooms over from where he stands now. 

"at your family home, you mean?" he asks casually. a small, almost amused smirk appears on his face. "you said i was always welcome." 

you did say that. sometime last year or the year before, when you had invited satoru, suguru, and shoko over to visit during one of your quick holidays. suguru had sat across from you at your dinner table. he complimented the food and your father smiled one of his rare smiles. you had chewed quietly to hide your grin.

you don't know what to say to him now. 

"everything they said about you," you whisper, taking a step toward him. he remains rooted in place, but his eyes follow your movements. they shift when he catches your fingers gripping your towel tighter. "is it true?" 

"do you think it is?" he asks, and you gulp. it feels like he's baiting you into some kind of trap. 

"i don't want to believe that it is," you answer, voice shaking. "that you would ever do something so…"

the sentence hangs in the air, and he tilts his head imperceptibly. something in his eyes changes as he focuses on the drops falling over your shoulders. 

"well i'm sorry to squash your hope," he raises his arms in a shrug. "but everything you heard is completely true." 

your head aches, but you're not surprised by his confirmation. "why would you…?"

suguru hums, a dark look falling over his face. "do you remember the conversation we had after haibara's funeral? do you remember what i told you when he died?" 

anger flares in your gut at the mention of haibara, and the bath towel crumples in your hold. "don't say his name," you hiss through gritted teeth. "don't act like he's the reason—just…don't bring him into this. please." 

suguru licks his lips, eyes going soft before he tries again. 

"everything used to make sense back then," he sighs. "back when the strong existed to protect the weak. but it's not true." 

"suguru—" 

"the reason why we suffer is because of them," he interjects evenly, though frustration is clearly evident in the curve of his brows and the volume of his voice. "we clean up their messes. they create problems and we die for it." 

you're stunned into silence, at the way he's raising his voice at you, at the way he's speaking so firmly about this horrible topic, at everything. he seems to realize the effect of his speech, and he quells his anger to speak quieter. "that's why i'm doing this. i'm going to create a world without non-sorcerers, so that sorcerers like you and i can live peacefully." 

a lump forms in your throat because god, he's right. he's so right. your life would be a thousand times better without curses. non-sorcerers were the reason curses existed. but the way he's going about this…

"suguru," your voice shakes, but you press on. "i get it. i really do—" 

"i know you do," he interrupts. "you always have. even back then…" 

he takes a step closer to you, reaching out to finger the towel in your hands. "but you don't agree with the way i'm doing it, right?" 

you bite your lip, and he smiles at the sadness in your expression. "you're so easy to read, hotshot." 

you ignore the way the nickname stings. "i just—how could you kill innocent people like that? your own parents, suguru."

he looks away from you, steely resolve in his eyes. "if i made exceptions for my parents, that would kinda make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it?"  

you don't know what to say to that. he doesn't seem to have anything else to add either. 

he looks around your old bedroom, eyes sparkling as they catch a picture of the four of you from your first year. satoru's arm is slung around shoko. the dark-haired female has her elbow resting on your shoulder, her tongue sticking out playfully. you're clinging to suguru's arm, and satoru's free hand is squishing your cheeks together. the four of you are laughing. 

nobody has laughed in a while now. 

you tear your gaze away from the picture frame to look at him. he's so unbelievably close, and he's gazing down at you with this foreign look in his eyes, the picture forgotten behind him. 

he slips his fingers into your hair. his palm is large enough that it can brush the side of your face, and you wonder why your body doesn't flinch away from those bloodstained hands.

"it's okay," he mumbles, a faraway look in his eyes. they remain trained on your hair, but it feels like he's looking straight through you. like you're nothing more than a ghost he wants to erase. he's so close—you can count his dark lashes as they brush against his cheeks. "it's difficult. i don't expect you to understand." 

his words incite a sudden flare of anger in your gut. it burns something fierce, and in that moment you hate him. 

"no, i don't," you reply indignantly. he pauses, now really looking at you, and his brows quirk upward in what seems to be surprise, because—well, he's never seen you make such an expression at him before. "you never tried to help me understand. you just left." 

a strained silence follows. his fingers twitch against your cheek.

"this doesn't concern you," he says finally. "i don't need you to understand my actions." 

you recoil, as though he's physically hurt you, and your expression falls so hard that it almost makes him regret saying it. almost. 

"if it doesn't concern me, then why are you here?" you ask again, and you see suguru's shoulders drop. "you know that i have orders to kill you. i might not be able to because you've always been stronger than me. but you know that i'll…" 

go down fighting you, is what you want to say, but the words leave a nasty taste in your mouth. but suguru seems to know what you're implying because a wry smile appears on his lips. his fingers twirl a strand of your wet hair. 

"i'm here to say goodbye," he says finally. another tense silence fills the space between you both, and suguru can see the way your fingers shake between the folds of your towel. 

"you're a little bit late for that, aren't you?" you choke out, a strange tilt to your voice as you break eye contact with him. "you left school weeks ago, and you didn't say a word to me then." 

"better late than never, right?" 

the softness in his tone makes you turn to look at him again, and you desperately want to ingrain the features of his face into your head. the gentle slope of his eyes and sweetness of his smile. he almost looks like the suguru you once knew, and you suddenly have the urge to mourn his death. 

his face becomes blurry, the edges becoming less pronounced, and you can see the way his expression falls. 

"i didn't come all the way here to make you cry." his hand drops from your face and he takes a step back. your fingers hurry to wipe at your waterline, and you shake your head. 

"'m not crying." 

suguru smiles ruefully, and his eyes suddenly look devoid of life. he takes another step back—your heart plummets.

he says your name once, quietly, and it hangs in the air as you wait for him to say more. 

he doesn't. 

"you know that I'm not supposed to let you leave alive, right?" you mumble, fingers toying with the towel in your hand. "but i can't—i mean—"

"hm," he chuckles. "still as sensitive as ever, huh? s'okay…" 

he moves toward you again and his hand gently cups the back of your neck. "i think it's your best quality. makes you better than most people in our world."

he presses his lips to your forehead tenderly, and you feel your eyes widen behind your tears. 

you probably could've stopped him, because you're aware that he's now suddenly behind you, and that he's raising his hand. you can stop him, but a part of you thinks that if it's death at suguru's hands, maybe it's not such a bad way to go. 

you accept your fate then and there. 

you'll find out later that suguru never had the intention to kill you then. perhaps he was waiting for a more opportune time, waiting for there to be a meaning behind it. you're not sure. but when you wake up tucked in your bed cozily, you'll feel the remnants of him lingering around you.

he was warm, and fuzzy, and he smelled like sandalwood and incense.

xiii. sanctify

satoru's at your door again. 

you've memorized his knock patterns. he always knocks three times, then leaves a pause, then twice more. for someone so erratic, he can be quite predictable. 

"what's up, satoru?" you call out, not looking up from your busy hands. there are a couple of empty cardboard boxes open on your bed, and you've been placing things into them all morning. things that should've been put away a long time ago. you pause on one of your old test papers, and in suguru's dark, blocky handwriting you read: 

YOU GOTTA STUDY MORE DUMBASS.

underneath it, satoru had scrawled: 

hotshot failing class now huh? :P

and shoko had added: 

both of you stfu you're failing too 

you had drawn a heart next to her name. 

"whatcha doin'?" a familiar voice chirps. "spring cleaning?"

satoru stands directly behind you, peering over your shoulder. you can practically feel his aura shift when he notices the items you're putting away. 

"cleaning of some sort," you sigh, before turning to look over your shoulder. "i've been…putting it off." 

he doesn't move—just continues to stare down at the paper in your hands. you think maybe you shouldn't have let him in. sometimes you forget that satoru might have his own sensitivities—you've always viewed him as the strongest.

a few strands of his hair tickle your cheek, and you scrunch your nose in response. he then turns to you, eyes blinding as he studies you over the frames of his shades. 

"want help?" 

"please." you don't intend to sound so needy, but the way you whisper the word has him immediately grabbing your wrist and sitting you down next to him on the bed. 

"how are we sorting this stuff?" he asks, his voice oddly calm. he hasn't let go of your arm yet, and some quiet part of you is grateful. 

"i was putting our old school stuff in that box. books, papers…" you answer softly, and satoru nods in understanding. "and in the other box…" 

you inhale deeply through your nose. satoru waits, strangely patient. you're not sure if you're imagining it, but you think he squeezes your wrist. 

"…are all of suguru's things." 

there's a moment of silence—a quick mourning for what is no longer there. 

"it's stupid stuff that he left behind, you know?" you chuckle, even though nothing is funny. "some old shirts from when you two would sleep over, his old textbooks, a few pictures from our holidays—shit like that." 

satoru hums. he's not looking at you—instead he's staring at the box, a frown on his face. 

"i guess he didn't really need those things for where he was going. or for wherever he is now," you mumble. 

"guess not." 

you're not sure what's going through his head. satoru's reaction to suguru leaving had been chaotic at best. it was so hard to tell how he felt about it. you knew he was angry, confused, betrayed. but he never showed things like that. you think it might have to do with being the strongest. you're not sure though—you never were strong like him.

you wish there was a way to tell him that he could share his feelings with you, but you can't think of a way that won't be awkward. 

a ticklish sensation crawls up your wrist and you look down to watch satoru's first two fingers tap against the inside of your palm. his thumb brushes against yours as he lets out a heavy exhale. 

"let's get started then, hotshot." 

he looks down at you as he says the words, and you think you might cry. but you want to be strong, like him, so you offer him a smile. he gives you one in return. you realize there isn't that much warmth in it, not like it used to have—you're sure that yours isn't that warm either. 

but it's enough for the two of you. 

"you look tired, toru," you chuckle wryly, reaching up to brush a few strands of hair from his face. his eyes flutter at the touch, and you honestly think this might be the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. 

"so do you." 

"i am," you admit honestly. 

"'s okay," he mumbles. his fingers tap against your palm once more. "'m here." 

"i know," you answer. you always are.

nothing more is said as satoru stands up. he makes his way over to your desk and pulls one of suguru's old sweaters from your chair. you watch him fold it neatly, smoothing out the creases with care, before placing it into the box—you smile once more. 

you think the scent of sandalwood tickles your nose, but it's gone in an instant.  

both of you work in relative silence, sorting through the things in your room quickly. you're surprised at how bare it looks as you're nearing the end, as though there's nothing more to your life than old high school recollections. 

you finish putting the last few polaroids into the box when satoru speaks up. 

"hey." 

you look up and find him staring at you, so you turn to face him completely, giving him your full attention. 

"zenin toji—" the name sends a painful tingle up your body. "—left something behind." 

you frown. "what are you talking about?" 

"a kid. he's got a kid. and i was gonna go meet him today," satoru shrugs. you try to read his emotions, but as usual, he's giving you nothing. "the old man said something about the zenin clan buying up his kid before i killed him. i was gonna go see if there's something i could do about that." 

you sigh before raising a brow, an amused lilt to your voice. "and why have you kept this a secret?" 

satoru's trademark smirk appears, and he walks over to sling an arm around your shoulders. "who knows?" he quips nonchalantly. "guess i was waiting until we were bored. we need something to do now, don't we?" 

you glance at the packed boxes on your bed, and then look around your empty room. everything is always changing, but satoru is constant. 

"i guess so," you grin. his eyes shine, and for a second you see a familiar teenager at the beach, and then a familiar teenager under an old tree. you think you hear waves, and the crinkling of a bag of chips. 

"good," he chirps, walking you to the door, the arm around your shoulder secure. "his name's megumi, and we're gonna make sure he gets strong."

xiv. idyll

it takes you a little over four months to get used to megumi's eyes. they aren't unsettling or invading, like a certain snowy haired sorcerer, but they do give you chills when you first notice them. chills and a fleeting feeling of metal slicing up and down through your flesh. you just have to steady your breathing and remind yourself that the son is not the father.

tsumiki is an angel. you didn't think that kids that age could be so emotionally competent, but she's a pleasant surprise. she had been awfully protective over megumi, fidgeting with a firm hand on his shoulder as you and satoru invaded their space and upturned their lives. even after they had settled into the humble apartment satoru had purchased, tsumiki was still so overly cautious. it was obvious she still didn't trust either of you, but you thought it was admirable of her, and you relay this thought to satoru one day.

"think they hate us?" he asks, squishing his cheeks between his lithe fingers as he eyes the different milk cartons over the rims of his glasses.

"i'm pretty sure they just don't trust us that much," you reply, placing a few packs of instant ramen into the cart. "can you blame them? we're just random strangers who came up and basically kidnapped them."

"i'd like to say adopted!" he points out with a grin, before he sighs. "but we've already proved we're just doing this to help them. but they still barely talk at all."

"they're just being careful. megumi's still a little young and he looks like he doesn't give a shit about most stuff anyway," you chuckle as you remember the expression on the first grader's face as he spoke to your cocky friend. "and tsumiki's being cautious for both of them."

"she doesn't need to be cautious of us!" satoru dramatically whines, pulling out a carton of whole milk and placing it into the cart. you shiver as the cold air hits your skin, eyeing the sorcerer with an exasperated smile. he shuts the door with a huff. "i've been such a good dad!"

you roll your eyes, shoving his arm as he starts pushing the cart down the aisle. "she definitely should be cautious of you, you creep."

satoru looks down over his shoulder, appalled, though his eyes sparkle with mirth. "and why do you say that?"

"have you seen yourself? crazy 19 year old man that kidnaps kids," you mutter somewhat sarcastically, falling into step with him like it's normal. satoru grins at that—amused.

"i think it's pretty cool of her to be that responsible though," you continue, voice going softer as you think about them, and satoru hums in what you think might be agreement. you suddenly grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks and he turns to look at you.

"you think we should get another carton of milk?" you question, tilting your head at him. "megumi's been drinking it every day after he comes back from school and tsumiki said she wanted to try making milkshakes."

satoru blinks at you, eyes widening before an amused chuckle escapes his lips. you're about to ask what is so funny but he gestures back down the aisle. "go get some."

he waits for you as you go grab another carton, leaning against the cart easily. when you make it back and place the extra milk in the cart, satoru slings an arm around your shoulders. you raise a brow, but he just continues to push the cart with his free hand and says nothing.

so you don't say anything either.

the two of you continue shopping, trying to remember the things you've noticed the kids enjoying because you know they'll be too uncomfortable to outrightly request them. for every sweet snack satoru puts into the cart, you add something that can pass as somewhat healthy, and he hides a teasing grin behind his fist each time.

when you're almost done, satoru motions to the shelves of snacks, raising a brow at you. "what do you need, hotshot?"

you look up from where you're analyzing the contents of the cart. "hm? oh i don't wanna buy anything for myself. i'm good with the stuff i have back at the dorm."

"great," he shrugs with a subtle shake of his head. "except you're not buying anything this time, i am. so pick something."

"what?" you frown, walking over to him. "we're supposed to split groceries for the kids."

"we can split next time." satoru rolls his eyes at you, as though annoyed by your insistence. "i just got paid yesterday and i wanna waste money. pick something."

you groan. "but there really isn't anything i want. if you're gonna pay yourself then let's just go. i think this is good enough."

satoru looks unamused, his eyes boring into yours—bright, dominating, mesmerizing. "oh really? nothing you want?"

you stare at him in confusion as he walks over to the frozen section and opens the door. after a few seconds of rummaging, he pulls out a box. "not even this?"

your shoulders drop. he's holding a tub of strawberry ice cream.

he casually places it into the cart, eyes trained on your expression as he bends down. "it's your favorite, isn't it?"

your voice comes out throaty, and you wet your lips nervously—his eyes follow the movement at lightning speed. "how'd you know?"

satoru scoffs out a haughty chuckle, reaching up to knock a knuckle at your forehead—it's cold. "i know everything about you, hotshot."

he moves to grip at the cart's handle, standing close enough that you can feel the energy radiating off of him. the side of his hand touches yours, still cold. "now we can go."

he sticks by your side, pushing the cart towards the counters as he casually looks around the store. you briefly realize that his shadow doesn't cover you when you're at his side like this. the thought both scares you and pleases you in a way you didn't think was possible.

"thanks toru," you mumble before you can stop yourself. his gives you a sidelong glance—assessing.

his lips twitch. "it's just ice cream."

"no, it's a lot more than that." you're not really sure why you say it so tragically, and satoru inhales sharply. you notice that his knuckles have turned white as he grips the cart's handles. once again, his eyes dart rapidly over your face—between your eyes and then further down.

then he lets out a hushed laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "as long as you share with me, hotshot."

everything is always changing, but satoru is constant.

you can't help but smile. "always."

you two don't say much as you head to the counter, taking turns placing all the items on the belt. you quietly watch satoru dig into his wallet, feeling oddly content doing so. you think the stars in your eyes will never disappear.

the clerk eyes you both, and suppresses a fond grin. with your close proximity, shared cart, and satoru's easy going smile, you realize that she's probably misunderstanding, but you don't really know how to correct her. satoru says nothing—he just continues smiling, oddly pleased.

he smiles all the way to the car. you catch yourself doing the same in the rear view mirror.

xv. retribution

the first thing you notice when you kneel in front of suguru is that he's bleeding all over the place. you have the strongest urge to scramble and grip his fingers tightly, just as he had done for you so many years ago—but you don't dare. you're too scared that touching him will ruin you completely.

he says your name quietly, and yet it's the loudest thing in the universe to you—crashing over your ears until you've lost all sense of self.

and then he leans forward, his gaze heavy, and his hand comes up to tangle in your hair. his palm rests on the side of your face just like it did when he visited you at your family home. the last time you saw your geto suguru.

except this time he moves further—crosses a line. presses his lips to yours.

he tastes like blood. you don't pull away.

the feeling of his lips shocks you though, and you stay permanently frozen in place as you feel your eyes glaze over with something you can't put into words.

suguru kisses you slowly, deeply, like he's been waiting but wants to savor it. maybe you've been waiting too. you're not sure. you're so confused.

you don't even process the way his tongue slips past your lips, tasting almost eagerly like your mouth is some kind of conquest he's trying to claim.

it's intrusive, but not unwelcome. slow, but not gentle.

you whimper quietly, feeling acid sting down your cheek as he pulls away and his eyes flutter open. he takes in your expression, and a million emotions pass over his face.

a quiet chuckle. "that bad, huh?"

you shake yourself out of it and try to push away the flush creeping up your neck. "w-what?"

"you're crying," he announces, his furrowed eyebrows paired with a sweet smile that makes him look so unbelievably tragic. "the kiss was that bad?"

your face burns, and you raise a shaking hand up to your cheek—it's wet.

"it wasn't—i didn't—" you struggle. "i mean—"

he smiles ruefully. "i'm sorry. you were saving it for someone special, right?"

there's a charged silence that follows as you scour your brain for the conversation he's referencing. when you find it, your heart sinks.

"you've always been special to me, suguru." your voice comes out quiet, but he hears it all the same. his eyes widen fractionally and you can see a light pink dust his cheeks before he laughs. it's soft, hushed, and looks like it's painful, but he lets it run its course.

it reminds you of a laugh from so long ago, at a beach, with childish screams echoing against the sound of waves. you think you can feel strawberry ice cream dripping down your wrist.

his laughs die down and he's left smiling softly at you. his lavender eyes sparkle with mirth as he tilts his head. "i'm glad. that you were the one i gave a room to."

you can hear waves in your ears, crashing crashing drowning. sand is in your hands, in between your toes, in your eyes.

he coughs, and his palm shakes against your cheek. you wonder why he doesn't just let go already dammit suguru.

you inhale sharply, trying so hard to breathe because what is that stupid thing that's clogging your throat and preventing you from speaking? there's so much you have to say to him. so many questions. so many things left unsaid. your words are failing you.

but silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable, right?

you raise a shaky hand to press against his where it lays against your neck. "do you regret it?"

he licks his lips, smiling faintly, as though he's enjoying the new taste of you on them. "no."

"why not?" you whisper. your body unconsciously shuffles closer to him, chasing his warmth because gods is he warm. he's always been so warm, even now, in the throes of death.

"my feelings are still the same. i still hate the monkeys for everything they've done, all the crap they cause." he shuts his eyes, smiling that serene smile. you wish he was leaning against a tree trunk. "i still have no resentment to those at jujutsu tech. and you, i still…"

he doesn't continue. you don't think you want him to. there's a flush crawling up his neck, the faint pink a stark contrast to the red of blood. it makes you nauseous.

another deep inhale, and his thumb slides over your jawbone, before brushing under your bottom lip. he stares at the flesh heavily, letting his finger press into it. his tongue swipes over his own lips, eyes darkening further.

and then something shifts in his face, and he smiles mirthlessly. his hand drops from your face—broken contact.

he doesn't tear his gaze away from you, committing your face to memory. it's almost like he wants to say something, but decides against it at the last minute as he slumps further into the wall behind him and shuts his eyes.

when he speaks again, you know that it is all over.

"you're late, satoru."

[milla-frenchy]

6 PM

4k6 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel comes home earlier than expected, and catches you during a time alone Warnings: 18+ mdni. Established relationship, sex toy, mention of oral (f/m) and consensual somnophilia, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, mutual masturbation, fingering, dom!Joel, soft!Joel, intimate sex, feelings, piv, creampie, rimming, light spanking and biting, spit as lube, anal play, anal No age specified

a/n: same couple: 5 days collection, but fics can be read alone These two are becoming my favorites, chapter after chapter. It's kinda funny, when I think that I wanted to throw the first fic in the garbage after writing it, but Kate convinced me not to (I owe you 💕💕). 

Anyway, I'm adding some depths to what was mostly pwp, originally. Well, this part is still full smut, but some details add to their backstory. I still intend to write a chapter about how they met and became that couple, but emotionally it's not that easy (I'm in love with them). Enough talking, I hope you'll enjoy ❤️

Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for stopping me from throwing my fics in the trash 😌💕💕 and @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

The slight “buzz” is the only sound coming out of the bedroom. 

That and the moans that sometimes escape your lips, as your second hand tightens around your breast. You play with the vibrator and your sensations, brushing it against your clit, then moving it away a little.

You think about Joel. 

His hands, his lips. The way they have tasted every inch of your skin, so many times. The way he knows your body and how it responds to him. Not a single spot hasn’t been touched, kissed, licked by him. 

You press the sex toy a little more against you, trying to feel the sensations you get when you're with Joel, even though you know it's impossible.

You think about his cock, when your saliva drools from his shaft to his balls, while you focus on the moans he can't hold back anymore.

“Shit, baby, yeah, just like that, keep goin’ a bit. Then I’ll fuck you, ok? Just wanna feel your lips on me a little more.”

The way you nod, not letting go of his cock, giving him what he wants and trying your best to drive him crazy. Sometimes he can't hold back and comes in your mouth with a groan. And when he opens his eyes and sees your little proud smirk of having him break, he growls "c’mere." Then grips your hips to make you straddle his face, and eats you as the sweetest revenge until you come on his tongue too.

You think about how your two bodies are made for each other, like two jigsaw puzzle pieces, whether it’s day or night, whether you’re awake or not.

He should be home in a few hours, but the heat in your crotch hasn’t left you all day, since this morning. When barely awake, he settled between your thighs, your pussy still dripping from the night, burying himself gently in your snoozy body, murmuring “good morning, baby” in your ear with his sleepy voice. His hair disheveled, his eyes barely open. He fucked you slowly, until you clenched on his shaft. He growled in your neck before adding more cum to your core, your fingers tightened on his biceps to keep him against you, while his hands were cupping your cheeks.

You think about all that, while using the vibrator against you. How you took a shower when you got home, put on some comfortable clothes, then went to the bedroom. You’ve been planning to read your book but the sheets still smelt of this morning and one of Joel’s shirts was lying on his pillow. You undressed, keeping only your panties on, and put on his t-shirt. You didn't even open the book. Your hand slid between your thighs and played with your pussy through the garment. 

But it wasn’t enough. Your panties joined the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, then your finger slipped easily between your dripping folds and over your clit. You came quickly, mechanically, but you needed more.

So you grabbed the vibrator from your nightstand drawer and placed it lightly against you after turning it on, not to overstimulate your swollen bud. 

And now you’re moaning, whispering “Joel,” squeezing a breast over his shirt, before sliding your hand under the fabric and grabbing it roughly. Trying to replicate Joel’s gesture, even though his hand is way bigger than yours, stronger than yours. “Joel,” you whisper again, as you bring the toy closer to your most sensitive place.

“ ‘m here, sweetheart.”

You get startled and snap your eyes open that land directly on Joel, who’s leaning against the doorframe, his lustful gaze roaming your body. You turn off the sex toy and it gets quiet in the room.

“Keep going baby, don’t stop.”

“I… I can’t. I can’t if you’re watching me.”

“‘Course you can. Lemme see how beautiful you are when you make yourself come, right in front of me.” His voice is soft but firm. His gaze is intense, as always. His broad body, leaning against the bedroom door, is the perfect representation of a quiet strength and self confidence. He has all of it in him naturally, it exudes from him. You don’t need more to feel your limbs weaken and your pussy drooling onto the sheets.

Your hand relaxes a little on the vibrator and you release some pressure in your taut legs while you tell yourself that yeah, you can do it. That you’re safe with Joel, that he just wants you to feel good.

“Close your eyes, baby. And turn it on,” he adds, nodding at you, knowing that you need it to relax totally.

So you do as he says, without pressing it against you at first.

“Show me, baby. Spread your legs for me, and show me how you do it.”

Encouraged by his praise, you spread wider, feeling his heavy gaze on you and you press the vibrator against your clit. You moan, even though you are desperate for more, hungry to feel more. To feel him, his lips around your clit sucking on it, or his tongue pointing perfectly at it.

“Yeah, just like that, that’s my good girl. Making me so fuckin’ hard.”

“Fuck, Joel,” you pant. You feel warmth rising in your core, stronger, hotter than when you were alone in the bedroom. 

You hear rustling of clothes, as he takes out his hard cock. You hear him spit, then his wrist slowly fucks his shaft. You hear him growl, while he strokes himself. And it’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever experienced. Touching yourself in front of a man, and it turns him on so much that he needs to touch himself too, and it makes him growl.

You come again, harder, as you listen to him, and you barely finish shaking when the bed lowers under his weight, and he takes the vibrator from your hand. He turns it off and throws it on the mattress.

“You’re such a bad baby girl. Couldn’t wait for me, huh?” he says above you, leaning down to smell your hair, then running his nose over your cheek and neck. He spreads your thighs with his hand, firmly, claiming his territory like a hungry beast in front of its prey. Eager to devour it. Prey who lets him reach what he wants, how he wants, to finally being touched by the body she has been thinking about all day.

He lays down between your thighs, and his hand cups your mound in a possessive way, as if he was taking back what was his, making you whine with desire. He doesn’t wait more, and two of his fingers dive into your core. You hold your breath, eyes fixed on him, as his dark gaze is on your lips, while his digits find their favorite place in the world. Your hands are lost in his curls, his neck, you already don’t really know where you’re touching him, just being needy to feel him.

“So fuckin’ wet. Just for me,” he groans, and you love that he doesn’t ask if it’s for him. He knows it is.

He pulls up the shirt to your neck to grab a breast. “Fucking yourself in my shirt? It's fucking hot, baby,” he breathes needily, sucking one of your nipples.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you whimper. “Please. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“Yeah? All day you wanted me to fuck you? This poor little pussy needed my cock?” he asks, as he nestles his fat, throbbing tip at your entrance, to answer your need. He waits for a few seconds though, time for your walls to get used to his thickness, a sensation that nothing else will ever be able to match. Your mind realizes that the room is no longer filled with the sound of his thick fingers pushing into your wet pussy, as if it mattered.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day, too,” he says, as he thrusts in slowly, making you moan against his ear, bodies rushing to finally get their fix. “Thought about ruining you, again and again,” he adds, nibbling your earlobe. 

“Thought about your cunt wrapped around my cock,” his voice is needy, showing his eagerness to take more of you, his pants scraping the inside of your thighs indecently open for him.

“Thought about how perfect she’s always for me. So tight.” The growl comes from the depths of his chest, his shaft sliding into you. 

“How you're mine.” He slips his arms under your shoulders, holding you against him. “You’re always so perfect for me, sweetheart.” He stops for two seconds, buried inside you. Just to hear your breathing stop, too. 

You let out a moan. Unable to do anything else, to formulate words that would be totally incoherent anyway. You let him use your body as he pleases, because he acts exactly how you need him to.

“See what you’re doin’ to me, baby? I left the meeting. We were supposed to go to a restaurant with a client but I let Tommy take care of it.”

“Y… yeah?”

“Yeah. Said to Tommy I needed to go home.

He told me to have a good night, but he knew what I was about to do to you.”

“What… what were you about to do to me?”

“Wreck you. Make you clench on my cock.” He thrusts faster now, but still just as deep. His breathing is panting.

“Oh god… fuck, that’s good, Joel. Don’t stop,” you add, even if you know he won’t.

“Make you milk it, to the last drop. Fuck… You’re squeezin’ me so goddamn hard. You’re gonna milk my cock, baby? Gonna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes… yes, I’m your good girl, Joel.”

“Yes you are. I want you to come, baby. Come on my fuckin’ dick. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah… Keep fucking me, Joel. Just like that. Want you to fill me up, as soon as I come.”

“Fuckin’ dirty girl. So perfect. Come on, sweetheart, soak me.”

“Shit, oh shit, Joel. I’m…” you whine, just before your climax overwhelms you. It’s like your soul is leaving your body. You think that no man has ever managed to make you come like this, just with his shaft in you. His cock tirelessly brushing the right spot, in the right way. His tip stopping just where it has to, creating a mixture of pleasure and light pain, animal.

“Yeah baby. Just like that, fuck…” His grunts turn into moans. You love hearing him become so vulnerable, just for you. Your feet are crossed over his back as your pelvis keeps jerking him off, feeling him twitch inside you, over and over, until his body relaxes, balls empty and your cunt full. 

He kisses you, and his mouth travels a path from your lips to one of your nipples which he takes in his mouth, sucking on it like a man who can't get enough. You squeeze his cock again at the sensation. He smiles, lightly nibbling your nipple.

“I’m not done with you for tonight,” he says.

“I hope so. I need...”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he asks, sucking on your nipple.

“Need more. I need to feel you everywhere,” you answer, feeling the heat reaching your cheeks.

He straightens up towards you, still buried in your warmth. You vaguely feel him twitch in your core.

“Greedy, filthy girl. Always damn perfect.” He pulls out and you feel his cum dripping from your pussy. He removes his shirt from you and manhandles you so that you’re kneeling, and he presses the back of your neck to let your cheek rest on the pillow. He made it all so quickly that you barely realized you were now naked, ass in the air. 

And now he’s taking his time, savoring this vision of you. His hand runs down your back, and makes you shiver, until his fingers brush your ass.

“Everywhere, huh?”

“Yes,” you almost beg. He stands up from the bed and removes his clothes then comes back behind you. He spreads your ass cheeks and looks down, from your glistening pussy to your tight ring, totally offered to him. He spits on your ass and brushes your ring with his thumb, making you whine again.

“Gonna make me fuckin’ hard again, with that ass, Jesus... Tell me what you want, baby. I need to hear it.”

“Want you to lick it,” you stammer. “Please.”

“Mmm... And then?”

“Want you to fuck it.”

“Christ… Yeah, I’m gonna give you what you want. But I’m gonna fuck you with my cum, first. Want it where it belongs,” he says, pushing his load back in your core, then pumping your pussy with two fingers. He keeps fucking you with his digits as his tongue comes to lap at your ring. You're already moaning, not only because of his tongue and fingers, but thinking that some of his cum has leaked all the way out here, and that he's tasting himself as much as he's tasting you.

“That ass needs to be fucked, is that right?” he asks, nibbling the tender flesh of it, before adding “that tiny, little asshole wants to be spread by my fat cock?” and biting a little harder.

“Shit…. fuck Joel!”

His hand falls on your ass cheek, right where his teeth sink in lightly, making you whimper.

“Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck! yes, yes! Need it.”

“Dirty girl,” he says as he leans down again. Licking your ring, pressing his tongue against your entrance in an attempt to open it. Over and over. Until it softens.

“I don't know if I prefer to eat your pussy or your ass. Both are so fuckin’ good,” he says, before diving in again, pressing his nose against the crack of your ass.

“Oh fuck, your damn mouth,” you whine, ass in the air, pushing it as far as possible towards his mouth.

“You love it,” he chuckles, making you hum in the pillow. You do love it. His dirty talk made you see stars as soon as he started to use it on you. Still sometimes makes you choke on his cock.

“You’re gonna take it? You’re gonna take my cock like a good girl?”

“Yes,” you whine pathetically.

He grabs his cock tightly in his hand, jerks it a couple of times. It twitches under his fingers, and points towards your entrance, as if it has a will of its own.

“Fuck baby… I'm so hard.”

He spreads your ass cheeks again, unable to resist the sight of your two holes. He feels, hears himself moan. Afraid to cum already, just with this view he has of you.

“Please, Joel…”

“Yeah, just… gimme a minute baby, please? I’m gonna fucking shoot my load in the sheets if you keep begging me like that.”

He smiles when he hears you groan. “My needy, precious girl,” he replies almost automatically, while his mind goes blank. He doesn’t think, lets his instincts guide him, and pushes his cock into your dripping pussy, his thumb breaking through the barrier of your ring.

“Oh fuck,” you whine. 

“Yeah? You love that?” he asks, as his hips thrust into you. His other hand is hooked around your hip, using it as leverage. His eyes are glued to your ass and his thumb buried up to the knuckle.

“I still wonder how your ass manages to take my cock,” he asks, trying to regain his wits and his breathing, even though he’s not sure if talking about your ass is the right way to do it. He slows his pace and removes his thumb just long enough to spit there and watch his saliva flow down it.

“Fuck,” he growls, as he licks two of his fingers and then pushes one into your ass, the other just pressing against your entrance. He keeps fucking your pussy and works your ring. Your fist is clenched in the pillow, knowing that in a few minutes he will be thrusting into your other hole. You wait for it and it obsesses you. How you can take him is a mystery to you too. Since the first time he fucked you like this, when you asked him to, you didn’t understand what was happening. This need to feel him everywhere, the way your body wanted to be his. You assumed that was why it was possible, almost so easily. The pain not so strong, and the desire so heady in your mind that you were able to welcome him physically.

His two fingers slide in now, and he spits steadily at your opening, while he slowly keeps fucking your cunt. So slowly. Focused on your ass. Marveling at the sight of you tightening around his fingers, as your pelvis strains as hard as it can towards his digits. His mind is definitely lost now- in his desire, and in your croons.

“Joel…” his name falls from your lips, half moaned, half whispered. He doesn’t answer, keeps the same pace. You manage to smile, thinking he’s already on ground 0 looking at your ass, then repeat a little louder, “Joel.”

“Yeah?” he answers finally, slowing down and removing his fingers, caressing the curve of your buttock. He grabs your hips with his hands, fully buried in your cunt.

“I want you to fuck me, baby. I need you there. Please.”

“Shit. Ok, ok. I don’t wanna hurt you, need to prepare you properly,” he says, as he leans forward, his chest surrounding your back, and kisses the back of your neck.

“You won’t hurt me, Joel,” you breathe. “I’m ready.” He never hurts you, and will never. You know it, as he should. 

He kisses your back, says “ok” against your skin. Licks you one last time, from your pussy to your ring, pressing his tongue against it again, making you shiver at the sensation. 

He hesitates when he grabs your hips, he doesn’t really know why. You’ve taken him here dozens of times. But right now, he feels invaded by an emotion that grips him, even though you know each other perfectly. 

He remembers when you met. Heart broken, your trust in men destroyed. How you rebuilt it, both of you, patiently. And he’s moved by your total surrender, by the way you trust him. He thinks that you’re the best thing that ever happened to him. He tries to focus while his cock flows with precum, but he’s lost in his thoughts.

“Joel? Are you ok?” you finally say, feeling him static. He’s so different from usual, not… feral. He clears his throat before answering “yeah… huh… Yeah, sorry, baby. You’re just… you’re so beautiful and I love you so much. I’m sorry.”

He takes his cock in his hand and is about to position himself at your back door when you straighten on your hands and turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. Offering him the most beautiful of your smiles, which makes him melt even more.

“I love you too.”

You look at him, and god, he’s so beautiful. A few beads of sweat are dripping from his curls and his cheeks are slightly red. He seems so vulnerable at this moment. Your gaze falls down on his shoulders and chest. His biceps are tense, as he grips your hips and presses himself against you, his hard cock molding perfectly into the crack of your ass.

“You won’t hurt me,” you repeat. Nodding at him as he did about the vibrator.

“Fuck… you’re making me lose my damn mind. Come here, sweetheart”, he says, making you lay on your back. He settles between your thighs and caresses your cheek, as his lips land on yours. Then he presses his cock softly against your ring.

“I wanna look at your pretty face while I fuck your ass, baby,” he says, spreading your thighs with his knee, then grabing one of them with his hand to put it on his back. You do the same with the other, open, offered, and he pushes in slowly. Eyes fixed on you. You close yours as you feel him slide into you and he brushes your cheek with his thumb.

“Look at me, sweetheart. Lemme see you. Lemme see what you feel.”

He’s so sweet you could burst into tears. So perfect. So you nod, ready to give him what he needs. And he sinks in, slowly, and like always you feel like you’re almost suffocating, for two seconds. Your brows furrow, as his do. He caresses your cheek, and the sensation disappears, replaced by the pleasure of feeling him there, that it seems so natural, that he’s made for you. You think about all of this, your eyes fixed on his, and he’s lost in yours. 

Until he comes to his senses, a little, and leans down to kiss you. His lips press against yours, and you feel him moan into your mouth. You nibble his lip before licking it with the tip of your tongue and he chuckles. He kisses you again, and it gets messier. His tongue slides between your lips and searches for yours, swirling against it. Your salivas mix together, while he rocks his cock fully inside you. He straightens up slightly and looks at you, before pressing his forehead against yours. “Damn, baby…” he breathes.

You hold him close. Tighten your legs around his waist, your arms around his shoulders. You freeze for a moment, as if you want to mark this moment in your mind forever.

“Fuck,” he says.

“I know, baby,” you reply. “But, can you move for me? It feels like you’re gonna tear me apart soon.”

He chuckles again, then slowly pulls out, leaving just his tip inside you. Pushes back in, letting out another “fuck.”

He takes a slow, steady pace, as you stroke his cheek and then tuck a strand of hair back into place.

“What are you doin’ to me sweetheart, mmm? Wanted to fuck you all night. To wreck you, just like you love it. But you're the one wreckin’ me.”

“Don’t I do it every time,” you tell him mischievously.

He laughs then whines playfully “You’re so right. I’m the victim here.” 

It's one of your favorite things about Joel. Laughing when you fuck. Laughing even when he fucks your there.

He slides in and out, tirelessly, and his crotch rubs against your clit.  

“And you can still fuck me all night, by the way.”

“Is that right?” He smiles, but you see him twitch. As if his emotions were taking over him again. “You’re mine, he pants. “All…fuck…fuckin’ mine.”

“I'm yours,” you reply, eyes fixed on him. “You're the best thing that happened to me, Joel.”

He kisses you again, as he keeps sinking in. You cup his cheeks in your hands to look at him, and he kisses your wrist.

“It's good, Joel. To feel you like that. So softly.” You feel yourself melting and put your hand on his heart. To see if he feels the same, even though his eyes don't lie, never.

“You're gonna make me come,” you whisper. “You feel it?”

“Yeah,” he smiles softly. He's so beautiful. So protective, so careful. Even when he's rough, he is. But right now, you feel like he's made of glass, ready to explode into a thousand pieces. A fragile material, hidden under a hard, reliable, calloused layer. Shaped over the years. Whose core he's let you see, step by step. 

And his thick layer is chipped, ripped open, just for you. Thanks to your senses, your sensations, your feelings, to both of you. And even if he is inside you, in your most intimate place, you feel that his fragility is exposed, and that he willingly offers it to you. Because he is safe with you. You think that there is nothing more erotic than a man who shows all his rough edges, all his cracks.

He's still thrusting in, slowly. You know he's trying not to come, not right away. Not before you do.

“Sweetheart, damn…you know how much I love to fuck you rough,” he murmurs, his hips and shoulders thrusting towards you. “But this. This is… so special. To feel you like this, and facing you. Being in you there, so slowly, and looking at you.”

“I know. I never felt something like this before.”

His lower belly still rubs against you, every time his shaft pushes in and out. He’s so big inside you. So… in his place. Your moans get louder as you feel your orgasm building. From afar. Like a ball of heat that keeps growing inside you. Your pelvis moves slightly more too, perfectly accompanying his movements. You squeeze your ankles together behind his back.

“You’re gonna fill me, baby?” you ask, keeping him against you, your hand on the back of his neck, his nose buried in yours.

“Shit… don’t say that. I’m already about to combust.” His voice is muffled, breathless, against your skin.

“I wanna feel you spurt in me. Right there. Want you to fill my ass.” You keep talking, because it turns you on. You want to come at the same time as him. You want the intimacy to continue and reach its peak until you both come. You want to lose your senses in his arms, at the same time as he loses them in yours.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… you… brat.” He groans, moans, a mixture of all of that, and your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

“Please I need you to come sweetheart… oh fuck I’m gonna… I’m gonna…. fuck, baby…” he explodes in you, sending shots of cum deep inside you, and his jerks against you are the last push you need. You pulse, clench on him, your pussy empty and your ass full. “Oh fuck”, he growls again, feeling how hard you’re squeezing his shaft. He nibbles at your shoulder as your limbs go limp. His body leans against yours, and he’s out of breath as you slowly stop shaking.

He doesn’t move, until he manages to regain his senses, his breathing, and everything that brings him back to earth, to the present moment. Then he straightens his torso, relieving you of his weight even if it feels like a weighted blanket, reassuring.

“Are you ok?” he asks, hands on your cheeks as he pulls out, making you feel desperately empty. His cum leaks out and you miss him already.

“Sweetheart?” His thumb brushes your cheek.

“Yeah… Yes,” you breathe. “Let me just… remember my name. And yours,” you smile, eyes still closed.

“You, little minx,” he laughs, grabs your waist and kisses your neck, and you wrap your arms around him again. You laugh too. You feel good.

“Damn, what was that? It was so intense, sweetheart.” He shifts and lies down facing you, pulling you towards him so that you’re facing each other.

“It was perfect,” you reply, nestling in his arms, in the middle of his chest, where nothing can reach you.

“Are you trying to bewitch me? Cause it’s… kinda working.”

You lift your head to look at him, and say, “You’re such a softie,” giggling.

He looks fakely outraged, before answering “oh yeah? You won’t be allowed to whine when this softie will make you use your safe word, next time he fucks you.”

“Mmm… remember me, when did I use it?”

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly without answering.

“That’s right. Never,” you answer before kissing his collar bone.

He takes you in his arms and laughs, rolling you over so that you’re lying on him and kisses you.

“Come take a shower with me. Wanna take care of you.”

“Softie,” you taunt him, giving him your most mischievous smile.

Same couple: 5 days collection

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[hischierhoney]

bruised — a nico hischier x reader blurb

warnings: mentions of injury/bruises/blood, undefined relationship

There’s a bruise on Nico’s ribs.

It’s dark and purple and big, splotchy across his bare skin. It looks worse in the stark kitchen light at 2am than it did in the picture he’d sent you the day before. The one he’d taken in the hotel room, a funny grimace on his face, captioned with something about warning you so it didn’t scare you when he got home. Home. After nearly two weeks straight, he’s here. Standing in the kitchen, shirtless. Your kitchen. He’d gotten off the plane and got in his car and drove over.

It’s messing with your head, a little bit.

You’ve been friends with him for a while now, since he moved to Jersey and you made mutual friends. There was a shift, though, months ago- at the end of the last season, in that tiny sliver of time between seemingly endless games and his trip back to Switzerland. Maybe one too many drinks, a little bit too much mutual liquid courage. It had ended with you in his bed that night, and then in the morning, too, a sheepish grin on his lips and a blush on his cheeks.

Then he’d flown off to Switzerland and you’d moved on.

Until- until he came back, and he got stressed and complained about it to you, and you’d offered stress relief in the best way you knew how, and it ended with you on your knees, his head tossed back against the couch, and the look of relief on his face afterwards was so worth it. Worth doing it again, and again, and when you’d been stressed he’d reciprocated, taking you out of your own head for just a second, and-

And now you’re the type of friends who have to warn each other about their bruises, because he knows you’re going to see his bruises. Now he’s the type of friend who’s standing in your kitchen shirtless at 2 in the morning. Now he’s eating your ice cream, straight out of the tub, taking bites between sentences as he tells you about the roadie, as he complains about Jack’s yapping on the flight home, as he turns too fast and winces, his hand coming up to press at his ribs, still holding the spoon between his fingers.

“Looks worse than it did in the pictures,” you tell him, nodding at his side.

His face twists. “Feels worse than it did,” he admits.

He must see the worry on your face, the frantic feeling of did you get it checked are you okay what if you’re hurt, because his face softens, and he gives you something between a smile and a grimace.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Nothing’s broken. Was just a hard hit.”

“This is where you tell me I should see the other guy,” you say, laughing, hoping he believes it’s genuine.

You can’t explain it, is the thing. Why you’re feeling like this. It’s just. The bruise is giant, and you’d watched him take the hit on your tv screen, watched him get shoved up against the boards, and. It had nearly wrenched your heart out of your chest. Like someone had reached past your own ribs and squeezed. And you didn’t understand, still don’t, because he’s played hockey the whole time you’ve known him and you’ve never felt like that before, never been curled up on the couch, hand pressed to your mouth, waiting for him to get back up. Get back up. Please get back up. Come on, baby, get up-

Nico sees straight through you. He sets the ice cream down and makes his way around the kitchen island, a soft smile on his lips. You bite back a gasp when he takes your hand in his, his fingers still cold from the carton, and brings it up to his side. To the bare skin, mottled with dark colors.

“I’m okay,” he says, looking down at you where you sit on the stool. “I don’t break that easily.”

You chew on your lip, thinking of concussions and scratches and that clip of him playing in Switzerland over the summer, blood running down his cheek, the one that almost made you call him even when you swore you wouldn’t be that girl. You press your palm over the bruise, softly, and find relief in the warmth of his skin. It’s just a bruise.

He leans down and presses a kiss against the crown of your head, and then stays, nose buried in your hair. He cradles the back of your head in the palm of his hand, holding you close, and- this feels like something friends don’t do. It feels like more.

“I’ll always come back to you, baby,” he says.

The ice cream is melting on the counter. But when you lean up to kiss him, you can’t bring yourself to care.

…..

hi this popped into my head and i had to write it. very much unedited hope you enjoyed!

…..

[star2fishmeg]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʀᴀᴘs

[4.4k] Pairing | bsf!Luke Hughes x bsf!afab!reader Summary | luke and y/n are tired of feeling left behind and help each other out…but in the company of their friends. but it makes a good story, right? Warnings | 18+ smut, kinda slow start, best friends to lovers, long haired luke!!! Bc I love long hair, umich!luke, (basically public) fingering, swearing, appearance and sex insecurities, tiny bit of angst but not really, mutual pining, making out Authors Note | im in such a luke brainrot it’s painful, this was supposed to be a blurb but I can’t control myself but anyway, this is my first hockey fic i hope its alright. Based on this after hours post! This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes

Luke felt like a creep. But she looked so at peace sitting on the lake's docks, feet dangling and toes skimming the water's surface. While she was nothing but a silhouette in the distance, the sunset cascading on the horizon complimenting her like a portrait in a museum. He also wasn’t sure on how long he’d been standing at the sliding patio doors, the UMich boy’s voices blended out into a white noise while his mind wandered to crevices of thoughts he’d been avoiding for months, but anything to escape Ethan and Luca’s conversations about girlfriend stories. Yes, he was happy for them, found it cute in fact, but when was it his turn to have that chapter in his life? He could have it if he didn’t panic and fumble at every party they threw, just a bit more alcohol and maybe he’d have a chance but like all victims of tragedy, no one would ever be her. Could ever replace her or even substitute her. So, while his curls bounced in the gentle breeze, Luke Hughes admired the only girl in the University of Michigan that’s ever made his heart ache and contort in bittersweet ways.

With a firm slap to his back, Luke’s daydream snapped back to reality, to Dylan Duke grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. The most painful thing Dylan had to endure since he met Luke was watching his friend follow y/n like a lost puppy begging for attention, and there was nothing more he wanted than for the two to just kiss already. They almost did, once, at someone’s birthday party when they both nursed a bottle of tequila. But Dylan never told them that, he wasn’t entirely sure if he dreamt it, if he was honest.

“Just go talk to her, be honest,” Dylan said with a light chuckle, nudging Luke towards the porch steps.

Luke’s legs stopped stiff, and spun to face Dylan in protest, “No! What do I even say? ‘Oh, hey y/n I know we’ve been friends for a while, but I’m in love with you haha hope this doesn’t make it awkward’? Like, come on.” With the way Dylan’s grin turned almost menacing, Luke felt his heart almost stop, his stupidity catching up with him, “This stays between us, Duker.”

He groaned and watched Dylan giggle his way back inside. Wingman or menace? Fine line, but at least he was better than Jack. Who quite literally tried trapping him and y/n in a closet when he found out, hoping for the best. Perhaps Dylan would actually help him get somewhere, he’d spent many parties coaxing Luke into making a move but Luke being the humble soul he took pride in, let her have her peace. Oh, how much he regretted it every time he heard her laugh because of another guy.

Thankfully the docks were at the far end of his garden, out of earshot and almost out of sight, if you weren’t spying. He stood silently, just taking in her very existence alone. If she weren’t wearing his hoodie so proudly, he would’ve sat down by now but the heat that flushed into his cheeks prominently just had to ease before he could show his face. Maybe she’d find it cute that his face flushed so easily, or maybe she’d think he was a fool for thinking he had a chance. Girls were hard to read, so many codes and hints, he couldn’t keep up with them all and God forbid you had an ugly code name. Watching her like that did raise the thought, what was his code name? Did he really want to know?

“I can feel you starin’,” her voice chimed, their eyes meeting as she craned her neck, “you gonna join or just stand?”

Luke’s lips pulled into his famous half-smirk, “I like lookin’ at pretty things, can you blame a man?” He sat next to her, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder like they usually did, the weight of his boldness lifting off his chest. “What’s runnin’ through that mind of yours?”

“Who said I was thinking about anything? Maybe I was finally catching a break from the zoo. Maybe I was thinking that you need a haircut.” Her laugh was like music to his ears, her voice his favourite song and every word that rolled off her tongue felt like ecstasy surging through him and freezing the world around them.

Spending a summer in a lake house was the only way y/n ever wanted to live. An oasis of serenity and laughs, endless memories, and an escape. But while she dipped her toes in the water, watching her reflection ripple, the everlasting thought that it was fleeting crawled its way back to the surface whether she wanted it to or not. The boys had been doing this longer than she had, it was her first time at the lake house and possibly her last. But there was nothing wrong with enjoying it while it lasted, being trapped under the same roof as the boys wasn’t as bad as she’d assumed. Except for the smells, they were straight-up disrespectful. Would she still love it as much if she was with other friends? Hard to say, if Luke was there, everything would be fine. Maybe a couple more girls would’ve been nice too, though.

“Please, you’re staring blankly, don’t try me.” Luke scoffed playfully, shoulder gently nudging hers as she rolled her eyes, unable to resist a gleaming smile. As much as she wanted to rebuttal, he was right. They’d met on the first week of university, Luke starting hockey practice and y/n starting as their new social girl and since then the pair of them had been two peas in a pod. Completely enamoured with each other, attached at the hip, where Luke went, he’d bring y/n, his person.  “Wait, you think I need a haircut? Is it that bad?”

She laughed, Luke, stooping so she could thread her fingers through his unruly curls gently, something only she was allowed to do, “Nah, I like your hair long, cut it and I’ll cut you.” They pulled back, sitting in their original postures and watched the sun’s pinks fade to oranges, “I was thinking about how many girls you’ve brought here.”

He blinked twice, turning his head slowly to face her and to his surprise his eyes met hers. There was a gloss to them, illuminated brightly by the sunset but like glass as if she were about to break. Heart beating in his ears, he licked his lips, almost quivering when he began to speak.

“Just you.” His voice just above a whisper, husky, “Only you. Always you.” Their gazes lingered, and his eyes fluttered to her lips for just a split second before he found himself licking his lips again, feeling his throat dry at the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. His heart ached, he didn’t have half the guts the Fantilli brothers did, if he had then maybe he would’ve at least wrapped his arm around her. Instead, he sat like he was paralysed, just shoulder to shoulder as she rubbed her bare foot against his leg, their skins touching, lighting little fires up his body and his stomach gaining a warmth he’d only felt in the after-hours of his bedroom.

“Lu?” she rested her head on his shoulder, staring back out towards the horizon, “Do you ever feel like you’re so far behind the people around you? Like you’re missing out.”

Luke leaned his head against hers, almost nuzzling into it as he thought. It was a heavy question, one that’d been weighing on her for a while. Or he assumed, considering she’d never openly asked the group. That’s what made him feel special. Her feet hung still, ending their teasing game and just fell limp. He exhaled, could he let his pride go and agree? Or could he completely one-up himself and disagree, which made him braver? He loathed the storms she started in him, thoughts he never imagined he would think in his hockey brain. One girl could change his entire train of thought, change his heartbeat, change his mood. One woman he pined like a lost puppy over.

“Sometimes. What do you mean?”

“Like, all my friends have these insane hook-ups and embarrassing sex stories and I have nothing. Yeah, I’ve had boyfriends before, but I was younger and stupid then. I go out with my friends and I’m basically invisible to any guy who approaches us, just feel unlovable. And now here I am, twenty years old and a fucking virgin with little experience and no wild stories.” She vented, barely taking a breath as the words spilt from her mouth. Luke’s chest twisted, his face softening when she snuggled into his side. “I don’t know where I’m going wrong, Lu.”

He paused and bit his lip when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest. She melted into his touch, getting a whiff of his woody, amber cologne, her favourite one at that, the one he always wore. She’d never had the chance to properly relish in his touch, was his chest always this firm? Arms always bring this much security? Fuck, when did his hand get so sexy when on her body, gliding down her arm to nestle in the curve of her waist. With her ear pressed to him, the thundering in his chest surrendered his cover entirely. Cool and collected Luke Hughes was secretly a bumbling mess.

“I get you.” he finally spoke, ears burning when her finger traced shapes on his thigh, “My entire life has been hockey, so not a lot of space for experiences either. Not enough time for relationships between practice and games, development camps and time with family. A lot of the girls who liked me didn’t really like that. That or they liked my brothers and friends more, they are a lot more attractive than me, so I don’t blame them. M’just average.”

Y/n pulled away almost instantly, her eyebrows knitted and jaw agape. For a moment she thought she heard him wrong, ‘a lot more attractive than me’, ‘just average’? Delving into Luke’s psyche turned out to be an entirely different road trip than she had thought, heartstrings tugged as her lips fell to a frown. Who in the world made him feel like that? Who did she need to hunt down? But then again, Luke’s blood boiled hearing how insignificant she felt and who exactly made her think that to start with?

“Luke Hughes you are not average! You’re the hottest guy I know!” she yelped, the hand that drew gentle patterns now clutching his thigh tight. Luke gulped but didn’t retract away from the noise. His brain was too busy short-circuiting over the fact her fingers were dangerously close to his crotch, doing his best to contain himself with slow breaths, “They just didn’t give you a chance, if they really knew you, they’d be heads over heels. You’re so fucking smart, and passionate. And-and if they saw you smile for real, not a half-smile, your full smile with your teeth, the one that feels like a warm summer’s day. It’s their loss, they’ll never know how sweet you are, that after a bad game, you want steak and head scratches, that you’re sentimental as fuck- like you wear that Yankees hat because Quinn got it for you when you fell ill and couldn’t make the game. You’re not average.”

Luke blinked, once, twice and thrice as her eyes bored into his, glazed with fire as the words tumbled from her mouth and circled his head. He watched the way her body rose and fell as she caught her breath, the grip on his thigh tightening and heat rising through his body. He felt the sweat building on the back of his neck, his collar suddenly becoming too tight. She thought he was hot? She remembered such little details about him like they’d known each other since they were kids. The hand around her waist slid to her lower back, his thumb rubbing the fabric of her (his) hoodie unconsciously.

He smiled, his warm smile she mentioned, where his eyes wrinkled and his chin tilted up triumphantly, “The hottest guy you know, huh?”

Y/n’s face dropped. Never in her life had she experienced her heart stop the way it did hearing those words. She stared like a deer in headlights, she slipped up and the heat rushing to her cheeks burned. This is what happens when you let your feelings take over, you make a fool of yourself in front of the one person who would never want to. She sighed, hung her head and hid her face in her hands, the butterflies in her stomach choking her when Luke let out a saccharine chuckle that made all the flowers bloom.

Large, warm hands wrapped around her wrists with a feather touch, and slowly pulled her hands away from her face and into her lap, soothing her nerves with a gentle rubbing of her knuckles with his thumbs. Although his hands felt clammy, the tingling in his stomach became too addicting to care about it too much anymore.

“Don’t hide,” she was radiant under what was left of the tangerine hues, eyes almost sparkling, “let me see that pretty face.”

She hesitantly raised her head, eyes meeting his and her body relaxed. She had no idea why she was so embarrassed, he hadn’t gagged, laughed in her face nor had he physically repulsed. Instead, he looked at her like she’d hung out the stars for him, wide eyes with rose-tinted ears.

“I think you’re very pretty too. Beautiful even, I-“ he hesitated, “you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about kissing you, asking you out. Honestly, the idea of you rejecting me is terrifying so I never did, plus, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

Her eyes fluttered to his lips, the world around them falling silent until it was just them in their own bubble. Luke gulped, his eyeline following the way she flickered between his eyes and his mouth before he found their bodies leaning into one another, noses ghosting. His hands released her wrists, one arm snaking around her waist sending an electric tingle through her veins and holding her firmly close. They’d been this close before, sure. Multiple occasions of having his arms around the back of the sofa they sat snug on, arm hooked around her shoulders because some guy couldn’t get the memo at bars, in fact, the root cause of their problem was undeniably because everyone assumed they were together except them.

Y/n’s palm held his cheek tenderly, the hot, carnal desire to devour the boy only being released from its cage when he melted into her touch as if he was opening his doors to vulnerability.

“I can teach you if you like,” she whispered, her thumb tracing across his bottom lip. Luke’s fingers gripped her waist as if she couldn’t be any closer than she already was, but he couldn’t risk letting her slip from his grasp again. He wanted to erase all those other guys who’d kissed her, he would be the last guy on Earth to taste the lips that words and giggles laced with a honey-like sweetness that cradled his heart.

“God, please-“  his heart beat twice as fast, y/n leaning in, closing the gap between them and pressing her lips gently to his. If he were to die right there, he’d die the happiest man alive. Her lips were soft and warm, igniting every firework inside of him and adrenaline shaking him back to life. He could do this for hours, drinking in her citrus fragrance, lips mimicking the way she moved hers against his. If she was a match, he was kerosene and he’d let her set him ablaze over and over if it meant he could feel like the only man in the world until the end of time.

They pulled away, eyes fluttering open to an exchange of giggly smiles. Despite it being a closed-mouth kiss, nothing extra, just soft and sweet, Luke’s thoughts raced at a million miles per hour. All the weight on his shoulders lifted and he nuzzled into her palm, placing a kiss on it.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, his puppy-like gaze almost distracting her from how his skin burned pink in her palm. But in a way, all her previous anxieties dissipated like dust in the wind, tummy flipping at the pathetically sweet and lovestruck expression spread on Luke’s face, “Your face is so red. Are you okay?-”

“-Can we do that again?” He pleaded, quickly, desperately, a certain yearning feeling on his lips that he couldn’t quite describe, except that he needed to taste her again. He needed more, so much more to quench his thirst, a kind of fuzziness he felt in his core.

“Uh- yeah, let me show you what a real kiss is.” No hesitation was needed, y/n’s hand slid from his cheek to the nape of his neck, fingers carding through his curls as she roughly connected their lips again, messier, teeth chattering from the impact. Luke’s other hand found comfort on her thighs, pulling them over his lap and giving gentle squeezes, moaning when y/n bit his lower lip. He opened his mouth with ease, failing to hold back another moan when her tongue lapped his. He wasn’t sure how to react, he’d never made out with anyone and it’s not like his brothers would’ve explained it well either. So, he repeated her movement, his tongue dancing with hers with saliva lubricating their lips each time they dove back in to devour each other. Y/n tugged his curls lightly, pulling him closer, savouring the kindling arousal leaking into her panties with the way he craved her.

Luke pulled away to breathe, his chest heavy but shorts becoming tight with the intense and fiery eye contact that screamed nothing but lust, “You,” he kissed her again, fervently, “taste,” another kiss, “amazing.” He mumbled into her lips and their tongues stirred again, whimpers drawing from the back of her throat when his hand travelled further up her thigh, under her shorts and found solace on the skin only he could touch. Any further and she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t pounce, her underwear was soaked through and sticking to her folds and even one measly brush on her clit would open the floodgates.

A foreign burst of confidence washed over him, and he detached their lips, a string of saliva between them and her hand still tugging at his curls and whether intentional or not, he discovered something carnal clawing away inside him. Wetting his lips, he dove into her neck, planting wet kisses along her column and nipping in the hope of hearing her mewl again. Y/n tilted her head to the side, giving him free rein over her skin and her jaw slacking, whining his name with her thighs clenching together for any kind of friction. As he began to run his hand along her thigh, his pocket vibrated continuously, earning a growl to rumble from his throat.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?” y/n whined, hand falling from his hair to his chest. Luke pulled his phone from his pocket with a disgruntled look, of course, his moment was ruined. Swiping the notification away, he clicked his tongue, sliding his phone back into his shorts.

His arms wrapped around her waist, and looked back into her adoring yet disappointed eyes, “Dylan wants to know if we’re joining them for a movie.”

“I’m quite happy staying here with you.”

“Who says we have to watch the whole movie?”

Silence hung over the living room, only the TV blaring and the light crunching of popcorn from different directions. The lights were off, just the TV and three boys crammed on one sofa, and three plus y/n on the other. Luke, y/n, Rutger and Adam on the sectional directly opposite the TV, Luke occupying the end with the chaise for his legs, and y/n sat between them and huddled under a blanket. Rutger sat in the middle with Adam on the furthest end. Dylan, Luca and Ethan huddled together on the sofa adjacent to the TV, popcorn littered between them from missing mouths and flinching.

Luke’s hands wrapped around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest while she slowly chewed Haribo’s, feeding them to him now and then. While his heart skipped beats, feeling like a meadow of tulips blooming in the Spring, y/n’s wiggling against his crotch lured all the heat and butterflies from earlier straight back to his stomach, sending it into twists and turns. Heat flushed to his neck when she pushed her arse back into him, in an innocent attempt to readjust. A deep exhale through his nose and his hands slithered to her thighs, fingers kneading the flesh like dough as his head dipped into her shoulder, breath hot on the skin and making her hairs stand on edge.

“Stop wigglin’, pretty girl,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, placing a kiss, “you’re drivin’ me crazy.”

She froze, body falling limp into his as he ran his hands under her hoodie, his stiffened cock poking into her backside as she caught on to what his problem was. The sex-deprived whore in her awakened with a jolt, his cock solid because of her, and there was nothing she wanted more than to feel him pressed up against her, unable to find his release and have the rasp of his voice reverberate through her being as her vibrator. 

“And if I don’t?” she whispered back, as close to him as possible without being heard. Instead of answering, Luke dipped his fingers down her shorts, middle finger brushing against her clothed clit. His eyes locked to the screen in front of him, resisting the urge to smirk when her breath hitched but continuing to glide his finger – in what was a lucky guess – over her bundle. She squirmed, clamping her thighs together, only to have them pried open by his free hand.

“Be a good girl and keep quiet, unless you want to be caught.” His playful tone sent chills down her spine, goosebumps swarming on her neck but melting into his touch. She plopped another sweet into her mouth, chewing intensely when Luke drew his long fingers away, only for her to feel them caress over her skin, cold on her warm body, and down her panties. To describe the sensation that zipped through her when the pad of his middle finger reunited with her clit would be the same shock if you were to be struck by lightning: sudden and sharp, rattling up the spine.

Y/n placed the bag of sweets in her lap, tucking both hands under the blanket with the hope of seeming less suspicious, but her hand skimmed down his arm and placed itself on his, slowly guiding his movements on her nub until he got the idea. Firm yet gentle circular movements, the slick seeping from her warm on his fingertips, so inviting he wished he could have a taste. She pulled the blanket to her chin, not only to cover Luke’s sudden mood but to form some form of distraction from the fuzzy feeling rising to her head. No, she’d never had this before, so the experience itself embraced her tight, addicting like nicotine.

He kissed her temple, two fingers sliding into her cunt almost perfectly, too perfect that another Haribo was abused between her teeth as her breathing struggled to remain neutral. The moan that would’ve slipped past if she hadn’t been concentrating would’ve been embarrassing enough. Luke began languid plunges into her, relishing in the way her walls squeezed his fingers tight, keeping shallow at first. The more her pussy swallowed him in their wetness, the faster his mind spiralled in greed and his pace sped up, y/n’s nails digging deep into his leg, leaving crescent shapes on the skin. The heat pooling in her stomach was riveting, knowing she would finally have an insane story to tell even more so. No one could say that Luke Hughes’ tongue tasted theirs like it was the best meal he’d ever lapped up and that he’d watched a movie with his friends while pushing the limits of both his and their sanity publicly.

With a rush of adrenaline and her nails marking him, he buried his fingers deep into her cunt, driving swiftly and curling in places that made her wriggle against him, his free hand having to hold her hips still with a bruising grip and his cock begged for attention in his shorts. Y/n popped two more sweets in her mouth, relying on their gummy nature to suppress the moans that threatened to tear through her as the knot inside her came dangerously close to snapping with the way he bullied her pussy with his bare hands. His breathing fell deep and shuddered, his heart infatuated with the ecstasy of finger-fucking the woman of his dreams in front of an entire room of his friends hammered in his chest while his face struggled to stay indifferent and jaw tight like his cock isn't throbbing violently and straining against her arse. Like she wasn’t bucking her hips into his touch like he couldn’t tell that her heart was going haywire because of just him alone. If this was what foreplay was like, the idea of piledriving balls deep in her until she couldn’t remember her name was divine.

He dragged out his last pumps, the knot in her stomach snapping and coating his fingers in hot, sticky release, kissing her temple upon her body physically shuddering. Y/n pulled the blanket up to her chin as if she had shivered naturally, stuffing her mouth into the fluffy material. Luke pulled his fingers out, wiping the residue on his shorts, practically drooling over the image of milking her dry. His arms snaked around her waist, snuggling close. Y/n sighed, slumping back into him. On the outside Luke was his collected and cool self, his breathing stable and attention on the movie, the heat in his face and hands that rested on her stomach, soothing her heart rate screamed that he was the happiest guy in the room. With every gentle stroke of his thumb on the flesh of her stomach, her heart soothed and her eyelids became increasingly heavier.

"Was that story worthy?" He whispered, kissing her cheek sweetly.

Luke’s pocket buzzed and he tutted, carefully sliding it from his pocket and unlocking it, trying his best to prevent the screen from blinding everyone.

Duker idk if ur freaky or brave u dog

Luke closed his phone and looked up towards Dylan, who sat with a shit-eating grin. He smiled and shook his head, mouthing a subtle, ‘this stays between us’.

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

2024 © STAR2FISHMEG All rights reserved - do not plagiarise/copy, translate, or repost any of my works. Please let me know if you notice that any of these have been done to my work.

Banners & dividers belong to @/cafekitsune

[penvisions]

there's a place and time {joel miller x reader}

Pairing: Younger / No-outbreak! Joel Miller x Neighbor! Reader

Summary: Moving back to your parents house wasn't part of the plan, neither was being a thorn in your neighbor's side. but you roll with the punches, and hey, he's kinda cute when he gets huffy.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: age gap (joel is mid 30's / reader is mid 20's), angst, biting words, argumentative language, joel is a lil meanie but so is reader, grief, off-screen loss, depictions of depression, comfort, mushy stuff

A/N: this literally came out of nowhere, a random thought on the way to work and then a manic two hours of writing once i got home. this turned out a little different than first imagined, but i hope it reads well!

navigation || joel miller masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“Why don’t you date?”

“Excuse me?” The form crouched in between kitchen counters looked up at you with a raised brow, surely mishearing the question.

“Dating, I know you know what that is.” You repeat yourself as you push your arms back to brace on the counter and hop up on it. The granite of it is cold on your bare thighs, the shorts you were wearing thrown on haphazardly when a panic stricken pair of teenagers had begun to bang on your door in the early afternoon. The words of ‘fire’ and “help!” spurring you into action where you had been napping on your couch. Now though, the oven was off, the blackened frozen pizza still on the rack and covered in foam from the fire extinguisher neither of them had known how to use. Their father had sent them upstairs, thanking you for helping them out and getting it taken care of. “Or the concept at least, yeah?”

“Don’t mean it’s any of your business, little lady.” Joel’s voice leaves no room for further conversation as he realizes you’re more serious than need be. Little quips between you two common, the unspoken understanding of not discussing the reason for your presence in the neighborhood mutual.

“I dunno, I remember you being real keen on the idea of me babysitting.” You take a sip of your soda, swiped from the fridge after everything had calmed down. “Would do you a favor now, should you need the night off for some…fun.”

“Dating and fun are two different things.”

“Dating can be fun, if you do it with the right person.”

“Yeah, and what do you know about that? Saw you move in all by your lonesome. No big, burly man helping you with your boxes.”

The fizzy drink sours on your tongue and you toss him a scowl as he stands. He’s a few feet away but you can feel the warmth of him as he stands at his full height. He’s reaching to close the oven door, the creak of metal on metal loud in the beat of silence.

“You wouldn’t know fun if it bit you on your perky ass, Miller.”

“Language, you’re in my house.” His brow furrows and he pins you with a stern look. Something you’d seen him give to his brother, his girls, the neighbor across the way when she wouldn’t take the hint that he didn’t want her dog shit in his yard.

“Old men like yourself deserve to have some fun every once in a while. They deserve happiness too.”

“Even if I did, it’s no concern of yours. Your daddy didn’t help pay for two degrees for you to end up babysitting for grocery money.”

The rebuttal on the tip of your tongue suddenly dissolved as you felt a shiver run down your spine. He’s right, you know he’s right. But you just…you couldn’t even open the envelope with the certificates let alone add them to your resume and begin the arduous task of job hunting.

“Fuck you, I was only offering to help out a neighbor.” The words are rough, rounded out with the weight of too many emotions. You shove off from the counter, abandoning your half-finished drink. A delicacy you enjoyed only over at his house, too expensive for you to indulge in as bills you never anticipated paying became your responsibility.

“I didn’t mean-“ He had the self-awareness to realize he said the wrong thing. His hands coming up from his waist to reach out for you, but you don’t look over your shoulder as you make your way through the kitchen.

“Don’t come to me if you do need someone to look after the girls. I wouldn’t take your money anyway.”

“C’mon now,” His full lips shape around your name, but you’re already out the door. Resisting the urge to let it slam shut behind you, your anger still so sharp and hot. But the girls didn’t deserve to feel it, even the echo of it in the slamming of a door. Despite being a dick, Joel was a good father to them. He’d made his home a nurturing and loving environment. You didn’t want to taint it with your stained hands.

As he stands there in his empty kitchen, the smell of burnt dough, smoke, and ammonia dizzies him as he watches you cross over his yard to yours next door. The blank expression on your face and the faint smears of dried pant all over your legs makes him regret his fast words. He had been going for teasing, but of course they had come out harsh and wounding.

You were someone he didn’t know how to interact with. So sweet and polite with the girls, with the neighbors. But you were a firecracker with him. Teasing, whipping words that rung around his head, and he recalled far too often. The little smirk that pulled at your lips as you said them, waited for his response or sputtering lack of one. His own pulled from him, making him feel like a teenager again, like a young man you hadn’t been suddenly left alone to raise a child. Like his old self, someone who stood a chance with you as you gave him your attention time and time again.

He had only ever met you through the words of your parents, the people who had once occupied the house beside his own. He had moved in with two six-year-olds just as you had shoved off to college upstate. The running joke was that it was perfect timing for him to have missed out on the perfect babysitter.

-

Graduation is supposed to be a time of celebration and proud smiles, at least that’s what everyone else got. The day you had counted down on the calendar and crossed off the passing ones as it neared was now a blur of too bright colors and phone calls with people telling you things you didn’t want to think about, let alone hear as your new reality.

A car accident, on the drive upstate. Both parents, reckless driver.

A house that had been recently paid off, left to you. Your name already on the deed, something you didn’t want to think about too hard. Close, you had been close with each of them and them as a unit. A small family but understanding. It was yours, the backdrop to your life and suddenly the two people were only memories.

The move had been quick, the apartment you shared with fellow graduate students mostly books and a beautiful desk. The bedframe taken apart to go while the shelves had been left for the next occupants.

You hadn’t shared the news with any of your roommates or friends, not wanting to taint their own celebrations and happy memories of the day you all worked so hard for. Addresses were exchanged, well wishes were meant, but of course it all faded as time had gone on. Their news of job offers and exciting dates had been good to hear, but with no good things to respond with of your own, it was hard to feel the same way about them as you once had. They reached out, worry coloring their words, which made you feel even worse.

It haunts you for days, as you seal yourself into the home that is now yours alone. The paint slathered on canvas dries and the brushes coated in it turn into hardened caps over the bristles. You’re allowing things to sit for too long, the water evaporating in the cups you use to rinse between swatches of color. The open paint tubes oxidizing and becoming unsalvageable. But you have no control.

The bed becomes damp with nights of sweat, from your tossing and turning body as the heat rises and the air conditioning that needs to be repaired is just another phone call. You don’t even think you know where your phone is. It can’t bear bad news if you don’t answer it. It can’t carry the end of your world if you don’t let it.

There’s a sharp knock on the door at some point, in the midst of the haze of days after storming out of Joel’s kitchen. You hadn’t been able to dissect the sounds of life going on outside your closed windows.

But it had, to the point where now someone was calling on you to make you return to it.

Shrugging on a robe, you hold it tight to your aching body as you push up from the bed. Bare feet sticking to the hardwood floor as the heat fills the home.

“What?” You can’t help but bark as you swing the door open, only to find a concerned Joel on the porch, with your phone in his hand.

“I found this in the kitchen, must’ve fallen off the counter in the madness of getting the fire out and callin’ me.” He holds it out to you, but you don’t move to take it. “Figured you needed it, there’s a lot of missed calls and voicemails. I may have left a few too, to check on ya. Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“Been here, painting.”

“Okay, that’s…that’s good. Got everything you need? Food, water, someone comin’ to fix the A/C?” It’s an apology in the only way Joel Miller is capable of giving, the need to make sure someone is getting what they need, that they’re taken care of. He’s a good provider, to his girls, to his brother, to the neighborhood when he’s not beat down from long days in the sun with concrete and paint dried to his skin, with wood shavings and stain splotched on his jeans.

“No.”

“No?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m my own person.”

Your name leaves his mouth on a sigh.

“I know that, but your parents…I know that kinda thing is-“

“I’m fine. Thanks for returning this.” You snatch it from his hand and go to close to door, not willing to hear what he has to say on the loss of your parents. For his credit, he let’s you. Knowing that you’re going through the motions, through the event in your own way. It doesn’t stop him from speaking loud enough for you to hear him through the door.

“The girls will be by with dinner later! Try to be nice to them, they ain’t me!”

-

The meal delivered by two smiling teenagers does lift your spirits a bit, even if all you do is shower and do a few loads of laundry. It’s a long process, the climb out of the hole that you had found yourself in.

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months. You’re back to quipping across the yard with the man. His daughters delighting in the comraderies that underlies it all. It’s the height of summer now, the girls spending time with you to try their hand at painting. Sarah is better with bursts of color that compliment each other, vaguely floral. While Ellie is better with a muted palette imposed between detailed line art.

They always thank you for the time and attention, offering to help you clean up or tidy the house in exchange for watching over them when you notice Joel’s truck is still gone from their own driveway until late. They aren’t helpless, but you know what loneliness feels like and you don’t want them to become familiar with it.

You finally open the envelope containing your degrees, the last letters from your friends and pen down long responses. The stamps cute as you drop them off at the post office, the ornate certificates framed and hung above the desk in your father’s old office alongside his own.

Joel joins them most days, mid meal if he can make it in time. Food finding it’s way into your kitchen, something you’re sure is the combined effort of two pairs of small hands and one pair of big hands. The least you could do is turn it into something for everyone involved to enjoy.

But just as things seem to progress, they fall back apart. It wasn’t over a throwaway comment this time, though, but a piece of mail delivered from a local gallery asking after your willingness to partake in an exhibit. That they expressed their deepest condolences in this trying time.

The paint dries up again, another set of brushes left to ruin. The door goes unanswered, as does the phone you can hardly stand to look at. The lights don’t glow in the windows once the sun sets, no music is heard from behind thin screens, nor the sound of you humming along to it.

The house becomes a burden once again, shielding you from the world you as you feel the loss of your parents all over again.

-

You don’t hear the door open from where you’re sprawled on the floor of the bathroom, the shower is running but you didn’t make it under the spray. You’re fully clothed, having reached down underneath the vanity for a bottle of shampoo when your fingers had brushed over something else. A bottle of your mother’s favorite perfume. The one that lingered in every room she occupied, on every piece of clothing she adorned. It was her, the perfect encapsulation of who she was.

And it was staring at you inconspicuously from the shelf. The mere sight of it tearing the wound open once again and making it hard to breath.

That’s where Joel finds you. In tears over something as trivial as a tiny glass bottle. But he doesn’t bat an eye, he’s taking in the scene and shutting off the shower in a few easy steps.

“Hey now, come ‘ere, darlin’,” He’s crouching down beside you, hands reaching for your shaking body.

He’s so gentle, so soft as he pulls you up from the tiled floor and into his chest. Leaning back against rhe now closed vanity to support your weight. One hand on the back of your head, holding it to his chest, pleading with you to match his breathing so you don’t hurt yourself.

“Datin’ is hard, you’re right.” His words make you pause, confusion crowding out the wetness lingering in your eyes. The words from a conversation long ago pulling you out of your breakdown, the casual way he continues it.

“It is.” You insist, voice small and muffled as you refuse to pull your face from where it’s pressed against the warmth of his chest.

“Maybe…. maybe you’d be kind enough to try it with this grumpy old man. I’d sure like to give it a shot with someone like you.”

“I ain’t nothin’ special. Just the neighbor girl your dead friends talked about too much.”

“They loved you, darlin’. With everythin’ they had.” He holds tight to the hand you move underneath one of his. Seeking him out, to feel his skin on your own. “You are special, those paintings they showed me, you got a gift, honey.”

“Gifts don’t mean nothin’ when you got no one to share them with.”

“You share ‘em with the girls, they loved coming over here to spend time with you. Share ‘em with me, if you want. The girls and I are in your corner, we got you.”

“You don’t…you don’t want to date me. Every boy-“

“Boys don’t know how to date, that’s only something us old men know how to do. Will you let me show you, how it feels to be taken care of and looked after? To feel appreciated and like you aren’t a hindrance on nightly plans to play fuckin’ video games?”

“I like video games,” You sniffle, voice gaining strength as the conversation goes on. He’s soothing you, even as he just sits on the floor with you in his lap, his arms around you and your body pressed up against him. It’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in months. And it’s just Joel being Joel, it’s just you being you.

“Show me, if you want. Let me get to know you, let me show you what it’s like to be loved, not just sought after for a night of fun.”

“I don’t date old men.”

“No?”

“You’re not that much older than me, so I wouldn’t really call you old.”

“Cause then you’d have to admit you’re old too, huh?” He reads the meaning behind the change of thought, as if he was in your head right there alongside you.

“Yeah, we ain’t old. Life just beat us down, but damn if it didn’t touch your perky ass.” You reach a hand down from where it’s cradled between your chests, to pinch at where his backside it firmly planted on the floor. He jolts a bit, not expecting the action. But his rumbling laugh lightens the air around you both even more so.

“You goin’ soft on me, a compliment like that is makin’ my heart pick up. Can you feel it?”

“Yeah, cause you’re a big ole sap.” You can’t help the breathy chuckle that escapes past your lips, the twitch of a smile trying to break out. You can, indeed, feel the way his heart is thudding in his chest. The truth of your words and his making you feel some of the weight lift from your own.

“You ain’t gotta clue how sappy I could me, lemme show you, huh?”

“Only if you promise it’ll make me roll my eyes and groan.” You lean back enough to see his face, the roll of your eyes up to take in his hopeful expression allowing you to know how much he means it. Your own heartbeat picks up and you swear he can feel it too, if the crook of his lips underneath his mustache is any indication.

“Only if you promise to have a smile on your face while you do it.” He leans in, nose brushing against yours. The action so soft, so welcome after the isolation you had subjected yourself to.

“Deal.” You breathe out against his lips.

“It’s a deal then.” He presses them to yours, and damn it all, but it does bring a smile to your face.

taglist: @sawymredfox @tuquoquebrute @littlemisspascal @hiddenbabynyc @jessthebaker

@joelsgreys @tonysopranosrobe @morallyinept

[nakylvr]

can i req gp!daniela x f!reader smut with semi-public sex when danon were at that festival or whatever bc the photo dani posted on her ig (the one on the swing) is making me feel too many things

this was lowkey one of my favs to write...thank you for requesting anon! 🫶

— CARNIVAL 🛡️

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, f!reader, g!p!daniela, dom!daniela, sub!reader, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, mami kink, cumming inside

minors dni

you always enjoyed a good festival. so when you managed to score two-day tickets for you, daniela, and manon, you were ecstatic. you were one to bring a tent seeing as it went throughout the whole weekend and you had other friends who were there also, so you wanted a mutual meeting space for everyone.

for the second night, dani told you in advance that she would be there later with manon, having to stay at the house for their 1 year reunion (that was not live, as dani thoroughly explained, irritated that she would be late). so you were currently sitting outside the tent on one of the lawn chairs your friend had brought, a bit away from the crowd that was only growing as the night progressed.

"hey, yn!"

you look up hearing manon's voice, and a smile instantly forms on your face seeing her and dani walking up to you. standing up on your feet, you flatten your skirt and hold your arms out wide. manon quickly hugs you first before taking a step back and glancing around at the environment. "there's a lot more people tonight."

"well with carti headlining tonight it only makes sense," you respond as daniela silently wraps her arms around you. "hi, baby," your smile grows bigger as she rests her chin on your shoulder.

"you look really good," dani murmurs into your ear.

"thank you!" you beam as she pulls away, pecking her lips quickly. "i had a feeling you would like it."

"mm, well i do," she nods, her arms snaking around your waist. "a lot, in fact."

"i'm sure," you smile innocently at her, clearly seeing the way she was practically undressing you with her eyes. "but for now, let's go have some fun!"

after an hour or two of going on little rides and the giant swing the festival had, eating overpriced food, and hanging out, the night was nearing the time of the headliner to start. standing near the back of the crowd as the current performer finishes, daniela wraps her arms around you from behind, pulling you close against her.

"y'know we have at least fifteen minutes until the set starts," she mumbles into your ear, her fingers grazing your skin under the crop top you were wearing.

she starts leaving light kisses down your neck, and you know what she's trying to do. "you just can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?" you tilt your head to the side a bit, your hands on top of hers but not making any attempt to move her.

"not when you look this good," dani speaks quietly, her voice low so that only you can hear. "how can i when you're practically asking me to fuck you in this slutty outfit?"

"dani-"

"come with me," daniela cuts you off before you can get another word out, grabbing your hand as she starts walking away from the crowd.

"dani, where are we going?" you ask, but aren't really annoyed at her actions despite trying to be. you're not surprised, really. whenever you wore something she liked a little too much, she ended up doing this. dragging you off somewhere for a quickie before going back or going home depending on her mood. "dani," you say more sternly when she doesn't respond.

she doesn't answer you, stopping in front of the tent and unzipping it open. she gently pulls you inside before zipping it back up and closed again. turning around to face you, dani grabs you by your waist and kisses you roughly, her lips moving faster than you could keep up with.

"dani– this is way too public," you get out through kisses, your hands on her shoulders but not making any real attempt to push her off.

"no one will see," daniela murmurs, "you just gotta be quiet for me, you got that?" she says, her fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "c'mon, baby. don't leave me hanging like this." she grabs one of your hands, bringing it to her visible bulge in her baggy pants.

"you're so annoying, you know that?" you reply with a non-serious eye roll.

"you love me," she whispers, pulling you into another kiss.

laying you down on the floor of the tent, you peer up at dani as she fumbles with the buttons of her pants before sliding them down her legs along with her boxers. hiking your skirt up, she groans lowly at the evident wet patch on your panties, dragging her fingers up and down your clothed slit before pushing the material aside.

with one swift thrust, you can feel every vein and ridge of her cock filling you up, leaving you letting out a sharp gasp at the sudden intrusion. "fuck..." dani breathes out. "you're always so goddamn tight," she mumbles, starting to move her hips in a fast rhythm.

"oh my god, dani–" you're cut off of your moaning when one of daniela's hands clasps over your mouth firmly.

"shh, you gotta be quiet, baby," she says to you lowly. her other hand is secured on your waist as she pounds into you at a fast pace. "ju-just be quiet f' me," she grunts, her nails digging into your soft skin.

all you can do is nod your head, your moans coming out muffled past her hand as you try to be as quiet as possible. you stare up at your girlfriend who is so focused on getting to cum as quickly as possible, little grunts and whimpers escaping her mouth as she thrusts into you. she looks so good like this, too lost in her own pleasure that she doesn't even notice the noises she's making herself.

"fuck," daniela curses, leaning down and putting her face in the crook of your neck, her hips showing no sign of slowing down anytime soon. "god, you feel so good, baby."

your arms instinctively reach for her back, pulling her down closer to you while gripping her jacket tightly. your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel the tip of her cock hit your g-spot, moaning loudly through her hand and squirming under her touch. "fuck...mami," your words come out barely audible through the muffled voice of yours.

"shit," dani hisses into your ear hearing the title fall from your lips. "you always take me so good, so good, baby," she mumbles into your neck. your walls spasm around her cock at the words, clenching tightly causing her to groan lowly. "fuck..you gonna cum, baby?"

you nod your head feverishly, your grip on her jacket getting tighter as your moaning comes out louder as her hand loosens slightly from being so focused on getting off. "please," you whimper softly. "please, mami, 'm so close, please,"

"go on, baby," she tells you. her thrusts are becoming more sloppy and erratic as her breathing gets heavy against the skin of your neck, her hand leaving your mouth and trailing down your chest, reaching under your shirt and fondling your breast in her hand. your body shakes under her as your eyes roll back and you cum on her cock, your jaw falling slack in a silent scream. "fuck, 'm gonna cum. let-let me cum in you, please, baby," dani borderline begs, getting interrupted by more sighs and whimpers leaving her mouth.

"mhm," is all you can hum, nodding your head as your hand finds her hair and runs through it.

a long groan comes from dani as she thrusts into you one last time, filling you up and painting your walls white with her cum. panting heavily into your neck, she slowly pulls out of you, causing you to let out a quiet whimper at the feeling disappearing. pulling away from your neck, her hand moves up to cup your cheek, kissing you deeply.

"i love you," she mumbles against your lips, parting from the kiss. sitting back, she pulls her pants back on and buttons them up before pulling your skirt back down and flattening it, a small smirk on her face as she sees her cum dripping out from you. "don't worry, baby. we can leave as soon as carti's set is over."

you can't find it in you to roll your eyes at her words, merely nodding your head and letting her grab your hand to pull you up. "you're so annoying," you mumble, leaning against her.

"yet you love me," she whispers, smiling at you.

"i do."

[miya-rin]

“what the fuck do you two think youre doing?”

shit, you think, you didnt notice the balcony door had been slid open until you heard the voice of one of your brothers. you start to pull away from suna’s lips which earns you a small whine from his end, his grip tightens around you and honestly it its quite cute the way he is trying so hard to savour the moment. “come back later, we’re kinda busy.” the boy mutters before trying to move your face away from the distraction so that he can kiss you once more.

“suna you get your hands off of her right now, i dont give a fuck that its your birthday.” osamu pipes up, he looks furious and a little bit disgusted, if it hadnt been for the situation youre in right now you would think its kind of funny.

“samu lay off him, it was a mutual agreement, im just as guilty as he is ok?” that does not seem to help the boys understand, if anything they seem even more angry with you both.

“what the fuck do you mean it was a mutual agreement? are you two hooking up or something? yn he just turned 18 a few hours ago are you forgetting that?” atsumu says, he is rambling on with every excuse he can think of as to why this is “so wrong”, from the corner of your eye you can see suna trying so very hard to hide the grin that is creeping its way onto his face, his hands still all over you despite the fact that you arent alone anymore.

“listen, it was his birthday wish ok? i swear it didn’t mean anything,” sunas grip begins to loosen ever so slightly, “i just though it would get him off my back and get him over his little crush on me.” suna’s facial expression shifts but you choose to ignore it, you have bigger problems to deal with at the moment.

“no this is not ok, how would you feel if me or samu kissed one of your friends because it was their birthday wish?”

“that’s different, why would my friends want to kiss either of you?”

“excuse me? ill have you know that many women want to kiss me! and dont think youre getting off the hook either suna, ill make sure you never-“ you dont even want to hear the threat that is about to come out of his mouth, you just want to get out of this shitty situation.

“boys please, just give us five minutes to talk and then we will be back inside ok? i promise.” your efforts to plead with your brothers finally work.

“…fine,” atsumu mumbles, “but this better be a one time thing. im not gonna deal with you two being all lovey dovey around me.” and with that he lightly tugs on osamu’s sleeve, signalling him to walk back inside and continue the party. he closes the balcony door but not before bringing two fingers up to his eyes and then pointing them at the two of you. its a warning.

you turn back to suna and notice the sad look on his face - he looks kinda cute like this, “so, what do-“.

“did you really mean what you just said to them?” the poor boy looks heartbroken, after waiting three years to finally have a chance with the girl he loves wants the moment is ruined like that? “did you actually just do that so i would leave you alone?” his hands fully leave your body now and he takes a step back to put some distance between you two.

“well i mean sort of yeah… ive never looked at you in any way other than my brothers best friend if im going to be honest, i dont know if thats because of the age difference or what but ive never thought we could be anything.” the look of hurt is prominent on his face no matter how hard he tries to hide it, normally playful banter would have been thrown back and forth between the two of you but rintarou just stays silent, an indication that youve fucked up.

“listen suna i dont know what you want me to say, i wasnt really thinking when i said that to atsumu it just came out. i am 4 years older than you and many people would not approve of us if i decided to give you a chance.”

“who cares? i could treat you so right if you would just let me. i have waited entirely too long for this moment, all im asking for is one date.”

“you said that about the kiss too, one thing is never enough with you is it? you always need more.” a playful smile creeps onto your face which is outshined by the one on sunas, he knows that your smile means that you agree to go on a date with him.

“i really hope you arent fucking with me right now, that would be so cruel, especially on my birthday.”

“oh give the birthday excuse a rest now will you? you dont need to keep on at me you have already got what you want.”

“mhm i absolutely have,” he walks closer and once again wraps his arms around you, placing a hand under your jawbone to make you look up at him, “and i couldnt be happier.” he states as he pulls you in for a passionate kiss once more <3

[changbunnies]

Lowkey, I Need You (To Move Out) 18+

♡ Pairing: Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, angst, fluff, smut with plot, mutual pining but especially lots of pining from binnie

♡ Word Count: 12k

♡ Summary: Changbin has a problem– he’s in love with his friend with benefits. And not only is he in love with her, but she’s also his roommate. Torn on what to do, the only thing he knows for certain is that something has to change soon– but is he even brave enough to spark that change, and risk their friendship?

♡ Warnings: miscommunication, but it's resolved quickly!, bin is lil insecure but we're here to make it better !!, gets a bit emotional because truly this is a love letter to changbin and how much i adore him

♡ Smut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, switch!bin with a heavy sub lean, as usual changbin is an extremely soft and perfect lover, pet names (baby, bun, bunny, honey, sweet + good boy), oral (m + f rec), fingering (f rec), nipple play, begging, a tiny bit of edging, spit as lube, cock warming, unprotected piv, creampie, praise kink, body worship, face sitting

♡ Notes: this was written in response to the topic of binnie being excluded, because as a bin biased girlie it's my job to show out for him when he needs the extra love! i've been wanting to write a fwb for SO long and in true changbunnies fashion this turned out longer than i intended it to be but i just had so much fun writing it and giving binnie the attention he deserves, so i hope you enjoy it too !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

What do you do when you realize you've fallen in love with your friend with benefits? And what do you do when said friend is also your roommate? The conclusion that Changbin has reached is simple: spiral.

Well, not that spiraling is an actual choice in this scenario– he can't stop it from happening despite how desperately he wants to. He knows you aren't looking for a relationship right now, that you like what you have together because it's casual and fun.

You swore off dating apps and relationships after having your heart broken one too many times, and the only reason you're friends with benefits with Changbin is because you trust him– a trust that he is loath to break by dropping the revelation that he's fallen in love with you.

You were away from your shared apartment for the past week and a half, on a trip back to your home town to visit family. It was exhausting, but fun enough when your parents weren't driving you up the wall by pestering you with questions about when you're going to start bringing a boyfriend back home with you, you told Changbin on the phone last night whilst packing to come back to the city.

He hated the way his heart sank to the pit of his stomach when he considered the fact that he'll never be the boyfriend going home with you to meet your family. And he wants to be, fucking hell, does he want to be yours.

He wants to tell you he loves you and have it mean something more than the platonic love between friends, to take you on dates and freely hold your hand when walking through the city streets together, to share a bed with you for more than just a fuck.

How many times has he wanted to pull you back to him when you start to get up from his bed? To reach out and beg you to stay when you start to get dressed? To knock on your door late at night and lay everything out on the line because the way it keeps him up at night is becoming unbearable?

Fuck, he can't keep dwelling on it– you've been on your way home since this morning, and you're due back any minute now. It'll be disastrous for Changbin if you walk through the door and realize something's off with him.

His heart twisted when he checked his phone and saw a new text, one excitedly telling him you're almost home and that you've missed him– but was it really him you missed, or just fucking him? He didn't know anymore, and he was afraid to find out.

Changbin jumps when he hears the lock to the front door click, taking a breath to calm his racing heart as he rises to his feet to help you with your luggage and welcome you back home. 

He’s spent enough time spiraling over what to do this past week, he can’t afford to anymore; not if he wants to keep his sanity intact, anyways. He can do this– once you get settled, he can have a heart to heart with you, and everything will be fine. Even if it’s too much to confess his feelings, surely there’s a way to go about things where you’re both still happy, right?

Changbin did a lot around the apartment to make it perfect for you upon your return– cleaned and dusted every common room until they were spotless, made sure not a single dirty dish was left in the sink, emptied every trash can.. He even unclogged the drains and scrubbed the tub! He just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a single thing to do, that you could just relax and unwind in clean comfort after your trip. 

But you don’t spare a single glance around the apartment once you enter– you look just at him, smiling as you kick the door closed behind you, and drop your luggage to the floor to squeeze him into a hug. 

He blinks a moment in surprise at how quick the action is– he didn’t even have the chance to get a word out before you were on him. Still, he quickly returns the hug while trying his best to prevent the happy, almost relieved sigh you let out as you bury your head into his chest from giving him false hope.

“You really missed me this much?” Changbin asks with a small giggle– why is he even asking? So much for not giving himself false hope. He just blurted it out without thinking, really; but he can’t pretend the way you affirm it doesn’t make his heart swell. 

It was the longest you’d ever been apart from Changbin since moving in together, and it put a lot of things into perspective. Like, you really did miss him, of course you did, he’s your friend! But there was something more– you don’t think you’d ever missed someone so fucking badly before. 

Like, staying up all night because you can’t stop thinking about him type of ‘I miss you.’ Wanting to text him or call him at all hours of the day just to check up on him and ask what he’s been up to even though you’re supposed to be focusing on your family and reuniting with childhood friends.

You missed everything about him– his smile and cute laugh, the way he smells, his big arms wrapped around you and squeezing you close. You wanted to hear his voice again, and not through the grainy speaker of your phone, wanted to see him without your parent’s shitty old wifi connection lagging your call, and making him pixelated and blurry.

Changbin is your home, you realized; wherever he is is where you want to be. As long as he’s there, you’d have everything you need to be happy. Is that too sentimental of a feeling for just friends?

Yes, you know it is– and every time you felt it for him before, you shoved it down as deep you could, not ready to get your heart broken again just yet. Better to hold onto him for as long as you can, before he cuts things off to start dating again.

But of course, you can’t deny you also missed him in other, less than innocent ways. The squeak he lets out when you surprise him with a kiss, the cute way he blushes and giggles when you compliment him or call him his favorite pet name, the way he’ll easily drop to his knees for you the moment you tell him you need him. 

He never cares what he’s in the middle of or what he needs to get done– if you tell him you want him, he’s ready for you, eager to please. Even if he loses sleep, if it makes him late for work, if it means the food on the stove is going to burn– none of it matters if you need his tongue on you. And you’ll reward him, you always do; with sweet words and touches that makes his heart feel like it’s going to beat out of his chest while his cock throbs.

“Missed you more than you know,” you say in a near whisper, pressing your lips to his like you’ve been eager to do since walking through the door. Changbin practically melts when you kiss him, as always; he just can’t help it– he’s forever going to be putty in your hands. 

Was he right in his fear that you only missed him for the sex? Maybe, but he can’t even dwell on the idea anymore– not when the urgency in which you start touching him underneath his shirt while sliding your tongue in his mouth makes him weak at the knees.

Fuck it, maybe that is all you want him for these days, but he’d never stop giving you what you want. Use him over and over, run his heart into the ground when it’s done, what does it matter? At least in this moment he’s yours, even if it’s only temporary. 

You grab Changbin by the waist and turn him around, pressing his back against the front door to the apartment. One of his feet very nearly gets caught up on your luggage on one of his steps back, but you kick it to the side, away from the two of you. His sound of surprise is muffled by your mouth on his, as is his gasp when your hands travel up to squeeze his pecs.

You can feel his body shudder when your thumbs brush over his nipples, letting out a whine when you pinch them between your fingers. He’s breathless by the time you pull away, watching you with that eager look in his eyes that makes you crazy for him. “B-Baby, what are you-” he tries to ask as you fall to your knees, though the last word dies in his throat when you look back up at him with a smile. 

He still remembers the first time he slipped up and called you “baby.” You were on top of him, riding him so good that all he could do was babble on and on about how good it felt while gripping the bed sheets beneath him. “S-So good, oh my god, baby, it’s– you’re so good, feels so good,” he whimpered, whining loudly when you stopped moving to just look at him.

Changbin was going to ask why you stopped, beg you to please, please keep going, but then it hit him all at once– he called you ‘baby’ when it was never something either of you had done before. And instantly, he looked up at you utterly mortified with himself, ready to apologize over and over again for crossing the line in your friends with benefits relationship.

While the arrangement didn’t come with strict rules, such as no kissing for example, he still was concerned that it was a touch too far in the ‘romantic relationship’ direction. But to his surprise, and relief, you smiled at him, calling him sweet names in return after picking your pace back up. You continued to try out names, gauging his reaction carefully until you found the one that seemed to make him react the most.

And now here you are, looking up at him with his cock pulled out of his sweatpants and throbbing in your hands, calling him the name that turns his brain and body to jelly. “Want to show you how badly I missed you, bunny,” you told him before pressing a lingering kiss to his already leaking tip, his pre-cum smearing over your lips.

Thank fucking God you pressed him against the door, because if he didn’t have the support he’s pretty sure his legs would’ve given out. It’s not often that you’re the one on your knees for him, and the sight is so erotic it makes his brain feel like it’s going to melt out of his ears– not to mention the way you’re talking to him on top of it.

“So hard and leaky already,” you comment gleefully, sticking out your tongue to lick over his tip, “you missed me too, didn’t you, bun?” 

“Y-Yeah, missed you, I missed you so much,” Changbin replies breathlessly, struggling to keep his hips still and not rut against your hands. He bites his lip, restraining the whimpers that threaten to endlessly spill when you open your mouth to take him in.

You don’t waste any time getting the corners of your mouth used to the stretch, or for Changbin to get used to the feeling after having gone without it for so long; you take him all at once, until his tip is touching the back of your throat and your nose is pressed against his pelvis. 

His head falls back against the door as he squeezes his eyes shut, slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle the obscenely loud moan you draw out of him. Normally he pays no mind to his volume because he knows you prefer him loud, but he’d be beyond embarrassed if any neighbors walking the hall heard him just on the other side of the door. 

You swallow around his length, and it takes effort to not gag given how thick and heavy he is, but you manage just fine. Breathing through your nose, you stroke his cock with your tongue whenever you need to give your throat a tiny break, sometimes pulling back to take a bigger breath and let more air into your lungs before sucking him into your mouth again. 

Changbin cards his fingers through your hair, but doesn’t pull– just holds your head in an effort to ground himself. His thighs are trembling, and he’s seemingly given up on trying to be quiet, or is simply too far gone to care anymore, the hand he was using to cover his mouth now clenched into a fist at his side.

“W-Wait, wait, baby, please wait, don’t wanna cum yet,” he pleads as his stomach clenches, the twitching and throbbing of his cock growing more in intensity. He’s lifted his head from the door, looking down at you now and meeting your gaze as you blatantly ignore his request and continue to swallow him down your throat.

“Please, please, your pussy– want your pussy, honey, please,” he tries again, chest heaving as he begs, the fingers threaded through your hair now clenching into a fist as well, but still, he doesn’t pull you off him. That’s one of the things you like most about Changbin– he’s so strong that it’d be easy for him to make you do whatever he wants, but he doesn’t. 

Even now, as desperate as he is to be inside your pussy, he’s obedient, first and foremost. How can you resist giving him what he wants when he’s so sweet, perfect and well behaved? You pull off him with a loud ‘pop,’ watching the way his cock throbs pathetically against his stomach as his impending orgasm begins to ebb away.

You expect him to take a longer moment to recover, but even with how breathless he is, he’s leaning down to pick you up from the floor. You can’t help but let out a squeal as you’re lifted from the ground– you know very well that Changbin is strong, but it always surprises you how effortlessly he can lift your weight. Excites you too, if you’re being completely honest. 

He has you in a full princess carry, one arm supporting your back while the other is under your knees. You know he won’t drop you, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway for the extra security. He shows his appreciation for you with so many kisses over your face that you can’t help but giggle, and he holds you tighter when his kisses cause you to squirm in his grasp.

“Don’t tickle me with kisses when I can’t escape you,” you half-heartedly complain, and he giggles with you, pressing one more to your nose before he starts walking away from the front door. “We’re going to your room,” he informs you, figuring that’s where you’d prefer to me after having been away from home. 

Your luggage lies forgotten on the floor as he makes his way past the open kitchen and living room, and into the hallway leading to your rooms. Standing in front of your door, you lean in his grasp to twist the door knob, and he gently nudges the door open further with his foot. Your bedroom is just how you left it a week and a half ago, and Changbin sets you down on your bed carefully.

“Are you going to undress yourself for me?” you ask with an expectant tilt of your head, and he blushes ever so slightly as he shyly giggles and nods. It never fails to make him a little shy when you watch him undress like this, but he also takes pride in the way you look at him. Hungry, but somehow still tender and sweet. 

He starts with his sweatpants and underwear, considering his cock is still out from when you pulled them down just enough to get it out. Kicking his feet out once they’ve fallen to the floor, his shirt is next, and he very quickly pulls it up and over his head. “My baby,” you coo at him after beckoning him closer, and it makes his head spin. 

It’s the first time you’ve used a possessive term with him. Your baby.. Yes, whether you know it or not, he’s yours. Only yours. 

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you continue, smiling when the pink on his flushed cheeks deepens, “And sexy, and adorable, and lovable.” You love complimenting him– even before you were friends with benefits, you’d tell him sweet things whenever you could. It took him a long time to grow into himself and get comfortable and confident in his own skin, and he deserves the pride and joy he feels now. 

Lovable is a new one, and he tries not to let it root itself inside his head– you certainly do love him, but just as a friend, he knows it. You’ve always been sweet to him, and he’s certain that your doting on him and sweet gestures increased only because of the slight change in your relationship, and no other reason. 

Regardless, does the reason matter? You’re complimenting him earnestly, and that’s enough. Even if it’s said without romantic intent, you do mean it– and that’s all he needs, really.

“Help me out with my own clothes now, won’t you, sweet boy?” you ask, and he gives you an excited nod that makes you giggle again. You lift your back off the bed so he can help you with your top and bra, then lift your legs so he can help you out of your pants and underwear when you let your back fall against the bed again. 

He kisses you the entire time he’s getting you out of your clothes, only breaking away when he has to. “Gonna get you ready for me,” he breathes out near the shell of your ear before planting a kiss there, and then trailing them down your neck. He slides his hand between your legs as he does, and you spread them apart for him to make his task easier for him. 

You both know you can handle the sting from his cock stretching you out, sometimes you even crave it– but you can never deny his desire to be sweet to you. If he wants to stretch you out on his fingers first, you’ll let him do it every time. 

“Oh, honey, you’re so wet,” he gasps as he runs his fingers between your folds. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise, really– you always get soaking wet when you and Changbin are being intimate. Still, it always surprises him as much as it did your first time together; he supposes there’s a part of him that still can’t believe you’re this physically attracted to him, even with how much you shower him with compliments. 

Of course, if you knew he had that thought, you’d shower him with even more of them, until there wasn’t a single doubt left in his mind. He’s perfect, truly; there’ll never be anyone who can compare to Changbin.

You don’t need him to start slow or careful, but he does regardless, starting by pressing just one of his fingers to your hole before sliding it inside. He knows you can take more at once, would even enjoy the sting that would follow, but he wants to be good to you! When you’re full of him, so thick that you’re full to the point it’s almost too much, he wants it to be pure bliss. 

Changbin pumps his finger in and out of you slowly, waiting until he’s certain you’re about to start whining for more before adding a second, and after just a little more he’s adding a third. He keeps his fingers still for just a moment, making sure you’re well adjusted before he starts to thrust them in and out in the way he knows you love.

And God, even though it’s you that’s getting fucked right now, he feels like he’s going a little crazy. He’s so addicted to the noises you make, the way your breathing starts to hitch and turn more shallow, how your eyes roll back when he hits that gummy spot inside you. You’re so fucking slick, and squeezing his fingers so tight that he can barely even think straight– not that he was entirely to begin with. 

Is it just because it’s been over a week since the last time you were together? He never thought himself so insatiable or easily worked up, but fuck, you just unlock something in him. He’s had sex plenty of times before you started sleeping together, had plenty of fun experiences with different partners, but only you make me feel so.. needy.

“Binnie, baby, want your cock now, give it to me, please,” you whine, voice impossibly pretty and breathless. “Ah but– are you sure, baby? Don’t want me to make you cum first?” he asks as he slows down the motion of his fingers. 

“We’ve both waited long enough, haven’t we?” you ask, rhetorical; it’s much more a statement than a question. You look at his cock, still leaking steadily and impossibly hard, and then look back to Changbin’s face. “Let’s cum together. That’s what I want,” you tell him, and you can’t help but notice the way his cock twitches from your words in your peripheral. 

Of course, he can’t resist doing whatever you want– especially not when there’s a promise to cum together at the end. So he slips his fingers out of you, and before he can even ask what you’d like him to do, you’re putting your hands on his shoulders and guiding him to his back. 

He falls to his back easily, swallowing as he watches you crawl on top of him. You’ve done it countless times at this point, but it never stops being sexy and exciting to watch. Your hands planted firmly on his chest, and your legs straddling his body, you move your hips back and forth, rubbing your pussy up and down his length to get it wet. 

His tip rubbing against your clit feels so fucking good too, but that’s not why you’re doing this; so you quickly move on before you get carried away and end up grinding on him until you cum. Reaching your hand between your bodies, you grab his cock at the base and angle it where you need it. 

Changbin watches with eager eyes and bated breath, his hands holding your hips for extra support. Even when you start to slowly sink down on him, and you’re both gasping and breathless from the pleasure, he’s careful to not squeeze you too hard. He’s always so tender and careful, even when doesn’t need to be, and you love him for it. 

And true to what he hoped, there’s no sting when you’re fully sat on him, the stretch nothing but pleasurable for you. Because of this, it also means you don’t have to start slow– and so within just a few short moments, you’re bouncing on him rapidly, leaning down to kiss him as you do. 

He has long since stopped being embarrassed about the noises you draw out of him, whimpering and moaning freely as the pleasure seeps into every pore of his body. Your tongue once again slips its way into his mouth, and he meets it eagerly with his own, happy to slide it around yours. 

Bouncing on his cock, and kissing him like this, he can’t help but be reminded of the very first time you slept together. You had just freshly agreed to the friends with benefits arrangement, both of you lonely and in need of some intimacy, but being done with relationships for the time for your own reasons. 

You took the lead, and it was the first time anyone ever had– he was so used to being the macho man in charge for his lovers, that he found it interesting and exciting that you wanted to be the one in control. You told him what to do, how to do it, praised him and guided him along, had him lay down while you crawled on top and did all the work for him after you were ready to take his cock.

And to his surprise, he instantly liked it– loved it, even. He never considered before then letting someone else have the leading role in bed, but after you started, it just felt natural. And when you leaned down and kissed him in that moment, when everything was so different for him and exciting, it felt like everything shifted, like the entire world titled on its axis. 

Maybe he’s been in love with you since then, but only fully realized what he felt recently. Maybe he’s been in love since even further before, but didn’t have the tools then to put that feeling together, because the line between friend and lover can sometimes be blurry. Maybe he’s been a fool this entire time, and continues to be one now– because he knows what he feels now for certain, but is still too scared to admit it to you. 

He’s thankful that your tongue in his mouth prevents him from speaking– because he’s certain if it wasn’t, he’d end up saying something he shouldn’t. It doesn’t stop him from having the thoughts internally, however.

“You’re so perfect, I love you, I love you so much, I need you, need you to need me, love you,” his brain is screaming as his orgasm approaches once more. The noises leaving him growing more in volume and desperation is enough of a warning for you on its own that he’s close, but you can feel him throbbing too, eager for release after how close he was to cumming earlier.

You reach your hand between your bodies once more, this time to rub your clit with your fingers. It makes your pace falter a bit, but Changbin is more than used to helping you in the last stretch like this. He helps you keep your pace with his hands, and thrusts up into you in time with the fall of your hips onto his.

“C-Cumming, oh, bunny, you’re making me cum,” you whimper, biting your lip and furrowing your brow as the circles you draw on your clit grow messy. You gasp when your orgasm hits you, your breath catching in your throat as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. Changbin was already close, and the way you squeeze around him as you cum unravels him too. 

His cum shoots inside you, hot and sticky, his entire body trembling as he whimpers and whines beneath you. He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, but when he opens them he sees you looking down at him with such a beautiful smile that he truly feels like he died and went to heaven– because fuck, you’re an angel. 

Changbin reaches a hand up, tucks your messy, fallen strands of hair behind your ears, smiling when you coo and call him a “sweet boy,” again. You let your body fall against his chest, resting your head in the crook of his neck as you close your eyes and let out a content sigh. “Baby?” he questions, giggling a little when you mumble about being tired against his skin. 

“We have to get you cleaned up,” he reminds you, though the way he strokes your back surely doesn’t give you any motivation to get off him. “And you need to go to the bathroom before you fall asleep!” he adds, and you hum an acknowledgment, but still make no effort to crawl off him. Instead, your body relaxes even further, and soon enough you’re not even responding to him talking to you anymore.

You’ve fallen asleep much quicker than Changbin would’ve ever expected; he’s sure you’re tired from the days you spent away and the trip back home, and the fact that you fucked him immediately upon getting home likely didn’t do you any favors in keeping the fatigue at bay.

But he’s still here in your bed, beneath you, your body warm and soft and entirely limp as serene snores leave you. He’s not sure if he should try to wiggle his way out from under you, or just stay like this and sleep together. He knows what he wants to do, but.. he’s never spent an entire night in your room, nor have you done so in his.

And all he can think about while he looks up at your ceiling with you in his arms is how much he loves you but can’t tell you.

Fuck. What does he do now?

It’s been days since Changbin has had the chance to speak with you, but whether or not that’s entirely a good thing remains to be seen– because even with the distance to sort himself out, his mind remains addled and plagued by the desire to be with you as a lover. 

Thankfully, you haven’t noticed anything off with him– mostly because the distance since arriving back home was due to your own need to catch up on sleep, unpack your belongings, and get ready to go back to work and resume life as usual. Whenever you’re not sleeping, you’re busy, and that works for Changbin– or it was supposed to, anyways.

All he’s done the last few days is get back into his spiral. Confess his feelings or not, risk your friendship or keep everything to himself, move out before he loses his mind or stay until the day you decide you’re done.. He wishes there was a simple, easy answer. More than that, he wishes he could guarantee that you’d stay with him if he laid his feelings bare for you.

And he misses you. You’re only a room away across the hall, but he misses you. And he doesn’t fucking know what to do with himself anymore. He’s been trying to sleep for hours now, but all he can do is toss and turn and think about you, how bad he needs you– not just emotionally, but physically too. Because the moment he started thinking about you, it was only a matter of time before he began to reminisce about the sex you’ve had. 

Is his brain fucking against him, or what? As if it wasn’t bad enough he was in a spiral over the possibility of you rejecting his feelings, now he can’t stop thinking about how pretty you looked after your shower this morning. He only saw you in passing, as he had to head out for work and you had to get back to catching up on the work emails that piled up in your inbox while you were away, but God..

If it wasn’t for the fact that you really needed to get your work done before going back to the office when the weekend’s over, he would’ve dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the hallway and eaten you out until you were begging him to stop (or forcing him to by pulling his hair.) He wouldn’t even have cared about his own job– Chan would forgive him, he always did.

And truly, this is agony. Worse than agony, it’s torture. He needs to go take a cold shower and calm the fuck down so he can start thinking rationally again– as rationally as he can manage to in his lovesick state, anyways. With a heavy sigh, he throws his blankets off himself and reaches for his glasses on his nightstand. After putting them on, he rises from his bed, hoping the shower will be enough of a reset to let him get some sleep.

Opening his door, he’s surprised to see you’re awake. Well, he can’t see you just yet from the hallway, but he can see that the lamp in the living room is turned on, and can faintly hear the tv playing lofi focus music. And even though he probably shouldn’t, he can’t resist walking over to check in on you. 

He can hear you typing away on your laptop as he gets closer, and you look away from the screen and turn your head in his direction when you hear his footsteps over the softly playing music. “Oh, Binnie!” you smile at him, and it’s so genuine it makes his heart flutter. He’s so fucking screwed. “Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him, taking a small break from responding to emails to give him your attention.

“O-Oh, yeah, well I was trying to sleep, but..” he trails off when he sees you glancing down his body, to the painfully obvious erection straining against his shorts. “Had a problem?” you finish for him, and his face instantly flushes red. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve caught him with an erection, but it always makes him feel so perverted when it happens this way. 

“I can help you,” you offer, shooting him that pretty smirk that always turns him into jello. Fuck, you’re a siren, and he’s helpless to resist you. But still, aren’t you busy? As much as he’s willing to fuck up his own work performance for you, he’d feel terrible if his neediness made your own work harder for you. 

“I-I was going to shower and take care of it myself, but I saw you were awake and I just wanted to see what you were doing and.. Anyways, you don’t have to! Seriously, I know you’re busy! It’s okay, I don’t-” he babbles, and you giggle at him. He’s just so cute, especially when he’s trying his best to be considerate to you. 

“C’mere. I can’t help you right this minute but good boys like you know how to be patient, right? You can sit pretty here until I’m done with my emails?” you ask, patting the spot next to you on the sofa. Shit, you always know just what to say to him. 

He listens to your siren song, coming to where you beckon him to sit like the obedient boy you know him to be. “Take your cock out for me, baby,” you instruct, and again he listens, not a single ounce of hesitance as he slides his shorts down enough for his erection to spring free. He watches as you set your laptop on the coffee table and stand up, curious as to what you’re doing.

Changbin gulps when you slide your own shorts down your legs, as well as your panties, and fuck, he’s excited, but more than that he’s confused. He thought you told him he’d have to wait until you were done with your emails.. So why are you undressing already..? 

Maybe this is to keep him hard and eager– make him sit there with a view of your bare pussy so that by the time you’re done, he’s desperate and begging for you. Maybe you want to test the limits of your “good boy,” see how riled up you can make him while you work until he snaps and bends you over the sofa, taking you as he pleases. 

You stand in front of him with your back facing him, and though it’s a bit awkward and challenging, you reach behind and take his cock into your hand. “Spit on it, get it wet for me,” you tell him, and though his mind is still reeling from the unexpected development, he does as you ask. 

You spread his saliva around his length as best you can with your fingers, and when you’re content, you carefully press his cock to your hole. It takes you a second to get the angle right thanks to the position, but once you’ve got it, you slowly start to sink down. Changbin gasps and whines, bewildered by what’s happening right now. “B-Baby, I- what- what are you doing? I thought- I don’t-” 

“You’re still going to wait,” you tell him after you’ve fully sat in his lap, doing your best to keep your voice steady and firm despite how deliciously his cock is stretching out. “Be good for me, and stay still ‘til I’m done, okay? And then I’ll take care of you,” you tell him, and again he whines as he watches you lift your laptop from the coffee table and set it back in your lap. 

It’s a little awkward to type like this, but you think the fun that’ll result from it is worth it. Changbin eagerly nods his head, but then he remembers that you can’t see him in this position, so he speaks the best he can. “Y-Yes, I’ll be good for you,” he says with a shaky breath, biting his lip when you squirm ever so slightly to get more comfortable.

You lean back into him, his chest pressing against your back, his face close enough to your neck and shoulder that you can feel his labored breaths tickling your skin. He hears a click on your touchpad, opening a new email he assumes, followed shortly by the sound of keys resuming as you respond to it. 

Why is this so fucking hot? His dick is fully pressed inside you, and you’re not even paying attention to him– just continuing to type away on your laptop as if he’s not even losing his mind beneath you. Or should he say behind you? Both? 

He bites his lip and closes his eyes, trying his best to keep staying still like you told him to, his hands clutching the sofa cushions to keep them from wandering without permission and distracting you from your work. 

And God, he’s trying so hard to be quiet too, but it feels so impossible. The more you type away and click open new emails, the more he throbs. And the more he throbs, the more your pussy reacts by squeezing around him. And then he can’t help but whimper, his eyes rolling back when you adjust in his lap and cause the tiniest bit of friction. 

Click, more typing. A few more clicks, more typing. Click, click, more typing. How long has it even been? Since the moment you sank down on him and started working, he feels like he’s lost all sense of time. All he knows is that your pussy has been squeezing him so good– and it’s so wet now too. Is it just as exciting for you as it is for him? Do you like it? Or is it how good he’s being for you that’s making you soak his cock? 

“B-Baby, are you almost done? Please tell me you’re almost done,” Changbin whines, the desperation in his voice palpable. You chuckle as you click send on another email, wishing you could see his face right now– you’re sure he’s absolutely debauched. “Not quite,” you answer, and you can practically hear the pout in his whine.

Changbin is many things, but impatient and disobedient is not among the list. And he’s trying so, so hard to keep staying still, but he doesn’t think he can take it much longer. Honestly, you’re not sure if you can either– you’re quickly losing focus on your emails, and you’re fairly certain at least a handful of them were written less than professionally. 

Still, you click open another one, trying not to react to the way he desperately whimpers. He can’t be bad, he can’t– so his only option is to keep sitting here, and take it. “You’re- you’re almost done now, right?” he asks after another few minutes of waiting– at least, it felt like that to him. For all he knew, in reality it could’ve been more like 30 seconds. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t wait anymore?” It’s a bit of a mean question, you know– especially since you already know the answer. But still, it’s fun to ask, and you love how whiny and breathy his voice has gotten in the time you’ve been sitting on his cock. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m really trying, I just- I-I’ve never wanted to fuck you so bad before, I’m going crazy,” he practically cries, and you’re sure that if you turned around, you’d see his plump lips formed into the cutest, most devastating pout. “But I’m- I’m good,” he continues after taking another shaky breath, “I won’t move, not unless you tell me to, I promise.”

Fuck it– you still have work, but who cares? Surely your boss will understand if you couldn’t get to every email right? You got through most of them, and that counts for something, doesn’t it? That’s the justification you give yourself anyways as you close your inbox. 

“You want to fuck me, Binnie?” you ask him, and he eagerly nods just as he did before, remembering again at the last moment that you can’t see him. “Yes, yes! I really, really want to,” he replies, letting out a salacious moan when you start to lift off him. You shut your laptop and place it back on the coffee table before you turn around to look at Changbin.

Just as you expected, he looks deliciously debauched. Lips swollen and bitten red, face flushed, eyes sparkling with hope and desire as he looks up at you. “You’re right baby, you’re good. Such a good boy,” you coo at him, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. “How do you want me?” you ask him when you pull back, and his brain has to work overtime to stop itself from short circuiting from the question.

If you’re letting him pick, there’s one clear answer that’ll make him the happiest. “Lay down- on your back, please. Want to look at you, want you to look at me,” he says, and you smile at him as you lay back against the sofa, spreading your legs so Changbin can crawl between them. He kisses you as he takes his cock in his hand, pressing it against your hole before pulling away to look at you for approval.

“Go ahead, fuck me, bunny,” you encourage him sweetly. A shiver runs down the length of his spine as he starts to push back inside you, another obscene whine from deep in his throat leaving him when he’s fully inside. He leans down to kiss you again when he starts to fuck you earnestly, because that’s all he can think to do with his overwhelming wave of emotions. 

He’s thrusting fast from the start, all the pent up desperation and need for you pouring out of him ceaselessly. Your eyes always stay on his, even when he hits your spot in the way that normally makes them close or roll back, and it makes him crazy how you’re catering to his desire to have you looking at him.  

Your eyes are so pretty, so warm in the way they look at him. Everything about you is warm– your hands when they hold him, your body when it envelops him, your voice when you speak to him. The way you smile at him when he enters the room, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes, it’s warm, all of you is so, so warm. You’re home, you’re comfort, you’re bliss.

He feels like he’s unraveling in his entirety as he looks down at you, his pace quickly growing sloppy as his cock throbs. He can’t handle the way you’re looking up at him, can feel the tears threatening to well up in the corners of his eyes. He’s so overwhelmed by it all– by the pleasure, by the way you look lying beneath him, by how much he loves you. 

“You’re so beautiful, oh my god,” he whines, every thought that’s been running through his mind falling from his lips as he squeezes you in his arms. He knows he should shut up, should bite his lip or slap his hand over his mouth before he says something he shouldn’t, but the words just keep pouring out of him. 

“You’re so pretty, so fucking pretty, I can’t take it sometimes,” he continues, whimpering when you bring your fingers to your clit and start to squeeze around him tighter. “You- you make me so crazy, you’re perfect, so perfect, and- God, ‘m so close, love you so much, I love you,” he stutters, his eyes rolling back as he feels you start to cum with him. He presses his cock fully into you one last time, his cum spurting out in thick ropes until you’re full.

He’s panting, glasses fallen down to the tip of his nose, body trembling as he slowly starts to come down from the high. “Binnie,” you call him softly, and it’s not until he opens his eyes and looks at you again that what he said hits him like a ton of bricks.

He told you he loves you. While he was fucking you. He told you he loves you.

There’s no way to turn it out around as platonic in this scenario– it’s so fucking obvious how he meant it. To say he’s mortified is an understatement; and when he tries to speak, all that comes out are pathetic stutters, every explanation he wants to offer dying in his throat. Your eyes are watery as you look at him, and suddenly his throat feels impossibly dry, his hands clammy as he pulls out of you. 

He fucked up so bad. He ruined everything, he knows he did– this isn’t how he wanted to tell you, he wasn’t even ready to tell you. And now you know, and you’re looking at him with so much concern he feels like he’s going to shatter. Not anger, not sadness, but care– a care entirely different from what he’s seen on you before.

It’s pity, isn’t it? You don’t share the sentiment and you pity him for blurting it out like that. “You love me?” you ask him, your voice soft but cautious, unsure. “I..” Changbin tries again, but honestly he just wants to cry. Every emotion, every word, lodged in his throat and stuck, but still he tries to explain himself. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean-”

You’ve always loved Changbin. Since the early days of your friendship, you’ve loved him. How could you not? You’d never met someone as sincere as him, his every action so affectionate and caring. A gentleman through and through, always making sure the people he loves are taken care of, always the first to offer a helping hand when someone is in need. 

But you’d given up on the idea that you could have something more so long ago– and becoming friends with benefits with him told you that he didn’t love you romantically. He was the first to offer, and people don’t offer that arrangement if it risks their feelings getting exposed; so he didn’t love you that way, you were certain. 

You told yourself you were okay with that. You were done with relationships, so tired of having your heart broken after pouring all of your love and faith into someone. And sure, you’d be heartbroken again when Changbin inevitably decides to move on, but at least it was a heartbreak you accepted would come, you’d be ready for it– that’s what you always told yourself.

But he loves you? Like, is in love with you? And he’s mistaking your surprise, your teary eyes, your struggle to wrap your head around the fact that he loves you as much as you love him as rejection. You can see it in the panic in his eyes, the way he stumbles over his words, the tremble in his voice– he thinks you don’t love him. 

How could he ever think you don’t love him? 

“Changbin, I-” you try again, and somehow the fact that you’re using his full name hurts worse; it's like a confirmation that you’re done with him, with this. It’s irrational, but the part of his brain that’s trying to talk sense into him is drowned out by the panic and fear of rejection, as if he can protect himself from the pain by accepting the fact that you don’t love him now before you say it out loud. 

“I need- I need a minute, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, because even though he knows it’s coming, he can’t bear to hear it yet. He scrambles up from the sofa, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill as he rushes back to his room. He falls to his bed, burying his face into his pillows and lets out a trembling breath. 

Tomorrow.. He can’t avoid this, knows he needs to accept it sooner rather than later, but for this tiny moment, at least until tomorrow, he’s still yours.

Changbin isn’t avoiding you. At least, not on purpose– he just hasn’t gathered the courage to leave his room yet. He feels a bit like a hypocrite; he prides himself on his communication skills, and yet in the face of an honest conversation and acceptance of rejection, he flounders. Is he pathetic? You’d have every right to think so. 

Are you going to move out now? Should he? No, he should stop beating around the bush and just talk to you. You’re not in love with him, but you do love him– and that’s supposed to be enough, he told himself so many times that it is. 

You can work past this, can’t you? It has to be possible. He just doesn’t want to lose you, even if it breaks his heart he can take not having you romantically, is totally fine without the sex– but losing you as a friend? He can’t bear that.

He sighs, covering his face with his hands as he lies in his bed. He slept like shit, and he’s sure you didn’t fare much better– a thought that adds to the guilt he feels. But fuck, he needs to face this. The only thing that would be worse than losing you as a friend because being friends with benefits blew up in his face would be losing you because he was a spineless coward. 

Changbin grabs his phone, checks the time– it’s still early in the morning, but you’re usually awake by now. With another sigh to steel himself for what’s to come, he gets up from his bed and faces his door. He takes a breath, another attempt to calm his nerves, and walks to his door, quickly twisting the knob and pulling it open. 

“Oh!” you squeak in surprise, jumping where you stand before him. Changbin jumps too, with his own little shout of surprise coming out. How long were you standing outside of his door? Were you trying to work up the nerve to talk to him too? You blink at one another for a moment, and to Changbin’s relief, you’re the first to crack, letting out a little giggle. 

He giggles too, and though it’s a bit awkward given what happened late last night, it’s a relief that you’re not mad at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Changbin explains through his giggles, and God, your smile is so cute. You cover your mouth as you try to stop giggling, eyes crinkling and sparkling as you look at him, “No, no! It’s my fault for standing outside your door like this.” 

It eases him, feels more like the normal he’s used to with you– the normal he hopes and prays you can still share after this. “Can I come in?” you ask him, and of course he lets you, stepping to the side so you can enter his room. Your body language is still relaxed, but when you look at him again, your expression is serious.

Part of him worries that the lighthearted moment you just shared was a lapse in judgment on your part, and that you’re about to chew him out for running away last night– not that he wouldn’t deserve it if you did. But what you actually end up saying is a much stronger shock to his system. “Why do you think I don’t love you?”

“Wh-What? I-I.. I don’t-” Changbin stutters, blinking at you in utter shock, not even entirely sure how to respond.

“Because I do. I love you so much, Seo Changbin. The idea that you think I don’t hurts me,” you tell him, entirely sincere. That’s the part of his impromptu confession that kept you up at night, the part that upset you? Not that he loves you when he shouldn’t, or that your friendship might be ruined?

“If you think you’re not enough for me, you are– if you think you aren’t deserving of love, you are. Tell me what it is, so I can make sure you never question how much I love you again. Okay? I need you to promise me that.”

Changbin blinks, frozen, a million thoughts and emotions running through him. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know the answer. There was such a big chunk of his life where he wasn’t happy with himself– the way he looked, the soft parts of his personality, his desires that felt so grandiose and impossible.. 

He thought he had to live to what other people expected him to be, that it was the only way they would love him. It took him years of effort, of stumbling and falling and getting back up to get where he is now. More confident in his body, in the way he walks through the world, in the love he pours into his family and friends.

But there’s that part of his old self that still lingers– a part that calls to him late at night, that makes him question if he’s allowed to be this happy. That reminds him it’s still there when he’s weak and unsure, that crawls up his spine whenever you smile at him, that won’t let him believe that you could love him. 

Changbin isn’t the same lanky, insecure boy he was when he first met you, but maybe he is. He looks different than he did then, but maybe that part of him is still there, underneath the built up muscle and maturity. Maybe it always will be, maybe there’s no way to ever make it go away– but maybe he doesn’t need to.

He thinks of all the times you were there for him, from the very first day you met. How you always encouraged him to do what makes him happy, how you supported him through his every decision to better himself. 

“I think you’re perfect the way you are, but if going to the gym would make you feel better about yourself, you should do it!” you told him when he brought up the topic of trying to bulk up and fill out his body. “You’re so adorable Binnie, seriously, how can you be so cute?” you grinned, pinching his cheeks the first time aegyo slipped out in front of you. 

No matter which version of himself he showed you, you loved him. Each part, no matter how different and against expectations, you cared for. And even with all the work he put into himself, there was still the part of him that tried to change in his romantic and sexual relationships. Trying to live up to what he thought his partners wanted, trying to adapt himself to them. 

But so effortlessly, you dismantled the expectations he put upon himself. All the times you called him sexy and adorable in the same breath, made him believe that he could be both at the same time– that he could be manly and intimidating, sweet and loving, sexy and cute all at once, and it was all still genuinely him, all worthy of love.

Maybe it’s impossible to shove insecurity completely aside; it’s likely that it’ll always linger. Even when it’s small, and tucked away, and very nearly forgotten, it’ll be there, waiting. And maybe that’s okay, because when you have someone who loves you as you are, who reassures you and listens to you and comforts you, it’ll start to fade back out as naturally as it came in.

“I don’t know why,” he answers honestly, his bottom lip starting to quiver. His best guess is that his fear of losing someone he loves so much expounded upon his underlying insecurities, made them flare to the point that he felt like he could drown in them. 

“I just know that I love you. And I need you, and not like- not like that, I just- ..I never want to be without you,” he continues, refusing to get choked up by his emotions and let it stop him from saying what he needs to. “And I promise- I’ll tell you, anytime I’m unsure of myself, I’ll tell you.” 

You step closer to him, reach up and cup his face in your hands, rub the tears that threaten to fall from the corners of his eyes with your thumbs. His heart skips a beat when you smile sweetly at him, when you lean towards him to press a soft kiss to his lips, to tell him you love him. “You said I was perfect,” you say as you kiss him again, and then again, “but so are you. You’re the loveliest person I’ve ever known.”

You press more kisses over his face, complimenting each feature as you go. His deep, dark eyes that can be so piercing or so soft depending on the situation. His full cheeks, so cute and endearing when they’re pink from a blush, but so handsome and complimentary to his face. His downturned smirk when something amuses him that can easily turn into a fully bright upturned smile when he’s happy, and makes his nose scrunch adorably. 

“Honey,” he breathes in a soft whine, unsure of what to do with all the excess affection. You guide him back to his bed, crawling atop him when he falls back against it, continuing your trail of kisses down his neck. “You deserve this,” you tell him, smiling against his skin when you feel him squirm beneath you, “deserve it all, and more.”

Changbin brings one of his hands to the back of your neck when you pull back to look at him, bringing you back down to him so he can kiss you. He doesn’t want to hold back anymore, to try and hide how badly he needs you. He kisses you like a man starved, hungry and desperate. His desire is carnal, every inch of him aching for your attention. 

Your hands sweep over his torso, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging at it. He gets the hint, and separates from you so you can take it off him. He watches you remove yours too, heart thumping in his chest as you reach behind you to unhook your bra. He tries to lean up to kiss you again when you’re finished, but you push him back down.

He whines at first, but quickly swallows it down when you smile at him in that pretty way that makes his stomach flare with butterflies, his cock twitching as it hardens beneath you. Your hands travel his body, compliments about each and every inch of him freely falling from your lips. His arms, thick and warm and comforting. His chest, so strong and beautifully sculpted. His stomach, soft and cute, as perfect as the rest of him. 

You kiss him too– everywhere your fingers touch, your lips follow. Soft, tender, overwhelming– his heart is beating so fast and hard, all your words, touches, and kisses make his blood feel like molten lava, every inch of him unbearably hot. It chokes him up too, how sweet you’re being to him; you’ve doted on him plenty of times, but never like this.

You take one of his hands in yours next, bring it up to your lips to press achingly soft kisses to it. The palm first, and then his wrist, before you turn it over to kiss his knuckles. You kiss the tip of each of his fingers, and his breath hitches as he watches you, goosebumps erupting all over him when you gently put it down and pick up his other hand to repeat the actions. 

You treat him with so much reverence, shower him with more love than he knows what to do with. He’s trembling with emotion, aching with desire, overwhelmed by how much he loves you, how beautiful you look. He’s going to cry– seriously, he doesn’t know how much more he can take before tears start spilling out of him. 

“Honey, please-” Changbin whines, and to his relief, you pause to look at him. “Please, I- let me make you feel good, please? I want to, I- I want to show you how much I love you too,” he begs. You intended to take care of him, to shower him in affection until you inevitably made him cum, but you meant it when you said you can never deny him his desire to be sweet to you.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” you say, and you watch as he chews on his bottom lip, face heating up further as he considers what to say. He knows what he wants, he’s thought about it so many times– it’s just the admitting and asking for it part that makes him a little shy. Still, you treat him so well, and you always indulge him, so.. The only thing to do is just go for it. 

“I want.. Want you to sit on my face. Please? Please, please sit on my face,” he begs, and God, that has to be the sexiest thing he’s ever begged for. It makes your stomach flip, and if your legs weren’t straddling him, you definitely would’ve clenched them together. Lifting yourself off him, you make quick work of the remainder of your clothes. 

Changbin scoots down the bed, so your legs will have more room when you return to him, chucking his glasses away, not nearly enough care in him for where they land. He looks at you, with a devastatingly sweet and bashful smile, his arms reaching out to help you when you start to settle above him. Your knees on either side of his head, he wraps his arms around your thighs. 

The latter half of his face is obscured by your body hovering over him, but looking down, you can see his eyes, sparkling with eager excitement as he keeps your gaze. You lower yourself just a little, nervous to sit your entire weight on his face and suffocate him, but Changbin doesn’t want you to hover, he wants you to sit. 

So using the arms he has wrapped around you, he pulls you fully down to him. You gasp– partly because of the surprise, and partly from the feeling of his tongue meeting your pussy. He focuses on your hole first, lapping up all the slick that drips out of you before he drags his tongue up to your clit, licking in a long, fat stripe.

He wraps his lips around it, sucking and flicking it with his tongue until you're writhing above him before he alternates back to licking you up, bottom to top, drinking all you offer. You bury your fingers in his curly hair, and he moans when you tug on it. He squeezes your trembling thighs, letting out happy hums whenever you moan for him.

He sticks out his tongue and lays it flat for you when you start to roll your hips, letting you grind against his face and use him however you see fit to. You shiver when your clit bumps against his nose, your breaths becoming harsher as you drive yourself closer to release on his tongue.

“Oh bunny, you’re so good to me, so good, ‘m gonna cum for you,” you cry, voice whinier than you would’ve otherwise liked it to be, but the way Changbin whines eagerly in response tells you how much he loves it. A few more rolls of your hips, and you’re cumming, your thighs squeezing around his head as you keep a tight grip on his hair to keep yourself steady. 

Changbin enthusiastically laps up your release, continuing until you're squirming and whining from the sensitivity. He loosens his hold on your thighs when you do, letting you lift your leg over his head and fall to the side of the bed a little ways away from him. Both of you are breathless, but Changbin is the first to recover, and when he does he sits up and crawls over to where you landed.

He grabs your face, gently, of course, and pulls you into a kiss. His face is slick with your essence, and you can taste yourself all over his lips and tongue. “You looked so pretty,” he tells you softly between kisses, “You’re so gorgeous when you cum for me.” He carefully spreads your legs and slots himself between them, sliding his tongue around yours as he does. 

“Want to give you my cock now,” he breaths, pulling away just enough to look at you with those eager, pleading eyes that make you weak. “Want to keep making you feel good, want to- want to watch your eyes roll back when I make you cum again.” 

“Sweet boy,” you coo, spreading your legs wider for him, offering yourself to him, “do it, baby. Give it to me.”

He kicks off the remainder of his clothes in record time, taking his cock in his hand and spreading the dribbling pre-cum over his length until it’s completely wet. You’re more than ready for him, but he’s as careful with you as always, pushing each inch inside slowly. 

You reach out to him and pull him down to you, kissing him hard and sweet, drinking in the whimper he lets out when he’s fully inside you. His entire body is trembling, still worked up from all the attention you gave him and sensitive from fucking you just last night. There’s a part of him that still feels vulnerable too, but he’s safe with you, and he knows you always will be. 

He loves you well, but you love him better; and he’ll spend every moment he has showing how much he appreciates you. He doesn’t need to prove his worth, doesn’t need to do anything apart from be himself– the love you’ve given him has shown him that. You understand him, better than anyone ever has. 

You love him, you always have, long before who he is now, and will continue to long into the future. All he has to do to repay all you’ve given him is love you. Love you honestly, openly, freely– because he’s enough as he is.

When he starts to move his hips, you both moan, Changbin just the slightest bit louder than you. He tucks his arms under your shoulders and pulls you closer to him, chests touching as he steadily builds a faster pace. He’s squeezing you in his arms, whining in your ear about how good you feel around him.

He’s so high-strung and sensitive that he doesn’t think he’ll last long, but oh, is he going to try. But shit, he’s still so emotional too– he thought he would’ve recovered by now, but it keeps hitting him in waves. And when you kiss him, it makes him dizzy– not just with lust and desire, but with passion, adoration.

The way he looks down at you when he pulls away takes your breath away, so sentimental and loving. You take his face into one of your hands again, and it takes everything in him to not get choked up again. Your love is his greatest comfort, but it also makes him ache– because no one has ever loved him as sincerely as you do. 

“Do you need to stop?” you ask him tenderly, once again wiping the tears from his eyes. His heart feels like it’s going to burst from all the emotion, but he quickly shakes his head, offering you a sincere smile, “N-No, no, I’m fine! I just- I really love you,” he admits, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips to show you he means it.

“And besides, I might go actually insane if I don’t fuck you, cause seriously, how are you so fucking sexy?” he follows up. “Oh, shut up,” you giggle, playfully slapping his arm. “This is supposed to be about you, you know? My sweet bunny and how perfect he is- maybe I need to remind you?” 

Changbin curiously tilts his head at your words as you lock your legs around him and using what strength you have, and with the help of gravity and momentum, you force him to roll to his side, and then to his back. You smile down at him, your roles easily flipped, while he stares up at you, mystified and easily the most turned on he’s ever been. 

“Oh-” is all he manages to utter, his cock throbbing furiously inside you. He could’ve easily fought it– he’s physically much stronger than you, after all. But he just loves when you force him into the positions you want, loves to be malleable and pliant for you. 

You plant your hands firmly on his chest, bouncing on his cock fast, the sound of your thighs slapping together just barely louder than Changbin’s obscenely loud whimpers. “Oh God, ‘m gonna cum,” he whines desperately, too wound up and sensitive to resist it, his hands clutching at the bedsheets so hard his knuckles have turned white, “please, please, please, can I, please? Please, let me cum.” 

“I love you so much, Binnie, want you to cum for me,” you tell him, bringing one of your hands to your clit so you can cum with him, the way he always loves to. It causes you to squeeze tighter, and he gasps, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he trembles. “Give it to me, baby, be a good boy and cum for me.”

He does just as you ask, a messy string of “I love you”s falling from his lips until he’s too far gone to keep talking, tears streaming down the sides of his face as his eyes roll to the back of his head, and then close. His noises are high-pitched and pornographic, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his cum spilling inside you.

His vision is blurry when he starts to blink open his eyes, but soon enough you come back into focus above him, looking down at him affectionately. He smiles at you, a goofy, sweet one that makes you giggle. He wraps his arms around you and drags you down to him, pressing kisses to your lips over and over again. 

Changbin tells you everything he’s wanted to this entire time as he does; how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how he can’t imagine his life without you in it. He blushes when you do the same, while once again making him promise he’ll tell you if doubt ever starts to creep up on him. 

The journey to loving yourself isn’t easy; it’s a long winding road, uneven and easy to stumble on. But when he falls, you’ll be there to catch him. You’ll remind him how loved he is, the value he has simply in being, how he brightens every day you share just by existing. 

You’ll always be here, growing older with him, supporting him as he continues to grow and change, each experience turning him into a newer version of himself. And in every change, in every season of his life, you’ll continue to love him. Always.

network tags: @ksmutsociety @skzstarnet

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

aaron hotchner x jacks nanny/babysitter

she’s got a crazy ex that stalked and threatened her so she moved far away to live a simple, under the radar life and started working for hotch. he knows her situation and does his best to look out for her, maybe she’s like a live in nanny ? neither of them is bold enough to make a move first until her ex finds her and hotch and the team race to save her. ends with love confessions and all the sappy stuff

could be a one shot or a short lil series i’m sure whatever you write will be amazing !

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨-𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size babysitter!reader

— summary: your new life as a live-in nanny was wonderful, and with your dark past behind you, there was nothing that could ruin this. but as they say, what goes around comes around.

— warnings: heavily detailed violence BEWARE, surprisingly light angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, physical hurt/comfort, mutual pining, abusive ex's :[, guns, and a horribly written action/fight scene (forgive me).

— wc: 1965

⋆ a/n: okay this is a heavy fic so beware once more, but aside from that this takes a fully turn! i don't really have anything else to say besides enjoy!

masterlist | AO3

“Backpack? Check. Lunchbox? Check. Shoes are tied? Check.” 

You placed your hands on your hips triumphantly, a proud smile on your face as you examined the little boy. 

Being a live-in nanny came with being organizational and making sure that Jack was ready for school everyday without fail. It wasn’t like Aaron was super strict on you; he understands when you have your days where things are a bit out of place, but honestly it was a personal preference, and totally not because you have a big fat crush on the FBI agent.

You had been very skeptical about your babysitting position at first because of your ex who was absolutely bat shit crazy. It was a situation you had barely escaped from, and it had taken almost everything in you to get where you were now, so you were a little afraid of men in general. But Aaron was kind, and welcoming, and fatherly, someone that you felt safe with.

And then, you fell in love.

It had scared the shit out of you of course, but now it was a feeling that you welcomed with open arms, even if you couldn’t act on it. 

Your phone began to ring as you searched for the car keys, the contact name read ‘Aaron <3’.

“Morning!” You greeted with a smile as you picked up. “Good morning. How are you guys?” The older man asked. “We're doing just fine, as always,” You successfully found the keys. “How are things?” You knew better than to ask how he was, because if you had the kind of job that he did, there was no way you could answer positively. 

“We pretty much have everything we need, so we’ll probably be able to wrap this case up early.” 

“Oh Aaron, that's great!” You cheer happily and make your way back to where Jack was waiting for you. “You ready to go, little man?” Jack looks up at you from his toys. “Is that daddy on the phone?”

“Yeah buddy, you wanna say hi?” 

“Yes!” Jack’s answer was full of excitement, and you can’t help but smile. “As much as I enjoy talking to you, it looks like I’m handing you over.” You swear you could hear Aaron chuckle.

Yeah, this was a life that you could get used to.

Having the house to yourself was weird.

With Jack away at his aunt’s for the weekend, it was strangely quiet due to the emptiness of the child’s presence. You suppose you’re grateful for the break even though taking care of Jack really isn’t as tiring as one might think. 

Despite Aaron rarely being home, he’s managed to raise the boy well when he could, and it’s honestly very admirable. It’s one of the many things that made you fall in love with him. You gaze down into the wine glass at the thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Ugh, why does love make you such a loser?

Your bashful train of thought was stopped by a suspicious thump coming from the back of the house. Your smile dropped and a feeling of anxiety and worry twisted in your gut as you grabbed your phone that was lying on the kitchen counter.

You’re quick to dial Aaron’s number and your fingernail finds itself in your mouth as you chew on it anxiously. It’s an old habit, one that you had picked up back in your old relationship.

“Hello?” Rasped Aaron. 

You knew he had just recently flown in from wherever he was because you could hear the foot traffic of everyone grabbing their luggage from the plane’s storage.

“Hey,” Your greeting was nervous and it was something that Aaron easily picked up on. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” He asks with a furrowed brow. “Yeah, just um - I’m just hearing some weird things so I just wanted to know when you think you might be getting home.” I miss you.

“Honey what type of weird things?” Before you were able to answer, there was a loud crashing sound. You instantly dropped to the floor to hide behind the counter; you cradled the phone to your ear, “Okay uh - change of claim,” You attempted to joke. “Someone is most definitely in the house.”

Aaron tries not to panic at the way his insides turn cold, “You remember what to do, right?” He asks with a hardened voice. You gulp, stretching slightly to peer over the marble. You stare out into the darkness and a frightened shiver shoots up your spine. 

“Get to your room and enter the safe.” You reiterated what he had told you almost a year ago when you had first moved in. You’ve never shot a gun before but tonight might be the night where you learn how too.

“That’s right, and do you remember the code?” 

As you went to answer him, you were snatched up by your hair and a scream rang out and into the phone. Even though you weren’t on speaker the others that were currently standing outside with Aaron could hear it.

Aaron desperately calls out your name, and with your silence he takes off without any explanation, but his team knows to follow close behind.

“So, this is what you’ve been doing since you tried to leave me?!”

You cried out as another blow was delivered to your gut but a heavy boot. Your lungs burned and there were tears streaming down your face. He had pulled you so hard over the counter that it made your scalp burn, a blistering headache beginning to form at the base of your skull.

“Fuck you!” You spat as you attempted to prop yourself up on your elbows. 

There was a fine line between anger and fear, and this was one of those moments where they blend together. If you ended up dying tonight, at least you didn’t go down in vain.

This time he punched you in the face before snatching you up by your arms. There was a metallic taste in your mouth, a bruise already developing near your eye. “Why’d you leave me, huh?! We had a good thing going and you just… you just ruined it!”

“I didn’t ruin shit asshole!” You screamed and pushed at him but it was no use. “We were gonna get married but you… but you wanted to play house with an old man, really?!”

“You’ve been watching me.” You said in disbelief. It made your stomach twist in nausea and horror at the thought of him watching Jack, what he could’ve done to him. You had actively put the man you loved kid in danger and it devastated you.

“I had no choice!”

“You’re fucking crazy!”

“Put your hands where I can see them.” Aaron’s voice rang out throughout the house.

Before you knew it you were spun around with a gun to your head, his arm locked against your neck, faintly strangling you.

“Aaron!” You called out in relief, but it turned into a grunt as you tugged further into your ex’s chest.

Aaron’s gun was raised steadily, his eyes focused on your attacker, but he doesn’t hesitate to cast you a reassuring look. When he sees your bloody and bruised face his jaw tightens, the vein in his neck popping and visible through his skin.

“Boyfriend to the rescue, huh?” Your ex sneers into your cheek. You shudder. 

“Put the gun down.” Aaron continues to coax, and out the corner of your eye you can see Morgan approaching through the darkness. 

“Why do you want to save this slut? Don’t tell me you’ve already -” A shot rings out into the fair followed by a scream of pain.

Your ex collapses to the ground, cradling the gunshot wound in his knee as blood spills through his fingers. Aaron was the one that pulled the trigger and Morgan is already in the kitchen by the time he’s tugging you away and into his arms.

“Oh God.” You finally cried. “You came, you came…” His arms are wound tightly around you, purposefully tucking your face into his chest. “I’m here, I’m here.” He shushes and rocks you side to side in order to try and lull you.

Aaron – softly – orders you to sit down while he cleans up the blood when the rest of the team has already left.

You can’t help but watch him from where you’re sitting on the couch with his sleeves of his white button up rolled up and his hands gloved. “I’m sorry.” You decide to say, because you really were. “I’m sorry for everything.” There was so much more you wanted to say, but you felt your throat tighten with unshed tears.

“No, don’t apologize.” He says softly, abandoning the rag that he was using to scrub up said blood. “No Aaron you don’t understand. I put you and Jack in danger because of my bullshit and I thought that I had put it all behind me and I don’t -” 

“Stop.” It’s a bit firmer this time. “I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I offered you to live with me and my son. Nothing that has occurred tonight has swayed my trust or opinion about you, you know that, right?”

“Right.” His hand holds your cheek and strokes the soft skin of it. “Good.”

Your eyes flicker down to his lips before peering back into his eyes, “If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I promise this isn’t like a trauma bond thing. I’ve liked you for as long as I’ve worked for you and I didn’t want to tell you because I have nowhere else to go if you say no. Plus,” You sigh, “I just don’t want to make things difficult or uncomfortable for you.”

“You could never do that, feelings reciprocated or not.” He reassures.

“Well are they?”

He grins at your question, “I’d be an idiot not to feel the same way.” You laugh and he leans forward to join your lips together.

A warm feeling spreads in your gut and you knew that this is what love was supposed to feel like.

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