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the-winter-spider · 3 days ago

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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.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x steve #sebastian x reader #Spotify

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morganaawriterr · 2 days ago

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˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Chapter 02;

— Your Sweet Love

Synosis: In a marriage born out of convenience and plagued by bitterness, You and Sunghoon find yourselves trapped in a cycle of cold indifference and unspoken resentment. Your quiet strength and tender care begin to reach the heart Sunghoon has so carefully guarded. Slowly, walls built from years of hurt and mistrust start to crumble, revealing a shared loneliness neither had acknowledged. With every tentative step toward connection, your hearts yearn for a closeness you’ve long denied yourself selves, leaving both to wonder if you can build something real from the ashes of your forced bond.

Navigation: Intro - 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 Pairing: fem!reader X husband!Park Sunghoon Genre: Arranged Marriage trope; Angst; Fluff; Sexual themes; Warnings: cursing, mention of pills (some are drugs); abuse; mentions of blood; sexual content; injuries; heavy themes; juicy tension ;) Music: Listen to 'nevertheless ost' and 'the trunk ost'!! Disclaimer: This story is fiction, and it does not reflect real life in any way. This story is heavily inspired by the kdrama 'The Trunk' on Netflix but with a special twist! Words: 5k - New Chapter Every Saturday!!

A/n: Chapter 02 is here and i'm so excited AHHH. I love this chapter very, very much... the tension between them is growing stronger as time goes by and it's so fun to write! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it!! Thank you for all the love and support. It means everything to me <3

You found it strange at first, but now, it’s a little easier to get used to his company. After having a meal with you the other day, Sunghoon comes down every morning for breakfast. He usually doesn’t say much, his grogginess still holding him hostage. Still, he seems more comfortable with you now, and it makes you feel good.

Today is different, though. Instead of cooking breakfast, you woke up early, went to his favorite bakery, and bought some fresh pastries. Sunghoon wakes up and finds it strange how quiet the house is, knowing you’re always loud when cooking. As he slowly approaches the kitchen, you try to hide a smile, excited to see his reaction.

“Woah, when did you buy these?” Sunghoon’s deep voice sounds surprised and excited as he steps inside. The delicious smell of freshly baked goods and brewed coffee fills the room.

You smile at him. “I went to get them half an hour ago!” you explain, handing him his warm mug of coffee. Sunghoon closes his eyes, inhaling the steam rising from the mug, then shifts his attention to you.

“Thank you, for all of this,” he confesses softly, his voice carrying a hint of embarrassment.

Your attentive eyes meet his, and you respond with a gentle smile. As your brown eyes lock with his, the mood suddenly shifts. The quiet within the house becomes almost deafening, and Sunghoon finds himself mesmerized by your face.

Your long lashes frame your eyes perfectly, and your skin looks soft, inviting his touch. The fullness of your cheeks gives you an adorable, youthful glow. But what captivates him most is your mouth—your pink, plump lips. Sunghoon can’t tear his eyes away from them, entranced, not even registering the words you’re saying.

“Did you even hear me?” you tease, tilting your head with a soft laugh.

“Sorry…” he mumbles, warmth creeping up his cheeks.

“I said… do you want to have dinner with me today?” you repeat, watching his expression closely. Sunghoon looks at you with a gaze you can’t quite decipher.

The truth is, he’s rarely home for lunch or dinner. You don’t know if it’s because he eats at work or simply forgets to feed himself, but when he returns, it’s always past 10 p.m., and you’re already waiting for him in the living room.

“Yeah,” he replies simply, though his mind is racing with countless thoughts.

“Great!” you say, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you take a sip of your coffee.

The silence that follows is familiar and comforting. The two of you eat quietly, occasionally glancing at the TV for the daily news. Today feels lighter—the sun is streaming through the blinds, spreading warmth throughout the house and making it seem cozier despite the usual distance between you two.

After a few minutes, Sunghoon rises from the table and prepares to leave for work, murmuring a quiet “see you later” as the door shuts behind him. You linger at the table, reflecting on the past few weeks and all the small moments you’ve shared with him.

You still stand by your words: you aren’t trying to seduce him. All the patience and care you’ve shown him stem from a deep understanding of his scars. Despite his cold demeanor, you know he’s a good man.

When you first started living together, you and Sunghoon barely interacted. You avoided each other, sneaking around the house to minimize contact. But the effort was draining. Eventually, you decided it would be better to try and get on his good side—to make your shared life less painful.

It felt easier to have him as a friend rather than an enemy, so you began doing for him what you once wanted to do for your old lover. You woke up early to prepare his meals, offering him quiet companionship and care. Though it was difficult at first, you persisted, and over time, it worked.

As you get up to clean the breakfast mess, your thoughts drift to Sunghoon in a way you never expected. His deep, dark-brown eyes carry so much pain, and their intensity quickens your pulse. His smile, with those pointy fangs that peek out, is disarmingly seductive. The first time you saw him smile, it felt as though he had cast a spell on you, his lips so red and inviting…

You chuckle softly, shaking your head at yourself. It’s a hollow laugh, tinged with self-deprecation because you feel pathetic for thinking about him this way. You know he’s still attached to his ex-fiancée—it’s written all over his face whenever he looks at you, as if he’s searching for her in you.

The cold water from the sink jolts you back to reality as you wash the dishes. You remember the promise you made to yourself: you can’t let yourself get lost in his beautiful eyes or unexpectedly warm smile—not when you still love someone else. The thought of that man makes tears well up in your eyes, the ache of missing him cutting deep.

Shaking your head gently, you focus on the task at hand, unwilling to unpack those emotions now. You continue your chores, your empty mind guiding you through each task. It’s not healthy to suppress your feelings, but it’s the only way you can cope.

Upstairs, just as you finish making your bed, you hear the front door close. Plastering on a smile, you walk to the corridor.

“Get over here, silly!” Sunghoon’s mom calls out playfully, her tired eyes lighting up as she looks at you from the main floor.

You let out a genuine laugh and hurry downstairs, your steps echoing on the stone staircase.

“I forgot you were coming!” you pout, opening your arms for the warm hug she eagerly gives you.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Let’s sit down,” she says, patting the empty space on the sofa.

Before joining her, you head to the kitchen to prepare two cups of tea. Knowing her preferences, you take your time, listening as she talks about her plans for a new coffee shop. Her ability to turn mundane topics into captivating stories never ceases to amaze you. Once the tea is ready, you return to the sofa, fully engrossed in her words.

“But enough about me,” she says, her voice softening. “How’s Sunghoon?”

You sip your tea, a faint blush creeping across your cheeks. “I think he doesn’t hate me anymore,” you joke, though the fact that was true before, stings.

“Really? What about the pills? Is he still taking them?” she asks, her tone tinged with concern.

“I think he’s stopped,” you reply thoughtfully. “At least, he’s been sleeping well. Sometimes, he falls asleep in the living room when we hang out before bed. No pills.”

“That’s wonderful news!” she says with a tender smile, relief evident in her expression. “Is he still ignoring you?”

You hesitate, feeling a need to maintain some boundaries despite your fondness for her.

“Not anymore,” you answer after a pause. “We’ve been having breakfast together.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, though a knowing smile spreads across her face. She had always believed this moment would come, which is why she chose you for her son in the first place.

Sunghoon’s mom has known you since you were a child. Your mother was her friend, so you grew up around her. She knows your struggles—the good and the bad—and has always been a source of comfort and understanding.

As Sunghoon’s mom quietly admires your beautiful face she gets flashbacks of your red, puffy face as you cried all the water you had in your body in her arms. That night had been particularly hard for you.

Your own mother was cold and distant, especially after your father left. But unlike her, Sunghoon’s mom had always been there for you. Her words were soothing, her embrace secure, and you trusted her implicitly.

When she proposed the idea of marrying Sunghoon, promising you a life free from financial struggle, you accepted. She believed you had the patience and warmth her son needed, while he could be the love you longed for.

“I hope you two grow even closer,” she says warmly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You deserve all the love in the world, hun.”

Tears prick your eyes as you try to believe her words, though your past makes it hard.

“Sunghoon is a good man,” she continues. “I told you, he just needed patience and care.”

You fidget nervously, your free hand twisting in your lap. “It hurts when he talks about his past,” you admit quietly.

She notices the way your eyes soften when you speak of him. There’s a brightness there that fills her with hope.

“He’s been through a lot,” she agrees, guilt flashing across her face. “I hope, one day, he shares everything with you. I hope you won’t be scared or pity him—I hope you’ll understand and help him heal.”

Her serious tone leaves your mind racing. Has Sunghoon endured more than just a lack of his father’s love? Has he suffered in ways you can’t yet imagine?

Sensing your thoughts, she quickly adds, “It’s all in the past now, I hope.”

Your hesitant eyes meet hers again, and a warm feeling surges in your chest. You know Sunghoon resents his mother, but you don’t understand why—not when she’s always been so kind and supportive to you.

As she sets down her empty mug and kisses your forehead goodbye, you find yourself wondering why Sunghoon refuses to speak to her. Was she neglectful too? Or complicit in his father’s abuse?

You wanted this dinner to be perfect. It had to be, so you could maintain the good atmosphere between you and Sunghoon. But you should have known better, because just as the day had turned dark and moody, so too would your precious dinner.

You wore something elegant yet simple, not wanting to scare him off: black dress pants and a beautiful cropped red shirt with the first two buttons undone, exposing your collarbones. Your hair, usually free and wild, was carefully tied in a low bun.

On your hands, you wore your expensive wedding ring alongside another silver ring you'd bought years ago. A thin necklace hung around your chest, paired with your favorite perfume.

The potatoes and fish were already cooking in the oven when Sunghoon arrived, their delicious aroma drawing him to the kitchen and making his stomach growl. He hadn’t eaten all afternoon, eagerly waiting for this meal with you. One of the things he loves most about you is your cooking—you’ve won his heart through his stomach.

Peeking inside, Sunghoon watched as you paced around the kitchen, finishing up the meal. His curious eyes traveled over your figure, taking in the way your small frame looked incredibly beautiful in the semi-formal clothes. Your legs fit the straight-leg pants perfectly, accentuating your waist and the bold red of your shirt caught his attention immediately.

His curious gaze shifted from the buttons to your collarbones, deliciously exposed for him to admire. You have such an alluring neck... it looks like his head would fit there perfectly.

Images of him planting slow, wet kisses along your neck clouded his mind. He imagined the way you’d close your eyes, the soft moan you’d let out, and the way you’d probably call his name with a breathy voice.

Sunghoon shook his head, trying to pull himself out of his thoughts. Was this magnetic pull because you were a beautiful woman and he was just a man? Or was it something deeper? He rolled his eyes at himself, dismissing the thought.

“Don’t just stand there! Come in, sit down!” Your voice broke through his daydreaming, catching him off guard.

Sunghoon didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he slowly stepped into the kitchen and sat down, watching as you moved to the corner and reached for the top drawer. He observed your futile attempt to grab the handle, standing on tiptoes and stretching as far as you could without success.

Feeling his intense gaze, you turned around and shot him a quick look. You wished he’d just get up and help, but instead, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, waiting for you to ask.

Frustrated, you bit your lip. “Can you… help me?” you said softly, hating that he made you ask.

“Sure, I can,” Sunghoon replied with a smirk as he finally stood and walked toward you. Your eyes followed his every move, and as he stood close, you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

“I want the bread,” you muttered, turning away shyly.

Sunghoon easily reached for the cupboard, grabbed the bread, and placed it on the counter. Then, his deep brown eyes locked with yours.

For a moment, the world seemed to quiet down. You became hyper-aware of your quick breaths and his intoxicating cologne. Sunghoon couldn’t explain it, but the way your brown eyes stared into his made him shiver.

A sudden clap of thunder startled you, making you jump.

The spell was broken as your eyes darted around the room nervously. Sunghoon took the chance to sit back down, trying to ease the heavy feeling in his chest.

“I’m just going to cut the bread, and then dinner will be ready!” you said quickly, your voice making your nervousness easy to spot.

Sunghoon nods and reaches for his phone, forgotten in his pocket. As soon as he unlocks it, he finds a series of unread texts. Most of them were from his ex-fiancée, asking how his day had been and whether he liked the pills she had given him. He sighed deeply, his thumb hovering over the reply box—until you called his name.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He immediately stood and rushed over. Your glossy eyes met his as one of your hands shook, clutching the other.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed. He’d never seen you cry before. But then his gaze dropped to the floor, where a thick drop of blood splattered onto the tiles. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice heavy with concern.

He gently pried your hands apart and froze, horrified at the sight. Blood dripped from your right palm in thick droplets, painting the floor red. Tears spilled from your eyes as you stood there, frozen and scared.

Sunghoon panicked. He grabbed paper towels, pressing them against your hand, but they were quickly soaked through.

“You’re going to be okay,” he reassured, his voice firm as he cupped your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. His fingers brushed against your cheek, though he resisted the urge to wipe away your tears.

You nodded silently, doing as he instructed. Sunghoon quickly wrapped a kitchen towel around your hand and guided you to the door. Your mind was hazy and unfocused, his warm touch still lingering on your skin.

Kneeling, he helped you slip on a pair of his trainers—the closest shoes he could reach, not caring if they were too big. Then, grabbing his coat, he guided you outside toward his car.

The drive to the hospital was short but tense. Raindrops streaked the windows, blurring the city lights as you stared outside, tears silently slipping down your cheeks. You weren’t sure why you’d frozen or why you couldn’t stop crying. The pain wasn’t severe. Perhaps it was the frustration of ruining what was meant to be a perfect dinner. Or maybe it was the way Sunghoon had immediately dropped everything to help you, his eyes full of worry and his hands trembling.

At the hospital, they quickly took you in, leading you to a small room where they began treating your wound. But the image of Sunghoon standing helplessly in the hallway, his hands stained with your blood, remained vivid in your mind. You barely registered the doctor stitching your palm as you replayed the scene over and over.

“Are you okay? Did it hurt? Did they treat you well? If not, just say the word, and I’ll make them pay for it. I’m rich enough to make it happen,” Sunghoon said as he leaned toward you, his voice full of genuine concern.

His worry was so evident that it made you want to cry all over again. Your heart ached as you watched him speak, his lips moving gently as his words flowed. You were too tired to respond, your vision blurring from exhaustion.

Noticing the pale color of your face and the dark circles under your eyes, Sunghoon softened. “Sit here. I’ll talk to the receptionist, and then we’ll go get something to eat,” he said with a gentle smile.

“This is actually better than I expected,” Sunghoon mumbles, taking a sip from his Coca-Cola bottle. He sneaks a glance at you, satisfied to see some color finally returning to your face.

“I love these so much,” you confess in a low voice, slurping the spicy ramen noodles.

Sunghoon giggles at the sight of you, noticing how the sauce has left a stain on your lips. He picks up a napkin and leans forward, reaching for you. You shyly lean closer, assuming he’s about to wipe your mouth for you—and he does. Awkwardly.

“I thought you wanted to…” you mumble, a red blush spreading across your cheeks as it dawns on you that he probably meant to hand you the napkin, not clean your mouth himself.

Sunghoon bursts out laughing again, finding your innocence endearing. Your wide, confused eyes meet his as he sets the dirty napkin down.

“It’s okay. I forgive you this time—only because you’re injured,” Sunghoon teases, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

The two of you continue eating in silence, your gaze drifting to the window. You lazily watch the people walking through the city streets. The rain has stopped, allowing everyone to wander freely without umbrellas, though large puddles still dot the roads.

The drive home is quiet once more, except for the soft hum of a slow, romantic song playing on the radio. You rest your head against the window, your eyes heavy with fatigue. Sunghoon glances at you out of the corner of his eye, ensuring you’re comfortable.

When you get home, you immediately head to the kitchen to check on the food still sitting inside the stove. You tried opening it, but your right hand was neatly tied around your neck, and your left hand suddenly forgot how to work.

Sunghoon rushes to your side and gently nudges you away. “Don’t worry, I will take care of it.” he insists, noticing the way your face twists in annoyance. “I know you want to do this, but you can’t. You need to rest.”

“Sunghoon…” you start to argue, but he cuts you off.

“Go to bed. I’ll make you some tea and bring it to your room,” he orders, his arched brow and stern expression leaving no room for debate. You pout but reluctantly shuffle away, irritated.

While waiting for the water to boil, Sunghoon carefully placed the food into containers, mentally promising himself to stop by during lunch tomorrow to try the meal you worked so hard on. Soon, the water starts to boil, and he pours some inside your favorite mug.

By the time he reaches your bedroom, his hands are burning from holding the mug. He suddenly realizes the water might be too hot, but his train of thought is interrupted when your door opens. You stand there shyly, waiting for him to hand you the tea.

The scent of chamomile is quickly overtaken by your familiar perfume, and Sunghoon feels his determination falter. His eyes roam over your figure. Your black hair is loose, cascading down your back. And you are wearing an oversized T-shirt, its open collar exposing your delicate skin. Then his gaze travels downward—only to find your bare legs.

Sunghoon quietly wishes he’d met you under different circumstances.

“Here,” he stutters, holding out the mug.

When you reach out to get the warm cup, your shirt lifts just enough to show Sunghoon that you are not wearing any shorts underneath. Your naked thighs are briefly exposed before him. His eyes immediately find yours, and his skin starts to tingle with impure thoughts of you.

You give him a innocent smile and reach out to gently pat his chest. “Thank you for taking care of me, Sunghoon. Good night,” you say softly, your voice dipping just enough to make him feel the weight of each word.

As you close the door, Sunghoon remains rooted in place, standing stupidly in the hallway. His breathing is uneven as he struggles to process what just happened. A shiver runs down his spine as he shuts his eyes, the image of your bare legs and loose shirt etched into his mind. He curses under his breath and runs a hand through his hair, heat spreading through his body.

Heading back to the kitchen to finish tidying up, Sunghoon notices his phone screen lighting up. Rushing to the table, he picks it up and realizes he left it there hours ago. The screen shows six missed calls and a string of unread text messages—all from his ex-fiancée.

Sunghoon takes a long, anxious breath as he glances around the expensive restaurant. The walls are painted terracotta orange, with gold details adorning the ceiling. Sunlight streams through the windows, reflecting off the polished surfaces and hitting his eyes, irritating him further. He looks away, his hands trembling in his lap as his leg bounces nervously.

From across the room, he watches her approach, the sharp click of her expensive high heels echoing loudly with each step. Their eyes meet almost immediately, and the calm feeling he’s so used to dissolves into unease.

As she closes the table, her perfume seems to be everywhere, invading his personal space and making him sick to his stomach. The truth is, ever since he had experienced your compassion and patience, his ex’s harsh demeanor had lost its appeal entirely.

“Finally, I get to see you!” Jiwon exclaims, her voice laced with a teasing edge.

“I wanted to meet you weeks ago, and you turned me down,” Sunghoon replies honestly, his voice firm but restrained.

She doesn’t respond to his comment. Instead, she sets her designer bag on the table with deliberate precision before scanning his face, trying to decipher the distance that’s grown between them.

“Do you not love me anymore?” she asks suddenly, forcing her eyes to glisten with tears as if to make him feel guilty.

“Jiwon…” he says softly, his heart racing with discomfort. He glances around the restaurant, avoiding her gaze. She had always been good at making him feel guilty.

“Is that bitch better than me?” Jiwon spits, her jealousy obvious as her piercing eyes stare into his.

“Don’t call Y/N that,” he warns, his tone clipped, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “No, she’s not better than you. And yes, I still love you.” His voice drops lower, unable to meet her eyes.

Jiwon smirks at his words, her chest swelling with pride. She knows Sunghoon is still under her spell, and she loves it. After all, she’s just as obsessed with him—so much so that she’s willing to do anything to make him hers again.

“I got these new pills,” Jiwon says, reaching into her bag. She pulls out a photograph with a small bag of pills taped to it. “I thought you’d like this,” she adds confidently, tapping the old photo of them.

Sunghoon doesn’t reply. Slowly, he reaches for the picture, his fingers hesitant and cold. Just as he’s about to take it, his phone vibrates with a message. Quickly, he pulls it from his pocket, already knowing it’s from you.

< Are you not coming? > Today, From: Y/N

< You could have told me. I made too much food. :/ > Today, From: Y/N

A wave of guilt washes over him as he reads your texts, cursing himself for forgetting to let you know he was busy. Jiwon leans forward, trying to peek at his screen, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

“Was that Y/N?” she asks, her voice sharp as she snatches the phone from his hands before he can stop her.

“Jiwon…” he says sternly, his jaw tightening with frustration.

She reads the messages, her lips curving into a mocking pout before she bursts into laughter, echoing through the restaurant.

“Poor thing,” Jiwon sneers, her tone dripping with mockery. “She’s so desperate for your attention—it’s pathetic.” She pouts again, this time fake and exaggerated, her eyes glued to Sunghoon’s face.

Sunghoon grabs the phone back from her hands. “Is this all you wanted to talk about?” he asks, his patience wearing thin as the nausea in his stomach intensifies.

“Yes, hubby,” she responds with a devilish grin, sliding the photo across the table. “Don’t forget these—they’ll help you sleep way better than the other ones in just a few seconds” Jiwon assures him.

Sunghoon exhales deeply, his nerves stretched tight. He picks up the photo, shoving it into his pocket without a word. Rising from his seat, he turns and walks away, leaving a smug and victorious ex-fiancée behind.

You were back at home, eating in silence. Well, at least trying to eat. An uneasy feeling weighed on you, and all you could do was push the food around your plate with your fork.

You glanced outside for a few moments, admiring the beautiful day. Suddenly, your phone buzzed, and you reached for it at lightning speed, hoping it was a message from Sunghoon. But it wasn’t him—just your weather app informing you of the temperature outside.

Frustrated, you pushed your phone away with a sigh, hating how worried you were about him. Deciding you were done with the meal, you got up and tidied the kitchen. That’s when an idea crossed your mind.

The soft breeze against your skin felt freeing and comforting as you strolled outside. You smiled softly at the children running past you in the park. Soon, you spotted him sitting on a wooden bench beneath the shade of a tree.

“Oh my gosh, Sunoo, I missed you so much!” you exclaimed excitedly, wrapping your arms around him in a warm hug.

“Girl, where have you been?” he asked sarcastically, dramatically tucking his blonde hair behind his ear.

“You know, I’m a married woman now. And his house is ridiculously big—there’s always something to do,” you complained, rolling your eyes playfully.

The two of you caught up, chatting about your dramatic marriage and his skyrocketing career as a fashion designer. He looked genuinely happy as he spoke, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

But your mind drifted, thinking about him—the person who had introduced Sunoo to you: Ni-ki. The thought of him made your chest tighten. Sunoo noticed the change in your expression, and his hand reached out to give your knee a gentle squeeze.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“It’s Sunghoon…” you lied, shaking your head slightly. “There’s a reason I contacted you today. I need your detective skills,” you teased, a mischievous smile curling on your lips.

“Go on, tell me.”

“I think his ex-fiancée is behind all the pills he has,” you said in a low voice, the mood suddenly turning serious. “His mom told me he never had issues sleeping or anything like that. It was only after they started living together that he became addicted.” You paused briefly, choosing your words carefully. “And I know she’s still in contact with him. She keeps spamming his phone.”

Sunoo’s mouth fell open as he stared at you, clearly taken back.

“Wait, that actually makes sense,” he said, his brows furrowing as he nodded. “I can get someone to follow her—no problem,” Sunoo said seriously, his gaze steady as it met yours.

Then, after curiously looking at the big band-aid in your palm, he added, “Wait, what happened to your hand?”

“I cut myself cooking, it's nothing really,” you insisted, breaking eye contact. You knew that if he pushed just a little more, you’d crack.

Thankfully, he let it slide this time. A comfortable silence fell between you as your eyes scanned the bustling park, though your heart remained heavy with thoughts of Sunghoon.

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oogaboogasphincter · 2 days ago

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Peace Offering

summary: An (eaten) chocolate bar causes a rift between you and Joel. Joel tries to remedy the situation. a/n: surprise! this is my first piece in months and i'm so excited 😋 i was inspired by these beautiful gifs from @ellies-enrichment! it's a silly one but i had fun writing it and i hope you have fun reading it <333 warnings: all you need to know is reader and joel are in an established relationship, they argue but they love each other nonetheless, reader is a person who menstruates | word count: 1200

“Darlin’?” He murmurs with two soft knocks of his knuckles, quiet with remorse.

“Go away,” you manage to get out through your tears, just loud enough so that he can hear the muffled inflection to put two and two together. You don't want to feel like you're actually speaking to him because you've revoked those terms until further notice.

“Sweetheart, please,” he pleads, a little more firm but still gentle. He goes to turn the knob but finds it stuck, jiggling it gently. By the tone of your voice, he knows it isn't a case of a sticky jam and that you've locked him out on purpose.

Your patience runs out, agitation being throttled with every attempt from Joel at the knob.

“I said go awayyy!!!!!”

The hallway is silent for a few moments before you hear the departing trudge of his boots. They stop at the end of the hall; not far away enough, not at all. You want to scream at him to keep going, to never come back.

All because of a chocolate bar.

You were on your period and Joel knew this. He had searched high and low on your journey to Lincoln, abandoning you outside of decrepit houses with the gruff instruction to, “Stay put.” He managed to digest your consequential irritation and remained stubborn enough to avoid explaining why you had to keep stopping, if only to keep the surprise he was concocting from you.

When he finally found one, a precious little morsel of chocolate left behind in the dark corner of a pantry closet, a watery smile formed on his tired face and so did a lump in his throat. He steeled himself and swallowed hard before he returned outside, shoving the unbeknownst treat in his pocket.

Then, night came. You were sleeping as soundly as you could on some rotting mattress on the floor while he kept watch. While Joel intermittently stole glances at you, vowing to himself that someday he would find you a real bed to sleep on, he could feel sleep nagging at him to succumb and explore dreams of better days with you. Traveling exhausted him, but going up and down all those stairs in search for a little something for you… at his age, it’s safe to say it wore him the fuck out. He needed something to keep him awake, anything…

Like an idiot, he fell asleep anyway with the damning evidence left crumpled in his lap. When he woke to your ice-cold gaze and the wrapper clenched in your tight fist, he sighed in anticipation of the roaring sea of anger that descended upon him. It took a while for him to convince you that he had originally gotten the chocolate for you and hadn't stowed it away as some secret vice for himself. Though he kept to his truth, he couldn't tell which was worse: you feeling left out of his fictitious, sugar-filled world, or robbed of something you never even got the chance to taste.

He ate your chocolate bar and right now, you don’t plan on forgiving him. Not ever.

He knows you’re pissed and rightfully so. If some old bastard ate his fucking chocolate bar, he can't even imagine — especially with the current state of the poor Earth — what hell he'd unleash on the perpetrator.

But he can’t just stand here and listen to your muffled cries anymore. He darts outside, desperate for anything to make it up to you.

He’s already checked every house in a five mile radius. The nearest convenience stores have been picked clean or the leftover chocolate has melted out of its wrappers, rotten and molding to the floor… which he’s not going to mention to you because, at this point, he’s afraid you’d eat anything out of retaliation.

He runs around, wracking his stupid, slow brain for an answer… when God intervenes for the first time in Joel's life since he met you.

He runs to the Mars Candy truck like it’s a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow and he’ll beat himself up for the rest of his miserable life if he misses it. He throws the back doors open, crossing everything he can — from his fingers down to his toes — that there’s something for you.

Maybe he’s finally lost it. It took twenty years into the apocalypse, but maybe he’s finally hit the brink of no return and gone senile.

The shelves are fully stocked, lined with unopened boxes of every flavor treat imaginable. He lets out a gruff, “Oh!” like he's just been punched in the stomach, more excited than he had ever been as a kid in a candy store.

He takes fistfuls of whatever he can, stuffing them into every pocket of his clothes. He’s still doubtful of this truck’s reality, so he’s taking everything he can while the apparition remains intact.

With his pockets crinkling and chocolate bars sticking out of his belt, he jumps down and closes the doors. He can’t risk any trespasser eyeing this haven, not in a million years. He'll come back later and try to get the truck running so he can hide it in Bill and Frank's garage.

He runs back to the house with increasing haste. Blinded by his quest to get you some sugar, he has no idea how long he's been gone and, with you on the opposite side of town, he's started to panic. Bill may have gridlocked the town with traps, but the only security Joel deems good enough to protect you are his own eyes.

Running through the open front door, he shouts your name repeatedly... unknowingly passing you in the dining room. You furrow your brow and stand, crossing your arms as you yell out to him, "In here!"

He comes jogging back, breathlessly asking, “You alright?”

You nod silently, swiping a residual tear away from your cheek with the back of your hand and a soft sniffle. Yet, your brow maintains its deep furrow of agitation as you scour Joel... until it lifts with shock. Your lips part in awe and your tongue goes dry as you eye the familiar colored wrappers catching the light. You stutter, “How did you— Where did you—?“

Joel shakes his head, handing you a replacement for the one he ate last night with a sly wink. “Don’t worry about it, baby.” His tone is way too smug for your liking, but you can't bring yourself to care as you step back and take a seat on one of the dining room chairs.

You unwrap the treat and eat it, failing to strike a balance between savoring the treat and getting it into your stomach as quickly as possible. Joel watches the faces you make, finding them oddly similar to the ones you make when he’s between your thighs…

He stifles a chuckle before asking, “So, am I forgiven?”

When you lift your eyes to meet his, he’s widened his own in mock innocence. While that trick might have gotten him out of trouble with you before, the tight coil of anger inside you has only just begun to unravel. You stand and press the empty wrapper against his chest, muttering with a sickly sweet smile, “No.”

You brush past him, knocking your shoulder against his with a little more force than necessary. At least now he has a whole truckload more of I’m sorry��s to try and win you back with.

💞gifset links💞

joel at the door x2

joel opening the truck doors

joel in disbelief

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#joel miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #tlou joel #joel tlou #joel my beloved #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller fluff

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xylatox · 2 days ago

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In my cozy jammies after a long day and ready to read this fic. Kipo, I am so excited you would not believe; bb's first enha fic that I'm reading!! I fully bypassed all warnings for a full surprise.

But, as the days started to pass—and your husband was out later and later for work—you started to hate the idea of perfection. You clawed at it like a noose wrapped around your pretty throat. There's something about this line that drives me insane in the best way ever; like that expression??

It’s as if it’s embedded in your skin, as if it’s in the marrow of your bones and in the blood that pumps through your veins. I absolutely love this like as well because I think it perfectly encapsulates what perfectionism does to you, it absolutely gnaws at your skin or mimicks voices in your head until the outcome is as you want it

The moment where reader is in the bathroom and tries to put a name to the feeling she has feels so vulnerable, I love it. The dolls resembling reader in some way, is cute yet it has really uncanny and slightly overwhelming undertones when you think of the amount of dolls in the house. It is also insane how far Sunghoon is willing to go, to try to replicate you exactly showing again how extreme the perfectionism is between the 2.

Again, despite the slight overwhelming feeling, Sunghoon mentioning that reader is flawless to him (despite understanding that she is human) also shows how loved she is too, even if it feels as if he goes a touch too far. Seeing reader's thoughts on this though, shows how twisted it comes across from her perspective (at least to me), as she sees perfectionism as a way for Sunghoon to stay, when it's clear it doesn't matter to him yknow. Seeing both sides shows how twisted the relationship is, I also love seeing how the reader herself seems a little off, like the moving dolls and the mockery she claims they do. To her, I think the weight of perfectionism causes that unfortunately.

I love how insane reader comes off😭 like I'm enjoying that a little too much. On the other hand, I'm loving their interaction and relationship and you can clearly see how much they love each other (albeit a lil twisted) but Sunghoon making the effort to stay home and reader being happy is so cute.

I'm not even gonna lie, Sunghoon is giving such killer vibes rn, between reader being borderline insane, the missing kids like???? Something is fishy

The dollification goes insane oh my god (it's lowkey (highkey) hot wtf). Sunghoon is so borderline insane oh my god. "Pretty dolls don't cry" holy shit. this is so insane Kipo how do you think about this like actually????screaming

OH. MY. GOD. NOT HIM ACTUALLY TRYING TO MAKE A LIFE SIZED DOLL FRFR??? like yeah Sunghoon is insane here, but??? he has gone do far that his perfectionism itself is skewed. His love is so twisted I LOVE IT!!!

Nothing existed but him, and his body enveloped in yours, and his touch that made you burn. And the flames danced so beautifully for him, didn’t they? Oh my god, I am screaming, this is so insane

THE END???? KIPO WHAT THR FREAK (lovingly). This was so freaking good and so freaking insane????? LIKE THE PLOT?? the whole concept of this twisted perfectionism??? Sunghoon literally turning her into a doll???? OH MY GOD??? I will never not get over this. I so agree with your ending note like after all that lowkey absolutely need that for real. Kipo you did it again, as I always say, I really do love your work, this was an amazing piece♡♡ I absolutely loved you dabbling in darker content, amazing.

THE DOLLMAKER ˒˒ 박성훈 ▸ 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲!

you were sunghoon’s muse, his flawless, perfect wife that he dresses in frilly dresses and makes sure you always looked like the idealized woman. that much was evident from all the dolls he made of you that sat proudly throughout your home. but, when sunghoon isn’t there, the dolls move and show you things that would otherwise be hidden in the shadows. one day, they show you something so frightening, something completely sinister that you force yourself to believe that it isn’t real. your beloved husband wouldn’t do something like that, would he? you weren’t so sure about your answer anymore.

pairing ⸝⸝ park sunghoon 𝑥 fem!reader 𓄵 𝓯eat. ꔛ 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦!

genre ⋆ 📓 ⸝⸝ established relationship, angsty & mature themes, smut, some fluff, husband & dollmaker!sunghoon, gothic vibes, supernatural elements

warnings ⸝⸝ dark content, heavy dubcon, dollification, mentions of murder and kidnapping, really creepy dolls, sunghoon is actually insane lmao, heavy gaslighting, possessiveness, unprotected sex, soft dom!sunghoon, heavy body worship, slow sex to rough sex and back to soft sex (you’ll see), manhandling, handjob, cumshots, clit stimulation, fingering, brief somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, mentions of oral (f. rec), praise, petnames (my love, darling, doll), hair pulling (m. rec), cockwarming, a lot of skinship, teasing, brief nipple play, mentions of aftercare, they are very very codependent, traditional marriage aspects

𝓴ipo’s note ⸝⸝ went a bit insane writing this because why is the smut scene alone 5.4k words??? but it’s finally here!! my first post on my new blog (that’s not part of a series) and my first darker content fic!! this was really fun to write and opened a primal lust within me for sunghoon that made me crazier… hehe enjoy loves!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ❨ 14.8k ❩ ╱ ❨ 𝓶. list ❩ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

You always strived to be nothing short of perfect, and you were immensely proud at the fact that you have never strayed from the path of the idealized woman in the eyes of their beholder.

And you were perfect. The perfect person, the perfect woman, the perfect wife. It was what you were born and bred to be, and with a smile you lived your life knowing that not a single frizzy strand of hair was out of place nor was there a single wrinkle in your dress. You were pretty, pristine, perfect. You’d ask for nothing more.

But, as the days started to pass—and your husband was out later and later for work—you started to hate the idea of perfection. You clawed at it like a noose wrapped around your pretty throat. Gone were the days where you’d be set alight with how well you presented yourself—with how much your husband loved to stare at you. These days, you just wanted to be.

In the beginning, you loved to be under Sunghoon’s watchful eye. You loved how he’d dress you in perfectly fitting clothes suited to what he loved to see you in—frills and lace. Loved how he’d fluff your hair if it was too flat or if it wasn’t up to his standard, or smooth down the fabric of your dress. You loved when he treated you like his perfect little doll. It meant the world to you, especially when it came from such an expert dollmaker like your husband himself. In his eyes, it meant you were the best of the best, that no other doll that he has made could compare—his perfect creation.

Now, the more you think about it, the more your throat closes up. But, as much as you’re growing to hate the idea, you just can’t let go of the deeply rooted perfectionism you still strive for. It’s as if it’s embedded in your skin, as if it’s in the marrow of your bones and in the blood that pumps through your veins. You don’t know how to live a life that isn't perfect, and at this point, you’re too scared to find out what that life entails.

So you put on the dress Sunghoon lays out for you before work and you style your hair just the way he likes it—and you be perfect. Because that is all you know how to do.

You stare at yourself in the mirror in your bathroom, your brows knitted together. Confusion spread throughout your body as you tried to put a name to what you were feeling. Disgust, maybe? Hatred? You didn’t know. Sighing softly to yourself, you picked up your makeup brush and dusted more of the blush onto your cheeks.

Sunghoon had already left for work, so it didn’t even really matter what you looked like right now. You stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. Dolls of various sizes greeted your sight. Some had intricate and realistic outfits, the same ones that you wore, and some of them were more plainly dressed. There were dolls everywhere in your home, even some perched on the open shelves of your kitchen. It was a little girl’s dream home. The most unsettling thing about all the dolls around you no matter where you turned was how much every single one of them resembled you in some way.

It was as if Sunghoon could never quite capture your likeness exactly. With some dolls, their eyes were too big, their lips were too small, or the arch of their brow wasn’t quite right. Sometimes he couldn’t accurately carve the curve of your nose. You knew it drove him mad, not being able to immortalize you in his craft.

“You’re too flawless,” Sunghoon had told you once. You were laying in bed together and the tips of his fingers trailed along your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He used to always give you goosebumps, the good ones. Now it feels more like a chill down your spine.

You stared up at him from your pillow and watched as his eyes devoured your frame. His fingers twitched, briefly stopping their descent back down your arm, and you could tell he had the urge to test his hand at making you again. “I don’t think I’m flawless,” you smile at him, “I’m just as flawed as everyone else—just as human.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked up to your face, specifically to your smile, like he was committing it all to memory. He moved the hand that was trialing your shoulder up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently caressed the soft skin before he grazed it along your lips. There was a certain glint in Sunghoon’s eyes that you knew all too well.

“You’re flawless to me,” he stated. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip and pulled it down a little. You watched as his pupils dilated and the mix of lust and fascination that swirled in them grew. Ever so slightly, his eyes widened, too. Sunghoon moved his thumb down to your chin before leaning down to press his lips to yours.

He captured them with a certain roughness—the type that always shocked you with how gentle it initially seemed. Sunghoon’s hand grabbed your chin harder, his fingers creating soft indents into your skin as he leaned your head back and further into the pillow.

You were so moldable for Sunghoon, a shiny lump of clay ready for his skilled hands to turn you into a masterpiece. He hummed into the kiss and his teeth delicately bit down into the flesh of your bottom lip, only enough to not leave a mark. You moaned into his mouth, your arms raising to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer. In response, Sunghoon pulled his lips away from yours. He pressed feather light kisses to your cheek and up to the shell of your ear. “You’re my muse,” he whispered, before his head dipped to the crook of your neck to leave kisses there too.

You suppose that being so perfect wasn’t so bad if it meant that Sunghoon couldn’t keep his hands off of you—if it meant that he couldn't keep his hands off of his tools to try and remake you over and over again. Perhaps you were viewing it all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t a noose around your throat, but a pretty handmade necklace crafted by his nimble fingers. If it meant that Sunghoon never leaves, then you could be as perfect as he wanted forever. If it meant that he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes on, then you would be his doll for as long as you lived.

Maybe it wasn’t perfectionism at all, but an act of complete devotion—an act of love.

Sunghoon left open-mouthed kisses along your chest and moved further and further down until the lace of your lingerie blocked his lips from your skin. He pulled away from you fully and looked down at it like he was offended. You squirmed beneath him, your chest heaving as you tried to take in any air that you possibly could. “Please,” you inhaled, looking up at him desperately.

You weren’t quite sure what you were begging for exactly; maybe for his lips to be back on your skin, or maybe for him to quell the heat radiating from your body. “Please,” you said again, your voice coming out quieter and more forlorn.

Sunghoon ran his hands underneath the sheer fabric at your stomach and you gasped at his touch. “So soft,” he sighed contently, hands trailing further up until they physically couldn’t anymore and were blocked by the lace at your breasts. His calloused hands were a stark contrast to your velvety skin and the slight roughness made you shiver.

He pushed the sheer fabric up your stomach with the movement of his hands until the bottom half of your body was completely bare under him. Sunghoon must’ve decided that he couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t bear to take the extra second to lift the lingerie over your head, because the harsh sound of fabric ripping filled your ears and the swift coldness of sudden exposure had you gasping again.

Sunghoon tossed the tattered fabric somewhere off to the side next to the two of you and in the corner of your eye you saw it fall to the floor below. His hands surged upwards, no longer bound by the restraints of your lingerie, and grabbed your breasts. Sunghoon’s thumbs rubbed against your hardened nipples and you arched your back off the mattress to give him more access. His hands dropped down to your thighs and he pushed them towards your stomach as he spread them further apart.

Sunghoon’s breath hitched when his eyes finally got a look at your glistening pussy, completely on display for him. His hand then moved from the back of your thigh and he dragged his fingers through your folds, collecting the slick on his fingertips. “Perfect,” Sunghoon breathed out.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he did to you every night—left you in a heap before cleaning you off and making you new again. You didn’t care, you just liked the feeling of his hands on you, even if its intention was to destroy. You knew that it was just a morbid curiosity. As long as he remained by your side, you were content in being a pile of doll parts for him to play with as he pleased.

In your bedroom, your eyes landed on a doll that wasn’t there when you had stepped into the bathroom. It sat in the center of your bed, dressed in the same lingerie that Sunghoon had ripped up. It didn’t look at you, but at the entrance of the room, with the hint of a smile that you knew was carved into the doll but couldn’t help but feel was mocking.

No matter how often it happened, you’ll never get used to the fact that the dolls moved around on their own. It only happened when you were home alone. The dolls never dared to move when their maker was home, but you still felt their eyes on you nonetheless. You had told Sunghoon about it—the two of you even waited around to see if one of them would move, but they never did. It was extremely frustrating.

You sighed at the doll and straightened your back. Leaving said doll where it was without a word, you left your room to put a start to your day.

What you weren't expecting was even more moved dolls in your kitchen. You stopped in your tracks as different, mini, and almost identical versions of you stared directly at you from the kitchen table in a circle. Usually it was only one doll that moved here and there, but this many moved dolls in the span of minutes was completely odd. Cautiously, you stalked towards them to see what they were surrounding.

It was the TV remote. You scoffed.

You grabbed the remote with a roll of your eyes. Aiming it towards the tiny box TV in the kitchen, you clicked it on and placed the remote back down onto the table next to the dolls. You let whatever channel it was left on play in the background as you started making breakfast for yourself.

“We’re here with the mother of one of those young girls today. Can you tell us a little about your daughter, ma’am?” you heard the news reporter ask. You took a pan out from under the lower cabinet and placed it onto the stove, ticking on the heat. You watched as a flame ignited, quick and large as lightning, before calming to something smaller.

A grief stricken voice filled your ears next between your soft humming. You didn’t realize that it was the tune Sunghoon always hummed when working from home—something he didn’t do as often anymore. “She was the most beautiful girl in the world—the most gentle and kind. She loved everyone and she loved love. My daughter was the single spark in this bleak night. Please, if you know where she is, please let a mother know.”

You moved about the kitchen, ignoring the way the dolls’ eyes seemed to follow your every move. Cracking the egg, you let it fall into the pan with a sizzle, fanning away the sudden smoke that rises. “The news station also has an anonymous tip hotline open for anyone who may know any information. The search for the six missing girls is still on. This Friday, the mayor will hold another search party and encourages everyone who can to join.”

Turning to throw away the shell of the egg, you caught a glimpse of the TV. “This has been—” You gasped, the shell falling to the tile below with a soft crack as your hand flew to cover your mouth. On the small screen were the pictures of the six missing girls—six missing girls who all looked eerily alike to one another, eerily alike to you. You rushed forward towards the screen, desperately needing to get a closer look at the girls’ image.

Fear and panic prickled at your skin and clawed its way up your throat. What if you were next? What if whoever was taking these girls had their eye on you to take next? You glanced around the kitchen, the dolls suddenly gone from the kitchen table and perched back in their rightful places on various shelves. What if one day you stepped out of your home to run an errand only to be met with a cloth to your nose and mouth?

You began to tremble as you focused your attention back onto the TV. Did the police have anything on who was taking the girls? Any physical descriptions or perhaps a drawing? You waited for the news to mention anything else, but they didn’t.

Lightheaded, you felt yourself begin to spiral. Your hands grabbed tight to the kitchen counter as you tried to steady yourself and not let the fear cloud your mind. Maybe it was all a coincidence. Maybe you just happened to look like those girls but the perpetrator was after someone else. You inhaled sharply, trying to swallow down the fear and panic and let the oxygen get through instead.

The sudden loud ringing of the smoke alarm startled you and made you jump. The eggs. They were still on the stove! “Oh!” you breathed as you hurriedly moved to turn off the stove. You accidentally stepped on the egg shell in the process. “Oh no,” you said softly under your breath as you moved from the stove to the trash can. You scraped off the burnt eggs, your appetite suddenly gone. You sat the pan in the sink for you to wash later.

Bending down, you meticulously picked up the pieces of egg shells on the floor to throw away as well. When you turned from the trash, there was a singular doll back on the kitchen counter. You jumped again.

It pointed towards the hallway to get to your living room, unblinking. You stared at it for a moment—at yourself. Why were the dolls doing this? “Fine,” you say, smoothing out your dress, “I’ll play along.” You need a distraction from the missing girls anyhow.

You left the kitchen and made your way down the hallway that the doll pointed to. As you slowly made your way down it, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary besides the way the various dolls’ eyes followed you. You make the bend to the end of the hallway and freeze.

At the end of the hallway was the displayed dollhouse that you didn’t touch. Sunghoon didn’t even let you clean it, opting to clean it himself. It meant a lot to him and he took great care for it to be in as pristine condition as possible. The dollhouse was a perfect replica of your home, down to the welcome sign you weaved on the front of the door. You’ve never even seen the inside of it… until now.

There was a crowd of dolls on the ground below it, more than you’ve ever seen moved before, pointing up at the scene portrayed in it. Swallowing thickly, you stepped further forward as a chill ran down your back.

In the dollhouse were only three dolls: one of you, one of Sunghoon, and one that you couldn’t even begin to understand what it could be. You took another cautious step forward, leaning in to get a better look and taking care to not step on any of the dolls. The scene depicted in the dollhouse was quite simple. You were upstairs in you and Sunghoon bedroom, asleep. Sunghoon was in some room you’ve never seen before, carving away at a doll that you could only assume was of you. Behind him was the other doll, covered in different, mismatched layers of fabric. It was so covered by copious amounts of fabric that it didn’t even seem to have the body of a doll anymore. It was almost grotesque looking, in a way.

Very quietly, almost indistinct, you heard the same melody Sunghoon hums when working. Your eyes widened in shock as you furiously tried to digest and decipher the scene. You shook your head a little. “I don’t understand,” you say, the confusion dripping from your voice. “What does this mean? What is that behind him?”

There was a creaking behind you and you swung around at the sound. More dolls were behind you, pointing. You weren’t sure if they were pointing at you or the dollhouse. Maybe it was both. You swung back around to the dollhouse when you heard something move.

Now Sunghoon was in front of the other fabric-covered doll. His doll was slightly bent at the torso and his head was tilted. The thin, wire-framed glasses he wears sat low on his nose bridge. You knew that look—that inspecting look. That morbid curiosity. It felt as if the dolls were screaming at you, “Do you understand now?” You still weren’t sure that you did. Too many puzzle pieces were missing from the board and it hindered you from seeing the whole picture. The sound of Sunghoon’s humming still filled your ears and you didn’t know what to do to stop it.

More creaking and you turned to look behind you. More dolls. They filled the entire hallway, their tiny fingers pointing at you, trying to force you to understand what they were trying to show you. Behind you, the dollhouse began to violently shake and you gasped as you looked at it. Sunghoon was now back in the bedroom with you. He stood over you, his hand hovering over your arm. You knew the action it was trying to convey—you could feel the tips of his fingers trailing up and down your actual arm now, making you shiver.

You stumbled backwards, even more confused and scared at the shaking dollhouse. The front of the dollhouse slammed shut, locking in the scene of you and Sunghoon inside, and stilled. Your chest rose and fell heavily and you clumsily stumbled your way out of the hallway and into the living room, avoiding any pointing doll that you could.

Later that day when Sunghoon came home from work, you didn’t mention the moving dolls or the dollhouse. It was as if nothing happened at all, every doll was where he placed them and the dollhouse was just as pristine as he left it. You especially didn’t dare mention the scenes depicted in the dollhouse. You feared your husband would think you were crazy.

You carried the plate of hot food to where Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table. “Eat up!” you smiled placing the plate in front of him before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. You felt him smile before you pulled away. You were turning to make yourself a plate when Sunghoon grabbed your wrist to stop you. You jumped, a gasp slipping between your lips. Trying to cover it all up, you turned back to Sunghoon with a smile.

His own smile faltered and his thick brows drew together. “Thank you, darling…” he trailed, the words falling from his lips one by one. “What’s wrong? You’re never so jumpy.”

You’d been jumpy since he got home, still shaken from the morning’s encounter. It was so bad that you nearly burnt yourself on the stove while making dinner, suddenly startled by the sound of the front door opening and Sunghoon returning home from work. When he kissed you hello, his arms coming to wrap around you, you jumped then too. You tried to distract him with your smile, but you should’ve known that nothing gets past your husband.

“It’s nothing,” you say, smiling again and giving him a slight shake of your head. “I guess my body is just getting used to not being by itself now that you’re home.”

Sunghoon sighed and pulled you back towards him by your wrist. You let yourself be pulled into his lap. Sunghoon buried his head in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he says, his words coming out muffled. “I know I've been working more and more lately and I haven’t had much time for you.”

You leaned into his touch, sighing contentedly. “Can’t you work from home?” you asked meekly, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Like you used to? You work so much and you’re always gone. I miss you when you’re not here, and in return I’m sad the whole day.”

Sunghoon’s black hair tickled you as he lifted his head to press his lips to your neck, right where the thumping of your heart could be felt. His eyes met yours and the gentle pout of your lips. “I don’t have all the tools here that I do at the shop,” Sunghoon responded. When you sighed again and looked away, he continued. “But, I might be able to work from here tomorrow… I already finished most of the workload. We can spend tomorrow together, what do you say to that?”

You glanced back at him, trying to not let the happiness you felt break through your sulky demeanor. Clearly, it didn’t work, because the smile returned back to Sunghoon’s face even larger this time. “I suppose that’s okay,” you grumbled, the smile tugging more at your lips by the second.

Sunghoon chuckled, “Yeah?” You nodded, giggling at the way he dragged his nose along your cheek and the coldness of his glasses. “I love that sound,” he says, holding you closer. “I want to hear it forever.” He pulled away from you just enough to get a good look at your flustered face. Sunghoon brought his lips to yours, capturing them in a sweet and slow kiss.

Giggling more into the kiss, you broke away from him with great effort. “Eat,” you say, standing to your feet. Sunghoon didn’t let you get far. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Your dinner smells amazing, my love, but I think I want something else on the menu,” Sunghoon replies. You swatted him with the kitchen towel hanging from the pocket of your apron, your mouth falling into an open-mouthed laugh. Sunghoon just laughed more. “Do what I said,” you scolded him.

Sunghoon pulled you down to chastely kiss your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

That night as you were getting ready for bed, you gathered all the courage you had. As you moved about your bedroom, Sunghoon watched you from the bed, his eyes trailing your figure and never leaving it. He was lounged up against the bed frame, his head tilted and the wire frames of his glasses low on his nose bridge as he stared. You were in the middle of brushing your hair, trying your best not to get crushed underneath his heavy stare. You were as bare as you could be without taking your clothes off.

When you stood from your vanity, the flowy fabric of your short nightgown moving with you, you met his gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke and you just stared at each other. “Those missing girls…” you started, finally finding your voice, “on the news… Isn’t it odd that they favor me?” Your voice shook slightly and you swallowed down the lump forming in your throat.

Sunghoon sat up straighter, his eyes still on you as his brows drew together. You looked away, shakily climbing into the bed next to him. “I-I mean… how they favor each other. And I favor them too, don’t you think?” you continue. You really hoped that you didn’t sound crazy. That your time alone in the house hasn’t started to drive you mad and see things that aren’t there—that aren’t true. Finally getting settled as the words poured from your mouth, you looked over to him. For a split second, his face was completely devoid of anything—no emotion, not even a quirk of his eyebrow, nothing. Then, in a blink of an eye, his face was how it was before you looked away from him. Maybe you were crazy after all.

“I’m scared, Sunghoon,” you said in the gentlest whisper, “What if I’m next?”

“Missing girls?” Sunghoon says, “I’ve heard about them. But, don’t worry—” he reached over to caress your cheek “—I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe here, with me.” His hand on your cheek trailed down to the crook of your neck and then to your shoulder before he pulled you towards him. The two of you laid down onto the bed and Sunghoon enveloped you completely in his arms. You rested your head on his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “No one but me will ever touch you,” Sunghoon muttered against your hair.

His comforting words did nothing to dispose of the uneasy feeling you still harbored. The images of those missing girls were burned into your mind and every time you tried to close your eyes and sleep, you saw them staring back at you. While Sunghoon fell fast asleep, him still keeping you protectively in his arms, you lied awake.

Your mind shifted from the missing girls, to the moving dolls, and to the dollhouse. What did it all mean? What were they trying to tell you? You went over the scenes portrayed over and over and over again and still didn’t get it. The answer seemed so close, but so far away at the same time. What were you missing?

You thought about the scene of Sunghoon standing over you while you slept. Did he always do that, stare at you like that? How often did he do it? You wanted to ask him, but you didn’t want to risk him thinking there was something wrong with you—didn’t want to risk him thinking that you weren’t flawless like he believes. And the way he trailed his fingers over the soft skin of your arm… Perhaps it was just him checking on you. Maybe he left the room for some water and when he came back he was making sure you were okay. Yeah, that sounded logical.

Him touching you wasn’t something new—he always touched you at any chance that he could. Always admiring every curve and plane of you completely, it’s normal for him to do so. The tension in your shoulders finally dissipated and you relaxed, snuggling more into Sunghoon as you let your tired eyes flutter closed. You didn’t know what the dolls’ game was, but you didn’t like it. Sunghoon was just being a good husband, is all. It even showed subconsciously in the way his hold on you tightened as you leaned into him. He loves you. He’d never do anything that came remotely close to hurting you, ever. You were more sure about that than you were sure about anything in the entire world.

Slowly, you began to drift off—your body getting heavier and heavier in his arms—and you let sleep overtake you.

A couple hours later, you were suddenly awoken by the sound of something falling onto the hardwood floor. You jumped, eyes flying open. You were met with the cold bed, Sunghoon nowhere to be found in your bedroom. Sitting up, you looked around the room to see what fell.

You sighed as your gaze landed on the doll, it was laying on its side on the ground, staring at you. “Enough,” you said lowly, another sigh pulling from deep within you. “I don’t know what you all want from me.”

The moonlight peeked into your bedroom through the curtains and gave a little light to see with in the dark. You slipped from the bed, deciding to see where Sunghoon was. Smoothing down your bedridden hair and wrinkly nightgown, you opened the door to your bedroom and was immediately met with another mini doll version of you waiting by the top of the stairs. You couldn’t keep doing this.

You passed the shelves on the wall filled with dolls of you and other trinkets as you made your way towards the stairs. You didn’t even give the doll a second look as you made your descent down them.

Sunghoon wasn’t in the kitchen either, but there was another doll there, pointing down the hall again. You tilted your head up at it and followed its directions. He wasn’t in the lounge room or the dining room either. You turned the corner in the hallway and your eyes landed on the closed dollhouse. It was backlit by the hallway sconce, the light making the dollhouse look illuminated.

You dipped into the living room and Sunghoon wasn’t there either. None of the bathrooms were occupied as well. You were convinced that he just wasn’t in the house at all. You stood in front of the dollhouse, annoyance coming off you like steam. Your arms were folded across your chest and you glared at it. It was closed this time, and you were deciding on whether it was not to play into the dolls’ game and open it or just go back to sleep and question Sunghoon in the morning. Alas, you were too curious for your own good.

You slowly opened the front of the dollhouse, expecting to see some confusing scene waiting for you inside. Instead, there was only one doll inside—the grotesque looking one covered in different scraps of fabric. It was in the same exact place that it was in earlier, except this time there was no doll of Sunghoon inspecting it. It was alone.

Taking a closer look, you tried to figure out where this mystery room supposedly was in your home. In the dollhouse, it was located between the living room and the hallway bathroom. You looked at the hallway you were currently standing in with its own mini dollhouse inside. Your brows knitted together in even more confusion. According to the dollhouse, the room should be right where you were standing.

That couldn’t be right, unless the room was in front of you and behind the wall where the dollhouse was displayed. Closing the front of the dollhouse, you moved closer to the wall, inspecting it. There was no outline of a suspected door, no uneven floorboards that could suggest the entrance was underneath you. There was only the hallway, the small bookshelf filled with your cookbooks and Sunghoon’s doll making books, and the dollhouse. You placed your ear against the wall; maybe if there was a room behind it you could hear something.

After a few moments, you almost gave up, deciding not to play the game anymore and just go to bed. But, right when you were about to lift your ear from the wall, you heard something—humming.

It was the same tune you hummed earlier, the same tune Sunghoon hums when working. The same tune Sunghoon hummed when the dolls showed you him working in the dollhouse. This time, you knew it was real. You stumbled backwards from the wall, your elbow knocking the doll over that was suddenly perched there. You gasped before quickly covering your mouth.

Frozen in fear, you swear you heard the humming abruptly stop. You then heard slight creaking, like someone was walking towards you. Scurrying back around the curve of the hallway, you peaked around it to see if anything else would happen.

What if Sunghoon wasn’t even in there. What if it was some stranger living in your walls, and you were just assuming that it was him—that the dolls thought it was him. Or, maybe they were trying to warn you of the stranger in a way that they knew you would listen. What if Sunghoon wasn’t in the house at all right now? Your hand pressed harder into the wall and you began to shake.

More creaking broke through the air, and you watched as the small bookshelf slowly began to push off the wall like a make-shift door. You ducked further behind the wall, just enough to ensure you weren’t seen. You saw a shadow dancing across the floor as the bookshelf slowly closed again.

You were so scared they could hear how fast your heart was beating. So sure that they could feel how hard you trembled through the floor. Hear your heavy breathing like a hawk listening for its prey.

The shadow got larger and you saw a figure start to be illuminated by the light on the wall. A hand reached from the shadows and towards the doll of you that had fallen over—Sunghoon’s hand. He stepped into the light and you could finally see him clearly; saw the way the warm light bounced off his skin, the way the light reflected off his glasses, and how his dark hair fell into his eyes. You pressed your fist to your mouth to keep quiet.

Why did Sunghoon have a secret room in the house? Why did he never tell you about it?

He fixed the doll; shifting its dress so it laid properly and flattened its messed up hair. You saw the corners of his mouth raise as he placed the doll back on the shelf above the dollhouse. It’s big eyes bored into you.

Without a sound, you made your way back to your bedroom as quickly as you could. You closed your bedroom door silently and slipped back into bed, willing your body to stop shaking and your breath to even out. You closed your eyes.

You tried to remember what the inside of the secret room looked like from the dollhouse. From what you could remember, it looked to be some sort of workshop, similar to the one Sunghoon would have at the shop. If it was just a simple place for him to carve dolls, why hide it? It was possible he kept it hidden so you wouldn’t worry about how much he was working. Sunghoon knew how much you disliked him getting obsessed with his work, always carving and shaping dolls until the tips of his fingers were scarred. You relaxed again.

You’d be upset and worried, yes, but he didn’t have to hide it from you. You would understand his dedication to his craft.

A couple moments later, you heard the door knob twist. As you heard Sunghoon’s footsteps near you, you hoped you looked like you were still asleep. His presence covered you like a blanket. Just before you could feel the heat of his fingertips on your skin, you turned to look at him.

With false sleepiness in your voice, you ask, “Why are you out of bed?”

Sunghoon smiled down at you, lightly shaking his head. His hand caressed your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, my love. I was just getting a jumpstart on work so we could have more time together. Go back to sleep.” His voice was soft and gentle, like he was trying to lull you back to sleep with his voice alone.

You sat up more. “Well, I’m not tired anymore,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips. Sunghoon’s hand at your shoulder raised to smooth your hair before coming to your chin to lift it up. He leaned forward and delicately pressed a kiss to your lips. “No?” he asked in that same soft and gentle voice.

Sunghoon was already climbing on the bed and on top of you before finishing his question. He placed more delicate kisses around the edges of your mouth, his hands dipping lower. You shook your head. His hands slowly lifted your nightgown up your stomach. “You’re sure you aren’t tired anymore?” Sunghoon asked, the corner of his mouth raising ever so slightly. He was lifting the nightgown over your head so you were in nothing but your panties underneath him.

Light giggles left your mouth as you shook your head again, “Yes.”

Sunghoon’s fingers hooked underneath the hem of your panties and he slowly pulled them down your thighs. His eyes were completely focused on the way each tug revealed more and more of your cunt and how it glistened with the strips of moonlight coming through the window. You heard him exhale softly, like he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Fuck…” he muttered lowly, “I don’t think I’ll ever get use to seeing this, and it’s all for me to admire.”

He fully pulled your panties off and tossed them somewhere to the side of the bed. Sunghoon spread your legs open and pushed them up towards your chest so he got an even clearer view—just like he always did before taking you apart. He moved his hands so they splayed out on the back of your thighs right near your pussy he was still admiring. You squirmed a little, the air suddenly cold on your skin and from laying there completely open for him as you waited. “Entirely,” you said hushed, looking up at him. His glasses reflected the moonlight and covered the look in his eyes. “It will always be all for you—I’ll always be all, entirely yours.”

You gasped, body jolting when a thumb was pressed into your eager cunt. Sunghoon ran his thumb along your folds, collecting the gathering slick that was forming by the second. Bringing his other thumb to your cunt, he spread you apart even more, like he wanted to watch the arousal drip out of you himself. A soft whine left your lips. You were completely naked and under your husband’s watchful eye while Sunghoon was still completely dressed. He hasn’t even pulled his pajama pants down despite the way you saw him strain against the thin fabric.

“Is that so?” Sunghoon asked, his gaze finally flicking up to you. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and you inhaled sharply when you finally saw that all too familiar dark look in his eyes. It reminded you of the way people dissected animals, excited to see its insides and how the body worked. Just beneath it you saw his intensely desperate, fiery hot need for you. The two expressions folded on top of each other over and over like an endless piece of paper, like he couldn’t decide what made him more excited. But, you knew which one would win tonight—which one always won.

You nodded slowly at his question. After all, no matter how bitter the idea of perfection tasted in your mouth, it was nothing compared to the sweetness of your husband’s love. It overshadowed everything, clouded your mind until you could think of nothing else. You lived for it, you’d do anything for it—to keep it. And Sunghoon, he loved you for it. So, the cycle continued until you forgot what the bitter aftertaste even belonged to.

Was it so wrong for you to love the suffocating attention he gave you once he wasn’t busy? Maybe. Maybe you should feel some shame for how obsessed you were with Sunghoon. But, at least you knew the feeling was mutual. If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be surrounded by a house full of dolls that looked nearly identical to you made all by his hands. Right? Doll making was a labor of love, and Sunghoon never shied away from showing you how much he loved you.

Sunghoon leaned over you. You felt his arms brush against your thighs as he pushed his soft pajama pants down. His face hovered over yours and you stared at him with big, doe eyes. His lips brushed against yours, pulling away slightly when you tried to chase them. Sunghoon tossed his pants and boxers to the side and you felt his cock slap against your thigh, sending a wave of arousal throughout your entire body. The entire time, Sunghoon’s eyes never left yours. “Like my own, personal little doll,” he continued, his voice low. “The real thing, not any of these flawed imitations. Complete perfection, and all under my hands to do with as I see fit.”

His lips captured yours in an unexpectedly rough, hungry kiss. He moved further over you until his body shadowed you. His hands were on either side of your head as he pinned you to the bed with his body, the kiss deepening and growing hungrier. Sunghoon pulled away from you, lips plumped and wet with saliva that still connected his lips to yours. He tenderly caressed your cheek and asked, “Do you know how much I love you?”

With his other hand, Sunghoon grabbed his cock so he could line himself up with your entrance. He quirked a thick eyebrow as he waited for your answer, eyes trailing the way your chest rose and fell heavily and your breasts pushed more against his own chest. “How much,” he continued, slowly slipping the tip of his cock inside you, “I’d do for you? How I’d do anything?” Your mouth fell open as your back arched slightly at the action. Sunghoon’s gaze returned to you, his hips halting once his thick tip was completely inside you. “Do you?” Sunghoon asked you once again, his heavy gaze weighing down on you.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he couldn’t help but do to you every night. It was the only time he liked you to be messy, when you were laying in a heap of doll parts beneath him. He tried to be gentle with his curiosity, he really did, but it was as if something overtook him. That dark look in his eyes got bolder until he couldn’t hold himself back—until he just had to tear you apart. You used to be scared every time it happened, still not learning to expect it. You should be ashamed that you did let it happen. But, as time went on, you began to like being taken apart; began liking how each time you’d blink away the fog, you were more perfect in his eyes.

Nodding, you inhaled deeply. “I do,” you say quietly, meeting his swirling dark stare. “And I love you just as much. I’d do just as much.”

“No,” Sunghoon spoke plainly. You drew your brows together, confused. “The way I love you, it’s… cavernous. Deep and dark—pitch-black. There is no end, no beginning, it just is.” His hand trailed down to your chin. “It consumes me, my love for you. I can’t control it… I can’t control the things I’d do to ensure you’ll always love me. And you will… won’t you? Always love me?” Sunghoon asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“Yes,” you say meekly. Despite the way Sunghoon’s body blocked the little light in the room, you could still see the way he fought the darkness inside of him. “I’ll forever love you. There’s nothing that would ever change that, Sunghoon. I promise.”

Sunghoon’s body relaxed over you, and his eyes briefly fluttered shut as he shakily breathed in to further calm himself. “Good…” he muttered, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear despite him being so close. “Because sometimes… The thought of you no longer loving me… i-it drives me completely insane.” His grip on your chin tightened and he bent down to sloppily kiss your lips. Sunghoon’s lips slowly worked against yours, like he was using you to calm himself even more. Like he was basking in your love for him like you did with his love for you.

He pulled away, just enough that with each word from his mouth, his lips brushed against yours. “It makes me want to rip you limb from limb. Polish all the parts so you can see it—see how much my love for you breaks me apart.” With a harsh thrust, Sunghoon pushed himself into you completely. You cried out, the sound being muffled by his lips so close to yours. Your nails dug into his shoulders at the action. Sunghoon pulled out of you until just the fat tip of his cock remained inside. With each word, he thrusted into you. “My sweet love, my perfect wife, my doll.”

Loud gasps rang from your mouth and Sunghoon took your hands from his shoulders and pinned them above your head with one of his own. His eyes never once left yours. He wanted to see how you cracked and shattered beneath him. He wanted to witness it. Sunghoon trailed his other hand down the side of your face, his thumb running over the soft skin of your cheek before it moved closer to your mouth. His eyes shined when he dipped his thumb into your mouth and you eagerly swirled your tongue around it, his own mouth opening. Sunghoon’s pace slowed as if he was remembering himself. The languid strokes drove you crazy and your hips lifted off the bed to gain more friction.

It was a constant back and forth of back to back harsh thrusts that felt like it was splitting you open to slow, sweet thrusts that had you begging for more. With your arms pinned about you, you couldn’t even really move besides the slight lift of your hips, and they could only lift so high with how close Sunghoon pressed himself into you. He had complete control over you; over how you moved, how deeply and at what pace you felt him, and over what sounds you made with his thumb in your mouth. Your eyes began to get glassy with how much you wanted him.

You guessed that you liked being used—liked being his toy, his plaything. You guessed that you liked feeling desired, feeling like his doll. You glanced around your bedroom, back arching and loud, unashamed moans falling from your lips at the way Sunghoon fucked you. It felt as if every single doll was looking at you, watching you. Watched you succumb to your husband and watched as the cracks in your porcelain body began to crumble. Watched how you loved every second of it. How wet it made you to the point that Sunghoon was slipping in and out of you with ease and how the vulgar gushing sounds bounced off the walls.

Sunghoon’s pace slowed and he watched how his cock slowly disappeared into you before he slowly pulled it back out and examined how it dripped with your arousal. A soft chuckle left his parted lips as he did it over and over. You clawed at his arm still holding yours above your head, a loud whine came from the bottom of your throat and your body shifted in any way that it could to feel him deeper, to have his cock drag against your walls faster.

He replaced his wet thumb with his mouth, completely silencing your moans and whines. Sunghoon’s mouth worked slowly against yours once again, soft groans vibrating against your lips as he kissed you.

“You feel so good,” Sunghoon whined, barely able to get his words out before his lips were back on yours. He let out another moan, his shallow strokes growing quicker. “Taking everything I give you so well, my love. It’s like your body was made for mine.” Sunghoon finally let go of your arms, giving your body some space as his lips traveled down to your chest. He left wet kisses all over it, teasingly kissing around your perked nipples while you dragged your hands through his hair and pulled at the tips of the strands. Everytime his lips touched your skin it felt like white-hot coals were being placed on you where they touched. Sunghoon looked up at you over the rim of his glasses, lips pressed to your skin with a hint of a smile. “Do you feel good, darling?”

Sunghoon’s hips picked up speed, just barely, but enough to make your head spin wildly. His pace was agonizing and you were sure your frustration showed in how you tugged harder at his hair and pulled his head back and the way your hips pathetically raised to meet his. Sunghoon’s mouth opened and he let out a laugh. “Please,” you begged him, your eyes filled with unfallen tears, “please.”

He sat up, lips brushing against your skin one last time before he pulled away. Sunghoon pushed down on your hips with his hands to stop them from moving, his own still continuing at that agonizing pace. “Please, what?” he asked, head tilted to the side as he watched you squirm beneath him and claw at the bedsheets. “What are you begging me to do to you?”

You whined when his hands moved up to your waist and sent tingles throughout your body. Through your blurry, tear-filled eyes you could see his smile. Pitiful moans escaped your mouth and your chest rose and fell so heavily you would’ve thought you weren’t breathing at all—instead trying to gasp in gulps of breath. “Please,” you begged again. Sunghoon inhaled sharply at the way you clenched down on him, at how your whiny moans filled his ears and the way the corners of your eyes flooded with tears. He halted his movements and pulled out of you completely.

“No, no, no!” you cried and leaned up to reach for him. He pushed you back down to the bed gently. Sunghoon’s own breathing picked up as his wet cock hovered over you. He took one of your hands in his and guided it towards it. “I’ll continue once you can tell me—” his breath hitched once your hand wrapped around his thick length “—what you want.” Sunghoon guided your hand up and down his cock slowly, his hand tightening on top of yours so you squeezed him more. His breath shuddered as he watched your hand work, his stomach tightening every time your hand squeezed his mushroom tip. He moaned again at how easily your hand slipped over him from your arousal, and his moans grew louder when he’d move his hips to force your hand back down his length again and again.

“Tell me…” he breathed out, his eyes fluttering closed, once you still didn’t give him an answer. Sunghoon’s hands laid flat against the back of your thighs—right next to where you needed him the most.

“I… I-I want you…” you stuttered out, voice small. Sunghoon hummed in question, bringing his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles into it at the same speed he moved his hips. You gasped, back involuntarily arching off the bed. Your hand paused mid-stroke of his cock before his hips rutting against it stirred you back into action. “Closer…” Sunghoon says through a grunt, “but, I’m going to need more than that from you, my love. Don’t you want to be good for me and do what I asked?”

A soft whine left his lips when you squeezed a little too much at the base of his cock. “I want to hear those pretty moans of yours as I fuck you with my cock… see your pretty face as you cum around it. Won’t you give that to me? Do you really want to settle for my fingers tonight, darling?” Sunghoon continued.

How could you tell him what you really wanted? Explain the deepest desire that you had right now? He told you about his inner battle with how much his love for you consumes him. He told you the things that it made him want to do. You wanted him to let go and do it. You wanted him to wipe you clean so you watched it all—saw it all. Enough with holding back—like he tried to do every single night without fail. It was no use when you both knew what was coming. You wanted him to lose control. You wanted that swirling darkness in his eyes to take over. You wanted him to do what he said he wanted to do if you didn’t feel the same way he felt about you. How do you express that to him?

“Do it…” you say, your words coming out strained. A sweet moan left your mouth and you looked him dead in the eyes as the tears finally slid down your hot cheeks. “I w-want you… to do it.” Your voice was just above a whisper, loud enough that only his ears could hear your words despite being the only two people in the entire house. You squeezed down onto his thick cock more as your wrist worked harder. The hand he wasn’t using to rub circles into your puffy clit grabbed your thigh tighter, his fingers surely leaving indents into the plush skin. Sunghoon’s head hung lowly as he tore his gaze away from yours and went back to watching your hand.

Sunghoon plunged two fingers deep inside your dripping entrance and you felt like you could finally feel the oxygen reach your lungs. He pushed them in and out of you, his gaze flicking over to his movements instead of yours to relish in the way his fingers came back out more and more wet. As his fingers curled inside you, causing breathy moans to leave your willing lips, you watched the way his stomach tensed and his hips faltered. Without saying a word, you could tell what was running through his mind right now. You could see his eyes grow more and more darker, fill up more and more with desire. Sunghoon finally looked back up at you, his wire-framed glasses low on his nose bridge. “Do what?” he asks, his voice just as quiet as yours was.

You didn’t have to say anything else. Sunghoon’s hips froze and his stomach tightened even more as a pretty moan ripped straight through him. His eyes fluttered shut, his fingering waned and you lifted your hips to chase his hand. Sunghoon’s warm cum shot all over your stomach and splattered up to your breasts in thick spurts. He let out another moan, this one dragging out from deep within him as his body finally relaxed. You helped him through it all—hand never stopping as he rode out his high and marked more of your stomach with his cum until you were painted a creamy white and he was completely empty.

His eyes blinked open and he looked down at how messy you were. Something in his demeanor shifted as his eyes grazed over you and you couldn’t tell what had changed until he looked at you. You inhaled sharply at his stare, your breathing picking up. His own chest still heaved from his recent release. Sunghoon took his wet fingers out from your cunt, taking a moment to drag them through your folds to spread your arousal even more, all while his eyes never left yours. Gone were the barriers that held him back, that darkness took him over full force.

Meek whimpers escaped your lips and you dug your nails into the bedsheet beneath you. “You like being my doll, don’t you?” Sunghoon asks. His voice was almost flat, and he was still speaking in that hushed tone. His expression was decidedly blank except for the subtle way his brows drew together. “Don’t you?” he asked a little louder when you didn’t answer him. His hands squeezed the back of your thighs and his fingers dug into the soft skin there. You timidly nodded, not daring to look away.

His hands relaxed and his thumbs brushed over where his fingers dug into you comfortingly, his eyes finally leaving yours. Sunghoon grabbed his cock and rubbed his flushed tip in between your folds, the wet sounds it made piercing the silent bedroom. “You know,” he starts, his voice no longer so low, “you really are truly flawless, doll. My muse…”

Sunghoon is already slipping back inside you before you can process the way his thick cock completely stretches you open. You cry out as more unshed tears fall from your eyes. He continues, “It angers me how much I can’t capture you fully. How none of these dolls can compare to the real thing—the real you. It makes me… so angry…”

He’s pulling back his hips as he speaks, the tip of his cock just barely leaving your pussy, before he roughly thrusts his cock back inside of you. Another loud moan emits from you and your vision blurs from more tears as your face gets hot. You could barely hear Sunghoon’s wry laugh over the sudden ringing in your ears.

Sunghoon’s pace is brutal, and you’re suddenly regretting whining so much about how slow he was once going. It gave you whiplash, how fast he fucked into you, and the only thing you could do to keep yourself grounded is tightly wrap your hands around his wrists at your hips. Your arms smeared and got sticky with his cum but you didn’t care. With each thrust, your body shook and pushed you further into the mattress. With your iron-clad grip on Sunghoon’s wrists, your tits pushed together and bounced in accordance with his hips against yours. Sunghoon was fucking you like he wanted to break you in half.

“S-Slo—” you tried to speak but was cut off by the waves of sudden pleasure hitting you one after the other. Sunghoon just shushed you, his hands pulling your hips towards his so you’d feel him deeper. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you couldn’t think about anything other than the way he was making you feel so, so good. You wanted to feel this way forever. Wanted him to stay lost so you never escaped this feeling of immense pleasure. Wanted him to use you to take out his anger at himself—at you—like you meant absolutely nothing, just a doll for him to handle and put back in its place.

You adore it, the way he makes you feel.

Such nasty sounds fill the air, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care about it. If anything, it turned you on more just how loud and demanding to be heard it was. With how much the sounds of the sex the two of you were having penetrated your ears, you would’ve thought that you’d be getting multiple noise complaints at any moment. You both definitely weren’t trying to be quiet in the slightest.

Between your moans, you heard Sunghoon speak. “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” His voice was almost scarily plain, like he thought this over time and time again before. You blinked away tears and finally got a clear view of him and the way he stared down at you with a hint of a smile, head tilted as he watched you crack and begin to fall into yourself. “Forever my perfect little doll, to bend—” he pushed your knees closer to your chest so you were practically folded in half “—and to break—” he roughly thrusted into you once more, his hint of a smile growing into a smirk as you clenched down on him “—and to put back together and play with as I please.”

“Sunghoon,” you sobbed as your stomach tightened and you started to shake. You didn’t get the chance to get another word out before you were violently orgasming, your cum pouring out of you and leaving a white ring around the base of Sunghoon’s cock as he roughly fucked it back into you. Wet, gushing sounds came from his cock plowing into your pussy and your cum poured out from around him and down the curve of your ass. You could scream at the sudden overstimulation.

“That’s my girl,” Sunghoon says as he watched you shatter. He used your hands still limply wrapped around his wrists to pull you up off the bed and halfway into his lap, his cock still buried within you. One of his hands supported your back and the other came to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Pretty dolls don’t cry.”

Sunghoon brought your hands to his shoulders and you held tightly onto the soft fabric of his shirt. His own hands dragged down the expanse of your stomach and he wrapped one of his arms around your back. Sunghoon lowered his head so he could look you in your eyes, his free hand lifting your chin to raise your head more. “I love you,” he murmured, pausing a beat to make sure you heard him, before roughly moving his lips against yours and cutting off one of your watery whines.

Your hands moved from Sunghoon’s shoulders to wrap around his neck and pull him closer to you. You deepened the kiss, letting Sunghoon open your mouth so his tongue could slip in and dance with yours. You’d give anything to keep his lips on yours forever.

Sunghoon began to thrust into you again, his hips moving slow at first before they rapidly picked up pace. You moaned against his lips, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt Sunghoon’s lips pull into a smile, “I love you so much.” He said it like it was a confession.

Head falling into the crook of his neck, you cling to him tighter with your last remaining strength and whimper into his warm skin. Your body shook all over until it felt like you might explode. It felt like Sunghoon kept repeatedly turning and turning the winding key in your back, going way beyond the motor’s limitations. It made you nervous for when he would let go and you would burst into action.

His deep moans and grunts rang in your ear and his arm around your back tightened. With his other hand, he pulled you back so he could look at you. Your face was tear-streaked, splotchy with drying tears and you tried to not cry even more. Your brows were knitted together from the overstimulation and whimpers fell from your lips. Sunghoon’s cum stuck to your stomach and your forearms and parts of his shirt, your own cum covered your pussy and Sunghoon’s cock. You were a mess.

Over and over, three words came from Sunghoon’s lips like a mantra as he filled you up with his cum to the brim and past that too. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I—”

Finally, silence rang through the air besides both of your heavy breathing. After another moment, your body finally stilled. The silence was so thick that you felt like you couldn’t move at all. Delicately, like he held the shards of you in his hands, Sunghoon laid you back down onto the bed. He pressed feather-light kisses to your jaw and cheeks before they finally landed on your lips.

You were so overwhelmed with emotions and feelings that you couldn’t feel anything at all. Your head was still foggy and your only penetrating thoughts swirled around him. Despite your eyes being wide open, your vision was cloudy.

Sunghoon kissed you again. “Stay here,” he says, pushing away from you. Your arms fell to your sides limply. He leaned back and pulled his cock out of you, eyes shining with adoration at the way yours and his mixed cum spilled out and dirtied the bedsheets. Sunghoon rubbed the tip of his cock through it a couple times, ignoring how you squirmed and whined. “Absolute perfection,” he said under his breath before standing to his feet.

You laid there on the bed, still spread open and a mess of cum, as your eyes went in and out of focus. When the clouds in your vision did part, all you saw were all of the dolls and how they stared at you. Sunghoon came back a couple moments later, his face coming into focus as the moonlight bounced off his glasses. He climbed over you and began cleaning you up.

You were barely aware of the way he meticulously made sure every nook and cranny was polished nor how he moved you to put new bedsheets on the bed. Your mind didn’t start to come back to you until he was pulling you over him and sitting you onto his cock. You came alive at his hands trailing the expanse of your body before landing on your hips. You moaned quietly, your gaze dripping to look down at him. The darkness in his eyes was not quite all the way gone.

Sunghoon brought you down to lay on his chest. “I could fuck you all night…” he trails and his voice vibrates throughout your whole body as he shallowly thrusts up into you, “and into the morning, too.” His hips stilled and instead his fingers caressed your back. “But then we wouldn’t have the full day together, would we, my love?”

You shook your head slightly and Sunghoon wrapped an arm possessively over you before pulling the blankets overtop of you both, his other arm caging you against him completely. As the moonlight filtered through the window of your bedroom, the two of you slowly fell asleep.

In the morning, you were awoken by kisses on your neck and your pussy fluttering around Sunghoon’s slow strokes. He lifted your leg into the air and you turned your body towards the warmth at your back, blinking away sleep. You hummed, a soft whine pulling from your throat as you looked at him.

His glasses were off, which let you know that it hadn’t been long since he woke up himself. Sunghoon leaned down to press his lips to yours, his cock still dragging at a snail’s pace against your walls. “Are you sore?” he asks, pulling away from your lips to kiss your shoulder.

You nodded. Him still inside you, lazily fucking into you felt good, but you couldn’t ignore the way he stretched you open and the deep soreness that came from it. “A little,” you say.

Sunghoon turned you onto your back so you laid beneath him and he pulled out of you completely. “I’m sorry, my love,” he says and his lips meet yours again. “Let me make you feel better.”

He kissed your lips once more and started trailing kisses down to your jaw and along the length of your neck. Sunghoon looked up at you through the strands of his black hair, kissing lower down your body to your breasts, his hands massaging them as he kissed at your perked nipples. Soft moans left you at his touch.

His kisses spread to your stomach, to your hips, and finally right above where you were already wet for him. He spread your legs open more. “I’ll be gentle,” Sunghoon says, placing a kiss to your clit before his tongue poked out to lap at your entrance.

Without Sunghoon around, the idea of perfection was bitter on your tongue—acidic in your chest. But, when your beloved husband was around, finally in your arms again, you understood why people strive for it. You love it.

If perfection was how Sunghoon saw you, then you’d forever be the most absolutely perfect person, woman, wife you could be.

Days pass and you are once again left alone in the vastness of your home. Sunghoon stood true to his word as best as he could, spending as much time with you when he didn’t have to work, but it still wasn’t enough. The house still felt empty, and the occasional early nights when he would come home didn’t help.

It felt like the early nights home he took came at a price. Most nights when he would finally walk through the front door, you were already asleep or close to it. He would wake you up with a kiss and a content sigh. It made your chest ache even more than it already did when he is away.

You were in the middle of washing the dishes, mind trailed off to someplace else as you idly let the sounds of the TV float around you. “The search for the six missing girls is still going strong. Police still has not found the perpetrator, but an interview earlier with the Chief says that they are very close to finding out who has taken these girls. Our anonymous tip hotline is still up and running for anyone who may have any valuable information on where these girls might be.”

The words brought you back to life, and you gasped quietly as you looked towards the tiny screen. You examined the bold numbers at the bottom of the screen. It reminded you of the secret room behind the dollhouse that you completely forgot about. You quickly finished the dishes, leaving them in the strainer to dry completely as you dried your wet hands.

Slowly, you took quiet steps towards the hallway where the dollhouse was displayed. You looked to the front door to ensure that it was still locked. Sunghoon could walk through it at any moment and you didn’t want him to know that you knew about his secret workshop before you had the chance to see what was inside.

You recalled the way the door to the room opened—the pushed opened small bookshelf that revealed the make-shift door. You tip-toed to the bookshelf, examining its sides and the books on it.

You didn’t really look at the books on the bookshelf besides your own cookbooks. Sunghoon’s doll making books were something you rarely touched, if at all. But, you took a hard look at those too, your fingers running over the spines. They all felt like books, the spines hard and sturdy, but something about them still felt off to you. You looked at Sunghoon’s books again, pulling each one out a little to take a peek at the covers.

In the middle of you pulling one of the books, you heard a quiet click and the bookshelf came loose from the wall. You took a step back, shock showing all over your face. Gently, you grabbed the side of the bookshelf and pulled.

The bookshelf creaked open and revealed an opening that you had to bend down a little to enter. When you stepped inside the surprisingly large room, your eyes did a sweep of what was inside. You froze, your stomach dropping as you stared at what was in front of you, absolutely horrified. You didn’t even really know what was in front of you… It looked like an amalgamation of various body parts, stitched and sewn into one. Its skin was weirdly shiny, almost like it was made of some kind of plastic or resin while still keeping its elasticity.

You disregarded the rest of the room, instead taking careful steps towards the strange creation in front of you. It didn’t look neither dead nor alive and that confused you even further—it barely looked human. Its eyes and lips were sewn shut and it was completely hairless. It was held up onto its feet by long strips of silk hanging from the ceiling that was tied around its naked body. Next to where it stood was a table with thick locks of hair tied with ribbons of your favorite color.

Maybe this was the final crack in your mind and it was crumbling completely, but it kind of looked like you too. Even the hair on the table matched yours perfectly. If you looked past all the stitches, the weird shiny skin, and the lack of hair, it almost seemed like you were looking in a mirror. It looked like an unfinished, life-sized doll of you. Your stomach turned in on itself.

The fear in you raised tenfold in you when it started to twitch. You took a couple steps back from it when it began to pull on its restraints a little. It seemed to start to panic and its shiny arms pulled at the restraints keeping it up even more as it tried to reach out to you. You jumped back more, fearful tears filling your eyes. Your mouth opened to speak, but no words would come out.

The uncanny creation tried to speak, though, before realizing that its mouth was sewn shut. When it began to frightfully hum—the sound off tune and terrifying—did your body start to feel heavy and limp. It pulled at its restraints with all the little strength it had as it reached out to you and began to hum wildly… it hummed Sunghoon’s melody, the one he hummed when he worked.

Realization hit you like a tsunami. Not only was you dear husband making dolls of you, but he was trying to make a real, life-sized human doll of you. And it seemed that every part of this surreal creation was taken from another until it resembled you as close as he could get it. Your mind flashed to those six missing girls—the six missing girls that all looked eerily similar to you. Despite having all the puzzle pieces right in front of you, your mind refused to see the whole picture.

You backed up further, the back of your thighs hitting the desk that was against the back wall near the make-shift door. You twisted towards it, chest heaving as you scanned the scattered papers and opened books. You picked up what looked to be a journal Sunghoon kept and read over the open page with trembling hands.

The entry remarked at how the experiment was working well and how none of the body parts were rejecting like they did before. He praises how the process was much smoother than last time, how the girls he chose were the perfect fit. The journal dropped from your hands.

Those girls going missing due to Sunghoon was no longer speculation. Your eyes snapped back to his “experiment.” It must be those poor girls, their bodies sewn into one to look like you. You still didn’t want to believe it.

Tears poured from your eyes as fear sunk its claws deep within you and forced its way down your throat and into your heart. Your entire world came crashing down around you and quiet sobs left your mouth as you fought against the idea that your husband wasn’t who he said he was—that he was a kidnapper, a killer.

You rushed forwards, your arms raised towards his creation before you wrapped them around yourself and remained a safe distance. “No!” you exclaimed as you rapidly shook your head. “No, this is all a misunderstanding—a mistake! Sunghoon wouldn’t do this… He isn’t that type of person!” You wiped at your eyes, almost believing your own words until you dropped your hands.

Dolls completely surrounded the peculiar creation—Sunghoon’s experiment. It was even more that the ones that surrounded you in the hallway when they were showing you the scene in the dollhouse. They all looked at you for a moment before slowly turning to look up at how the amalgamation of stolen girls thrashed towards you, still frantically humming.

The dollhouse.

It was a warning. Those scenes the dolls showed you… it was all a warning. This was what they were trying to tell you this entire time. This wasn’t just any ordinary experiment for Sunghoon, a dollmaker going completely mad in his craft—no. This experiment was for you. He was using these girls, tearing apart their bodies limb from limb and creating some freakish doll of them that was meant to be you. It was practice… He was doing all of this so he knew exactly what to do when he laid his tools down and cut into the real thing. You were next.

Sunghoon’s words rang in your ears and bounced around in your head: “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” You finally understood it now.

Suddenly, all thrashing ceased and the humming finally abruptly stopped. The only thing that filled the silence was your muffled sobs. “I’m sorry,” you cried, unsure if it even heard you. “I’m so sorry.”

You stumbled towards the opening of the room and barely missed hitting your head on the way out. You didn’t even wait for the bookshelf to click back into place before rushing through the hallway and to the kitchen. For once in your entire life, you hoped that Sunghoon had a long night at work.

Nearly falling into the kitchen counter, you shakily grabbed the landline on the wall. Those bold numbers of the anonymous tip hotline flashed behind your eyes and you rushed to put in the numbers, putting the ringing phone to your ear. “This is the anonymous tip hotline for the six missing girls. Please only share useful tips that could help a breakthrough in the case. Do you have any information to share?”

Your breathing came out heavy and you tried to force the oxygen to reach your lungs, inhaling sharply as you tried to find your words. “I… I-I think my husband kidnapped those girls…” you breathed in a whisper. The woman on the other end of the line started talking, but your focus was abruptly taken when you heard another, more familiar voice behind you.

“Something scare you, darling?” Sunghoon asks, his voice gentle and filled with worry. You couldn’t tell if he was being genuine.

You jumped, pressing further into the kitchen counter as you spun in place, the phone leaving your ear. Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table, his thick brows knitted together. You didn’t even hear him come back home. Despite the landline being away from your ear, you still heard the woman on the other end asking you questions, frantically asking if you were still there. You were completely frozen.

Sunghoon rose to his feet and the stove light illuminated him. You saw him differently now. No longer was he your loving husband, he was something else. Still, you hated the way your heart soared when you locked eyes on him. How your body relaxed, even in the slightest. You hated how you felt complete now that he was here and how you wanted to run into his arms.

He crossed the short distance to you, his arms coming to rest against the counter on both sides of you. You inhaled shakily now that you and Sunghoon were face to face. Without his eyes leaving yours, Sunghoon took the phone from your quivering hand and hung it back up on the wall. His arm returned to its position next to you, completely caging you within his arms.

Sunghoon leaned his forehead against yours. “I thought I told you that you had nothing to be afraid of, not when I’m here.” His voice was still gentle—soft—and it was lowered as he moved one of his arms to take one of your shaky hands in his. You wanted to pull away from him and wrap your arms around him simultaneously. You felt exhausted.

You voice shook, “Y-You kidnapped those girls, didn’t you? Turned them into… into…” Sunghoon drew back to look at you, his head falling to the side as his brows pushed together. His confused look made you start to question if you had been imagining everything—the dolls, the dollhouse, the hidden room, the experiment. “Into… what?” Sunghoon asks.

“...Into me!” you exclaimed, more tears running down your already wet cheeks as you choked out a sob. Sunghoon’s hand tightened around yours. “You killed them… and who knows how many others! Am I next? Are you going to kill me too?”

Sunghoon let go of your hand so he could cup your face with both of his hands, his thumbs wiping underneath your eyes to get rid of the fallen tears. “They aren’t dead!” he says. “And I swear to you that I’ll never hurt you, my love. You know that. Think of them as… reborn.”

You started to tremble in his arms and tried to shift away from him, but Sunghoon wouldn’t let you go anywhere. “Is that what you’re going to do to me? Was all of this—” you gestured around the room at all the dolls of you sitting pretty on the various shelves around the kitchen “—just practice for the real thing?” you spat out. You tried to move again, but Sunghoon’s hands dropped from your face to your upper arms to keep you in place.

“No!” Sunghoon started, his voice coated in disbelief that you would even ask him that as he shook his head. “No… can’t you see? This—” he used a finger to motion around the kitchen at the dolls “—is a reflection of how much I love you. My devotion to you. You, above anything else, above everything else. A peek inside my mind and how the only thing in there is you.”

“A-And that experiment of yours—the missing girls? Behind the wall?” you asked.

“That… is my dedication to you—m-my oath.” Sunghoon was completely desperate. He pleaded with you, his eyes wide and begging you to believe his words. His eyes were watery, like if you didn’t believe him he might cry as well, and he looked at you over the rim of his wire-framed glasses that slipped down his nose bridge.

You didn’t know what to believe. Didn’t know what to say. You just wanted to go upstairs with Sunghoon and lay in your bed and forget about everything that you’ve witnessed as he held you close to his chest. It was all too much, and your resolve was starting to crack and shatter. You wanted to smooth down your wrinkled dress and fix your messy hair, but Sunghoon didn’t let you move a single inch in fear that you would run from him. You couldn’t tell which one of you was more terrified.

His hands slid down from your upper arms and down to your hands, grasping them so tight that it started to hurt. “Come… Come with me…” he trailed, gulping thickly. You stared at him with wide, frightful eyes, suddenly unwilling to move, but Sunghoon desperately pleaded with you. He looked like he was seconds from getting down onto his knees. “Please,” he begged, pulling you into him, as his voice cracked. “You know I’d never do anything ever to hurt you.”

Sunghoon took a step back, hoping that you would follow after him, and you did. You let him guide you down the hallway all the way to the bookshelf and into the room behind it, his grip on your hands never once loosening. He led you in front of the uncanny image of you that he created. “I know how it looks,” Sunghoon says, his voice hushed. “But there’s no pain, no sorrow, nothing.”

It didn’t try to reach out to you like it did earlier and all the dolls that once surrounded it were gone. It didn’t hum that out-of-tune, terrifying version of the melody Sunghoon hummed when he worked either. It just hung limply from its silk restraints. “It just is,” Sunghoon continued. “And when it’s fully done, and completely polished, it’ll be flawless.” He delicately took your chin and guided your head to the side so you looked at him. Your body finally stopped fighting against itself and you relaxed in his grasp. “Like you are.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, hesitantly pausing to look at you again before bringing his lips to meet yours. He pulled you into him, his body wrapping around yours, and you timidly invited him in.

His lips felt so good against yours, and you knew that once you parted for air you’ll miss the feeling of them forever until he kissed you again. It felt right—it felt like home. The home where the two of you were always together and he held you like he was holding you now—like he was afraid that if he let go he would lose you. That if he didn’t hold you like a delicate porcelain cup you would chip and crack and shatter. And you would.

When Sunghoon’s lips moved against yours like they did in this moment, everything fell into place. All your worries slid off your back and for a brief minute, it was just the two of you in the whole wide world. Nothing existed but him, and his body enveloped in yours, and his touch that made you burn. And the flames danced so beautifully for him, didn’t they?

Just when you were about to pull away to quell the heaviness in your lungs, you felt a sudden sharp pain in your neck. You hissed, breaking away from Sunghoon’s lips just barely. Sunghoon chased your lips, holding the back of your head and pulling you closer against his body as he kissed you harder.

You whimpered against his lips, your nails digging into his arms as you tried to free yourself from his vice-like grip. It was no use, Sunghoon was never going to let you go. You felt your body grow heavy in his arms and he had to hold you up. Your vision began to spot black and fray around the edges, and your ears rang terribly. Just before you passed out completely, and over the ringing of your ears, you heard Sunghoon’s muffled voice as he kissed your neck where the pain stemmed.

“I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, I truly do.”

You fade in and out of consciousness as time passes around you. Sometimes you see blurred glimpses of Sunghoon, sometimes it's just an array of colors until you black out again.

You aren’t sure how long it’s been when your eyes finally do open and you remain conscious for good. Blinking away the blurriness in your vision, you examine how you're laying on the couch in your living room. Your entire body aches and it feels stiff. Your head is pounding and you almost close your eyes again to ease the pain you feel. You notice how you’re in different clothes and there’s a blanket over top of you. Too late do you notice the figure in your peripheral, and your eyes shift to look at them.

Sunghoon hovers over you, his expression a chaotic mix of hopeful, relief, and worry as he stares down at you. He’s wearing different clothes too, and his hair is a complete mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his glasses almost slide completely off his face. “Are you here, my love?” Sunghoon asks quietly. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.

You give him a confused look, pushing the blanket off of you and crying out from the pain you feel as you try and sit up. Sunghoon rushes to your aid, tossing the blanket to the side without a single thought, and helps ease you to your feet. Your gaze drops to your legs as he helps you stand and you notice how weird they look—shiny. There’s slight indented lines at your knees, too. You look at your arms and they’re the same.

You look doll-like.

Once you’re steadily on your feet, Sunghoon moves a step back to take you all in. You notice how done up you are and when you carefully raise a stiff and sore arm to your hair you feel how it’s styled. Your gaze lands on Sunghoon’s face, his eyes meeting yours.

His eyes are shining—completely full of love and pride. You’ve only seen him look like this when he first came to you with one of the dolls he made that looked the most like you, and when the two of you are in bed and his fingers are gently caressing your skin as he admires you. But, it was even more intense than in those scenarios. Confusion clouds you and you wait for Sunghoon to say something, and he does. One singular word.

“Perfect.”

[ kipo’s note . . . ] would it be wrong to say how i absolutely #needthat #desperately… like hehe yes i’ll be your perfect doll for you forever and ever and ever (๑´ω`๑)

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ ︵͡ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘��𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

🏷️﹙ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @hyukascampfire @xylatox @ghstzzn @izzyy-stuff @sunoosgfv @jihyokat @whosserina @jellymochii @innocygnet @sumsumtingz @riribelle @yeoningz @minaateez @beombunni @jiryunn @lvrs-street2mmorrow @everythingvirgoes @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @fancypeacepersona @deobitifull @tinycatharsis @strawberryshoujosundae

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animamii · 2 days ago

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lockedup!Toji calling you out of the blue after a few months of radio silence.

It's a random number, not the Corrections number or anything like that. So honestly, you're confused as hell since you don't give your number out to anybody but friends or family.

"Hello? Who's this?" You ask as soon as you pick up.

"It's me, princess. Who else?" His voice is raspy, and you can hear him exhaling like he's smoking.

"Toji??" You already know it's him, no one else's voice has that drawl to it.

"The one and only, baby." Oh, you could melt at that if you weren't so damn mad and confused.

"This isn't the prison number... Whose phone are you calling from?" You check the number; it has the same area code but it's a regular cell number.

"This is my number. Save it. Preferably under 'daddy' with one of those cute lil emojis you use," he chuckles, and you could just imagine that little side smirk he does.

"You got a cell phone in prison?"

"Actually, I've been out for two months now," his voice is casual as if he didn't just admit to being fucking free for two whole months now.

"Two months?" Your voice is more incredulous than questioning. "You mean to tell me you've been released for two months?"

"Yup," he gives you a once word response. Ohhhh that just set fire to your ass.

"And you're now just calling??" A hand goes to your hip, a scowl on your face which you wish he could see.

"Yeah. I got a new bed, wanted to know if you wanna help me break it in," you just know he has the biggest grin on his face as he so flirtatiously asks you that, not even caring how shocked or mad you are at him.

"What the fuck did you just ask me??"

"I got my own place now. It's in a shitty neighborhood but one of those recidivism reduction programs set me up with a cool lil spot. Got a new bed. Wanted to see if you wanted to break it in with me, if you know what I mean."

"It took you two months to call me, and this is what you ask me??" Another incredulous scoff leaves your lips.

"Hey, I wanted to get back on my feet by myself this time," he spits on the concrete as he leans against the front of his shabby apartment, "Show ya that I can do it on my own. I hate that I always have to rely on you, ya know? Wanted to prove myself, ma," his tone is a little more serious, none of that playful, flirtatious bullshit he always does with you.

A soft exhale leaves your lungs, you were always so empathetic towards Toji, and couldn't help but try to understand where he was coming from. "Fine." You finally say after a beat of silence, "I'll go see you but I'm not breaking in no damn bed, got it?"

"Mmmm got it, princess. Whatever you say," he drawls out in that gravelly tone. He already knows that your thighs are pressed together in excitement. No matter how much you try to pretend you don't want him, that bed is getting broke in.

✧˖°――♡――✧˖°✧˖°――♡――✧˖°✧˖°――♡――✧˖°✧˖°――♡――✧˖

Honestlyyy this is based on a conversation I had with my Madre lol one of her coworkers said her baby daddy got out of prison and called her to tell her he got a new bed and that's it. She didn't even know he was released it reminded me of locked up Toji so muchhh. I'm rewriting this as a smut though, so be on the lookout for that soon xoxo love y'all bebecitas

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amphibiahawks321 · 1 day ago

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Fem alastor x angle reader that was her husband when she was alive

Charlie : I've never seen Alastor... This quiet before...

[Husk sipping his drink]

Husk : She just found out her husband is gonna visit the hotel, she's an absolute pain in the ass but I can't blame her....

[Cut to Alastor that seems to be pacing slowly in the lounge, her with a grin that seems to have a hint of.... Nervousness]

Charlie : why doesn't she seem excited, she always talks about how Y/N was such a loving person!

[Husk shrugs, muttering under his breath]

Husk : Guess even the Radio Demon has her soft spots, Who knew....–

[The door suddenly creaks open, an angelic figure steps in, his presence immediately draws attention as he is astonished by the hotel's decor]

[Charlie immediately walks up to Y/N and starts shaking his hand viciously]

Charlie : You must be Y/N! It's an absolute pleasure meeting you!

AngelM!Reader : Chuckles.... The pleasures all mine!

Angel : Well, well, would ya look at that! Heaven’s finest just walked in

[The staf gathers in the lobby as you step inside, Y/N's white wings shimmer faintly, and your kind smile instantly fills the space, Nifty walks around Y/N excitedly]

Nifty : How do you keep this thing so SOFT!?

Angel : Careful Nifty, you’re gonna scare the guy off with all that energy

AngelM!Reader : Chuckles... Aww, thanks for the warm welcome you all! i—......

[Y/N went silence mid sentence as he locks eyes with Alastor near the corner, Y/N Excuse himself from the staf as he walks up to Alastor]

AngelM!Reader : Hey, dear...

[Alastor freezes when she hears Y/N talks, For a moment her usual facade falters almost completely]

AngelM!Reader : Still causing chaos huh?

Fem!Alastor : Chaos? Me? Oh dearest, you know I'm as harmless as a lamb

[Y/N let out a short chuckle, stepping closer as his voice now being calm]

AngelM!Reader : Harmless? Say that to our neighbor who always has to see you bring your cooking experiments to barbecue parties

Fem!Alastor : HA! Excuse me, those were culinary masterpieces, They were the ones who couldn't handle my creativity

[Alastor stepping closer to Y/N with her usual grin but now..... with a genuine grin]

AngelM!Reader : Chuckles... Creativity? You're "creativity" nearly burned down our kitchen y'know

[The rest watches in stunned silence seeing both of them Sharing some laughs, as they see the radio demon seems almost... Soft]

Fem!Alastor : ....I didn't think you'd actually come...

AngelM!Reader : Me too... But... I couldn't stay away too long from you... I know I'm probably not of much importance to you anymore especially in this place.... but–

Fem!Alastor : No....

AngelM!Reader : ......

Fem!Alastor : I missed your presence.... I didn't even think you would wanna even consider my existence the moment you enter up there

AngelM!Reader : Even in heaven, my thoughts were full on how you are doing down here....

Fem!Alastor : I've changed too much, you know.... I'm not the woman you married the moment on earth when you saw my heinous secret... The face of despaired, betrayed and disgusted you made can make any sinners feel guilty....

[Y/N stepping closer, gently taking her hand despite the claws she now bears]

AngelM!Reader : And Yet I still see the same woman who danced with me under the stars and laughed like the world didn’t matter...

Fem!Alastor : you certainly haven’t changed much, Still as irritatingly radiant as ever....

[For a moment, the room is silent as the two gaze at each other, Then Alastor’s composure cracks, she places her staff against a chair and walks close to Y/N, wrap her arms around Y/N in a tight embrace, The staf gasps in unison, shocked seeing the composed Radio Demon showing such emotion]

Fem!Alastor : You really are an angel, aren't you? My angel... Maybe.... one day....–

[Y/N wraps his wings around Alastor as he returned the hug tightly with a bit of tears Rolling down his cheek]

AngelM!Reader : Ssssshh... I know... I know you barely have hopes of it actually happening but... Knowing you have just the slightest tiny specks of hope is already making me feel warm...

[The staf exchanges glances, some smiling, others looking away to give you both a moment of privacy, Charlie obviously is clapping her hands together viciously]

Charlie : that is so sweet! I knew there was a sweet side to her!

Angel : Come on, Al! You’ve been talking about this guy forever, Say something cute! like ‘Oh, my darling, I waited so long for you!’ or some crap like that!—

[Angel suddenly stops as he notices Alastor staring at him directly in the eyes, Angel’s smug grin falters as he notices the change in her demeanor completely, her eyes gleaming dark red]

[within seconds Y/N immediately saw the shift in her mood and in an instant starts petting her hair repeatedly, calming her down from basically Killing angel on the spot]

#male reader #hazbin hotel x reader #reader x hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #reader x alastor #fem alastor #female alastor

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olivialivvy17 · 3 days ago

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Racing to the beat - Daniel Ricciardo³

summary: Daniel gets a new teammate in VCRB, a F2 female championship winner for the 2025 season. What he didn't expect was her to be extremely genz and a kpop fan.

pairing: fem rookie driver!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

AU: Social media!AU and Written!AU

warnings: mentions of anxiety, swearing, use of yn, hate comments, reader is 25.

face claim: Amna Al Qubaisi for professional f1 photos, the rest are from pinterest.

wc: 837

a/n: hi guyssss. okay most of the details in the first part may not be accurate. I tried describing the way I saw it on the singapore gp '24 (dannys last race </3). so yeah pls forgive me for that. okay enjoy and I love youuuu <33

part three <prev. next>

Hands trembling as you sit up from the car seat, knees buckling trying to carefully step out the sizzling car. Taking the polite mechanic's hand to stabilize yourself as your other foot lands on the hard concrete of Parc Ferme. With quivering fingers, you snatch off the gloves from your clammy hands, stuffing them into the race suit pockets.

In the background fireworks cracked and boomed, their echoes rolling across the sky like thunderous applause, but to your ears the sound was just a muffle as you took off the helmet that's been squeezing your face for the past two hours. Yanking off the white balaclava and finally taking in a deep breath of unfortunately stuffy air. Taking the back of your hand and wiping off the sweat that's formed on your hairline and eyebrows, fixing blindly any flyaways that might have formed.

After taking a moment to fix yourself up and come down from the high a bit, you finally look around to take in your surroundings. Seeing many mechanics bustling around the cars that arrived before you, the colorfully lit up podium with the race winners and the screaming and thrilled fans on the side. Pulling you out the adrenaline clouded mind was the sound of Kimis voice.

“You did so well!” Kimi exclaimed in excitement as he wrapped his arms around you while holding his helmet

Encircling your own arms around him and giving his back a couple of pats, “You did amazing too! I'm honestly so proud of us” you told him in a triumphant tone.

Kimi has been by your side throughout all of your F3 and F2 days. Even though he’s younger than you, he always treated your friendship like you were his peer. Sure you did treat him a little bit like he was your little brother, but never to the point of babying him so much. Kimi is a spectacular driver and you always make sure to show him that.

Walking side by side, you two made your way away from the cars. Waving and saying ‘Congrats’ or ‘Good race’ to other drivers, all with a polite smile. While unzipping your track suit, desperate to have it peeled off your overheating body, your eyes land on the back of a familiar curly headed man. Excusing yourself to Kimi and telling him you’ll find him later, you saunter to the Honey Badger.

Gently placing your hand on his back as you approached him, “Great race Danny” you follow with a proud smile as you stand by him, body turned fully to him.

Your praise was met with one of those Daniel smiles. Ear to ear, pearly whites on display as his eyes crinkled like the delicate folds of a butterfly’s wings, soft and tender. His raw, bright energy wraps around your heart and mind like a breath of fresh air. Making all the worries and doubts dissipate effortlessly.

“You were remarkable Yn”, he lauded as his hand comfortably made its way to your shoulder “I told you everything is gonna go well”

You nodded softly in agreement, “Yeah you were right.” as a quiet chuckle leaves your lips “Although I was shaking a little as I exited the car, I guess that's just adrenaline.”

Just as Daniel was about to say something, he was interrupted by a supervisor that informed you both had to go and give the post race interviews. Scurrying you off the paddock and to the little interview area.

“Hold me back if they start asking some ridiculous or sexist questions, because I swear I’ll swing” you said half jokingly, but it was obvious you were more serious.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly “I got you, don’t worry. I might swing before you do”

You snorted in response as you approached the interviewer– Lawrence Barreto. That's when the nerves crept back up. Okay, yeah its valid to be anxious about being interviewed for the first time in formula one– you tell yourself. All you have to do is not embarrass yourself by saying something stupid.

“Yn! Welcome and congrats on a fantastic first F1 race!” Lawrence exclaimed in that journalist voice, while you fidget with your awfully damp hands “How does it feel?” he asks, putting the microphone to your lips

“Uuhh well it’s definitely a lot” you chuckle sheepishly “but it’s such an ecstatic feeling. Being able to race side by side with so many talented and experienced drivers. Driving the same track as the championship winners, I’m truly so grateful and thankful to be here today and to have the opportunity to show the world that hard work, skill and dreams don’t know gender. That with enough passion and strength you can achieve anything you put your mind to”, finishing your honest and heartfelt answer with a beaming smile. Feeling the way your heart hammered against your ribs, like it wants to rip through your chest.

What you didn’t notice was the way Daniel beamed with pride as he watched you give the statement.

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ynusername thank you Australia! first race and omg it was thrilling! (thank you Danny for the encouraging words🫶🏻🥹)

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bestfriend THATS MY GIRLLLLLLL🫶🏻🫶🏻❤️❤️

user19 mhm, yeah mother ate 🙂‍↕️☝🏻

user20 I was literally screaming every time her car came up on the screen

kimi.antonelli my big sis🥹

ynusername stop I'm gonna cry😭

user2 they are so siblings, I love them

user21 oh I know Yn babies him

kimi.antonelli she does...

ynusername correct because you're still just a baby

alex_albon yeah kimi, you're still a baby

ynusername thank you Alex🙏🏻

jackdoohan Congrats Yn! ❤️

ynusername we did so well 🙏🏻🫶🏻

visacashapprb Very proud of our rookie!

ynusername thank you team for putting up with my singing while practicing (ik yall enjoyed it)

user22 I dare you to fuck up her car. I will unleash my wrath upon you

user23 I just know Yns team has so much fun with her

danielricciardo 🤍🤍🤍

ynusername 🤍🤍🤍

ynusername posted a story

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ynusername you guys these parties are not for the faint of heart (I don't remember going back to the hotel) :p

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alex_albon mate you were gone gone

ynusername im so gonna get bullied by the whole grid, aren't I? 😭

georgerussell63 oh yes rookie, I have so much blackmail material

ynusername this is not fair

lando I made the cut, let's goooooooo

ynusername thanks for putting on good music :3

lando always at service 🫡

user24 THE TOTO PIC, LITERALLY DIED

user25 forever grateful for drunk yn posting that

user26 okay body and hair tea😩

danielricciardo Kimi and I safely delivered you to your hotel room

kimi.antonelli I can confirm, you almost lost your heels out the club

ynusername thank you my pookies 🫶🏻 drunk me is very thankful

user27 oh to have such caring friends 😔

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #dr3 #formula 1 #f1 social media au #f1 smau #instagram au #smau

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paladin--strait · 2 days ago

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Hello! I love your blog!

Could I please request…

1 - "I'm sick, don't get near me" "I don't care"

With Nico Hischier? I currently have Influenza A and im dyingggg for some comfort 💖❄️

chills - nico hischier

i hope you get better soon! 🫶 sorry this took a while to come out, i hope you enjoy it!

tw: sickness, medicine, vomiting

prompt: "i'm sick, don't get near me." "i don't care."

chills, headache, fever, cough, stuffy nose, sore throat, body aches, all the classic symptoms of some sort of sickness. i sit on the edge of the leather bed in the checkup room at urgent care, kicking my legs and waiting patiently for the results for my tests. covid, flu, influenza, strep, anything could be positive at this point. but right now i just want to find out so i can get my prescription called in and leave.

about 30 boring minutes of waiting later, the nurse comes back, now wearing a mask, and tells me that the only test that came back positive was for influenza A. she says that it's highly contagious and that i should start on my medication as soon as possible. she gives me a steroid shot to help with some of my symptoms, then sends me on my way.

i get in the car, driving to the pharmacy. i bop my head to some light, upbeat pop music to distract me. i pay for ny prescription and then drive off to go pick up some food for nico and i. he should be home by and now, hungry and tired from practice. i pick up the food and drive home, seeing nico's car in the driveway.

i grab the bags and head inside, shutting the door behind me. i set the food down on the counter, hearing nico coming down the stairs. "hey love, where've you been?"

my shoulders slump as i turn to look at him, "nico, don't come near me, i'm sick." i say, sniffing.

nico's expression drops from excitement to concern. "what's wrong? what do you have?" he asks me questions at a million miles per hour, stepping towards me.

"i have influenza A, it's highly contagious!" i say, trying to get him to stay away so he doesn't get sick too.

but that doesn't stop him, he manages to back me against the counter in my attempt to distance us, putting a hand on my shoulder. "love, i don't care that you're contagious. we've been practically right up on each other since i got home from that roadie. if you're sick, i'm probably gonna be sick anyway."

"that's no excuse, nico! you have to play tomorrow. i don't want you sick." i say, shaking my head and pushing him away.

"don't do that, don't push me away." he says, a twinge of sadness in his tone. "i want to care for you. let me do that." his voice is pleading, wanting to help take care of me while i'm sick.

"nico, if you get sick too, i'm gonna have to take care of you, too." i say, laughing softly. "did you think about that?"

"i didn't..." he says, looking down. "but, i can start taking some antibiotics and stuff, try to keep healthy while i take care of you? but first you need to take your own medicine before i start even looking for mine."

he walks to the bag of medicine i brought home and pulls out my prescriptions, measuring the liquid and setting out water for me to take the pills. the care nico takes in giving me my medicine is incredible. he googles the side effects and what you shouldn't take with it before giving me the medicine. i drink the liquid, the taste making me scrunch my face as i take the pills next, drinking water with it.

nico gives me a kiss on the forehead before he moves to our medicine cabinet and pulling out some antibiotics and vitamins, checking the labels to make sure it'll help with what he needs. he takes his own medicine as i wash my hands, pulling the food out of the bag. i leave his in the package so i don't breathe all over it, and sit on the opposite side of the table as him.

nico frowns when he sees where i'm sitting, but he doesn't argue, taking his seat across from me. we eat our food in a comfortable silence, with a question here and there.

about an hour after dinner, we're sitting on the couch watching the canucks vs. oilers game, when my stomach begins to churn. i stand, immediately rushing to the bathroom. i barely make it in time, my dinner hurled into the toilet. i kneel, placing my hand on the counter next to me to steady myself. i feel two hands grabbing my hair and pulling it back, a kiss pressed to the back of my head.

after a few minutes, i finally feel okay enough to stand. i use the counter to help pull myself up, sighing as i wipe my mouth with a towel. i turn and see nico standing there, a sorrowful expression on his face. he opens his arms, pulling me in for a tight, grounding hug. i cling to him, pressing my face into his chest. he whispers kind things into my ear softly, rubbing my back.

nico leads me to the bedroom, helping me out of my day clothes and into my sleep clothes, laying me in the bed and telling me he'll be right back. he slips out of the room and returns a few minutes later with a mug of hot tea. he sets it on my bedside table and changes into his sleep pants.

"time to take your medicine." he says, walking back over to me and helping me sit up. he hands me the little cup of liquid, watching as i quickly try and drink it, trying to rid of the awful taste with a sip of tea. i then take my pills as nico climbs into bed beside me.

i finish my tea, slipping back into the bed properly. nico pulls me into his chest, "i love you so much, you know that?" he says, i can almost hear the smile in his tone.

"even when i'm throwing up?" i ask, looking up at him.

"even when you're throwing up." he laughs softly, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead and reaching back to turn off the lamp on his bedside table. "goodnight, my love." was the last thing i heard before i drifted off to a comfortable sleep, still in nico's loving arms.

#nhl #hockey #paladin's fics!#creds: paladin #new jersey devils #nico hischier #nico hischier x plussize!reader #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier x reader #nico hischer #nhl x reader #njd #nj devils #devils lb #nhl devils #new jersey #devils

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mtcloudsworld · 2 days ago

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𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | none, black!fem reader, husband!dickgrayson, it's just funny how mother nature works...Don't mind me lol 😭😂 this just randomly came to mind and I needed to put this somewhere. Edited, but please ignore any errors, ty. Enjoy!!!

"Shit, he's kicking..."

You say standing before the full body mirror, admiring your bare, swollen stomach to watch a foot press flush from the inside out against your belly.

You could see the outline of where his foot was pressing and decided to trace your nail along it. Giggling a little when you feel the baby squirm a little, clearly interacting with them.

Although it did hurt a little you couldn't help but smile enduringly at the weird interaction.

It was late at night when nightwing─ Dick Grayson, your lovely husband had came back from patrol, already out of the shower in only his pajama pants smelling like mint and old spice.

You were already dressed in his old black guns n' roses shirt and boxers with your bonnet on smelling like jasmine and vanilla from your shower earlier.

You were a night owl at heart so Dick wasn't surprised to see you still up.

All night, you were relaxing, enjoying your peace. Did a little bit of cleaning and organizing here and there, tidying up a bit before settling yourself down for bed. And when Dick finally arrives back home, the little bundle of joy decides to disrupt your peace.

"Is he finally awake?" You heard footsteps come from behind.

Then warmth presses up against your back, feeling the tough exterior of his chest pressed against your back and suddenly surrounded by his strong bulging arms, tender hands smoothing along the roundness of your stomach to feel your body lean into his protective embrace. "Yeah, he was quiet all day until...' you then glanced at him through the body mirror, watching as he planted kisses near the side of your face, ear, neck and jawline. "Not that he ever moves to the sound of my voice but...he's more excited when you're around."

"Hm," he smirks proudly, a daddy's boy perhaps?

"He recognizes my voice. He missed papa." Dick mumbled coddling you with his face buried between your neck, swaying your bodies sweetly.

It was quiet for a moment. Enjoying his tender, sweet love and affection towards you.

You're mind began to wander out of the blew.

"...Baby?"

"Hm?"

"What if 'he' is actually a 'she' ?"

The question makes his head pop up.

"Then... she recognizes my voice." He corrects.

And that brought a smile to your face, turning your head a little to make eye contact with him, challenging him.

"But... what if 'she' is actually a 'he' ?"

And he deadpans, "babe, really?"

"What? I'm just asking!─ "

"No, no, no, you are not "just asking" and we're not doing this again, tonight." He states, shaking his head in disapproval yet still wore a smile on his face. "We're not doing this at..." He turns to look at the digital clock in the nightstand before glancing at you "...1:30 in the morning where I answer all of your questions till your mind feels satisfied and then be up all night because you suddenly can't go to sleep. No, it's not happening."

"Okay but wait, listen," you pout, turning to face him completely. "I get that we wanted the baby to be a surprise but... I just can't help but wonder what if he is actually a she, or if she is actually he????"

"That's why we bought neutral colored clothes and other necessities for a reason, so we wouldn't have to worry about that" He nods, pointing towards the preoccupied corner filled with amazon boxes and gift bags of baby stuff that has yet to be set up and put away, call it laziness.

"Yeah but I feel bad that I keep calling the baby he when it could possibly be a she."

"Babe, you're overthinking this way too much right now." He stresses with a heavy sigh.

When he noticed the look of worry/pout on your face, he reaches up to cup your face. Stroking at your cheeks back and forth to slowly feel its smooth texture graze along his soft yet slightly calloused palms. "Look, whether they are a boy or a girl, all they need to know is that their parents love them very much and will do any and everything to keep them safe and sound. No matter what, they're always gonna be cared for."

You sigh, shoulders relaxing. You hate that he's always right. Always know the right words to say. It honestly makes you stand back and feel like a fool at times but you know that dick didn't see it in that way, you were just...an over-thinker at heart.

"Yeah, you're right...." You finalized, looking down to your belly, feeling the baby move once more and rub your hands over the swell of your stomach. "I want them out of me already. I wanna see if they'll have your face." You gleamed, glancing back up at him.

Dick chuckles, "You say that now..." and turns to walk back to the bathroom.

"I'm serious, Dick."

"Mhm, yeah, sure, if you say so."

"You want them out just as badly as I do, so don't even." You stated pointedly, your finger directed towards him with a playful yet warning look.

"I do, but I'm patient about it..." He then frowns a little when you give him a look, one that asked "are you sure about that?" , "...oooorrrrr at least I think I am." He sighs, "I'm just enjoying these last few moments baby free until time says otherwise." He clears up, turning back to the sink to start washing the dirt and grime off his face.

Patience was key right now.

As much as both of you wanted to see your first child come into this world, both of you were still enjoying your time baby free. You, obviously, were in a rush to get them out of you. Dick also was ready to get them out of you, but he was enjoying his freedom.

Once he finished washing his face he started brushing his teeth, hearing the TV play lightly in the background whilst you prepared yourself for bed.

He was in his own head, thinking of who his baby could possibly look more like. Deep down inside he wanted a babygirl. Wanted her to look just like you, mocha skin, dark curls and blue eyes and that beautiful smile of yours. He had an assumption that she was gonna be bold, confident, funny, smart, stubborn and driven with determination. She was, of course, gonna be a mixture of both of you.

Just as Dick spits the paste out in the sink, he hears a sudden splash against the wooden floor. He smiles while wiping his mouth with the face towel and jokingly asks, "Did you slip water again? I swear to god, woman.." he huffs, turning the light off, "if I had a dollar for every time you slip water, I'd be richer than Bruce." Dramatic ass.

Dick was gonna say way more but when he comes around the corner and halts in place, frowning and staring at what's before him...he feels his heart drop.

"D-Dick...?"

You could barely utter a word, barely say his name above a terrified whisper. You were so stuck in shock that you barely recognized the pain shooting through your body at first, legs shaking and soaking wet...as if someone had splashed water all over them.

And like on cue, you both make eye contact.

"My water just broke." You say nervously with shaky breaths, holding onto the dresser for leverage as you feel yourself start to buckle.

And Dick, out of shock, fear and terror, utters, "I WAS JUST KIDDING!!!"

"I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN LITERALLY!!!"

After all the numerous phone calls, rushing you to the hospital and being by your side for the entirety of the process, it was safe to say the pregnancy was a success.

Mr and Mrs. Grayson welcomed a healthy babygirl.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

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yaniluvs · 2 days ago

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𝒾𝒾𝒾 ⁞ AS WE ARE “𝑎 𝑏𝘰𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑦, 𝑠𝑎𝜈𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘰𝑛𝑙𝑦.” ── hang out. libraries. kids. food. turns out, baseball guy isn't only a baseball guy..?

prev. | index | next ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𓍯 baseballcapt!seungmin ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ）9.1k── ༯ SERIES uni au, slow paced & slow burn, curiosity, fluff, strangers to friends to ???, small town, slight angst, language, skz ensemble, very long, y/n is a foreigner/has mixed ethnicity, angsty, humour. ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY . /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ a month and 5 days to the last update of this fic omg !!!!! yes it is finally here and it's very long. IM SORRY but i love this chapter sm im actually so proud of myself with this :3 hope you all like it !! <3 i love seungmin sm guys, pls tag me if you find any good seungmo fics mwah. also when i posted the last chapter, i had only crossed 300 followers. right now, as of when im posting this, i actually just passed 600 of you, oh my god. in a span of 36 days, thank you so much to every single one of you ! this really motivates me a lot :(( i am also posting the requested fics soon loves, please be patient !!! comments, likes, req/asks and reblogs are always appreciated ! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading <3

the sun hung low in the sky, its warm rays stretching lazily over the quiet baseball field. a faint breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees, carrying with it the distant hum of voices from the university festival on the other side of town.

y/n strolled across the usual field with her usual carefree stride, her satchel slung over one shoulder and a grande paper cup of peach tea in her hand. her gaze caught a familiar figure, who she may have been hoping to find.

he stood on the pitcher’s mound, his cap pulled low over his face as usual, a baseball gripped loosely in his hand. his focus was sharp, his movements practiced and fluid as he wound up and pitched the ball toward the net. the satisfying smack of the ball hitting its target echoed across the empty field.

she paused for a moment, watching him. he looked so at ease here, like the field was an extension of himself. she smiled to herself before calling out, “practicing alone again?”

seungmin turned at the sound of her voice, his expression softening slightly when he saw her. “car girl, again,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

she rolled her eyes at the nickname, though she couldn’t help but smile. “that nickname is never going away, is it?”

“not a chance,” he said, turning back to the net and throwing another pitch.

she began teasingly, walking closer to the netted boundary of the field. “so, has this time now become your usual or are you just excited to see your new friend everyday now?”

he shrugged, tossing the ball idly in one hand. “don't flatter yourself, maybe it's because i'm actually bored for once.”

“oh well, didn't hurt to try,” she laughed softly, the sound light and warm like the breeze that rustled the trees surrounding the field. she stopped a few feet away from him, crossing her arms as she watched the ball sail cleanly into the net. “your friends aren't here today?”

“nope,” he replied, brushing a bit of dirt off his palm. “they’re at some event thing on campus. didn’t feel like going.”

“why not?” she asked, genuinely curious.

he shrugged, retrieving another ball from the bucket nearby. “not my scene.”

she tilted her head, a teasing smile on her lips. “you say that about a lot of things.”

“that’s because it’s true about a lot of things,”

“so, instead of loud festivals, you decided to spend your evening throwing balls alone?”

“better than standing around pretending to have fun,” he said, his lips twitching into a faint smirk as he pitched the ball again.

“you really do have a grumpy streak, don’t you?”

“i’m not grumpy,” he shot back, catching the ball as it rebounded off the glove.

“you keep saying that,” she said, her voice light with amusement. “but i’m not convinced.”

seungmin glanced at her, shaking his head. “you talk too much.”

“again, only because you talk too little,” she countered easily, her grin widening.

he let out a soft huff—somewhere between a sigh and a laugh—before walking over to grab the ball again. this time, instead of pitching, he sat down on the grass near her, resting his elbows on his knees.

she blinked in mild surprise but quickly recovered, sitting up straighter. “taking a break?”

“something like that,” he said, spinning the ball absently in his hands.

“so,” she began, tucking her legs beneath her and leaning forward slightly. “if you don’t like festivals or loud places, what do you like?”

he gave her a sidelong glance, as if deciding whether to answer. “quiet places. like the library.”

“oh, so you did like the library,” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

he shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “i liked that it was quiet.”

“and because it had me,” she joked, “and what else? besides quiet places?”

he was quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to the horizon where the sun hung low, casting long shadows across the field. “baseball,” he said eventually. “obviously.”

“obviously,” she echoed with a playful smile. “what else?”

“you’re really nosy,” he said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“i prefer ‘curious,’” she said with a shrug. “come on, there’s gotta be more to you than baseball and quiet places.”

he didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, she thought he might not answer at all. but then he said, almost reluctantly, “music.”

her eyes lit up. “really? what kind?”

“depends,” he said, turning the ball in his hands. “mostly calm stuff. acoustic, sometimes jazz.”

“same!” she said excitedly, leaning forward. “do you play anything?”

he glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “guitar. a little, a friend is helping me.”

“seriously?” she asked, her excitement growing. “that’s really cool. i tried to play piano in elementary.. but let's just say i'm not too good with two hands and multitasking.”

"well, guess it’s a good thing breathing only takes one set of lungs."

“you're mean.”

“i prefer honest.”

“what about singing?” she asked again, her voice softer now.

he raised an eyebrow. “what about it?”

“do you sing?”

he shook his head. “not really.”

“not really or not at all?”

“not at all,” he said firmly, though there was a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“hm, interesting.” she mumbled under her breath, as he looked at her for a bit, and then stood up, dusting the dirt off his tracks and walking back to the field.

“so, what’s your plan? just… keep throwing balls at a net until sunset?”

“pretty much,” he said, glancing at her. “unless you’ve got a better idea.”

“are you admitting to wanting to be in my company?”

“no, i'm simply taking your offer from yesterday. you know, if i ever need help venturing around.”

“oh, did i say that?”

“you compared yourself to dor-”

“it's a rhetorical question!” her cheeks warmed up, at the realisation of her random 'boldness' from the previous day.

“but.. fair enough,” she shrugged, “in that case, i might have a better idea or a few.” she said, her grin widening mischievously.

he raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but willing to entertain her suggestion. “oh yeah? let’s hear it.”

“well, it’s not much of a plan yet,” she admitted, resting her chin on her knees. “but you could hang out with your beloved library-worker-plus-her-who's-mysteriously-at-the-field-every-day-now-turned-friend, later. you know, after you’re done being all serious and athletic.”

he paused, the ball in his hand, and looked at her fully for a moment. “hang out?”

“yeah,” she said casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “you’re bored and free, i’m bored and free… why not?”

he considered her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “you’re pretty straightforward, you know that?”

she grinned, unfazed. “pretty? check. straightforward? definitely check. so yeah, what do you say?”

“i’ll think about it,” he said, turning back to the net.

“wow,” she said, pretending to be offended. “that’s the most noncommittal answer and rejection i’ve ever heard.”

he smirked slightly, not looking at her. “better than a no.”

“fine.” she said with a shrug, leaning back on her hands.

they fell into a comfortable silence after that, the rhythmic thwack of the ball hitting the net filling the air. the sun hung lower in the sky now, casting long shadows across the field and painting everything in shades of gold and orange.

eventually, the guy had straightened up, stretching his arms over his head. He glanced over at y/n, who was still sitting in the grass, absentmindedly twisting a strand of hair around her finger as she watched the sky.

“you’re still here,” he said, his tone more surprised than accusatory.

“oh you're done!” she replied, smiling up at him. “and yeah, of course, i was waiting for your answer.”

he shook his head slightly, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “you're not gonna leave unless i say no, are you?”

“glad to know you're catching up! but i know you were never gonna say no, if you had a choice too.” her face lit up instantly, her grin so bright it could’ve rivaled the setting sun. “i promise i won’t be too annoying, by the way.”

“somehow, i don’t believe that,” he said, though there was no real bite to his words.

she laughed, springing to her feet and brushing the grass off her skirt. “you’ll survive. come on, let’s go, baseball boy.”

he rolled his eyes but followed her off the field, the faintest hint of a smile still lingering on his lips.

“call me a creep,” she said with a grin, glancing back at him as he tried to catch up with her. “but i did see a messy stack of crumpled music sheets under your backpack the other day. so i know you're not good at lying.”

seungmin froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed her words. he stopped walking, turning his head slowly to look at her with a mixture of suspicion and amusement.

“you what?” he asked, voice laced with disbelief but not quite sharp.

y/n stopped a few paces ahead of him, spinning around to face him with an innocent shrug and a playful grin. “you heard me.” she leaned slightly toward him as if to emphasize her point.

he blinked at her, “you really are a creep.”

“hey!” she exclaimed, laughing as she placed a hand over her chest in mock offense. “i wasn’t snooping or anything. i just.. happened to see it while you were busy.”

“you just happened to notice crumpled music sheets under my backpack? that’s oddly specific.”

“call it observational skills,” she said matter-of-factly, tilting her head as she smiled at him again. “besides, you’re dodging the point.”

“which is?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“you’re not good at lying,” she said, her tone teasing but her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “you said you didn’t play anything? but clearly, you’ve got something going on with music.”

he stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. she could tell he was debating whether or not to admit anything. finally, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked off to the side while they walked slower.

“it’s not a big deal,” he muttered, his voice quieter now.

she raised an eyebrow, her grin softening into something more genuine. “clearly, it’s a big enough deal that you’re hiding it.”

“it’s just.. something i mess around with sometimes,” he said, still avoiding her gaze. “nothing serious.”

“mess around with?” she echoed, “like ..writing? playing? singing?”

“all of the above,” he admitted reluctantly, his voice barely audible.

“that's really cool, you know.”

“it’s not,” he said quickly, looking genuinely embarrassed now. “it’s just something i do when i’m bored.”

“doesn’t matter,” she said with a shake of her head. “it’s still cool. and honestly, it makes so much sense now.”

“what does?”

“why you’re so good at reading people,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “music’s all about emotions, right? you must have a knack for it.”

he blinked at her, clearly caught off guard by her logic. “…that’s a stretch.”

“is it?” she asked, tilting her head as she looked at him again. “come on, admit it. you’re secretly a genius, aren’t you?”

he rolled his eyes, but there was a faint flush on his cheeks now, barely visible in the dimming light. “you’re really weird, you know that?”

“and you’re really deflecting,” she said, grinning as she nudged his arm with her shoulder.

silence. the field was quiet, as the pair finally exited through the rusty old gates.

“i’m not hiding it or anything,” he said after a long pause. “it’s just something i don’t really talk about. that’s all.”

she nodded, her smile softening into something more understanding. “i get it. but for the record, i think it's a great hobby. you don’t have to hide it around me.”

he glanced at her then, his expression unreadable for a moment before he let out a quiet chuckle.

the walk was simple. the quiet of the small town wrapping around them like a warm blanket. the golden-orange glow of streetlights lit up the pathway in patches, casting soft shadows as the two strolled side by side. the occasional passerby—an older man walking his dog or a young couple holding hands—added a gentle hum of life to the evening, but it was mostly just the two of them.

y/n kicked at a stray pebble on the sidewalk, the sound of it skittering ahead breaking the silence. she looked over at seungmin, who was walking with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed but his face unreadable.

“you walk like you have all the time in the world.”

he raised an eyebrow at her. “and you walk like you’re about to challenge someone to a race.”

“funny you should say that,” she grinned, already picking up her pace. “because i was just thinking—”

“y/n, no,” he said immediately, his tone flat but his eyes narrowing as if he already knew where this was going.

“oh, come on!” she laughed, already a few steps ahead of him now. she spun around to face him, walking backward as she pointed toward the distant outline of the bus stop up ahead. “race you to the bus stop. loser owes the winner a snack!”

“i’m not racing you,” he said, shaking his head.

“scared you’ll lose?” she taunted, her grin widening.

he let out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair. “considering i'm the least athletic, y-” he mumbled to himself.

“fine,” she said, throwing her hands up dramatically. “guess i’ll just win by default, then!”

with that, she turned and took off, her laughter trailing behind her as she sprinted toward the bus stop.

seungmin stood there for a second, watching her with an incredulous look before muttering under his breath, “unbelievable.” despite himself, he started jogging after her, his strides quickly closing the gap between them.

she reached the bus stop just a second before him, her chest heaving as she laughed and turned to face him. “looks like you owe me—”

“nothing,” he interrupted, standing just a few feet away, barely out of breath. “you cheated.”

“what?” she exclaimed, her hands flying to her hips. “how did i cheat?”

“you gave yourself a head start,”

“excuses, excuses,” she said, waving him off as she leaned against the bus stop pole. “a loss is a loss, seungmin.”

before he could reply, the bus pulled up, its headlights cutting through the dim light. the doors hissed open, and y/n wasted no time, darting inside with the same energy as before. “i call the window seat!” she called over her shoulder.

seungmin followed her at a more relaxed pace, shaking his head. “you’re a child,” he muttered as he climbed the steps.

“aren't we all?”

inside, the bus was mostly empty, save for a small group of middle schoolers sitting near the front. they were chatting animatedly, their voices a mix of excitement and laughter. she had already claimed her spot by the window, her bag plopped down on her lap as she looked out at the darkening sky.

“don’t just stand there,” she said, looking up at him with a teasing smile. “sit.”

he sighed, sliding into the seat beside her. “you’re really full of energy today.”

“always am,” she replied cheerfully, leaning her head against the window as the bus started moving.

the middle schoolers noticed them then, their curious eyes flicking toward the older pair. one of the boys leaned forward, his face lighting up as he addressed the girl. “are you guys dating?”

seungmin nearly choked on his own breath, his head snapping toward the kid in disbelief.

y/n, however, paused, then shaking her head and senses back. “we’re friends.”

“really?” the boy asked, tilting his head. “you look like you’re dating.”

“we’re not,” seungmin said firmly, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness.

another girl from the group leaned in, grinning. “but you’d make a cute couple!”

“i swear, all kids this age only talk about crushes and dating..” he mumbled silently.

“see?” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “even kids think we’re cute together.”

“don’t encourage them.”

she laughed again, turning back to the kids. “what about you guys? why are you out so late?”

“we had cram school,” one of them replied, his tone dramatic. “it’s the worst.”

y/n gasped in mock horror, clasping her hands together. “cram school? at your age? you poor things.”

the kids laughed, clearly enjoying her playful energy. “do you go to uni?” one of the girls asked.

“yup,” she said, nodding. “and i work part-time at the library, too. it’s fun, but uni is… a lot.”

“you work at a library?” the boy from earlier asked. “that’s so cool!”

“not as cool as you think,” she said with a wink. “but it has its moments.”

as the conversation continued, seungmin found himself watching her more than he intended to. the way her eyes lit up as she talked to the kids, the easy way she laughed and made them feel comfortable—it was… nice. she had this warmth about her, this effortless ability to make people smile.

he didn’t realize he was staring until one of the kids pointed at him. “what about you, mister? what do you do?”

“baseball,” he said simply, his gaze flicking away from her as he addressed the group.

“whoa, really? are you on a team?”

“not really an official one,” he said, his tone calm but polite. “but it's with my uni friends.”

“that’s so cool!” the kids chorused, their admiration genuine.

“looks like you’ve got some fans.”

he rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at his lips. “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“absolutely,”

as the bus continued down the quiet streets, the group fell into a comfortable rhythm, the kids’ chatter filling the space. and though seungmin wasn’t much of a talker, he found himself joining in, answering their questions and even cracking a joke or two.

she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her smile softening as she watched him interact with the kids. for someone who claimed to be reserved, he had a way of connecting with people when he let his guard down.

by the time the bus reached their stop, the middle schoolers waved goodbye with big smiles, their energy still high.

“see you around!” one of them called as they hopped off.

“bye!” y/n had replied, waving back enthusiastically.

as the two of them stepped off the bus, the quiet of the town greeted them once more. she stretched her arms above her head, a content sigh escaping her lips. “come on,” she skipped quickly.

“so,” seungmin said, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and giving her a skeptical look. “where exactly are we going? you never actually said. are you sure you’re not kidnapping me?”

“if i were kidnapping you, wouldn’t i have tied you up and thrown you in the bus trunk or something?”

he tilted his head, pretending to think. “you’ve clearly never kidnapped anyone before. that’s not how it works.”

“oh, you’re an expert now?” she shot back, her grin widening as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“i’ve watched enough movies to know you’re doing it wrong,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching upward.

“good to know.” she gave him a mock salute before skipping a little farther down the street. “come on! i know a great street food cart around here. you’re not afraid of trying new things, are you?”

he raised an eyebrow as he followed her. “i think i’ll survive. lead the way, sunshine.”

they stopped at a small street food cart nestled on a quiet corner, the warm smell of grilled meat and savory spices filling the air. a cheerful elderly vendor greeted them with a smile, his weathered hands busy flipping skewers on the grill. the small counter was lined with colorful condiments, sauces, and steaming bowls of rice.

“ah, young love!” the vendor teased as they approached. “out for a date, y/n?”

y/n's cheeks flushed, but she recovered quickly, laughing as she leaned her elbows on the counter. “not a date. just two people enjoying good food.”

“hmm, that’s what they all say,” the man said with a wink, handing her a menu.

seungmin sighed, shaking his head. “we’re not—”

“shh,” she interrupted, whispering, nudging him with her elbow. “let the man think what he wants. who knows, we might even get a discount.”

he gave her a look but didn’t argue, instead glancing at the menu she was holding. “what’s good here?”

“everything,” she said with a grin, handing it to him. “but if i had to pick, the japchae and chicken skewers are my favorites.”

he nodded, ordering exactly what she suggested while y/n added a few other things to their order. as they waited, she leaned back against the cart, looking up at the star-dotted sky.

“you’re not from around here, are you?” seungmin asked suddenly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

she shook her head, still gazing upward. “nope.. well not exactly. had to move here after elementary. my grandparents live here, though. i’ve been staying with them.”

“must be nice,” he said, his tone soft. “having family nearby.”

she smiled at that, turning to face him. “yeah. they’re great. super nosy, though. if they knew i was out with you right now, they’d probably be interrogating me over dinner later.”

“oh, so i’m a topic of conversation now?” he teased, one corner of his mouth quirking up.

“only because they’re obsessed with matchmaking,” she replied, rolling her eyes fondly. “they're caring, though. they just.. want me to be happy.”

he studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering on the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. “you seem happy.”

“i try to be,” she said simply, her voice quiet but steady, though there was an unfamiliar flicker in her eyes as she blinked it away. “life’s too short not to find little things to smile about, you know?”

before he could respond, the vendor handed them their food, and y/n immediately brightened, clapping her hands together. “perfect timing! let’s eat.”

they found a bench nearby, the soft glow of a lamppost casting a golden halo over their little spot. she handed him his share of the food before digging into her own, her face lighting up with every bite.

“this is so good,” she said around a mouthful of cold noodles, earning a laugh from seungmin.

“you’ve got sauce on your face,” he pointed out, gesturing to the corner of his own mouth.

“where?” she asked, swiping at her face with her sleeve.

“other side,” he said, leaning forward slightly. when she still missed it, he sighed, pulling a napkin from the bag and reaching over to wipe it off himself. “honestly, you’re worse than a kid.”

she froze for a second, her cheeks warming as his fingers brushed her skin. “thanks,” she mumbled, her voice softer than usual.

he pulled back quickly, clearing his throat as he sat up straighter. “you’re welcome.”

they ate in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the town around them—distant conversations, the hum of passing cars—filling the gaps. every now and then, seungmin would glance at her out of the corner of his eye, watching the way her face lit up as she talked about her favorite foods or how she waved enthusiastically at strangers passing by.

“you’re really… outgoing,” he said finally, his tone thoughtful.

“is that a bad thing?”

“no,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “it’s just.. different. in a good way.”

her smile softened, and she looked down at her hands. “thanks. i think?”

he shrugged, taking another bite of his food. “don’t let it go to your head.”

she laughed, the sound light and musical, and he found himself smiling despite himself. for someone so different from him, she was surprisingly easy to be around.

she leaned back on the bench, her chopsticks idly stirring the remaining japchae sauce in her container. her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she turned toward seungmin, who was quietly munching on a chicken skewer.

“so,” she began, her tone playful yet pointed. “you said you did play the guitar right?”

he paused mid-bite, his brows furrowing slightly as he glanced at her. “why does it sound like an interrogation?”

“because it is,” she replied, grinning. “i mean, you didn’t mention it until i asked you. oh and what’s the deal with the music sheets under your backpack the other day? planning to start a band or something?”

he huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “hardly. i’m just.. messing around. nothing serious.”

“messing around?” she echoed, her head tilting slightly as she scrutinized him. “come on, min. you don’t just carry music sheets around for no reason. what are you working on?”

he shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze by focusing on the skewer in his hand. “i’m not working on anything. i just play a little when i have time. that’s all.”

she squinted at him, clearly unconvinced. “you’re being suspiciously vague.”

“maybe because there’s nothing more to say,” he countered, raising an eyebrow at her.

“oh, there’s definitely more to say,” she retorted, leaning closer as if trying to read his expression better. “do you write songs? or are you just playing covers? be honest—are you secretly a rockstar?”

he rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “definitely not a rockstar. and no, i’m not writing songs. i barely know enough to play properly as it is.”

“barely know enough?” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “you strike me as the type who’d quietly get really good at something and then pretend you’re just ‘okay’ at it.”

he let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “i’m really not that good. i’m just learning the basics. chords, strumming patterns, that kind of stuff.”

“that’s still cool,” she said earnestly, her face softening. “everyone starts somewhere. are you teaching yourself?”

“yeah,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “i found an old guitar in the storage room at home and thought i’d give it a try. it’s.. relaxing.”

she smiled at that, leaning back against the bench. “music is good for that. it’s like.. this little world you can escape to, you know?”

“music is.. kind of magic, don’t you think?” she said, her voice tinged with awe. “like, it’s not just sounds. it’s emotion. it’s stories. it’s—” she paused, searching for the right word, “—connection. you can listen to a song in a language you don’t even understand, and still feel it. isn’t that amazing? like, how can a few notes and some words make you feel like that?”

she tilted her head back, staring up at the sky as she continued, her voice softening but growing no less passionate. “and it’s not just the big, dramatic moments, either. it’s the little ones, like how a single chord can make your chest ache, or how a melody can take you back to a memory you thought you’d forgotten. it’s so… alive. like it has this way of pulling you in, making you feel something you didn’t even know you were missing.”

he had just been listening, watching her as she spoke, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“and it’s so personal,” she said, her voice quieter now. “everyone has their own song, you know? something that feels like it’s just for them, like it knows them in a way no one else does. that’s what i love about it. music isn’t just one thing. it’s so many things, all at once. it’s chaos and comfort and beauty and sadness. it’s… everything.”

she exhaled, a small, almost sheepish smile crossing her face as she looked at him. “sorry, i’m rambling. i just—when i think about it, i can’t help it. it’s like… music’s the closest thing we have to magic.”

he glanced at her, surprised by how sincere she sounded. it was quiet for a moment, until he spoke. “do you?”

“hm?” that had gotten her attention, though the air felt slightly thicker now.

“i mean, you said earlier that you can't multitask. despite how hard i find it to believe- what i meant to ask was if you sang.. or tried playing after that or not.”

the girl only shifted her gaze and paused for a bit, exhaling as she smiled briefly again, “i did, try to play the guitar, in middle school. but i just kinda gave up after that,” she chuckled awkwardly. “and as for singing? i just hum here and there, but nothing professional or serious.”

“the way you talk about it says otherwise.”

“how do i talk about it?”

he tilted his head, studying her with an intensity that made her shift slightly in her seat. then, he smiled, soft and a little disbelieving, as if he couldn’t quite figure her out.

“you talk about it like it’s your whole world,” he started, his voice quieter, almost reflective. “like, when you mentioned music, your tone changed. it’s.. different. it’s not just words with you — it’s like your entire energy shifts. you sound so.. alive. like you’re describing something that’s a part of you, something you feel in your bones.”

he paused, glancing down at his hands as if he were trying to piece the rest together. “it’s in the way you look when you talk about it, too. you get this light in your eyes, like you’re remembering something important. like you’re somewhere else entirely—like music isn’t just something you like. it’s something you need. like it’s this space where nothing else matters, you know? like it’s a place that’s just yours.”

she blinked, caught off guard by the weight of his words. he ran a hand through his hair, clearing his throat as though realizing how much he’d said. but then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he continued, his gaze locking onto hers again.

his words hung in the air, heavy and quiet, as if they were something fragile. “am i wrong?” he asked finally, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced that he could be.

“for a baseball guy you're quite the poet.”

“that's not an answer.”

“i didn't mean to answer.”

“well?”

“well what?”

“am i?”

“you're not wrong. but music is just something.. i adore. like everyone else! that's all that there is to it.” she pursed her lips, getting up with the wooden bowl that was once full of japchae, to walk to the stall again and hand it to the man with a smile. seungmin followed shortly after, feeling slightly curious but he shook it off.

“seungmin!” she called out. “come on!”

then they were on the street again. she walked slightly ahead, her steps light and playful, occasionally skipping over cracks in the sidewalk. seungmin followed at a slower, more measured pace, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

“so,” she said, turning her head slightly to glance at him with a bright smile. “since we’re walking and have time, i think we should play twenty questions.”

he raised an eyebrow. “that’s a dangerous game.”

“not if you answer honestly,” she replied with a shrug, her grin widening. “come on, it’ll be fun. i’ll start. what’s your favorite color?”

he paused, thinking. “blue, i guess.”

“safe choice,” she teased. “very original.”

he rolled his eyes. “alright, my turn. why are you always so upbeat?”

“hey, that’s not a yes-or-no question!” she protested, narrowing her eyes playfully.

“neither is ‘what’s your favorite color,’” he pointed out, smirking.

she huffed, crossing her arms as she walked. “fine. i guess i’m just naturally optimistic? or maybe i just don’t see the point in being gloomy all the time. life’s too short to be grumpy.”

“are you calling me grumpy?” he asked, his tone mock-offended.

“well, you are kind of the poster child for ‘brooding baseball guy,’” she quipped, flashing him a cheeky smile.

he let out a short laugh. “i’m not brooding.”

“sure you’re not,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “alright, your turn again.”

he glanced at her, his curiosity piqued. “what made you want to work at the library?”

she tilted her head, thinking. “well, i’ve always loved books. and libraries are… peaceful, you know? there’s something magical about being surrounded by so many stories. plus, it’s a good excuse to read a lot while getting paid for it.”

“that makes sense,” he said, nodding. “what’s your favorite book, then?”

“oh, that’s impossible to answer!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. “there are too many. but if i had to pick.. maybe white nights. classic, romantic, sad. it’s got everything.”

“romantic, hm?” he teased, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

she shot him a look. “don’t make fun of me! it’s a great book.”

“i’m not making fun,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “i just didn’t take you for a romantic. or someone who liked reading sad love stories.”

“well you'll be surprised,” she said. “i like reading everything. it's art. whether sad, or happy, or anything else.”

he noticed the shift in her tone and decided not to press further. instead, he changed the subject. “alright, my turn again. what’s something most people don’t know about you?”

she thought for a moment, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. “i have a terrible sense of direction. like, really bad. if i didn’t have my phone, i’d probably get lost on my way home.”

he snorted. “good to know. i’ll make sure to never follow you if we’re lost.”

“rude,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. “my turn. same question. what’s something most people don’t know about you?”

he hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground. “well, most people don’t know that i’ve always wanted a pet, like a dog. a big one. like, a golden retriever or something.” he chuckled softly at the thought. “my friends say i resemble a dog. but can't put up with one. i guess it’s kind of random, but i don’t know. i’ve always imagined having a dog, like, after i’m out of school, you know? just someone to come home to, someone who’s always excited to see me.”

he paused, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “but i never really had the chance to get one, with school and everything. plus, i’m always busy with baseball or music, and i feel like i’d end up neglecting it. so… it’s one of those things that kind of stayed on the back burner.”

she had been watching him intently, her gaze fixed on him for a moment longer than usual. he didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in his own thoughts.

“hmm,” she said, breaking the silence with a light laugh. “you’d be a good pup owner, i think. you seem like the type.”

he raised an eyebrow at her, the mischievous grin returning. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

she just shrugged, her lips curling into a smile. “nothing, just.. you’ve got this calm about you. i don’t know. you’d probably spoil it.”

his grin widened, but he didn’t reply right away. instead, he sat back and looked up at the sky, clearly lost in his own thoughts for a moment.

“i see it though.”

he raises an eyebrow.

“the resemblance of you, physically, and in another way, to a dog.” she spoke, her gaze tracing his features. “you might seem mysterious to a stranger, and me, sadly, but i get a feeling you're really happy and playful around people you're close with.”

“and as for physically, when you walk like this, your hair jumps and it actually looks like puppy ears. overall your face, especially with that wide smile that you try to avoid in front of me,” she laughed, “makes you seem more like a dog. playful. familiar. friendly.. and comforting.”

he stared at her, stunned into silence for a moment. her words had caught him completely off guard, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. finally, he let out a laugh—soft, genuine, and a little disbelieving.

“well, that’s… definitely not what i expected to hear today,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks. “i don’t know if i should be offended or flattered.”

“flattered,” she replied without missing a beat, a playful glint in her eyes. “dogs are great!”

“i can’t believe you just compared me to a dog. you’re really out here calling me mysterious and playful in the same sentence.”

“it’s true, though,” she insisted, crossing her arms with a smug grin. “i’m pretty good at reading people.”

“clearly,” he said, his tone teasing, though there was a warmth in his gaze as he looked at her. then, after a pause, he added, “you know, no one’s ever said anything like that about me before. it’s.. weirdly nice to hear.”

she tilted her head, her smile softening. “you’re welcome.”

he chuckled again, shaking his head. “alright, since you’re so good at reading people, what does that make you?”

her eyes lit up at the challenge, but she hesitated for a moment, her expression growing thoughtful. “hmm.. i guess you’ll just have to figure that out for yourself,” she said with a sly smile, leaving him to wonder as she walked further and quicker, the conversation still lingering between them.

they walked in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly. the quiet of the town felt almost intimate, like they were the only two people in the world.

“where are we going?” he finally asked, watching as she spun around to face him briefly, walking backward with an impish grin.

“you’ll see,” she replied, her voice sing-song. “it’s a surprise.”

“i don’t like surprises,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.

“well, you’ll like this one,” she countered, skipping ahead. “trust me.”

the library loomed ahead, its lights dimmed, the glass doors reflecting the moonlight. seungmin frowned. “wait. isn’t the library closed?”

“of course, it is,” she said casually, fishing a key out of her pocket. “but i work here, remember?”

“that doesn’t sound very legal, miss librarian.”

she laughed softly, “relax, mr. rule follower. felix closed up about half an hour ago, and i have permission to be here after hours. perks of the job.”

“okay,” she said, breaking the silence. “last question before we get there. what’s your happiest memory?”

he looked at her, caught off guard by the question. “happiest memory? that’s a tough one.”

“well, think about it,” she urged, her voice soft but insistent. “it doesn’t have to be big. just something that made you really happy.”

he thought for a moment, his gaze distant. “probably my first baseball game as a kid. my dad and grandpa took me. i remember the crowd, the excitement, the smell of popcorn. it was perfect.”

she smiled warmly. “that sounds amazing. thanks for sharing.”

he glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “what about you? what’s your happiest memory?”

she paused, her steps slowing. “probably… baking cookies with my mom when i was little. she’d let me lick the spoon, and we’d make such a mess, but it was always so much fun.”

her voice had taken on a wistful tone, and he found himself studying her face, the way her eyes softened with the memory.

“you’re really close to your mom, huh?” he asked gently.

“yeah,” she said softly, her smile bittersweet, as she didn't say more.

before he could say anything else, she stopped abruptly and turned to him with a grin. “we’re here.”

he looked up, realizing they had arrived at the library. the sight of it felt almost surreal in the quiet of the night.

“come on,” she said, pulling out her key and unlocking the door. “i’ve got something to show you.”

he followed her inside, the familiar scent of books and polished wood enveloping them. the quiet was even deeper now, the kind of silence that felt sacred. she flipped on a small desk lamp near the entrance, its warm glow casting long shadows across the shelves.

“you said you write and like literature, right? so what made you start writing in the first place?” seungmin asks her.

she paused mid-step as they walked through the library aisle, the soft glow of her phone flashlight illuminating the dust particles that floated lazily in the air. she turned her head to glance at seungmin, her expression thoughtful, as if the question had unlocked a memory she hadn’t revisited in a while.

“wow,” she said, breaking into a small smile, “that’s a deep question. you’re really pulling out the big guns tonight.”

seungmin leaned casually against the nearest bookshelf, crossing his arms with a faint smirk. “what can i say? i’m curious. you seem like the type who’d have a good story behind it.”

“flattery will get you nowhere,” she teased, sticking her tongue out at him. but then her expression softened as she considered his question more seriously. “i guess… it all started when i was little. mum loved stories. she’d always read to me before bed—fairy tales, myths, even poems sometimes. and she’d make up her own stories too, ones that no one else could tell like she did.”

seungmin nodded, his gaze steady on her as she spoke. he didn’t interrupt, sensing there was more to this than just bedtime stories.

“she had this way of making the ordinary feel magical,” she continued, her voice quieter now, as if she were speaking more to herself than to him. “when i was about seven, i remember her telling me that everyone has a story worth sharing. that stuck with me. writing became my way of… i don’t know, capturing moments, feelings, the things i was afraid i’d forget.”

there was a brief silence, the kind that felt heavy but not uncomfortable. seungmin tilted his head slightly, his voice softer than usual. “and you still feel that way. that everyone has a story.”

she turned to him fully, her lips curving into a small, sincere smile. “yeah, i do. even if someone thinks their life is boring or unimportant, there’s always something unique about how they see the world. i think that’s worth writing down.”

his expression shifted slightly, his usual neutral demeanor replaced with something warmer, more introspective. “that’s… a nice way to look at it.”

she chuckled lightly, breaking the intensity of the moment. “you sound surprised.”

“i’m not,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “it just makes sense. it sounds like you.”

she blinked, taken aback for a second, before a faint flush crept up her cheeks. “well, thanks, i guess. so, mr. musician slash baseball guy, your turn. what made you pick up the guitar?” she said, still walking around the dark library, slowly, as he followed behind.

seungmin shifted his weight, suddenly looking a little sheepish. “honestly? i think it started because i wanted to impress someone.”

she raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “oh? do tell.”

he let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “it’s not that exciting. back in middle school, i had this.. huge crush on someone. she played piano, and i thought maybe if i learned guitar, we could do some duet thing.”

she burst into laughter, the sound light and infectious. “that’s so cute! did it work?”

“not at all,” he admitted, his own laugh mingling with hers. “i was terrible back then. and she moved schools before i even got the courage to play in front of her.”

she grinned at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “well, at least you stuck with it. now you’re here, a brooding baseball player with a secret musical side. very intriguing.”

“brooding again?” he teased, narrowing his eyes at her playfully.

“hey, it’s your aesthetic,” she said with a mock-serious shrug. “don’t fight it.”

they both laughed, the sound echoing softly through the quiet library. after a moment, she nudged his arm. “but seriously, i think it’s cool that you play. even if you started for, uh, questionable reasons.”

“questionable?” he repeated, pretending to be offended.

“okay, fine, romantic reasons,” she corrected, grinning. “but you must’ve kept playing for more than just that, right?”

he hesitated, looking down at the worn wooden floor beneath them. “yeah. after a while, it stopped being about anyone else. i started to enjoy it for what it was. there’s something calming about it, you know? like it’s just you and the music.”

her smile softened, her voice gentle. “i get that. music has a way of making everything else disappear, even if it’s just for a little while.”

her back and his chest collided suddenly, when she paused her footsteps to look around. their eyes met briefly, and for a moment, the space between them felt charged with an unspoken understanding. then she cleared her throat, breaking the moment with a grin. “alright, enough with the deep talk. we’re here.”

she gestured to a row of shelves, her excitement bubbling up again. seungmin watched as she reached up, pulling down a few old, dusty books and placing them on a nearby table, after turning the lights on.

“these,” she said, running her fingers over the faded covers, “belonged to my mom. she loved music almost as much as she loved literature.”

he approached the table, his curiosity evident as he looked at the books. “why are you showing me this?”

“because,” she said, her tone soft but earnest, “you’re still learning, right? these might help. and i don’t know, it just felt right to share them with you.”

seungmin glanced at her, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “bold of you to assume i'm gonna take something that belongs to someone who has more passion for music than i do.”

“bold of you to assume i'm letting you leave without it.”

she smiled, softly. “these books, seungmin, helped her a lot. now, it's no use to her because she's learnt all from them. so, giving this to you seems as the best option, especially when compared to letting them catch dust in these shelves.”

seungmin picked up one of the books, flipping through the yellowed pages. the notes in the margins and the slight creases on the edges gave it a sense of history. he hesitated, then glanced back at her. “you know, you make it sound like this is some kind of inheritance or something. like i’m supposed to treat this like a family heirloom.”

she chuckled lightly. “well, maybe it is, in a way. but if anyone’s going to appreciate it, i figured it’d be you.”

he tilted his head, giving her a curious look. “why me? there are probably a hundred other people who’d jump at the chance to take something like this. people who might actually deserve it.”

her gaze softened as she met his eyes. “because you care,” she said simply. “even if you try to hide it, i can see it. music means something to you. and i think that’s enough of a reason.”

he looked at her for a moment, the words sinking in. then, with a small smirk, he set the book back on the table. “you’re really good at guilt-tripping, you know that?”

“it’s not guilt-tripping!” she said, crossing her arms with a playful smile. “it’s… persuasion.”

seungmin let out a breath, shaking his head in amusement. “fine. but only if you let me return them when i’m done. deal?”

“deal,” she said, her smile widening. “but i don’t think you’ll want to give them back. just saying.”

he laughed, picking up the book again and tucking it under his arm. “you really don’t let people argue with you, do you?”

“not when i know i’m right,” she quipped, earning a small shake of his head and a smile as he started for the door.

“hey,” he softly reached out, “thank you.”

she turned to him, her grin returning. “you’re welcome. but you owe me now.”

he chuckled softly, shaking his head. “what do i owe you?”

“hmmm,” she pretended to think. “how about.. a song? once you learn something new from these books, you have to play it for me.”

his lips quirked up in a small, reluctant smile. “deal.”

seungmin carried the stack of books they’d borrowed from the library, his expression as neutral as ever, but there was an unmistakable warmth to his presence. she walked beside him, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, her usual smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“thanks for helping me with the books,” she said, glancing sideways at him.

“no problem,” he replied casually. then, after a beat, he smirked. “i mean, it’s only fair since you’re sharing your mom’s secret stash with me.”

she chuckled, bumping her shoulder lightly against his. “it’s not really a ‘secret stash.’ it’s just stuff that mattered to her. stuff that matters to me.”

he looked at her, his gaze softer now. “that’s what makes it important.”

her steps faltered slightly, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. she recovered quickly, brushing it off with a small laugh. “look at you, mr. philosophical. spending time with me is really rubbing off on you, huh?”

“i think i deserve some credit,” he teased. “i was already pretty deep before.”

“sure,” she said with exaggerated skepticism. “if by ‘deep,’ you mean good at dodging questions about yourself.”

“i answer questions,” he defended, raising an eyebrow at her.

“uh-huh,” she shot back, grinning. “vague answers don’t count.”

their banter was interrupted by the sound of excited chatter. up ahead, near an open lot, a group of kids and a few elderly folks were gathered, their laughter mingling with the occasional crackle of fireworks. sparklers lit up the night, little bursts of light spinning in the hands of children as they ran around, their faces glowing with pure joy.

she slowed her pace, her eyes lighting up as she took in the scene. “oh, that looks so fun.”

“really?” seungmin asked, raising an eyebrow as he followed her gaze. “it’s just sparklers.”

“just sparklers?” she echoed, feigning offense. “excuse me, but sparklers are the most magical thing ever. you clearly don’t understand their charm.”

before he could respond, one of the kids noticed them and waved enthusiastically. “noona! hyung! do you want to play with us?”

her face broke into a wide grin. “of course! seungmin, come on!”

he hesitated, looking a little awkward. “i don’t think—”

“don’t think, just come,” she interrupted, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward the group. he stumbled slightly but didn’t resist, letting her drag him along.

the kids and elders greeted them warmly, handing them sparklers and showing them where to place their books and bags safely away from the fireworks. y/n immediately lit her sparkler, holding it up and twirling it around with a delighted laugh.

“see?” she said, looking over at seungmin. “magic.”

he couldn’t help but smile at her, even as he reluctantly lit his own sparkler. “if you say so.”

“come on, you have to at least try to have fun,” she teased, stepping closer to him. “look, like this.” she moved her arm in a sweeping motion, drawing a glowing pattern in the air with her sparkler. “isn’t it pretty?”

he watched her, his sparkler momentarily forgotten in his hand. the orange-golden light reflected in her eyes, her face alight with joy. she looked so completely in her element, like the world around her had faded away, and she was just… glowing.

“you’re staring,” one of the elders said suddenly, catching him off guard. his tone was teasing, and his cheeks flushed as he was caught.

“a-ah sorry. i wasn’t,” he lied, quickly focusing on his sparkler. “i was just lost.. in thought!”

“you seem to have feelings for her, don't you?” the ahjussi asked.

“we're just friends.”

“that's what they all say, kid,” the ahjussi laughed, “and that's what i said when i met her, too.” he pointed towards a lady of the same age as him. “she was, is, and always will be everything to me.”

seungmin only glanced between them, gaze softening, and the moment being interrupted by y/n's voice.

“seungmin!” she called, giggling with the kids, “look! we fused all the colors of all the sparklers together and it made a rainbow!”

seungmin could only stare at her with a smile.

“good luck, kid.”

one of the kids ran up to them, holding out a small box of colorful sparklers. “noona, hyung! these ones make a big circle when you spin them really fast!”

y/n took one eagerly, thanking the child before lighting it and spinning it around. she let out a delighted laugh as it created a bright, shimmering circle in the air. “seungmin, try it!”

he took one reluctantly, lighting it and attempting the same motion. his first try was clumsy, earning a giggle from her.

“okay, that was terrible,” she said, stepping closer. “here, let me show you.”

before he could protest, she reached out, her hand brushing against his as she guided his arm. “like this,” she said, her voice softer now. the proximity between them suddenly felt charged, the air around them growing quieter despite the noise of the sparklers and laughter.

he followed her lead, their hands moving together in a smooth arc. the sparkler drew a perfect circle in the air, its light casting a warm glow over their faces.

“there,” she said, her smile bright and triumphant. “much better.”

“thanks to you,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

their eyes met for a moment, the sparkler’s glow reflecting in both their gazes. it was one of those moments where time seemed to slow, the world around them fading into the background.

then, one of the kids yelled, “noona, hyung! look at this!” breaking the spell. she stepped back, laughing nervously as she turned to watch the child show off their new sparkler trick.

seungmin exhaled softly, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched her. even in the chaos of sparklers and children’s laughter, she was like a beacon of light, drawing everyone—and him—toward her.

as the night wore on, they stayed with the group, laughing, playing, and creating memories under the starry sky. and though neither of them said it out loud, they both knew this evening would stay with them for a long, long time.

and maybe, just maybe, something shifted in the quiet corners of both their hearts that night.

taglists ୨୧ (mt) @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @woozarts (st) @vixensss @miyeonna

!! please let me know under this chapter post, or this one, if i forgot you in the taglist, my inactivity made me lose track, i'm really sorry !!

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