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GLORIOUS ANGELS - Lyrics + Translation
Please do not repost/retranslate without permission.
Kanji:
(Glorious angels...)
(Glorious angels...)
(Glorious angels...)
(We gotta love and cherish you)
(We'll make your dream)
【Ei】 It's bright広がる光へと
伸ばすこの手に掴む為に
【Va】 So hot滾ったこのエモーション
常に限界に近づけてたい
【Ya】 It's brave傷が増える程に強く
耐える度に瘡蓋へと変わり
【Ki】 Completeきっとユートピアへと開く扉の鍵に
【Ng】 Glorious angels
【Ej】 この身体この唇
【Sh】 髪も目も指先まで
【Ng】 喜び震えた時の
【Ei】 感情の
【Sh】 全部も
【All】 君だけの為に捧げよう…Ah
【All】 孤独と孤高の意味を履き違えるな
「苦しみ」さえ一人じゃない
登って掴んで見せたい景色がある
一番高い場所で
君とKissをしたい
【Ei】 It's pride「変化を恐れない」
そこに留まるだけじゃ駄目と
【Va】 So cool全力で生きながら
凛と背中を見せてゆきたい
【Ya】 It's rule衝動が剥き出すままでいい
明日に晒し信念を貫こう
【Ki】 All right渇き疼いたハート 求めるまま歌おう
【Ng】 Glorious angels
【Ej】 い��もその冒険には
【Sh】 いつだって隣にいて
【Ng】 包むような幸せと
【Ei】 笑顔と
【Sh】 希望を
【All】 教えてくれる君がいた…Ah
【All】 奇跡よ輝け大空越えて超えて
歌の翼よ羽ばたけ
力よ勇気よ音符に乗せて響け
新たな歴史へと
信じてついてこい
【Sh】 たとえ世界の終焉の日が
【Ng】 もうすぐあると知っても
【Ki】 たとえ声奪われ立てなくて
【Ej】 涙すら枯れる日も
【Ya】 誰かが誰かの羽根になって
【Va】 欠けることなく魅せようか
【Ei】 天国-HE★VENS-の名の元誓う…Ah
【All】 孤独と孤高の意味を履き違えるな
「苦しみ」さえ一人じゃない
愛され愛して愛だと言える永遠(とき)を
共に抱き締めよう
【All】 奇跡よ輝け大空越えて超えて
歌の翼よ羽ばたけ
力よ勇気よ音符に乗せて響け
新たな歴史へと
信じてついてこい
Rōmaji:
(Glorious angels...)
(Glorious angels...)
(Glorious angels...)
(We gotta love and cherish you)
(We'll make your dream)
【Ei】 It’s bright hirogaru hikari e to nobasu kono te ni tsukamu tame ni
【Va】 So hot tagitta kono emōshon tsuneni genkai ni chikadzuketetai
【Ya】 It’s brave kizu ga fueru hodo ni tsuyoku taeru tabi ni kasabuta e to kawari
【Ki】 Complete kitto yūtopia e to hiraku tobira no kagi ni
【Ng】 Glorious angels
【Ej】 Kono karada kono kuchibiru
【Sh】 Kami mo me mo yubisaki made
【Ng】 Yorokobi furueta toki no
【Ei】 Kanjō no
【Sh】 Zenbu mo
【All】 Kimi dake no tame ni sasageyou… Ah
【All】 Kodoku to kokō no imi o hakichigaeru na
“Kurushimi” sae hitorijanai
Nobotte tsukande misetai keshiki ga aru
Ichiban takai basho de
Kimi to Kiss o shitai
【Ei】 It’s pride “henka o osorenai” soko ni todomaru dake ja dame to
【Va】 So cool zenryoku de iki nagara rinto senaka o misete yukitai
【Ya】 It’s rule shōdō ga mukidasu mama de ī asu ni sarashi shin'nen o tsuranukou
【Ki】 All right kawaki uzuita hāto motomeru mama utaou
【Ng】 Glorious angels
【Ej】 Itsumo sono bōken ni wa
【Sh】 Itsu datte tonari ni ite
【Ng】 Tsutsumu yō na shiawase to
【Ej】 Egao to
【Sh】 Kibō o
【All】 Oshietekureru kimi ga ita… Ah
【All】 Kiseki yo kagayake ōzora koete koete
Uta no tsubasa yo habatake
Chikara yo yūki yo onpu ni nosete hibike
Arata na rekishi e to
Shinjite tsuite koi
【Sh】 Tatoe sekai no shūen no hi ga
【Ng】 Mō sugu aru to shitte mo
【Ki】 Tatoe koe ubaware tatenakute
【Ej】 Namida sura kareru hi mo
【Ya】 Dareka ga dareka no hane ni natte
【Va】 Kakeru koto naku miseyou ka
【Ei】 -HE★VENS- no na no moto chikau… Ah
【All】 Kodoku to kokō no imi o hakichigaeru na
“Kurushimi” sae hitorijanai
Aisare aishite ai da to ieru toki o
Tomo ni dakishimeyou
【All】 Kiseki yo kagayake ōzora koete koete
Uta no tsubasa yo habatake
Chikara yo yūki yo onpu ni nosete hibike
Arata na rekishi e to
Shinjite tsuite koi
Translation:
(Glorious angels…)
(Glorious angels…)
(Glorious angels…)
(We gotta love and cherish you)
(We'll make your dream)
【Ei】 It’s bright, I reach my hand out to the spreading light to grasp it
【Va】 So hot, these emotions that have bubbled up, I want to constantly push them to the limit
【Ya】 It’s brave, I only get stronger the more wounds I bear, and each time they turn into scabs
【Ki】 Complete, surely it’s the key to the door that opens to Utopia
【Ng】 Glorious angels
【Ej】 This body, these lips,
【Sh】 My hair, my eyes, even the tips of my fingers,
【Ng】 All the emotions
【Ei】 I felt when I trembled
【Sh】 With joy
【All】 I’ll dedicate them to you alone… Ah
【All】 Don't mistake the meaning of loneliness and solitude
Even in “suffering”, you’re not alone
There’s a scenery I want to climb up to, grasp and show to you
I want to kiss you
At the highest point
【Ei】 It’s pride, “Don’t be afraid of change”, being stuck on the same place is no good
【Va】 So cool, I want to set an example with dignity while living life to the fullest
【Ya】 It's rule, It’s okay to let your impulses be exposed, let’s bare them tomorrow and stick to our beliefs
【Ki】 All right, let’s sing as our thirsty, aching hearts desire
【Ng】 Glorious angels
【Ej】 You were always by my side
【Sh】 On these adventures,
【Ng】 Always there to wrap me up
【Ei】 In happiness
【Sh】 And smiles,
【All】 And show me hope… Ah
【All】 Shine, miracles! Go across the sky and beyond!
Fly, wings of song!
Power, courage, resound on the musical notes
Believe and follow us
Into a new history
【Sh】 Even if we know that the end of the world
【Ng】 Is just around the corner,
【Ki】 Even if we lose our voices and can't stand up,
【Ej】 And even our tears dry up
【Ya】 Shall we become someone else's wings and
【Va】 And charm them flawlessly?
【Ei】 We swear it in HE★VENS’ name… Ah
【All】 Don't mistake the meaning of loneliness and solitude
Even in “suffering”, you’re not alone
Let's embrace eternity together,
Being loved and loving and calling it love
【All】 Shine, miracles! Go across the sky and beyond!
Fly, wings of song!
Power, courage, resound on the musical notes
Believe and follow us
Into a new history
#uta no prince sama#utapri#translation#english#he★vens#heavens#eiichi otori#kira sumeragi#nagi mikado#eiji otori#van kiryuin#yamato hyuga#shion amakusa#song#live emotion theme song#live emotion
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Utapri Live Emotion release date
It has been confirmed that Live Emotion will release on the 12th of June!
Pre-registration is open now on Google Play and the App Store, but is currently only available for Japanese accounts.
There are also new promotional images featured on the official app and play stores that have hints of new information in them. (Information in Image descriptions and below the read more)
Previously used promotional image featuring all 18 idols and the games logo.
Otoya from a music video without the rhythm game overlay. The Japanese text reads "Idols show off their brilliant performances!"
Images of various alternate rhythm game backgrounds that can be used during gameplay instead of the previously shown cg music video dance backgrounds. Top left shows a similar layout to Shining Live, with a static concert stage background and six rhythm icon lanes. The right shows a backdrop of the full art of the initial Reiji UR Piece with 4 rhythm icon lanes, confirming the amount of lanes will differ between songs, or difficulties. Japanese text reads, "A rhythm game featuring popular songs from Uta no Prince-sama!"
Four images of the chatting screens. One close-up each with Shion, Ranmaru, and Syo, and one with Eiichi central and Nagi, Masato, and Camus in the background. Japanese text reads "Have fun talking with the idols!"
Two images of the story mode. One the left is the main story with Ai, Tokiya, and Eiji, and on the right is likely a private or piece story with Van. The Japanese text reads, "a rich story with 18 idols!"
Two shots of the Piece level up screen, showing Yamato and Cecil URs. The Yamato UR rewards the player with four of a key shaped item with a pink heart crystal and ribbon. Design will likely vary in colour and shape for each character and group. The Japanese text reads, "Let's cultivate fragments of emotions, the Emotional Pieces!"
Image of Minipri, with Ren, Natsuki, and Kira in the same room setup as was initially seen. Japanese text reads, "Decorate your own rooms!"
Image of each group, likely taken from the music video of their group songs from the Live Emotion Theme Song CD.
#live emotion#utapri#uta no prince sama#same release date as the theme song cd by the way#pre-release#announcement
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people look at me like i'm insane when i say danger days is my fav mcr album like... do you have no joy? no whimsy? where is your fun and silliness....
#not to even mention the deeper meaning#and themes#and emotions#that those songs bring to me#smh#danger days#danger days: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys#my chemical romance#my chem#mcr#emo#2000's emo#2000's#scene#killjoys#the true lives of the fabulous killjoys#the fabulous killjoys#mine
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Utapri ♪ Live Emotion Theme Song CD
*New promotional video released and preorder purchase benefits revealed.
youtube
'Live Emotion Theme Song CD' will be released on the 12th of June 2024, and will include three brand new songs: 1. KIR☆MEKI EMOTION - by Starish 2. SONG LETTER - by Quartet Night 3. GLORIOUS ANGELS - by Heavens
Bonuses will be one randomly selected idol card (with a message from the idol on the back) per CD preordered. The randomised card will depend on the version of the CD purchased.
For example, if the Starish version CD is purchased, the random bonus will be randomly selected from the 7 Starish members.
There are further/alternate bonuses depending on the store the CD is purchased from (eligable stores shown on the official website) as well as a limited time campaign for those who purchase through Animate or Broccoli Online between the 4th and 31st of March.
People who purchase from these stores in the alotted time period will have the chance to win either a poster autographed by each of the groups members, or an autographed idol message card.
Further information can be found on the official websites:
☆ Official Live Emotion Teaser Site ☆ Official Live Emotion Twitter ☆ Official Theme Song CD Site
#not shining live#live emotion#theme song cd#god im loving these song previews more than when i first heard them#pay me mr utapri i give you so much free marketing#love you <3 <3#Youtube
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#julie finlay#nick stokes#csi cbs#csi crime scene investigation#elisabeth shue#george eads#grave danger#it’s grave danger day#I debated several things about this post#first I debated even posting it because emotions#second I debated making the gifs brighter so people could actually see them#but kept them dark because theme and aesthetic is what I was going for#this explains why I had Finn and Nick in my head stronger this week#a fic and a gif set in one week#who am I#anyways#happy grave danger day#hozier#work song#this song was probably used for a similar theme in the past#but boy does it fit him well#and third#not everyone likes Finn or even the idea of Finn with Nick#it’s a very niche ship#also TW for violence#cause GD really would need a TW if it aired live today
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#sorry getting overly emotional about sonic game ending themes again. you know how it is#sonic frontiers#sonic frontiers spoilers#sonic frontiers the final horizon#UGHHHHH ITS SO . like for one its already a good song on its own. but also#the way the original version of the song was the theme of the final boss in the ending where sage sacrifices herself#but then it gets repurposed and given new meaning as the ending theme#of the version of the story where she gets to live and go home safe .... oughhh#well she ends up being brought back after the original ending anyway. but still.#also i just really like im with you. like the original version. so hearing the new version at the credits was like ohhh my god. oh my god
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It's a little insane to me that Aircheck keeps winning because while most songs are good on aircheck, I nearly *always* prefer the Live version way more. Maybe it's because my brain considers that the 'real' version of the songs? Idk lol, I guess I just didn't realize how many people preferred aircheck
huh I always think of the aircheck as like the "real" version, I wonder how many people think that? poll time
what gets me though is that the DJ K.K. remix has only come in third and fourth so far, except the DJ K.K. remix of DJ K.K. where it came in second. I feel like more than half my votes go towards DJ K.K. remix and it keeps losing lmao
#generally how I vote is like#song is upbeat and kind of dancey or cool or has weird sounds I pick the aircheck#slow/boring songs I pick DJ#if the music box is kinda creepy I pick music box#or if it sounds like. you know in anime where there's the big triumph theme music#but then there's like a soft version that plays at especially emotional moments#if the music box sounds like that sometimes I vote music box#live I.. don't really ever vote live. I think I've voted for it like twice so far
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well unrelated, have you guys heard anemoia i'm going insane over here
#draco im taking notes from you im using soundcloud this time jdjfjhd#i've had this song on loop ever since the trailer for dream bbq dropped#that and the rise theme 👍 WHY IS IT SO GOOD#anyways HAVE YOU GUYS WATCHED ENA PLEASE WATCH ENA SHE'S GETTING A GAME AND I'M SO EXCITED OH MY GOD#ena is soooooo me-core. character with 0 emotional regulation living in a giant glitch. shs's just like me fr#chat#SoundCloud
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..years ago (2008?), I had a close friend who passed on, and his spouse had that passage from The Velveteen Rabbit read at the funeral
“too much love” - photo sequence by katja kemnitz
#i didn t really know any of his friends and family so there i am fucking BAWLING uglycry by myself in the pews churchychairs#Makin Some Noise while everyone else is keepin it together Itsa me cryEeOh#then afterwards when i went to sit by the river i saw an oriole unusual for that region#emotional support bird#lil orange and oreo lookin flitterbits with their firepoker birdlegs#i have to stop typing tags at some point but then i have to decide if i m going to post this now or queue it hm maybe schedule instead#so give a hug tyer loved ones tell em that you love er cuz thats the way youre living when youre um looking at birds#ahhhh just realized that sfrom the In Living Color sketch show theme song what a journey its been
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Belated extra Mordred birthday post: please god listen to this song this is my very favorite underappreciated power metal band and in my mind heart and soul this is what Dinadan sounds like. Also what Dinadan’s power metal band sounds like. BUT the song is from me to Mordred <3
#they’re sooooo gooooood#genuinely Firmly Grasping the emotional experiences of knights in battles…#listen to Unto the Breach it’s my second favorite!!!!#also Sagaborne and also Pendragon duh the theme song to the nonexistent 80’s animated tv show about Arthur that lives in my heart#also this dude knows what he’s for he knows what he sounds like he gives a motivational speech to his troops during the bridge of one song#ending in HAVE AT THEE!!! HAVE!! AT!! THEE!! bc he’s aware he can make that sound natural 😌#music#Spotify
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The Marriage Bet
Pairings: Best Friend Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Themes: A bet. A bit of comedy but mostly fluff and Bucky treating his woman right ;)
Summary: If in three years time both of you were still single, you will marry your best friend, Bucky. That's the bet.
A/N: For those of you who voted for 'Calm Down, Dad Mode' I've added it to this story. This has got to be my favorite fluff FML. Also let me TELL YOU, the cravings in pregnancy and the emotions are real because I lived it lmao. PART 2
Three Years Ago
"You know what we should do?” Bucky said out of the blue, his gaze fixed on you with a seriousness that made your stomach flip. The two of you had been lounging on his couch for hours, talking about everything and nothing. It was a lazy night filled with laughter, shared memories, and the kind of comfortable silence only you and Bucky knew how to savour.
You glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
“If we’re still single in three years… let’s get married,” he announced, as if it was the most logical suggestion in the world. His tone was light, but there was a quiet intensity in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t joking.
You stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was serious. “Bucky, have you lost your mind?”
“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug, his lips twitching up into that familiar smirk that made your heart skip. “But think about it. No more crappy dates, no more getting your heart broken by idiots who don’t deserve you. Just us. You and me. We already know each other’s worst habits, and we get along. It’d be a good marriage.”
You scoffed, shaking your head. “You make it sound like we’re signing up for a business merger.”
He laughed at that, the sound deep and genuine. “Maybe. But at least you’d know you’re stuck with someone who’s never going to walk out on you. Someone who’d fight for you.”
The way he said it made your throat tighten, and for a second, you allowed yourself to picture it. A life with Bucky, the two of you navigating the ups and downs together. No more failed relationships, no more loneliness. Just the comfort and security of someone who knew you better than anyone else.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” you murmured, still stunned by the idea.
He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah, I am. So, what do you say?”
You hesitated for just a beat, then broke into a grin. “Deal, Barnes. If we’re still single in three years, I’ll marry your crazy ass.”
He grinned back, his hand shooting out to seal the promise with a firm handshake. But as your fingers clasped around his, the energy between you shifted — playful and yet, inexplicably serious.
“Deal,” he echoed softly, a knowing look in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.
× × × ×
Present
You leaned against the railing of the rooftop, your eyes skimming over the city lights below as the faint notes of Taylor Swift’s break-up songs filled the air. You and Bucky had been up here for hours, talking and drinking, the night air crisp against your skin.
It had been a rough few months for you — the breakup still felt fresh, the sting of rejection and disappointment lingering. But being here with Bucky made it easier. He had a way of grounding you, of making you feel like everything would be okay, even when it didn’t seem that way.
“Y’know, you’re the best,” you murmured, your words slurred slightly from the champagne. “I mean it, Buck. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He smiled softly, his gaze warm as he watched you. “Good thing you don’t have to find out, huh?”
You nodded, letting out a sigh as you turned back to the view. “Still, I feel like… I don’t know. Like I’m destined to be alone or something.”
“That’s not true,” he said quietly, setting his glass down and turning to face you fully. “And you know it.”
You shrugged, glancing over at him. “Yeah, well, sometimes it feels like it. Everyone I’ve ever dated just—”
You stopped mid-sentence as Bucky suddenly shifted, reaching into his pocket. Your eyes widened as he pulled out a small blue velvet box and, without hesitation, flipped it open. The soft light of the rooftop glinted off the 1.5-carat diamond ring nestled inside — simple, elegant, and undeniably breathtaking.
“What’s that?” you asked, your breath catching in your throat.
Bucky arched an eyebrow, giving you a pointed look. “An engagement ring, Y/N. What else?”
“Yeah, I know it’s a ring!” you sputtered, your mind reeling. “But why—how—what are you doing with it?”
Bucky sighed, muttering under his breath, “For someone so smart, she really can’t see what’s right in front of her.”
You barely had time to process the words before he got up from his sitting position and slowly knelt down on one knee. The movement made your heart jump into your throat, your breath hitching as he looked up at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.
“I want to marry you, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm and sure. “Not because of some bet or joke we made all those years ago, but because… I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be the one you come home to. The one who makes you laugh when you’re sad. The one who fights for you.”
You felt your chest tighten as the weight of his words sank in, the sincerity in his voice making it almost impossible to breathe. “Bucky… this is—”
“I know this is crazy,” he continued, cutting you off gently, his gaze never leaving yours. “But when have we ever been normal, huh? I’m not asking you to feel something you don’t or to change anything between us. But I am a man of my word, and I’m keeping the promise we made.”
Your mind raced, memories of that night flashing through your mind — the promise, the shared laughter, the way he’d looked at you back then as if you were the only thing that mattered. And now, here he was, years later, kneeling in front of you with an engagement ring, ready to turn that promise into something real.
He took a deep breath, his hand trembling slightly as he held out the ring, his expression almost pleading. “So… will you marry me? Not because you feel like you have to, but because you want to?”
You stared down at him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. The world seemed to fade away, the only thing anchoring you being his blue eyes, filled with nothing but hope and determination.
“Well? Say something, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper now. “Because I’m dying here.”
You let out a breathless laugh, the tears welling in your eyes spilling over as you shook your head in disbelief.
“You’re really going all out, huh?” you teased, “Getting down on one knee and everything… how could I say no to a man with such dedication?”
Bucky blinked, caught off guard, and then let out a soft laugh of his own. “Is that a yes, or are you just stalling to make me sweat more?”
You glanced at the ring, then back at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “I guess… if I have to be stuck with someone for the rest of my life… it might as well be you.”
“Yes,” you added quickly, your smile widening as you looked at him with all the warmth and affection you felt. “Of course it’s a yes, you idiot!”
Relief washed over his face, his grin so wide it could’ve lit up the entire rooftop. “You really know how to keep a guy on edge, don’t you?”
“Gotta keep things interesting,” you replied with a laugh, reaching out to brush your fingers against his cheek. “I can’t make it too easy for you.”
His chuckle was deep and genuine, the tension melting from his shoulders as he slipped the ring onto your finger, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can be so mean you know that?”
“Mean?” you scoffed, giving him a playful look of disbelief. “You’re proposing to me, remember? I’m just making sure you know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”
Bucky shook his head, laughter bubbling up in his chest. “Oh, I know. And I’m still all in, even if you make me work for it.”
You grinned, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Bucky didn’t hesitate, his arms coming up to hold you close, his chin resting gently on top of your head. The warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.
Slowly, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest as your eyes locked with his. The sound of the music drifted softly through the air, wrapping around you both like an embrace.
You could see the tenderness in his gaze, the way his eyes softened as he looked down at you. There was something indescribable in the way he held you, his hands warm and secure against your back, as if he never wanted to let go.
“You know,” you murmured softly, a small smile playing on your lips, “I completely forgot about that bet.”
Bucky’s lips quirked up at the corners as he started to sway gently, rocking you both back and forth in time with the music.
“Yeah? Good thing I haven’t.” he agreed quietly, his voice low and filled with something that made your heart flutter.
You let out a content sigh, closing your eyes for a moment as you swayed together under the soft glow of the rooftop lights, the melody of the song weaving its way into your soul. There was a peace, a sense of rightness in the way his hands rested on your waist, the way your fingers curled into his shirt.
Opening your eyes, you tilted your head slightly, the corners of your lips curving up into a playful smile. “I’m really going to make you regret this, you know.”
He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing gently against your side as he gazed down at you. “Doubt it. But you’re welcome to try, sweetheart—I mean what else could I possibly not know about you?”
Your smile widened as you looked up at him, chin resting on his chest. “Oh, you’ll find out. Just because we’re getting married doesn’t mean I’m not full of surprises.”
Bucky’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned down slightly, his lips brushing against your temple. “Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Just remember you asked for it,” you teased, your voice soft as your fingers toyed with the collar of his shirt. “You’re the one who’s committing to a lifetime of never quite knowing what I’ll do next.”
“Yeah?” he murmured, his gaze dipping to your lips before meeting your eyes again, a smile playing on his own. “I guess I like keeping things interesting, too.”
A laugh bubbled up in your chest, and you felt the tension melt away as you both swayed gently to the music. It felt like a new beginning — a promise that whatever came next, you’d be facing it together.
× × × ×
A few months later.
The garden was alive with soft laughter and murmurs as the afternoon sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves. The air was filled with the delicate scent of roses and jasmine, and the gentle rustling of leaves provided the perfect backdrop for the small, intimate gathering of friends.
Bucky stood under the floral archway, his suit somehow both perfectly fitted and slightly askew in that way only Bucky could pull off. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his fingers drumming absently on his thigh. When you turned the corner, your eyes met his, and you couldn’t help but smile at the exaggerated sigh of relief he let out.
“Thank God you showed up,” he teased, his voice carrying over the gentle breeze. “Thought I’d have to marry Sam instead.”
You laughed, rolling your eyes as you made your way down the short aisle, trying to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest. “Yeah, yeah, keep it up, Barnes. He’d leave you at the altar, you know.”
Bucky grinned, his shoulders relaxing as you stepped up to him. “True. He couldn’t handle my morning breath.”
The officiant cleared his throat gently, drawing soft chuckles from your friends. Bucky’s gaze stayed locked on yours, a playful twinkle in his eyes as if you were sharing a private joke no one else could understand.
“You ready for this?” he murmured softly, his tone light but his smile genuine.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied, giving him a small nod.
The ceremony was simple and sweet, with your closest friends standing in a loose circle around you, their smiles reflecting the joy and camaraderie that had always defined your relationship with Bucky.
When it came time for the vows, Bucky cleared his throat dramatically, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket.
“I’m not good at this stuff,” he began, waving the paper around, “so I wrote it down. Just so I don’t forget the important parts. Like promising I won’t eat your fries without asking.”
You let out a snort, shaking your head. “So that’s why you’re marrying me? For my fries?”
“Partly,” Bucky said with a wink, earning a few laughs from your friends. “But seriously… I promise to always be your partner in crime. To watch bad movies with you, to be your go-to plus-one for all those events you hate, and to be the one you can call at 3 a.m. when the world feels like too much.”
His voice softened slightly, his gaze never wavering from yours. “I promise to be your best friend, to listen, and to support you. And yeah, to not eat your fries — unless you’re not looking.”
You chuckled, blinking back the unexpected prickle of tears. “Damn, Barnes. Setting the bar high for husband material, aren’t you?”
“Someone’s gotta do it,” he replied with a smirk.
When it was your turn, you took a deep breath, glancing down at your own slightly crumpled paper. “Bucky, I promise to keep being your reality check, to make sure you don’t take yourself too seriously. I promise to help you with your crazy woodworking projects, even when you refuse to read the instructions. And I promise to be your partner in all things — the weird, the good, and the unpredictable.”
Bucky’s grin softened into a small, genuine smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think we’re gonna be pretty good at this whole marriage thing.”
“I think so too,” you murmured back.
The officiant’s voice broke through the quiet moment, his smile warm. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Bucky, you may now—”
“Wait,” Bucky interrupted, holding up a hand as he turned to you, his expression half-serious, half-teasing. “Can I kiss you?”
You blinked, surprised. “What?”
“You know,” he said, shrugging a shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. “This is technically our first kiss. I want to get it right. So… how do you like it?”
A burst of laughter escaped you, the tension in your shoulders melting away as the sheer Bucky-ness of the question made you grin. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“Come on, humor me,” he pressed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Slow? Gentle? Or should I just go for it?”
You shook your head, still laughing softly. “Just… kiss me, you goof.”
Bucky grinned, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Alright, Mrs. Barnes,” he said softly, leaning in. “I’ll make it good.”
His grin widened and shifts a little closer to you, Bucky dipped his head and you felt your noses brush. His breath is on your lips, and you quiver a bit at the odd sensation. Without another moment to spare you realise that he's pressing his lips to yours—it was nothing like you’d expected. His hand slipped to the small of your back, drawing you closer, his eyes fully closed. Bucky was concentrating on the kiss, and you realised that your eyes were wide open. Slowly you close them, hiding away your brilliant orbs.
Bucky’s lips are oddly doft in this kiss and it stays slow and sweet. He wrapped his arm around you more, lifting you slightly off your feet. The veil fluttered around you like a soft cocoon, and then everything disappeared as his mouth moved insync with you, his kiss remained slowly, his mouth molding against yours in a way that made your knees weak.
His fingers gently tangled in your hair, his thumb brushing softly along your cheekbone as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.
But then he shifted, tilting your head just slightly as he deepened the kiss, his hold around you tightening. It was then that you felt him let go completely — every barrier, every wall he’d kept up around himself crumbling as he poured everything into that kiss.
Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint cheers and whistles of your friends—Sam being the most obnoxious—but it all felt like background noise. It was just you and Bucky, wrapped up in this kiss that felt like it had been building up for years. His lips slid over yours with a kind of sweet intensity, a silent confession of everything he hadn’t said — of everything he didn’t know how to say.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting gently against yours, both of you were breathless, hearts pounding in unison. He didn’t let go, his arms still wrapped around you as if you might disappear if he loosened his grip.
A soft cheer went up from your friends—Sam being the most obvious— and Bucky’s grin turned almost smug. “How was that?”
You let out a shaky laugh, your hands clutching his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself. “Yeah, Buck. I think you got it just right.”
“Good,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours for a long, lingering moment before his smile widened into something boyish and relieved. “Just wanted to make sure.”
“Don’t worry,” you teased gently, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You’re not getting rid of me after a kiss like that.”
Bucky’s laugh was soft, his nose brushing against yours. “Guess I should keep practicing, huh?”
You nodded, your grin matching his. “Yeah. Keep practicing, Barnes.”
And as he pulled you in for another kiss, slower and just as sweet as the first, you knew that this — all of this — was exactly how it was meant to be.
× × × ×
1.5 years later
You were pacing back and forth in the bathroom, your heart hammering in your chest. Every few seconds, your eyes would dart to the three little sticks sitting ominously on the edge of the sink — three white, plastic harbingers of potential chaos.
“Come on, come on, come on,” you whispered frantically to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as if willing the tests to disappear — or at least show some clarity.
How did it come to this? You were supposed to be life partners — partners in crime, best friends — no strings attached, no expectations. Just two people who promised to be there for each other. Sure, you got married, but it was all because of the bet. A way to keep each other from loneliness, you both said. Nothing more, right?
Except somewhere along the line, late-night talks had turned into stolen kisses. Comforting hugs had turned into tangled limbs. And now… this.
“Oh my god, he’s going to flip,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair as you stared at the still-blank screens on the tests. “This isn’t how we were supposed to—”
“Supposed to what?”
You jumped about a foot in the air, letting out a small squeak of surprise as Bucky’s voice filled the bathroom. You whipped around, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you spotted him leaning casually against the doorframe, an amused smirk on his lips.
“Bucky! Don’t—don’t just sneak up on people like that!” you stammered, instinctively shuffling over to the sink to block his view.
His smirk widened. “I didn’t sneak. You’re just too distracted, sweetheart.” He pushed off the doorframe, crossing his arms as he stepped closer. “What’s going on in here?”
“Nothing!” you squeaked, your voice a little too high-pitched.
Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh-huh. So, you’re just hanging out in the bathroom, talking to yourself?”
“Yes!” you answered quickly, nodding like a bobblehead. “Yep, just a totally normal conversation with… myself. Very productive.”
He eyed you, suspicion etched all over his face. “Uh-huh. And why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
“I don’t!” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest as if that could somehow shield you from his scrutiny.
Bucky took another step closer, his gaze flicking over your shoulder. “Then why are you standing like that?”
You moved subtly, trying to casually scoot to the left, but your back hit the edge of the sink. “Like what?”
“Like you’re hiding something,” he said, leaning down slightly to look your directly in the eyes. “What’s behind you, Y/N?”
“Nothing!” you insisted, but your hand twitched involuntarily, knocking into one of the sticks. It clattered onto the counter, bouncing once before rolling to a stop right at Bucky’s feet.
You froze.
Bucky’s eyes flicked down to the test, and his entire expression shifted — from curiosity to confusion to wide-eyed realization.
“Wait… is that a—?”
“No!” you yelped, diving forward to snatch up the stick and hide it behind your back. You stood there, breathing heavily, your face flushed with a mix of panic and embarrassment.
Bucky’s gaze slid back to you, his lips quirking into an incredulous smile. “Y/N, are those… pregnancy tests?”
You glanced around desperately, as if you could conjure up some kind of diversion to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Uh… no? Maybe?”
“Sweetheart…” Bucky stepped around your easily, and in one quick motion, he plucked the other two tests off the sink. He held them up, his eyes wide and eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. “There are three.”
“Yeah, well… you know, the first one could be a fluke, and the second one too, and…” you trailed off, wincing at how ridiculous you sounded.
Bucky blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. “Three tests, huh? You’re nothing if not thorough.”
“Bucky!” you hissed, mortification washing over you. “This isn’t funny!”
“Maybe not,” he admitted, though his lips were still twitching with amusement. “But you’re freaking out over here, hiding them like I wasn’t gonna notice.”
“I wasn’t freaking out!” you lied, folding your arms across your chest again. “I was just… assessing the situation.”
He raised an eyebrow, waving one of the tests in front of your face. “Assessing, huh? And what’s the situation, then?”
You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. “I don’t know, okay? I haven’t looked at them yet!”
There was a beat of silence. Then—
“Wait, you haven’t looked?” Bucky’s voice was filled with genuine disbelief. “You’ve been pacing around in here, stressing yourself out, and you haven’t even checked?”
“I’m not ready!” you snapped defensively. “I mean… what if they’re positive?”
Bucky’s grin softened into something more genuine, and he stepped forward, gently cupping your cheek. “Then they’re positive.”
Your eyes met his, the sincerity and calmness in his gaze making some of your panic ebb away. “But we’re not even— I mean, this was supposed to be—”
“A bet?” he finished softly, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. “Yeah. I remember. But bets don’t always go the way you plan.”
You swallowed hard, your heart still hammering wildly. “You’re not… mad?”
“Mad?” he repeated, his expression incredulous. “Why the hell would I be mad? I mean, sure, this is unexpected. But mad?” He shook his head, chuckling softly. “C’mon, Y/N. You really think I’d be mad about having a family with you?”
The words made your heart stutter, and you stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Bucky…”
“Let’s just see what they say, alright?” he murmured gently, stepping back and nodding toward the tests. “No more freaking out until we know.”
With trembling hands, you turned each test over, your breath hitching as you looked at the results.
Positive.
Positive.
Positive.
Bucky’s grin had barely faded before the reality of the situation seemed to really hit him this time. His gaze drifted back to the three tests lined up on the sink, and you watched as his face slowly drained of colour.
“Bucky?” you asked cautiously, noticing the way his grip on your arm loosened slightly.
He blinked, his eyes darting between you and the tests like he was trying to solve some impossible puzzle. “So, uh… positive. All three?”
You nodded slowly, worry beginning to creep back in. “Yeah, Buck. All three.”
“Oh… Oh, wow,” he muttered, his eyes widening. “That’s… that’s a lot of positive.”
“Bucky—”
“I mean, I knew one was a lot, but three—positives?” he rambled, swaying slightly on his feet. “That’s… that’s a whole lot of… baby.”
“Bucky, are you okay?” you asked, reaching out to steady him as his face turned even paler.
“I’m—yeah, I just—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes rolling back slightly as his knees buckled.
“Bucky!” you shouted, grabbing for him as he crumpled to the floor in a faint.
You managed to catch his weight just enough to keep him from completely knocking his head on the tiles, though it took every ounce of strength you had to keep him semi-upright.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” you huffed, looking down at his unconscious form with a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “You’re the one who said you’d be fine with this!”
He let out a soft, incoherent groan, his head lolling to the side as you carefully lowered him all the way to the ground and raised his legs above his head for bloodflow.
“Of course you’d faint, you big drama queen,” you muttered, crouching down beside him and lightly patting his cheeks. “Come on, Buck. Wake up. I’m not doing this alone, you hear me?”
After a few more pats and murmured reassurances, his eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked up at you, dazed and confused.
“Y/N?” he mumbled, his voice slurred. “What… what happened?”
“You fainted, you big idiot,” you said, the frustration in your tone softened by the overwhelming relief that he was okay. “Over three little tests.”
Bucky stared at you blankly, then his gaze drifted back to the sink where the tests still sat in a neat row, mocking him with their tiny positive signs.
“Oh… right,” he murmured, his face scrunching up as he tried to process it all again. “So it wasn’t a dream?”
“Nope.” You shook your head, giving him a half-smile. “Definitely not a dream.”
“Damn,” he breathed, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I really fainted, huh?”
“Yeah, you did,” you replied, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice. “And you’re lucky I didn’t let you hit your head.”
He chuckled weakly, his gaze still lingering on the tests. Then, slowly, he reached up, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently.
“I love you, Y/N, you know that?” he mumbled, his voice soft and a little slurred as he still looked dazed. “Not like a friend, but y’know… like, love love.”
You blinked at him, surprised by the sudden confession. A laugh bubbled up in your throat, the ridiculousness of the situation hitting you all over again. “Bucky, you’re still out of it.”
“Yeah, probably,” he murmured, blinking up at you with a lopsided grin. “But doesn’t make it any less true.”
Shaking your head, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, your smile softening. “I know, Buck. We’ll talk about that later when you’re not busy fainting over pregnancy tests, okay?”
“’Kay,” he mumbled, his eyelids drooping slightly. “But just… so you know.”
“I know,” you repeated gently, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “Just rest for a second, and then we’ll figure this all out together.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes drifting shut for a moment before he opened them again, looking at you with a sleepy smile. “We’re really gonna be parents, huh?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, your heart swelling with affection. “We really are.”
“Cool,” he murmured, his head lolling back against the bathroom tiles. “Love you, Y/N… love love.”
You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you sat beside him, holding his hand. “Love you too, Bucky. Now, no more fainting, okay?”
“No promises,” he mumbled, but his grip tightened around your hand, as if even in his half-conscious state, he didn’t want to let go.
And as you sat there on the bathroom floor, Bucky still looking a little woozy but smiling up at you with that goofy, endearing grin, you couldn’t help but think that maybe — just maybe — everything was going to be just fine.
× × × ×
First Trimester.
The clock on the kitchen wall glowed a soft, accusatory 2:37 a.m. as Bucky shuffled groggily into the dimly lit space, scratching at his head. He was half-asleep, dressed in rumpled sweatpants and a t-shirt that had seen better days, and still trying to figure out why he’d been dragged from his warm bed.
He paused mid-step when he spotted you sitting at the kitchen table, your shoulders hunched, face buried in your hands. He blinked, his brain struggling to catch up with the situation. “Uh, sweetheart… what’s going on?”
Your only response was a pitiful sniffle, followed by another one. Bucky’s brows shot up in alarm, and he quickly moved to your side, crouching down in front of you.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly, peering up at you with wide, concerned eyes. “Did something happen?”
You shook your head, letting out a small, hiccuping sob. “I… I really wanted… chocolate chip pancakes… with whipped cream and strawberries…”
Bucky blinked again, glancing around the empty kitchen as if he expected a stack of pancakes to magically appear on the counter. “Okay… uh… we don’t have any of that stuff right now, but I can go to the store—”
“Everything’s closed!” you wailed, cutting him off with a fresh wave of tears. “And I really wanted it now!”
The sheer devastation in your voice made Bucky’s heart clench in sympathy — but a very tiny, very unhelpful part of him also found it hilariously absurd. He had fought aliens, Hydra agents, and all manner of nightmares… but he’d never faced down a pregnant wife in the throes of a pancake craving at nearly 3 a.m.
“Oh,” he said lamely, scratching his head again as he tried to think of a solution that didn’t involve breaking into the nearest IHOP. “Okay, um… we can make pancakes without chocolate chips, right?”
“But I don’t want plain pancakes!” you cried, your voice wobbling dangerously. “I want chocolate chip pancakes! And… and I want whipped cream on top, but we don’t have any!”
Bucky swallowed, his panic rising as you continued to cry. He was the Winter Soldier, damn it. He could handle this. There had to be a way out of this. “Okay, alright. Just breathe, okay? How about… uh… what if I make you some toast? I’ll put some Nutella on it? It’s kind of like chocolate.”
“It’s not the same!” you sobbed, burying your face in your hands again. “I want… pancakes…”
Bucky let out a helpless laugh, running a hand down his face as he glanced at the empty fridge like it was somehow betraying him. “Baby, you’re killing me here.”
You sniffled, peeking out from between your fingers with watery eyes. “You don’t understand, Buck. I can taste the pancakes. I can taste the strawberries… I can feel the whipped cream…”
Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again, at a complete loss for words. “Yeah, uh, I can’t pull that out of thin air. But…” He glanced around, his gaze falling on a tub of vanilla ice cream in the freezer. “What if I make you a sundae? It’s kinda like a pancake… just cold.”
“No…” You shook your head, another tear rolling down your cheek. “It’s not pancakes…”
Bucky let out a long, dramatic sigh, his hands resting on his knees. “Okay, okay. Here’s the deal. Tomorrow morning, I’m gonna wake up, and I’m going to go get you all the chocolate chips and whipped cream and strawberries you want, alright? I’ll make a pancake buffet.”
“But I want it now,” you murmured miserably, rubbing at your eyes.
“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he cooed gently, reaching out to pat your head awkwardly. “But unless you want me to bust into some diner and get myself arrested, I’m gonna need you to hang in there for a few more hours.”
Your lips trembled, and you nodded reluctantly, sniffling again. “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”
Bucky smiled softly, his heart melting a little. “Nah. You’re growing a tiny human.” Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he added, “Although, I gotta say, if I can handle your craving meltdowns, I think I deserve some kind of medal. Or at least, like… superhero husband status.”
A small, watery laugh escaped you despite yourself, and Bucky’s smile widened triumphantly.
“There she is,” he murmured, leaning up to press a kiss to your temple. “Look, we can’t have pancakes right now, but how about we get creative? Maybe I can whip something up with what we do have? I’m talking PB&J sandwich sculptures. Or,” he gasped dramatically, “a waffle made out of popcorn!”
Your eyebrows furrowed, but the corners of your mouth twitched. “Popcorn waffles?”
“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he said with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “This could be a revolutionary invention, Y/N. We could change the breakfast game forever.”
You couldn’t help but giggle, wiping at your tears as Bucky’s ridiculousness slowly chased away the lingering sadness. “You’re such a weirdo, you know that?”
“Yeah, but you married me,” he shot back, a grin spreading across his face. “So who’s the real weirdo?”
“Still you,” you teased softly, shaking your head.
Bucky let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically. “Wow, so rude. No respect for the man who’s about to go MacGyver your snack cravings at 3 a.m.”
You smiled despite yourself, reaching out to take his hand. “Thank you, Buck.”
“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmured, squeezing your hand gently. “Now, what do you say we get a little creative in this kitchen and see if we can’t make something that’ll make these pancake cravings shut up for a bit?”
“Okay,” you agreed, the warmth of his hand in yours grounding you. “But I’m holding you to that pancake buffet tomorrow morning.”
“Pancake buffet with extra chocolate chips, whipped cream, and strawberries,” he promised with a mock salute. “You’ve got my word.”
And as Bucky scoured the pantry for the weirdest possible combinations — “How do you feel about a peanut butter, banana, and potato chip sandwich?” — you couldn’t help but laugh, the weight of your cravings lightening in the face of his relentless optimism and willingness to do whatever it took to make you smile.
“World’s best husband,” you murmured fondly as he started arranging sandwich slices into a goofy face.
“Damn right,” he replied with a wink, holding up the plate proudly. “And this? This is my masterpiece.”
You took one look at the ridiculous sandwich sculpture — a lopsided smile made from pickle slices and a beard of crumbled crackers — and the tears came flooding back, but this time they were unstoppable.
“Bucky… you’re… you’re the best husband… in the world!” you sobbed, your shoulders shaking as you buried your face in your hands.
“Whoa, whoa, wait—hold on!” Bucky stammered, his eyes widening in alarm as he quickly set the plate down and moved back to your side. “What… why are you crying? Sweetheart, it’s just a sandwich! A really ugly sandwich, but—”
You let out another wail, shaking your head as more tears spilled over. “No, it’s not that! It’s you! You’re just so—so good, and sweet, and—and I don’t deserve you!”
Bucky froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“Wait, what? Where did that come from?” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around as if he expected someone to pop out with a manual for how to handle this. “Hey, you deserve everything, okay? Even pancakes at 3 a.m. if I could make it happen.”
“I just… you’re always trying so hard, and you’re just… you’re amazing,” you whimpered, reaching out to grab his hand like it was a lifeline. “And I’m crying because I can’t have pancakes, and I’m a mess, and you’re making me a weird pickle-beard sandwich…”
Bucky stared at you, completely lost, before he finally let out a helpless, incredulous laugh. “Okay, okay, I’m officially out of my depth here,” he muttered, gently pulling you into his arms and patting your back awkwardly. “But hey, let’s save the compliments for when I’m not half-asleep, yeah?”
You nodded miserably against his chest, your sobs starting to subside as his steady heartbeat grounded you.
“Good, because you’re gonna make me cry if you keep this up,” he joked softly, running a soothing hand through your hair. “And no one wants to see the Winter Soldier ugly-cry over a pancake buffet.”
You let out a watery giggle at that, sniffling as you pulled back to look up at him. “You’re really gonna get me all the pancakes tomorrow?”
“Every last one,” he promised, his smile gentle and reassuring. “Now come on, let’s see if we can make this popcorn waffle thing work. You’ll need to tell our kid one day that their mom ate the weirdest thing ever while pregnant,” Bucky finished with a grin, his hand sliding down to gently cup your cheek as he wiped away the lingering tears with his thumb. “That way, when they give us a hard time as teenagers, I can say, ‘Hey, kid, I made your mom a popcorn waffle at 3 a.m. She bettered have loved me.’”
You laughed again, hiccupping through the tears as you tried to calm yourself. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
Bucky shrugged, his lips twitching up into a lopsided smile. “Maybe. But you married me, so what does that say about you?”
“That I’m a glutton for punishment,” you teased softly, feeling some of the tension start to ease as his thumb continued its gentle, comforting strokes on your cheek.
“Or just smart enough to know when you’ve got a good thing,” he murmured back, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “And I’m gonna keep being that good thing — even when it means making bizarre snacks and wrangling your tears at stupid o’clock in the morning.”
You let out a shaky breath, smiling up at him as you looped your arms around his neck. “I love you, Bucky.”
His eyes softened, his gaze locking onto yours as he leaned in to nuzzle his nose against yours. “I love you too, sweetheart. And we’re gonna figure out this whole craving thing. Even if it means starting a midnight pancake truck or something.”
The image of Bucky in an apron, serving pancakes from a food truck, was so ridiculous that you let out a genuine, hearty laugh. “A pancake truck?”
“Why not?” He smirked, his fingers playing with a lock of your hair. “I’d be the hottest pancake chef around. We’d have a line out the door.”
“Because everyone’s desperate for pancakes at three in the morning?” you asked, still smiling.
“Exactly,” he said with a mock-serious nod. “They’d be calling me the Pancake Soldier instead of the Winter Soldier.”
You couldn’t help but burst into laughter again, your earlier tears completely forgotten. “I swear, you’re impossible, Bucky Barnes.”
“Impossible and all yours,” he said with a wink, then glanced at the kitchen. “Now, how about we whip up some sort of Frankenstein snack to tide you over until the morning, huh?”
With another sniffle and a smile, you nodded. “Alright. But I’m still holding you to that pancake buffet.”
“Wouldn’t dream of backing out,” he promised, kissing your forehead again before guiding you to a chair. “You sit right here, and let Chef Barnes work his magic.”
You watched as Bucky moved around the kitchen, his clumsy efforts at ‘creative’ snack-making bringing a smile to your face despite the ridiculousness of it all. He muttered under his breath, concocting weird combinations — “What if we crush some pretzels on top?” — and talking to the food like it would reveal some hidden trick.
Eventually, he managed to cobble together another makeshift treat: a peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich with a few random M&Ms sprinkled on top for good measure. It looked as chaotic as you felt, but the effort and love behind it made your heart swell.
You stared at the messy sandwich, your lips trembling again — but this time with a whole different set of emotions.
“Hey, no more tears,” Bucky said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m running out of ideas here, babe.”
“I’m not crying,” you sniffed, reaching out to take a bite. “It’s just… you’re really, really sweet, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Bucky let out a soft chuckle, reaching over to give your knee a gentle squeeze. “Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
“Okay,” you whispered, your heart feeling lighter than it had all night.
“Good.” He smiled, leaning back in his chair as he watched you take another bite. “Now eat up, because come morning, I’m getting up at dawn to get everything we need for that pancake buffet. You’re gonna be the happiest pancake-eating pregnant lady in the world.”
“And you’re gonna be the best pancake-making husband in the world,” you replied with a soft smile, warmth spreading through your chest.
“Damn right,” Bucky murmured, his voice filled with so much affection it made your heart skip a beat.
As you finished the bizarre snack and Bucky continued to ramble on about potential pancake flavors and topping combinations, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly grateful.
Because, bizarre cravings and all, there was no one else you’d rather navigate the chaos with than him — your best friend, your partner, your ridiculous, wonderful Bucky Barnes.
× × × ×
Third Trimester
Bucky’s overprotectiveness had started out in small, endearing ways—like lingering in doorways or making sure you had an extra pillow at night. But as your pregnancy progressed, so did his paranoia, turning him into an almost comical shadow of your once-confident, battle-hardened husband.
It began with the shoelaces.
“Wait, wait, wait.” He practically skidded across the living room to kneel at your feet just as you were about to bend down to tie your sneakers. You straightened up, raising a brow, watching him fumble with the laces like it was a complex puzzle rather than a simple bow.
“Bucky, it’s just tying my shoes. I can do that,” you pointed out gently, but he shook his head fervently.
“Not risking it. What if you lose your balance?” His words were muffled as he double-knotted the laces, his shoulders hunched like he was shielding you from some invisible force.
“I’m not gonna lose my balance,” you murmured, amused. “I’ve been tying my own shoes for decades.”
“There’s a first for everything.” He tightened the bow a little too firmly, making you flinch. He winced in apology and adjusted it again, softer this time, before peering up at you with those intense blue eyes, a mix of worry and resolve. “Humor me, okay?”
You sighed, relenting with a small nod. “Okay. But just so you know, you’re not going to be doing this every single time.”
He grinned—victorious, as if you hadn’t noticed how he conveniently “lost” all your slip-ons just last week.
Then there was the laundry basket incident.
It happened when you were carrying a half-full basket of towels from the dryer. You’d barely made it halfway down the hall when Bucky materialized out of nowhere, intercepting you like you were carrying live explosives.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—what do you think you’re doing?” His voice was all mock-seriousness, but there was genuine concern underlining it as he gently pried the basket from your hands.
“Laundry?” you deadpanned, trying to tug it back, but he held firm.
“Not anymore, you’re not.” He shot you a look that dared you to argue as he held the basket up high, well out of your reach. “You don’t need to be lugging this around.”
“It’s not even heavy!” you protested, exasperation seeping into your tone.
He scoffed. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it. Just point me to where you want it.”
Grumbling, you pointed down the hallway. “Our bedroom.”
“See?” he said with a self-satisfied smile, striding down the hall like he was conquering new territory. “No big deal.”
You had to fight back an eye roll. “You’re gonna be like this until the baby is born, aren’t you?”
“Probably,” he called over his shoulder, unashamed.
It didn’t stop there, of course. In the kitchen, he’d barely let you near the sink.
One morning, you’d decided to tackle the breakfast dishes—something you could usually manage without too much hassle. But as soon as you set the first dish into the soapy water, Bucky’s hand appeared out of nowhere, lightly shoving you to the side.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, though it was clear he wasn’t asking for permission. “Your belly’s gonna bump into the counter. Let me do it.”
“Bucky—”
“Let. Me. Do it,” he insisted, holding a soapy plate hostage as he gazed at you, lips set in a stubborn line.
With a sigh, you threw your hands up in surrender. “Fine. But I’m not a porcelain doll, okay? I can do dishes just fine.”
“Sure,” he replied, but he was already washing the dishes with focused precision, occasionally glancing at you to make sure you hadn’t slipped or stumbled in the two feet he’d moved you back.
It was both infuriating and endearing, and it made you love him even more—though you’d never admit it when he was acting like a hovering mother hen.
The grocery trips were almost unbearable. He’d insisted on coming along, despite your reassurances that you were perfectly capable of picking up a few items.
“We need milk,” you pointed out, motioning toward the far end of the aisle.
“Got it,” he said immediately, guiding the cart forward with one hand and slipping his other arm around your waist as if to support your entire body weight.
You shot him a look. “I can still walk, you know.”
“Of course you can,” he agreed with a grin. “I’m just… helping you waddle.”
“Waddle?” You narrowed your eyes, smacking his arm lightly. “Did you just call me a waddler?”
“Um…” He glanced at you sheepishly, realizing his mistake a second too late. “No?”
“Yeah, nice try.” You huffed, crossing your arms.
“Alright, alright, bad choice of words. I’m just keeping pace with you,” he corrected, slowing his stride even more so that the two of you were practically moving in slow motion down the aisle.
You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of it all. “If we go any slower, we’ll start moving backwards.”
Bucky just chuckled, his arm tightening around you protectively. “I’ll take my chances.”
By the time you reached the milk, you were almost tempted to ask him to sprint the rest of the way just to get it over with. But the truth was, there was something undeniably sweet about having Bucky hover around like this.
“Let me guess,” you teased as you plucked a carton of milk off the shelf. “You want to carry this too?”
“Of course,” he said, already reaching for it, his expression deadly serious.
You held on to the carton just long enough to make him sweat before handing it over. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“Unbelievably in love with you,” he replied easily, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.
“Smooth,” you muttered, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile.
With Bucky being his overprotective self, you had no doubt that he’d be like this for the next few months—and likely long after the baby was born. But as much as you complained, deep down, you knew you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
× × × ×
“Bucky, for the last time, it’s just a shoe box,” you emphasise, glancing at your husband as he carefully hoists the empty box off the couch like it’s made of glass.
“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, eyes darting suspiciously to the plain cardboard. “You shouldn’t be carrying anything in your condition.”
“Condition? Bucky, I’m pregnant, not broken.” You cross your arms, watching as he tucks the box under his arm like it’s a rare artefact. The man is a walking, talking fortress of muscle, but right now, his overprotectiveness is reaching absurd levels.
“And nearly at your due date,” he points out, placing the box on the counter with a sigh of relief as if he’s saved you from imminent danger. “I’ve read all the books. I know how this goes.”
You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, yeah? So what’s the worst that could happen if I pick up a shoe box?”
Bucky turns to you with a dead-serious expression.
“It’s not about the weight. It’s about…” he falters, eyes scanning your swollen belly, “…stability. Your centre of gravity is off right now. A box could trip you.”
“A box could trip me?” You arch a brow, incredulous. “Really?”
“Yes!” His tone is insistent, and you have to bite back a laugh. This is the same man who once told a pack of HYDRA agents they were outnumbered—just because it was him and Steve versus a dozen of them. But now, he’s reduced to eyeing an empty cardboard box like it’s a mortal enemy.
Sighing, you sit back on the couch, deciding it’s not worth the argument. Besides, there’s a certain charm in seeing the Winter Soldier so worked up over an inanimate object. You lean back, letting out a small groan as you shift your weight.
Bucky’s been hovering around you all day like a lost puppy, eyes following your every move. The moment you make the slightest sound, his head whips around, concern flickering in his eyes. So when you groan, immediately, he’s by your side, eyes wide, hands hovering over your belly.
“What? What’s wrong? Is it time? Should I get the bag?”
“Calm down, Dad-mode. I’m just stretching.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “You’ve gotta stop panicking every time I make a sound.”
“Every time you make a sound, it could be something serious!” Bucky exclaims, sounding almost affronted. “Do you know what it’s like hearing you groan and not knowing if it’s ‘I want ice cream’ or ‘I’m about to go into labor’?”
“Sounds like a personal problem,” you tease.
He huffs, muttering something about ‘pregnancy hormones,’ and kneels down in front of you. Strong hands lift your foot gently, and he starts massaging your arch. You sigh, instantly melting under his touch.
“Better?” His voice is softer now, concern etched in every syllable.
“Much better,” you mumble, letting out a little moan as he presses down on a particularly tight knot.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Bucky freezes, eyes wide again. “What’s that? Pain?”
“Relax,” you say, though your voice is slightly breathless. “It’s the good kind of pain. Keep going.”
You lean your head back, closing your eyes as Bucky continues the foot massage. The man has hands that could crush stone, but right now, he’s so gentle you almost feel like you’re floating. It’s hard not to feel a little spoiled under his doting care.
But just when you’re getting lost in the bliss of his hands working away the tension, you catch his face out of the corner of your eye. Bucky’s brow is furrowed, and his expression is one of fierce concentration, like he’s facing down a particularly difficult opponent. You stifle a giggle—only Bucky could make a foot massage seem like a high-stakes mission.
“Alright, alright, enough of that,” you say, reaching down to tug on his hand. “If you keep looking at my foot like that, you might set it on fire.”
Bucky blinks up at you, clearly having forgotten where he was. He chuckles, the sound low and almost shy. “Can’t help it. I just… I want to make sure I’m doing it right.”
“Bucky, it’s a foot massage, not defusing a bomb.” You roll your eyes again, but your heart swells at his concern. “You’re doing it perfectly.”
A faint blush colors his cheeks, but he lets out a small huff, pretending to be grumpy. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Then, without warning, he shifts beside you on the couch, a determined look settling on his face. “Now, hold still.”
Before you can ask what he’s up to, Bucky leans down, pressing his ear gently against your belly. You’re about to ask him if he’s comfortable, but the sheer look of wonder on his face stops you short. His eyes close, and he inhales deeply, as if trying to capture every little movement your baby girl makes.
“Hey, there, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs softly, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper. His fingers splay across your belly, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles. “It’s your dad. Just wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re being good for your mama.”
You bite your lip, warmth spreading through your chest at the sight. The fierce Winter Soldier, the man with a list of enemies longer than most people’s grocery lists, reduced to talking softly to your baby girl like she’s the most delicate thing in the world.
“She’s probably plotting her escape already,” you joke quietly, and Bucky grins up at you.
“Nah,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corners. “She’s too busy practicing her karate kicks. Isn’t that right, little one?”
Right on cue, a small flutter against your belly answers him, and Bucky’s eyes light up like fireworks. He leans down again, pressing his lips gently against the spot where your baby kicked.
“Whoa, easy there, sweetheart,” he murmurs, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Save the punches for when you’re out here. We’ve got plenty of training sessions ahead of us.”
You snort, shaking your head at his words. “Bucky, she’s not even born yet, and you’re already planning training sessions?”
“Gotta start ‘em young,” he says seriously, but the way he softens his voice when he turns back to your belly is anything but tough. “But don’t worry, we’ll take it easy. I’ll make sure you get to be a kid and have fun first. No one’s gonna mess with you. Not when I’m around.”
He pauses, his eyes misting over for a brief moment, and you know he’s thinking about everything he’s been through—everything he wants to shield your daughter from. Slowly, he rubs his thumb along your belly again, his touch featherlight.
“And you’re gonna love your mama,” Bucky continues softly. “She’s strong, and she’s funny, and—” He glances up at you, his smile turning mischievous. “She’s a little bit stubborn sometimes. But you’re gonna be just like her, I bet.”
“Great,” you mutter, faking a groan. “Two of you plotting against me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Bucky promises, but the glint in his eyes tells you he’s already imagining all the ways he’ll spoil his little girl.
He shifts again, his head still resting on your belly, and you have to stifle another laugh as he starts a running commentary, complete with exaggerated gestures.
“Okay, so here’s the plan,” he whispers conspiratorially to your baby. “When you get here, you’re gonna kick a lot. Cry a lot. But not too much. Your mama needs her sleep. Then, we’ll team up to get you extra dessert when she’s not looking.”
“Bucky!” You can’t help it—you burst out laughing. “You can’t be plotting behind my back already!”
He grins, looking up at you with mock innocence. “Hey, it’s not my fault if she wants ice cream. Right, sweetheart?”
A few more soft kicks seem to echo his words, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.
“I’m doomed,” you say, shaking your head fondly.
“No, you’re not,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softening again. He presses one more kiss against your belly before shifting to sit up beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you gently against his side. “You’re gonna be the best mom. And I’m gonna be right here, making sure you both have everything you need.”
You lean into his warmth, smiling as his hand drifts back to your belly, tracing idle patterns.
“I love you,” you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder.
“And I love you,” he replies, voice deep and steady. He leans down, kissing the top of your head. “Both of you.”
With Bucky holding you close and whispering to your daughter, you feel your heart swell with a contentment so strong it almost aches. It’s moments like these that remind you just how lucky you are to have this overprotective, sweet man by your side.
Even if he does go overboard sometimes.
#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagines#winter soldier imagines#winter solider x reader#winter soldier x you#winter soldier x y/n#the winter soldier x reader#the winter soldier#winter soldier x female reader#winter soldier fanfiction#winter soldier fic#winter soldier fanfic#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan characters#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan fanfiction#the winter solider x reader#the winter soldier x you#james barnes x you#james barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james barnes x y/n#james barnes
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To Lean On You | Spencer Reid
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Content Warning: post prison!Spencer, mentions of addiction, prison talk (typical for the prison arc), gun use, mentions of death, suggestive themes, idiots in love, angst, so much angst.
Word Count: 8.6K
Summary: You and Spencer wasted years, truths hidden, feelings uncertain, and a fear of the unrequited. It took ten weeks, isolated, silent, and broken, for the realization to strike. There was no life, if you didn’t have each other.
A/N: It’s finally here! Wow, writing this was a wild ride, honestly. Over a month of writing, blood, sweat, and tears poured over it (there were in fact some tears). This is also the first thing I’ve written in 3 years and I'm very happy to finally be out of my slump. It's probably the angstiest thing I've written ever, and at the same time, I feel like it's not the greatest, but deep down, I still love it, haha. Let me know if I've missed any warnings. And, enjoy and any feedback is appreciated. <3
Here are some of the songs I listened to while writing this if you want to get into the mood:
Hearts by Jessie Ware
The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived by Taylor Swift
Lost Without You by Freya Ridings
In This Shirt by The Irresponssibles
masterlist
79 days, 3 hours, and 27 minutes - that’s how long it’s been since he got arrested in Mexico.
70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes since you saw him being pulled out of the courtroom after he was deemed a flight risk and denied bail. 70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes have passed since you last saw him.
65 days, 7 hours, and 11 minutes, since he was transferred to Millburn Correctional Facility, and this whole nightmare, had started.
Per Penelope’s carefully crafted schedule, every team member has made numerous trips to visit Spencer - every member except you. You’d only made one trip out, and that had been 3 days after he’d been transferred.
March 4th, 2017
It’s been 8 days since you saw him led in cuffs out of that courtroom, where Penelope had broken down in Luke’s arms, everyone too shocked to make a sound. He’d looked back, his eyes meeting yours briefly, and it had been as if you’d almost seen your reflection in the mirror, every emotion had run between you both in a matter of seconds.
Shock, you’d almost been sure they would grant bail, and you’d be able to take him home. Almost.
Fear, for his future and his well-being. Fear of the uncertain.
Desperation, the desire to run to him and take him into your arms, finally, and to not let go.
Except you’d held his gaze for as long as you could before you’d looked down and turned your head to save him from seeing you break down in tears. You’d made a hasty escape after that, not sparing any of your teammates a glance, and walked out of the courthouse, stopping by a tree outside. The urge to curl up into a ball and hide, pretending none of this had happened, was strong, and then a hand wrapped around your shoulder. You had turned around, only to see Rossi and one of his sad little smiles, the ones you rarely saw.
“It’s going to be okay,” he’d said, squeezing your shoulder. ”The kid is strong.”
You’d sniffled, trying to hide the tears in your voice. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I am," you’d whispered in despair.
You were better than you had been 8 days ago, calmer. Although still heartbroken, you were looking forward to seeing him, seeing with your eyes that he was okay. Garcia had seen him, 2 days ago, before you’d been sent out on a case.
“He looks good. I mean, as good as that big genius brain of his can look in prison. His eyes were sad though, really, really sad.” She’d paused as if to assure herself it would be alright, “I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing you, sweetness.” She’d squeezed your hand, but her statement hadn’t rung true.
Your hands were shaking, you weren’t sure what from. The anticipation you’d felt? The nerves? Or the words you had a hard time coming to terms with.
“I’m sorry, but your name isn’t on Spencer Reid’s approved visitor list,” the guard at the checkpoint had said after rechecking the list.
“There has to be a mistake, I made an appointment,” you insisted, feeling yourself unravel. It wasn’t possible, you knew for a fact you were on that list, Emily had made sure of that.
“Look, lady. There are only 10 names on that list, and yours is not one of them. Now, you need to move, because there are people here waiting to see their loved ones.” you’d hiccuped and turned around, walking to the lockers to unlock your gun, badge, and phone.
“I’m here to see a loved one.” You’d wanted to scream, but you knew it would have been futile. There wasn’t anything you could do at that moment.
You walked to your car, dialing Emily’s number, “This is Prentiss.”
For a second, only your breathing could be heard over the sound of the wind, and then a tiny sniffle. You wiped at your eyes and nose, and then spoke up, barely, “Why am I not on Spencer’s approved visitor list?”
“What do you mean? Every member of this team is on the list. So is his lawyer and Diana, even Derek,” you could hear the surprise in her voice, yet you couldn’t keep calm any longer.
"They refused to let me see him! I made the appointment, Emily, and I came, hoping I’d finally see him hear his voice, and ask him-” Your voice broke mid-sentence, and after taking a deep breath, you continued, “Ask him if he was okay, and I was denied because out of the 10 names on that list, it seems mine’s not one of them.” You finished defeated, barely above a whisper.
All was silent for the moment, save for what you could hear was Penelope’s voice on the other end of the line, quietly asking what was going on, “Let me call Fiona and the warden, and I’ll see what happened. Meanwhile, I need you back here, because we just got a case.” Her voice wasn’t leaving anything up for discussion. Still, you couldn’t go, not until you saw him.
“Emily-” she cut you off.
“It’s not a discussion. I’ll resolve this, but I need you here and your head in the game. Am I clear?” Her voice was stern, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed. Maybe.
“Yeah, clear. I’m on my way back.” You took a deep breath and started the car and the journey back to Quantico, but your mind stayed right there, on the bars that kept you away from the one thing you held dearest.
As it turns out, there was nothing the warden or Fiona could do. Even Emily Prentiss, Unit Chief of the BAU, couldn't “resolve” the situation. Days, weeks, and months passed, and for 70 days you couldn’t see him, isolated out, not even knowing why.
“-to be in the courthouse in one.” You snapped out of your thoughts, only catching the end of the sentence, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. You were tired, and it had little to do with the fact that you had been up all night, going over all the evidence with the team and tracing Lindsey Vaughan’s steps to a T in an attempt to exonerate Spencer and finally bring him home.
You were exhausted, both physically and mentally. You’d been up for more than 24 hours now, but then you hadn’t been sleeping all that well to begin with. Every single night was spent wondering how Spencer was doing, and every time you closed your eyes, you saw him in that cell in Mexico.
His eyes were red, high out of his mind, barely coherent, dirty, and injured - a far cry from the person you were used to seeing every single day - energetic, passionate, and brilliant. After 12 years, if there was one image you wished to erase from your memory, it was this one. Not all the blood you’ve seen spilled, every victim, be it men, women, or even children, all the horrors of the job, but this. Maybe it made you a bad person, but there was nothing worse than seeing the one person you held dearest at their lowest and not being able to do anything to stop it.
Every waking hour that you weren’t on the job was spent wondering how he was doing and if he was okay. If he was healthy, unharmed, and safe, or as safe as an FBI agent could be in prison. But most of all, the one thing that had kept you up at night, slowly destroying your sanity and making you question everything, had been the one question you couldn’t seem to get an answer to.
“Why doesn’t he want to see me?”
You’d asked everyone and had waited with battered breath for an answer, a clarification on the matter, and it never came. As shocked as you had been at the notion that you wouldn’t be seeing Spencer for an indefinite amount of time, your team had been even more shocked. They knew the kind of relationship you and Spencer had, how close you’d become over the years, and how much you relied on each other.
You’d asked every team member, you’d asked yourself, you’d even asked Spencer in a few of the letters you wrote to him, and then there had come a point where you just stopped.
You were torturing yourself more than enough, day after day, and every single night, asking yourself a question you wouldn’t get an answer to. Not as long as he was locked up in that hellhole and you were out here, trying to keep together the pieces of something, that was on the verge of breaking.
You felt a hand taking hold of yours, and for a second, you tensed up. Pulled out of your thoughts, you looked up and were met with chocolate brown eyes, full of worry - Emily’s eyes.
You glanced around the room, only to realize it was empty, save for the two of you. You hadn’t felt when the others had left, that’s how deep in thought you had been.
“Where did you go? I’ve been calling your name for a while now,” she spoke gently, squeezing your hand. If you were honest, that’s the first time she asked you anything about the situation. You’d spent weeks suffering in silence and trying to pretend that you weren’t slowly dying on the inside.
You briefly thought about lying, it wouldn’t be the first lie you’d told since Spencer had been incarcerated, but you didn’t have it in you to hide anymore.
And so, for the first time since Spencer’s hearing, you told the truth.
“Nothing makes sense anymore, Em,” it left you in a whisper, “I’m barely holding it together. I feel like I’m drowning sometimes, and just when I breach the surface, I’m pulled back in. My mind, it’s...I question everything, all the time. My mornings start with thoughts about him, and my nights end with tears over him, over this entire…this nightmare. I keep waiting for my alarm to go off, to wake up and realize that this has been a plot of my imagination, some cruel joke my mind has conjured, designed to show me... "Your eyes welled with tears, prepared to admit something you should have long ago. Emily gave your hand another squeeze, prompting you to continue, and so you did, admitting it for the first time aloud.
“Designed to show me that I can’t live a life that doesn’t have Spencer in it.” You wiped at your eyes, willing your tears at bay. When you dared to look up, you were met with the eyes of the only other person besides Spencer who has been a constant rock in your life for the last 11 years. What you saw in her eyes then wasn’t surprise like you’d thought, but relief. It took you a moment to fully read her, but it was like a switch had gone off when you finally did.
“But you’re not surprised to hear this, are you?” you smiled sadly, a light laugh leaving you.
“I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t have my suspicions, and I’d be an even worse profiler,” she smiled at you, “Plus, there are some feelings that you just can’t hide,” you blinked, and then you blinked again. You hadn’t come right out and said it, and yet she knew, she somehow knew.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” you tried to backtrack, but you knew it was a losing battle. Emily knew you well enough to smell your bullshit from miles.
“That’s exactly how you meant it, and don’t even try to deny it. I see it every damn day. It’s how you leave the room whenever you hear someone talk about visiting Spencer. You don’t want to hear how he’s doing because you wouldn’t believe it, not unless you see him with your own eyes. But you can’t, so you’ve resigned yourself to the torture of not knowing instead of giving yourself the smallest amount of peace by asking. You’ve been suffering in silence for almost three months, too stubborn to say anything, thinking you were doing yourself a favor. And what for? You’re crying yourself to sleep every night and coming to work the next morning, pretending everything is fine when clearly it’s not. You think you’re fooling everyone, but the only person you’re tricking is yourself. And how’s that working out for you?” she had a point, and it’s not like you weren’t aware of that fact. You knew what you were doing wasn’t okay or healthy. You had the most stable support system imaginable to get you through the hardest parts. It was hard, though, especially when the person who was suffering the most was the person who’d taken your heart with him.
“Way to call me out, boss.” you were just about ready to end the conversation, you couldn’t take any more of this. You’d promised each other long ago that you wouldn’t profile each other but you had a feeling that was exactly what Emily was doing right now. Maybe not on purpose, and with every good intention imaginable, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want one of your best friends to try to understand you based on behavioral analysis right after you’d spilled your soul out to her.
“Just calling it the way I see it, someone has to,” she smiled, but then she shook her head a little before continuing. “What I want to know is why you didn’t say something earlier. You know I would have been there to listen, and so would have the team.” Damn, Emily Prentiss.
You didn’t have to think hard about it, you’ve been ruminating over everything for days. You were trying not to, but whenever your mind wasn’t focused on a case or the many drinking nights spent in Penelope’s purple adobe, that was where your mind would take you.
“Out of fear, I think,” you started, unsure for a second, still nervous to admit it. It wasn’t exactly what she was asking, but it was a start, “I was afraid, and I still am. I’ve been baiting myself into thinking it was just some sort of fondness, a little stronger than that which you feel towards a friend, and far lesser than what it actually is. I thought that if I didn’t say anything, I could go on lying to myself, and nothing would have to change, we wouldn’t have to change. Because words hold meaning, and an admission like that holds weight. What would I have done if it was just me who felt like this? I would have ruined the one thing we’ve both cherished for over a decade.” It felt good to finally say all of this out loud instead of holding it inward. But then again, Emily always knew when you'd had enough.
She’d told you time and time again the same thing Hotch had asked of her when she returned to duty after faking her death: “Let me know when you are having a bad day.”. Honestly, you’d held off long enough, and so had she. It was a whole miracle she hadn’t pressed you about your behavior earlier.
“That’s not what I was asking,” you said, shaking your head with a smile to let her know that you weren’t done speaking.
“Everyone was suffering as a result of what happened in Mexico, what I was feeling wasn’t any different, Emily.” You were flippant about it, you always have been. You preferred isolating yourself and hiding everything instead of seeking a shoulder to bear the weight of what you felt.
“Our sadness came from the fact that our friend was framed. And yours? That’s different.”
“It isn’t,” she scoffed, getting up. Now you really felt like you were about to get scolded like a child.
“Yes, it is. God, you and Spencer are the same. It’s like I’m looking at his doppelganger without the whole… IQ of 187. You share some of the worst qualities a person can have,” you laughed at that, “You are both changeophobes-” you cut her off
“Metathesiophobia, fear of change.” She only raised her hand at you, as if to say, “See, you even sound like him,” which made you laugh even more.
“You close yourselves off after a sad or traumatic experience, silently hoping you’d be able to get through the worst of it on your own. Most of the time, it’s evident that’s not the case. You only ask for help when you’ve reached rock bottom or have no other choice, but you’ve had a choice from the get-go. Your stubbornness even stems from the same anxieties, it’s infuriating,” she seemed to calm down then, in defeat maybe, or she hadn’t been mad, to begin with, she sat down again.
“My point is, it shouldn’t have taken you learning that he might be coming home today to tell me all of this. I’ve known for a long time that there was something far more than platonic friendship on your end. You shouldn’t have tortured yourself since his trial to try to put the puzzle pieces together. You aren’t late, you have all the time in the world to say what you feel and what you want, and rejection shouldn’t be a factor, believe me. You need to make peace with that fear because Spencer is coming home today. And whether you are ready or not, you both need to have a serious conversation.” You appreciated her determination about Spencer being released, but then again, you had more than circumstantial evidence to support the fact that he was innocent. But, as always, Emily was right. He was coming home today, and after months of not seeing each other, there were a lot of things you needed to say.
“I know. Thank you, Emily, for everything,” you whispered, squeezing her tight.
Spencer’s POV
The first breath of fresh air after being on the inside for months felt far more overwhelming than he thought it would be. Being in charge of your being and your responses and emotions felt almost unnatural like the feeling of it didn’t belong to him. The sound of the wind and the traffic, people’s voices, and even the simple act of getting comfortable in the leather seats of the jet overwhelmed any ability to concentrate and think straight.
In itself, it was strange. The prison was loud, the prison commissary at breakfast, lunch, and dinner was a cacophony of prisoners talking, cells being opened, and guards barking orders. The yard was loud too, although, in the middle of nowhere, nature could still be heard - the sounds of trees and the lone birds, if he had to guess a mix of Mourning Dove and Field Sparrow. Their songs were soothing most of the time, a welcome distraction from the usual noises around him.
Without the atmosphere he’d gotten used to and subjected to all of those sounds and people whose presence he found comforting before, he now felt almost out of place. He wanted to feel at peace, he wanted to feel free, and although he technically was, his mind was more trapped than he’d actually been in that 2 by 2 cell in cellblock C.
He kept replaying some of the hardest moments from his time in, every threat, every punch he’d gotten, and the phantom feel of the fists connecting. Luis’ blood on his hands, the smell of bleach incorporated with the drugs, the tip of the sharpened toothbrush embedding into his thigh. All he’d done to survive, harm, and more harm, only to make it out alive.
He barely recognized himself. He’d deliberately ignored looking at himself in the small plastic mirror in his cell, for fear of seeing what he’d had to become. Gone was the Spencer who’d use his brain to get out of situations, whose obliviousness more often than not helped to balance his intellect with the socially acceptable. Gone was the bubbly personality of a kid excited to share a plethora of facts with his friends.
In his place sat a man, tormented by the reality of the hatred felt towards him. The reality of being a pawn in a game whose complexity could have been his downfall. A man whose genius, as much of a blessing, could sometimes be a curse. A man who had felt too much and was made to experience far more loss than his quaint heart was able to take. In the end, he kept losing, be it his father, by no choice of his own. His mentor, at the hands of a killer’s insanity. His friends and loved ones, hoping for a better life or his freedom, made to rot in a place he didn’t deserve to be in.
Some would doubt that he had anything at all left to lose. All in all, how much more could the scrawny twelve-year-old child prodigy, left to survive in a public high school, take?
His mind had been plagued by that question for years. He’d thought about that more than he’d like to admit. After every loss, there’d been a split moment where he’d asked himself what was next. What would be the next thing life would take from him? And every time, he’d had to wonder if, next time, life wouldn’t reach for the one thing he couldn’t allow to be taken from him. The one thing that, were he to lose, he’d never recover. He had hoped, sometimes prayed, that after everything he’d seen, everything he’d lived through, this would be the one thing that’d be spared.
Locked in that cage, he’d tried even harder to ensure that there wouldn’t be another loss in his life - not anymore. Be it good or bad, he’d done everything. For 70 days, he’d had to assure himself he was doing what he thought was right, and what he wasn’t saying, he’d be forgiven for. He’d had to dodge questions and see the disappointment in his friend’s eyes, and when that wasn’t enough of a burden to bring all of his anxieties to the surface, he’d resigned himself to reading the words of the person he was doing all of this for - you.
He’d reread every letter to the point where the edges of the papers were worn out, even though he’d known the contents by heart on the first read. He tortured himself by looking at your handwriting, analyzing the slanting of the words and the pressure of the pen. The little stains on the paper, he didn’t have to be a genius to know, were your tears. It broke his heart, to know he was causing you this much pain. He didn’t need to be there to see it, he felt it through your words.
He often questioned if it was worth it, if he was protecting you, or himself, or maybe even what you were or weren’t.
Even now, the weight of your words sat heavily on his mind, and right by his heart, in the pocket of his jacket, he felt the weight of the 9 letters you wrote.
As he looked over from the little window of the jet, he couldn’t help but wonder if, in his desire to shield you from everything, he hadn’t gone too far. Ultimately, was he going to be forgiven, or be forced to pick up the pieces of the reality broken by his own doing?
“Don’t do that.” JJ’s gentle voice startled him from the overwhelming nature of his thoughts. She’d spent the last 30 minutes since they boarded silently observing him, waiting for him to pick up a conversation. But he’d decided to stay num.
In every twitch of his fingers, in his desire to get comfortable but being unable to, she could see that he was restless. If she had to guess, his mind was much the same.
“Do what?”
She gave him a look, one, had he not known her long enough, he might have been offended by. Clearly, she was offended herself, watching him play the clueless card.
“Spence, I don’t need to profile you to know that your mind’s running a thousand miles a minute, contemplating your decisions, and I don’t think you should. You did what you thought was right, and no one blames you for that, not for Mexico, and not for what you did after,” she spoke evenly, gathering even Penelope and Alvez’s attention from where they sat. He looked over, receiving a smile and a nod from both before focusing on JJ again.
Rationally, he knew she was right about everything. He didn’t need to run himself ragged with everything he could have done differently, or search for the perfect way to explain, or overall, the perfect outcome of his own decisions. He knew there wasn’t one, there was no perfect way to say what he needed to, no perfect words to pick so he could fix this and erase the pain he knew he’d caused.
Perfection wasn’t something you could strive to achieve, because there’s no such thing as perfection. The term was diverse, everyone had a different perspective on what that might look like. If for JJ, perfection was the family that waited for her at home every time she returned from a case, for Spencer, perfection was vastly different.
For him, perfection was the rich aroma of coffee that could cause someone’s insulin to spike because of the amount of sugar in it. The softness of a book page between his fingers, or the familiarity of a book he’d read before but needed to revisit.
Perfection was the sound of your laugh whenever he was the one to prompt the sound. The way your eyes lit up every time you listened to him babble on. Perfection was the time he got to spend with you every day, every hour, and every minute that he could remember with almost scary accuracy.
He could sit and wonder what the perfect way to go about this was, but there simply wasn’t one, there was only the truth. And as painful, hopeful, or even a little dumb as it was, that was the best he could give.
And maybe that’s what his mind should focus on instead, the truth, in its simplest form, at its core the truth he’d hidden for months, and then the truth he’d hidden for years.
He had wondered long enough if he’d made the right choice. He spent plenty of time focusing on the shame he’d felt, prompted by the disappointment he’d seen in his friends’ eyes whenever they brought up your name. How he’d sit, silent, or give an answer so short and angry, it’d add even more shame to the one he already felt.
Beyond his time in prison, where he spent most of his time questioning his decisions, he spent years before that questioning himself as a person. His place on the team, his intelligence, even his failings. His inability to form relationships where he’d be seen as more than Dr. Reid, or the skinny kid, pretty boy, or a genius. A relationship that’d make him feel like simply Spencer, without the added adjectives, that sometimes made him feel like a circus clown.
Only when he’d been locked up, had he started to realize that he’d finally built a relationship with someone with whom he could be himself. The most basic, boring, and peaceful version of himself, and slowly, all had started falling into place.
How content he felt whenever he was around you, the desire to tell you every good or bad news he received. How when you asked about his mother, it warmed his heart, or how worried he felt when you acted stupid in the field. How out of control he’d felt when you’d gone missing last year. Or even, at the time, the unexplained jealousy he’d felt seeing you talk with another man.
Morgan had asked, once, twice, a lot, if maybe he didn’t have a crush, but he’d denied it, every time. And every time he’d question himself, he'd dismiss the idea just as quickly.
Yet, upon being forced away from you, the pieces had started mending into one.
Every realization he’d had was like a new broken piece being glued to the overall mosaic. And every new piece added built everything he felt about you. And it was a lot, and it was overwhelming, and so, so right, it sometimes felt wrong. Because he was inside a prison of his own doing, and you were out there, made to wait for him, for an explanation, for the truth.
And he’d vowed to himself that the moment he was out, he’d put everything on the table, no matter how much he’d fucked up or how much he’d hurt you. He’d sit there, and he’d let it out, and if necessary, he’d even beg for your forgiveness.
Because there wasn’t a moment in this life, he wanted to live through, without you there with him.
Your POV
You pulled the trigger, your eyes focused, and your hands steady. Three consecutive shots were fired, each one hitting its intended target. Three more followed, and then as many as it took to empty the magazine.
You put down the gun and took a deep breath, steadying your heartbeat, trying to rid yourself of the deep-seated anxiety you felt. An odd sense of calm overtook you whenever you found yourself at the shooting range. Maybe it was the everpresent scent of gunpowder or the quiet only disturbed by the firing of a gun. Or even the possibility of escaping your rising thoughts, the desire to run or scream, sometimes both.
There was a sense of solitude there that almost made it easier to breathe. The repetitive motion and the weight of the gun in your hands felt like second nature.
Front sight, trigger press, follow through, just like Hotch had taught you all those years ago. As long as you held that gun, your mind was quiet, and you focused on something other than the worry you felt.
It made sense you found yourself there shortly after Emily had shared the long-awaited good news - Spencer was finally free, and JJ, Penelope, and Luke were on route back with him. For a short moment, you’d felt the weight being lifted from your chest, and then it dropped again, now tripled.
Suddenly, your earlier conversation with Emily had gotten as real as the target before you. Even with the sense of peace, you’d felt after, your thoughts on the matter clear, you still felt a sense of dread at the idea of seeing him.
As if he wasn’t your best friend, the man who’d long ago won your affection and captured your heart, but rather a stranger who held your future in his hands. And he might as well be, because whatever the truth to the questions you wanted answered was, one thing was for sure.
It’d either make or break you both.
You picked up a new magazine, and loaded the gun, aiming at the target before releasing the safety. Before you fired again, you released a breath, and with it, all the feelings within you - fear, uncertainty, yearning, and the sense of madness, which, although mild, was persistent.
You fired once, twice, your aim impeccable, and then, out of nowhere, you missed.
The hair at the back of your neck rose, your heart rate quickened, and the feeling of another’s presence in the room was unmistakable. It took you just a second to put the pieces together, the intrusion felt like anything but that.
Instead, for a brief moment, the person brought with them a familiar feeling of calm. In the next instance, though, reality came crashing like a tidal wave, and you knew you’d run out of time.
Your hands shook as you put down the gun. You could feel him watching you, probably standing next to the door, as if he couldn’t will himself to move closer. The anxiety was palpable in the air, although you couldn’t really say if it was yours or his, most likely, it was a mix of both.
You went to reach for your protection but hesitated. Once you took it off, there’d no longer be an excuse for you to ignore him, you’d finally have to meet the reality he’d so carefully crafted for you.
Even though you felt like you could barely breathe, the desire to finally lay your eyes on him won out.
Without missing another beat, you took off your earplugs and then your eye protection. You could faintly hear the sound of shoes squicking against the floor. He could never stay still when he was nervous.
You picked up on the sound of your own breathing too, the beating of your heart was almost erratic. You were waiting, what for, you weren’t sure.
He was waiting too, for you to turn around, to lay his eyes on you. Like a sadist, waiting to see the pain he’d caused, or a masochist, wishing for his own in turn.
70 days of slowly killing you both.
When you finally dared to turn around, it took you a moment to fully take him in. He looked like the Spencer you knew, yet there was something different about him too. Dressed in his usual suit and tie outfit, he didn’t look comfortable. His posture was rigid, almost defensive. It wasn’t a conscious decision, that much you were sure of.
His hair was longer, pushed back, curling at the ends, and he’d lost some weight. Not much, but enough to make an impression after all this time. He looked pensive, like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders, but maybe it was just the weight of the consequences he had to face.
Your eyes ran over every inch of him multiple times, intentionally avoiding his gaze for as long as possible. Seconds and minutes passed, and you weren’t really sure how much exactly.
Spencer knew, though, of course, he did. If his fear of meeting you eye to eye was as great as yours was, you knew he was counting until the torture of the act itself was over.
89 seconds he’d counted, although now with you there, they felt longer than the days without you did.
When you eventually met his gaze, you felt a part of your heart chip on the inside. What people said about the eyes being a portal to one's soul couldn’t have been more right in that moment. Spencer, a man who excelled at hiding his emotions when he really wanted to, had let them out as clear as day for you to see.
His eyes sparkled with so much sadness and guilt that it threatened to take you apart even before he had the chance to talk. Something softened within you at that moment, but in the next instance, it was like someone else took over.
One moment you wanted to cry for him or with him, and the next you felt like your whole being needed to be let out.
“Is that…is that all you can offer me right now? More of your silence? Don’t you think I’ve had enough of that?” The questions, a few of many to follow, had a bite to them.
His face fell a little, taken aback by your tone. He fidgeted with his fingers, unsure what to say, or where to start. How could he answer your question? He pictured a scenario where his words flew freely, where he gave you an explanation worthy of forgiveness and a confession, so earnest that it ended with you in his arms.
Try as he might, the words didn’t come to him, just a barely audible accusation.
“That’s not fair.”
You scoffed, as if in outrage. A madness, one born out of so much heartbreak, took over, it was blinding. If someone had asked you to explain yourself, you’d say that wasn’t you. You’d never be so forward, almost cruel, to him, but at that moment, being mad sounded so much better than being vulnerable. Like a shield, you weren’t ready to let go of yet.
“How exactly is this not fair, Spencer? It’s the truth!” you yelled, and you felt free, finally letting it all out. “You want to know what isn’t fair, though? The way you isolated me OUT of your life! For three months, I’ve had to stand on the sidelines and beg for scraps, just to know you were okay. Every pitiful look I’d get from the people I consider family felt like another stab to the heart. That’s what’s not fair!” You were screaming so loud. It was a good thing the range was soundproof, otherwise, the whole of the BAU would have been deep in your business by now.
If he looked surprised by the accusation, he didn’t really show it. His posture took a turn, though. The rigidity disappeared, and in turn, it opened, as if the need to comfort you overpowered the uncertainty or the mask he’d had to hold while imprisoned.
You didn’t want his comfort, not right now. Maybe later, when all was said and done, you’d get to have a normal conversation without the frustrations of the past. At that moment, you just wanted everything out of your system. You wanted the questions, the answers, and the truth.
His silence continued as he started closing the distance between you. You wanted to move, to create more distance, but there was nowhere to go. You were squeezed between the range, and him. Whatever else was left than to continue begging for clarity.
“It’s not fair being sent away the first time I came to see you. To learn you didn’t want to see me! Each time it was my turn to visit you, do you want to know where I was? I sat outside that fucking prison, wishing for a glimpse of the person who’s been my rock for 12 years! Holding back tears, thinking you didn’t…you didn’t care like I did. Is this what I really deserve after 12 years by your side?” You almost slipped, you almost told him, and maybe you should have, it might have prompted him to talk or to say something. But no, he stayed silent. Step after step, he limped, his cheek twitched, and his brows furrowed, but like a coward, he remained quiet.
He was meters away from you, three more steps, and he’d completely close the distance, and meet you face to face.
“Say something, Spencer, damn it!” Your throat burned from the strain, and he advanced even more. “Anything,” you finished in a whisper, and all of a sudden, all the fight left you, and your eyes watered and your vision went blurry.
He was just a step away then, and when you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t help but see how they shined.
He reached forward, one hand taking hold of your arm while the other went to hold your waist, but you shook your head. “No, Spencer, please,” you whispered. You didn’t want to find yourself in his arms, because that would be the last of your composure, gone. You’d surrender to the feel of him like you even had a choice not to.
He didn’t stop, not until you were snug into his arms, one of his hands at the back of your neck, holding your head tenderly, but the arm around your waist held onto you as if he was scared you’d slip away from him.
Once in his arms, you finally let go, breaking down into pieces, hoping he’d be able to hold them all from crumbling to the ground.
“Hey, shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He kept repeating, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your pulse point. All the while, you could only stand, your arms at your sides, as if paralyzed.
Being in his arms felt like being home somehow. It felt so right after having been deprived of the feeling for so long. It felt like there was nothing wrong, and nothing could go wrong at that moment.
Even though you hadn't initially wanted his comfort, somewhere deep inside, you craved his tender touch. You craved the feel of his body near and the faint scent that was so uniquely him - a mix of coffee, fall, and old paper, books. You realized then that you craved the sound of his voice too, another part of him you’d been deprived of.
The voice of the always rambling boy that never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you couldn’t understand him sometimes.
And the more he whispered, his voice broken and shaky, the harder you cried. You’d thought nothing could match the heartbreak of his actions or the anger of his silence, but the reality of being held against him brought the realization that your suffering mirrored his own.
If you’d been dying on the inside for months, he’d been on the other side of the link holding you tethered to each other, dying just as much.
And you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer after that. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, and your arms finally circled his waist underneath his suit jacket, fisting the back of his shirt as if it were your one lifeline.
You felt him exhale when you finally returned his touch, most likely in relief, before he dropped a light kiss on your head.
You cried for the relief of having him back and close. For unspoken truths and time wasted, years of figuring out feelings clear as day. For all the anger, for all of his silence, for all you felt for him.
He cried for all the pain he’d caused you and for all the time he’d wasted being alone instead of being with you. He cried for himself, he cried for you, and he cried, overwhelmed by his feelings for you.
You clung to one another, crying, and minutes were passing and neither of you cared. Not when you had each other.
After a while, when both your tears dried out and your cries quieted, but you still felt the need to hold each other close, you dared to murmur a broken “Why?” hoping he’d hear, hoping he’d understand.
It didn’t take him long to mumble a reply, no longer silent.
“All the words in the world available, and I wish I could explain.” it came out just as quietly, both of you scared to break the little bubble you’d found yourselves in.
You pulled back from him, wanting to look into his eyes, red-rimmed and still sparkling when you felt yourself begging again.
“Then try, please, because I’d rather know, and not understand, than not know at all.” And it was the truth. He could speak in riddles if he wanted, but you needed to know why he’d made that choice.
You looked at him expectantly before he pushed a piece of hair back, and his hand once again settled at the back of your head, gently cupping it.
“I wanted you safe from a world you didn’t belong in,” he admitted on an exhale, like a lifelong secret he’d gotten tired of holding onto.
You looked at him in wonder, and it was on the tip of your tongue to tell him he didn’t belong in that world either, but just as you opened your mouth to speak, he shook his head.
“I was ashamed when I had you removed from the visitor’s list. I didn’t want you to see me like that, like a criminal,” he started, pulling you into his arms, not wanting to admit it to you eye to eye, out of fear of being right. Of course, he was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from wondering.
“The first time JJ visited me, they leered at her like they were being fed fresh meat, taking her in, committing her to memory. A cage full of animals. I knew then that I didn’t want that for you, and any guilt I had at keeping you away disappeared that day. It hurt me, knowing I was failing you and whatever trust you had in me,” he whispered, wishing to keep the reality of his thoughts and his feelings in a little bubble as if you only existed in it.
“I’m not the same person I was before, I couldn’t be him, even if it meant losing a part of myself in the process. I couldn’t really be a decent human being without bearing the consequences. Everything I saw, everything I did, and everything that was done to me, I don’t think I’d ever fully be the person I was before. And that too, I’m thankful I spared you from seeing.” It would explain his rigidity, a defense mechanism he’d had to get used to.
And while everything he’d said thus far was true the biggest truth, he’d had yet to say. He had yet to really explain why he’d done what he’d done in the first place. He was stalling, still afraid, but the longer he held you, the longer he felt your heart beating in time with his, the more sure he became.
To hell with the consequences, to hell with whatever happened after, he was right here in the now, alive, breathing, his arms around you, finally at peace.
He pulled back, took your face into his hands, and finally whispered.
“Most of all, though, I knew I loved you enough to risk us if it meant keeping you safe.” It left him in a rush, a confession waiting to be let out for months. A feeling he’d had for years, and a moment where he could finally be open about it.
“What…?” you licked your lips, shocked that you might not have heard him correctly. ”What does us mean?” This part of the conversation felt like you were daydreaming about it, it just didn’t feel real.
“It means whatever you want it to be. Whatever you want us to be.” All of a sudden, it was that simple.
“So, you love me?” You had a hard time taking it all in, yet your heart fluttered in pure happiness. “And you…you want us?”
"Yes.” Even before you were done speaking, he was already answering. He was desperate to finally admit he was absolutely smitten by you.
Months of figuring out your feelings, years of hiding them, a conversation to finally prompt a confession out of you, and all this time it was reciprocated. You could have cried, happiness like no other coursing through you, pure bliss.
You wanted back into his arms, you wanted to kiss him so badly that your blood was burning from the need to feel him like you'd never been able to before. And yet, you knew there was something else you needed to do before you could finally do it.
“Spence, you don’t push away the people you love, no matter the cost. You rely on their love to help aid you when you’re at your lowest.” You gave his sides a light squeeze before you looked back into his eyes, only to see them hopeful and uncertain at the same time.
He looked hopeful, for the possibility that you might actually love him back, but uncertain because it felt like you might be pushing him away this time.
“I can’t go through this again. Having to watch you wither away, in prison, at home, or by your own thoughts, I won’t be able to handle being pushed away again,” whispers, cries, pleas, memories full of heartbreak intertwined with present confessions full of joy.
His eyes watered then, his lips trembling. Any sign of hope was gone, and in its’ place stood the realization of a man who’d maybe gone a little too far. He’d pushed you away, and now, it was your time to be the one sticking and twisting the knife deep, breaking his heart in the process.
If someone were to ask him at that moment what his biggest regret was, he’d say this. This was his biggest regret, his own choices.
A tear escaped him, and you reached up, wiping it away gently before you spoke again.
“If..if this is going to go anywhere, you need to rely on me. You need to believe that I can handle anything and everything, just as long as you are by my side. All those years of being pushed away - your addiction, Maeve and Gideon’s deaths, your mom’s diagnosis, Cat Adams - you weren’t alone then, you aren’t alone now, and you won’t be alone in the future. You’ll always have me by your side, you’ll always have my support. Most of all, you’ll have my love, but when things get hard, I need you to lean on me, and trust that I can help you because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together.” You finished on an exhale, full-on crying now. You could barely see him, but from the little you could, you saw tears streaming down his face, and a smile that grew wide, happy.
Those words, he knew them word for word. For 13 days, he’d repeat them, no longer needing to see them written down, he had them engraved in his brain. Your letters he could recite, but your final one he’d remember as long as he lived.
“I promise to lean on you and trust that you’d help me because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together,” he whispered back, his eyes searching yours for just a moment before he pulled you in, and finally, his lips met yours.
He kissed you, tentative at first, testing the waters. He wanted to take his time, commit your lips to memory, gentle, and plump, exactly how he’d imagined they’d feel. The more he kissed you, the more he couldn’t stop. Passion, urgency, desire - his kisses turned desperate like he wanted to swallow you whole and never let you go.
He bit your lip gently, asking for access, before his tongue intertwined with yours and he pulled you flush against him, closing any gap left between you. Chest, hips, there wasn’t an inch where you weren’t touching.
It felt so familiar, even though you hadn’t kissed before. So right, like no one's kisses had felt before. As if your whole lives, kissing each other was the missing piece in a complicated puzzle, waiting to be put together. Coming together as one, it felt magnetic, a feeling of euphoria, pure ecstasy, no one else mattered, no other feeling mattered at that moment, other than your hands on each other and your lips locked together.
Time was passing by, and you didn’t care. Years of missed opportunities, hidden feelings, and long-awaited realizations all led to this moment. Starved for each other, a kiss full of fervor and even the taste of tears was present. Unimaginable, but very real.
When you finally pulled apart, he wiped your tears, and you wiped his in turn, before he gathered you back in the comfort of his arms, laying a kiss on the side of your head.
And between the four walls around you, nestled in each other’s arms, the place where no one could touch you, in a shared breath you both whispered.
“I love you.”
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⋆˙⟡ at your worst, chris sturniolo
boyfriend!chris x fem!reader
synopsis. in which after a hurtful fight between you and chris, he comes and apologises after a few days, and he promises to stay forever, even at your worst.
warnings. angst, arguments, self-doubt themes, comforting, emotional impact.
word count. 1k.
authors note. since madison was first on my spotify wrapped, i decided to make a fic based on my fav madison song.
the rain hadn’t stopped for hours. it pounded against the windows of your cozy home like a relentless reminder of everything you wanted to escape from. the room was quiet except for the sound of the storm and the occasional crack of your breathing as you fought to steady it.
you sat on the plush sofa of your living room, knees pulled to your chest, trying to drown out the words that played in your mind on a endless loop.
chris’ voice, sharp and cutting, echoed louder than the rain. you hadn’t thought he was capable of that kind of anger—not directed at you. but that night had proved you very wrong.
the fight had started small, the way most of them did. he’d asked you why you didn’t call him back, and you’d snapped at him without thinking, your frustration bubbling over. you weren’t angry at him, not really. you were angry at yourself—angry at the way your life felt like it was slipping through your fingers, angry at how hard it was to get out of bed some days, angry that no matter what you did, you felt like you were falling short.
but chris didn’t know that. all he saw was you pushing him away again, and this time, he pushed back.
“why do you always do this?” he’d said, his voice rising, cracking with something close to desperation. “i’m trying to help you, and all you do is shut me out!”
“i didn’t ask for your help, chris!” you’d fired back, your voice louder than his. “i didn’t ask for you to fix me!”
“i’m not trying to fix you,” he’d said, his tone hardening. “but you can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine and then acting like it’s my fault when it’s not!”
that’s when it happened. that’s when he’d said the thing that had left a mark you weren’t sure would ever fade.
“you make things harder for everyone who cares about you.”
the room had gone silent after that, expect for the sound of your heart breaking. you’d stared at him, stunned, while his face twisted in regret the second the words left his mouth. but it was too late.
you’d walked away that night, slamming the door behind you, and neither of you had spoken since.
now, as the rain drummed on and the darkness outside pressed closer, you wondered if maybe chris had been right. maybe you did make things harder for everyone who tried to love you. maybe the weight you carried was too much for anyone else to bear.
the knock at your door was soft, almost tentative, but it startled you. you froze, staring at the door from your space on the sofa as if it might burst open on its own. when the knock came again, more insistent this time, you rose on shaky legs and wiped your face, though it did little to hide the redness around you eyes.
when you opened the door, chris stood there, rain-soaked and disheveled. his grey rolling stones hoodie clung to his body, and the pieces of hair that came out of his red backwards hat was plastered to his face. but it was his eyes that caught you—their warmth, their sadness, their unwavering focus on you.
“can i come in?” he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the rain pattering against the concrete.
you hesitated, the weight of his words from that night still heavy between you. but something in his expression made you step aside, and he slipped inside, shaking off the rain.
for a moment, neither of you spoke. the silence stretched until it became unbearable, and you finally broke it.
“what are you doing here, chris?” you asked, crossing your arms as if that could shield you from him. “i thought we said everything we needed to say.”
he flinched at the bitterness in your tone but didn’t look away. “you said everything you needed to say,” he replied. “i didn’t.”
you let out a hollow laugh, the sound bitter even to your own ears. “and what could you possibly have to add? another reminder that i’m a burden? that i make things harder for everyone around me?”
“that’s not what i meant,” he said quickly, stepping closer, though you stepped back.
“it’s what you said,” you shot back. “and the worst part is, you didn’t have to say it. i already know it’s true.”
his face crumpled, guilt flashing across his features. “no,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “it’s not true. and i hate myself for making you think it is.”
you turned away, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to fall. “it doesn’t matter, chris. you were right. i push people away, i ruin things, and you deserve better than that.”
“stop,” he said, his voice louder now, more urgent. “you don’t get to decide what i deserve. and you don’t get to tell me how i feel about you.”
you spun around, your anger finally boiling over. “why, chris? why are you even here? i’m not worth this! i’m not worth you!”
“because i love you,” he said, his voice raw and unwavering. “because i love you even when you’re at your worst. especially when you’re at your worst.”
the tears finally spilled over, but you didn’t move, didn’t speak. you wanted to believe him, but the voice in your head, the one that had been there for long as you could remember, kept telling you he was wrong.
“i don’t know how to let you love me,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i don’t even know how to love myself.”
chris stepped closer, closing the space between you. his hand hovered for a moment before gently brushing against yours. “then let me show you,” he said softly. “let me love you until you can.”
you shook your head, your shoulders shaking with the effort to hold yourself together. “you don’t get it, chris. sometimes i hate myself so much it feels like i can’t breathe. and the things you said…” you looked at him, your voice cracking. “the things you said made it worse.”
his breath hitched, and he looked away, shame written all over his face. “i know,” he said, his voice barely audible. “and i’ll never forgive myself for that. but i need you to know—i didn’t mean it. not any of it. i was scared, and i lashed out, and i hurt you in a way i can’t take back. but if you’ll let me, i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
you stared at him, the sincerity in his eyes breaking down the walls you’d spent so long building. and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself consider the possibility that maybe—just maybe—he meant it.
the silence stretched between you again, but this time, it felt different. softer.
chris hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer. then, without warning, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around your waist as though letting go wasn’t an option. his embrace was warm and grounding, a stark contrast to the coldness you’d felt for so long.
your hands moved on instinct, sliding around his torso, your head came to rest against his chest. the steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled your ears, and for the first time in weeks, the noise in your head began to quiet.
“you don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. “just let me hold you.”
you closed your eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against yours, and for a minute, the world outside didn’t matter. the storm, the hurt, the weight out everything—all of it faded into the background.
chris’ hand slid up your back, his touch light, and before you could process what was happening, he tilted his head and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. the warmth of it spread through you, melting the edges of your defences.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours, and then he leaned in, brushing his lips yours in a kiss that was tentative and tender, like he was asking permission. when you didn’t pull away, his lips pressed more firmly, and the quiet desperation in the way he kissed you felt like an apology, a promise, and a plea all at once.
when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing unsteady. neither of you said anything, but the weight of the moment settled between you like a unspoken misunderstanding.
“you’re going to regret this,” you said quietly, your voice trembling with both fear and hope.
chris shook his head, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “never,” he said.
and as the storm outside began to ease, you let him pull you into his arms, his warmth seeping into the cracks you thought could never be mended. maybe you weren’t ready believe him yet, but for now, you let yourself rest in the possibility.
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo edit#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo x you#and chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo fanfic#Spotify
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Big Moana 2 Spoilers ahead. Beyond the cut is the Samoan to english translation of maui's 2nd song for moana. (And the context it appears in)
youtube
ladies and gents of the moana fandom, thanks to the effort of samoan speaker @yuki685 on youtube, and my buddy @rykierykerman for hooking me up with the text and screenshots
what i'd like to discuss with yall today is not only sharing the translation for this song, but some of the character implication this has for maui, especially when you look at how his OG legends depict him.
LYRICS:
(Maui singing in Samoan):
Aue, aue, le faigata / Aue, aue, how difficult it is
Ua pa'ū fa'anoanoa / Falling into sadness
Aue, aue, fa'ataga ola / Aue, aue, please allow this life to continue
Lenā La'u talosaga / This is my prayer
---
(E manu malo) / May there be blessings
(Opataia Foa'i and Te Vaka singing in Tokelauan)
Tele tele mana e o te vavau (Vavau) / Great, great power of mana
Tau ke tu ke Manumalo / Fight, stand tall and be victorious
Ke Manumalo / Be victorious
---
(Grandma Tala)
Aue, aue, mana e o te vavau / Aue, aue, the power of mana
Tau ke tu ke Manumalo / Fight, stand tall and be victorious
Ke Manumalo / Be victorious
Ke Manumalo / Be victorious
Ke Manumalo / Be victorious
_____
The piece that made me flip my shit when I read it was the confirmation that this song is a PRAYER
when I first heard this song before the movie I assumed it was a funeral rite. a dirge, followed by a choral revival. during the film, when maui and then the ancestors sang it over moana's lifeless body and I had no subtitles to go on, I thought perhaps it was a spell, or maybe a lullaby from Maui's far distant past, then taken up by the ancestors as a comfort to the grieving Maui- then back to the spell theory as Moana awoke to the powerful music and emotion channeled by tala and her crew.
even my first google translate search of the lyrics missed the word prayer, which goes to show that AI translation is no match for native human insight.
Maui's song being a prayer is a friggin big deal.
Maui's stories span the width & breadth of the pacific islands, and each culture arising from those island tells variations on that legend. some emphasize his rebellious side, others his inventiveness, still others his drive, his humor, his ingenuity, his pride. But a common theme in most is that this man, this demigod- he does NOT get along with the majority of his ancestors or the gods. Even when he's not outright malevolent to them, he's tricking them or undermining their effort. He's usually stubbornly self-sufficient, if he gets help from someone divine, its usually because he tricked them into doing it. Maui does not beg, he does not plead. (at least, not with any lasting sincerity). he's a charmer, a schemer.
But here he is, his tattoos stripped away, his hook gone, his beloved Moana growing colder and colder- he's out of tricks. he's out of time, out of power. he's as helpless as the day he was thrown into the ocean to save her. rock bottom, figuratively and literally.
he does the absolute last thing he can, born of pure desperation. pure grief, pure need. He prays.
he prays not expecting an answer. he prays, knowing that the gods and all his family would relish the chance to tell him to fuck all the way off. he prays, even if to no one but moana's lifeless body.
i often joke that maui is bad at feelings. but really what i mean is that maui is bad at regulating his feelings. he represses them as hard as he can, denies them, wraps them in humor and when that fails he straight up tries to out run them. its a maladaptive coping skill he's had to pick up over his immortal 3000 year lifespan because otherwise, he'd be wallowing in endless grief as friend after friend either dies or lives long enough to become his antagonist. boy has some serious trauma built up and no good examples of how to handle it in a healthy way.
until moana.
moana provided an example of how to be vulnerable without being weak. a safe space where he could share his heart and be met with understanding and validation. we see him mature, even fractionally, and in the sequel he's not nearly so closed off. he worries openly about moana, admits his concerns about the mission, even returns moana's favor from the first film and gives her a sincere, supportive pep talk.
but all his progress in processing his emotions seems to backfire in this moment. the first time he'd opened his heart to a fragile mortal friend and here he is, exactly as he feared, devastated at her passing. He had invested real time and care and attachment into this human and he's utterly shattered that its all coming to an end so fast. that he'll never experience her voice or her smile or her wit ever again.
she's precious to him. he cant bear to lose her. his sadness in more crushing than the ocean he's surrounded by, denser than the rock he kneels upon. even if he got his powers back, even if he pulled up a million islands, if Moana isn't there to land on them...there's no point.
less than 10 minutes ago he was ready to die for her.
3 minutes ago in movie time, maui faced his own mortality. powers stripped bare, down to his last ounce of strength, frying in impossible lightning heat, he kept struggling. the first look he gives moana is fear, raw and unfamiliar on that handsome face. but in this penultimate moment, his eyes meet moana's. his grimace gentles, eyebrows lift, gaze softens into a regretful, heart melting smile. he finds small comfort in seeing moana for one last time, seeing her unhurt, hearing her call his name. the rope slips from his grip, and somewhere in the milliseconds between lightning flashes, he relaxes, relief skitters across his features. perhaps he thinks "ahh, at least she's ok." "at least she'll outlive me". perhaps he has a moment of acceptance for his fate, knowing she's proud of him, knowing he did his very best. maybe he thinks ,"this way ill be sure to meet her again, in the afterlife. its for the best."
or maybe, just maybe, he thinks
"see you out there, moana."
but now, 3 minutes later, its once again the worst case scenario. any relief he had in that last smile at her is obliterated in the wake of his grief. its once again the worst case scenario. he's not thinking now of the curse being broken or his hook or his tattoos. a world that she's not in, whether he be human or demigod, is not a world he can stand to exist in. he cant do this without her. he needs her.
so he digs deep inside himself, through the pain or losing her, through his own family trauma and antagonism towards authority, and pride, to beg, on his knees for help from a higher power. its unclear to us if he's intending to pray to the gods or to his own ancestors or both or neither. to anyone who can help. to anyone who will listen.
and its neither of those sources who answer, at least, not as directly as matai vasa or tala do. its moana's kin, her loved ones, (eventually including the ocean), who answer from the great beyond. he looks them in the eyes and they weep with him. they sing power over moana and the impossible happens.
(salacious handholding occurs)
the stars are put back in maui's eyes, the sun back into his sky.
does this mean...
yes.
his tattoos are still cooler than hers.
even when theyre mad at him. (same, little guy, same.)
bruh.
now kiss
#moana#maui#moana 2#moana 2 spoilers#hooked wayfinder#moaui#maumoa#moana x maui#maui x moana#essay#shipping essay#cultural context#big honkin spoilers
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daddy issues, my little girl (m) | park jongseong.
﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹,
preview. you had always had daddy issues, for as long as you could remember. so when jay came along with his caring nature, how could you possibly keep your feelings at bay? not to forget, your roses of love have wilted long before you even knew what love meant but jay, he’s here at your doorstep with a watering can. will you be able to refuse?
or where, new neighbor dr jay park is asked to babysit you over the week. ironically the only man you have ever had a crush on. you are so determined to put aside the feelings but jay makes things so much harder. he is way too sweet and caring and you are way too pessimistic and insecure. how is it going to work with you gravitating towards him in inadvertence and jay welcoming your presence with candor radiance? especially with all of your buried issues coming to life more than ever. false hopes and reserved secrets, reluctant truths and feelings that linger deep. he is right there, two doors away to reach. so why is it that love still feels so far?
meet the cast. daddy park jongseong(jay) with his doll fem!reader
genre. neighbour to lovers, age gap (like 7 years), romance, SMUT MDNI!!, comfort angst, fluff, happy ending, doctor(might change that)!jay with his precious girl. jay literally always at his girl's beck and call, he cares about you a lottttt trope. the "i know you can do it, but let me do it for you" trope. kinda ddlg concept idk? he's like your pillar, comfort person and just everything you have ever needed. practically your dream man come to life. subject to additions later on.
word count. 18-19k so far, est around 35k revamp + second installment.
warnings. DARK THEMES: hints of: daddy issues, attachment anxiety, inferiority complex, abandonment issues, depression, childhood emotional neglect, philophobia, insomnia, social anxiety, hints at emotional/psychological abuse, gaslighting, hints at being suicidal, people pleaser syndrome, mommy issues, thantophobia, atelophobia, atychiphobia, pistanthrophobia, avoidant personality disorder, body dysmorphia. more could be added on release and nsfw warnings will be mentioned in full fic.
theme song. daddy issues by the neighborhood and future by red velvet. on the side you can listen to: love letter by bolbbalgan4, adore you by harry styles, pacify her by melanie martinez, cool kids by echosmith, your existence by wonstein, teenage dreams by katy perry ..
RELEASING. TBD, progress ! 57%
"i’m home!” slipping off your converse, you put the pair inside the shoe cabinet near the entrance and close the wooden door in a sigh before trudging in. the lights in the living room are dimmed, something your parents would never do. it catches you a tad bit off guard but nevertheless you try not to think too much. considering the silence surrounding you they most definitely are out for work and as usual forgot to turn off the lights. with cautious steps you walk futher inside, with all intention to sneak in a pack of chips from the kitchen like a thief even though at this point you’ve practically come to the conclusion you’re home alone, but one can never be too careful.
a cat like shriek leaves you when your eyes land on the back of a figure sitting on the couch, your phone almost slipping through the grasp of your fingers as your eyes widen in shock. startled, your heart more or less stopping in a screeching brake for a split second.
the man visibly flinches at the sound of your voice,“who are you?!-” standing up and turning around to face you,“jay?”
“god y/n, you’re gonna make me deaf,” he complains, face contorting into a tender, teasing expression; a small smile gracing his lips as he walks around the couch and leans against the top of the backrest. you watch as he looks at you, so softly that it makes you wonder, has anyone ever in your entire life looked at you like that? a look radiating such gentleness. maybe not, not until now that is.
“you got home early today, i thought you’d be out for two more hours?” his brows raise in a questioning manner as his gaze shifts to go over the time showing on your living room clock.
“uh, well i was working on a project the last few days but i finished it yesterday so,” you speak unsure if you should even be telling him this instead of asking what he’s doing in here.
“oh okay, that’s good,” taking off his overcoat he walks into the kitchen, folding up his dress shirt’s sleeves on the way,“what do you want for lunch then? do you want to eat takeout? or should i cook you something? you must be hungry,” he takes out a bottle of cold water from the fridge and pours in a glass for you, sliding the cup on the countertop towards you as you approach the space in hesitant and confused steps.
his questions dumbfound you, leaving your brain at a loss, still dazed from his presence before you,“what? why are you asking me that? and what are you doing in my house?” you ask, looking completely clueless when jay turns to look at you expecting it to be some kind of a sarcastic remark. but the lost look in your eyes has him surrendering even if it does turn out to be some joke.
“taking care of you,” jay smiles, straightening his posture in an upright position and moving closer to the counter across which you stand,“technically, babysitting,”
“babysitting? me? but,” it baffles you, is this some prank or are you supposed to know something you don’t? your mind’s mechanical gears slow down, friction arising in between them. you don’t remember anything regarding or relating to the term babysitting. there’s no way he’s serious.. right?
“doll, didn’t your parents tell you they’re gonna be out on a business trip for a week? they asked me to look after you while they’re gone,” what.
yes these past few days when you couldn’t catch a hidden, one-sided glimpse of him in the elevator you did feel weird. and you definitely did subconsciously wish to run across him again, even though you were on a mission to avoid him, but this; this is not what you would’ve liked, this is not what you wanted. this is far from what you can handle, what your messed up self can accept.
“no?” the look on your face has jay almost spilling a laugh, the way your features contort to a whiny crying expression. how cute. he thinks.
“that’s okay, now you know,” trying to imitate you, he scrushes up his nose in a slight pout, reaching out to pat your head twice. and there goes your heart. you never thought you’d like head pats this much, you only remember getting them twice from your father but it felt different. it used to annoy you because he would mess up your hair but the way jay caressed your head it felt you had accomplished something, so gentle and careful yet still close to a ruffle.
taglist ( open. ) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @lheebra @boyfhee @defnotfertilizedtoesw @brownsugarbaybee @skylaly @sparklovespink @luvyouchuu @ming-h0e @cha0thicpisces @butterflywonie @kgneptun @haechansbbg @m3chigo @wonsbaer @woncine @eneiyri @siyen @wonyoungsvirus @heesquared @enhafim22 @velvtcherie @ineedsomezzz @simjyunnie @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @wonkifangirl @sweetwonieee @luvnicho @fakeuwus @sunpov @notevenheretbh1 @kaykay11sworld @saurxcream @shawnyle @monstaxdirtywonk @wannieepisod @woozixo @sophi-ee @rikiwaify-blog @fluerz @iselltulips @belowbun @yunjinsbbg @enhasnuggles @enhaswirlds @enhastolemyheart @jooniesbears-blog
#( 🩰 ) 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥!#enhypen imagines#enhypen smut#enhypen fluff#enhypen angst#enhypen oneshots#enhypen jay imagines#enhypen jay smut#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen scenarios#enhypen heeseung imagines#enhypen heeseung smut#enhypen sunghoon imagines#enhypen sunghoon smut#enhypen jake imagines#enhypen jake smut#enhypen x you#enhypen x female reader#enhypen x y/n#enhypen jay x reader#enhypen drabbles#enhypen headcanons#enhypen reactions
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What does your older self wants to say to you? A pac reading<3
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Pile 1-
you need to let go, this is so funny to me given the pile that you guys have chosen has a tattoo of "amor fati" which literally means this. If you've chosen this pile you might have an anxious attachment and some of you need to go off a relationship that you are holding. A japanese song is playing in my head? Sometimes you only hold onto things very tightly because deep down you know that the moment you let go they are going to leave you. Your older self wants you to let go of such relations one particular scenario that I'm getting is of someone being in a toxic relationship being completely dependent on their significant others knowing that the other person might not choose to stay with them once they let go or once they are given the choice to do so. Stop being dependent on people and allow them and give them the space for them to leave you if they wish to do so the only way to understand how much they love is by giving them the space to leave then only you know that they truly do love you. The other people in this pile need to know that all relations require space and time for both individuals to grow individually too. Only when you have enough space and time to grow individually you can contribute something to the relation. Some of you might have ashlesha nakshatra. Also take care of yourself by yourself your older self really wants you to take care of your hair lmao I keep hearing "wash up wash up" I'm also seeing fishes for some reason those orange ones I don't know what they're called? You might love them now or definitely own them in the future. Your older self also wants you to know that the cycle ends with you. Breaking off from the generation trauma cycle seems to be a very important theme here. I see y'all are already very cool but are even cooler in the future man I'm not gonna lie I also keep hearing alt for some reason whether it's for songs or fashion but y'all are gonna be fucking cool in the future man. Be resilient I have full faith in you pile 1 do it for the super cool you. I also see this pile moving out of this house if they haven't alr I keep getting japan again and again but y'all gonna live a pretty great lifestyle also reminded of lucky from the blue sisters novel? Thankyou!!
Pile 2-
this pile might have the tendency to overreact at that exact moment when they are faced with a problem. Their emotions at times might make it hard for them to actually get a good grasp on the situation. Your older self wants you to learn to differentiate between illusion and intuition lmao. I also had a vision of someone journaling so I think the older self might want you guys to write it down before reacting or coming to a conclusion on any sort of situation. I also think that writing it down might make it easy or better for you to feel and understand your emotions better and the problem as well. This pile also needs to focus on their unconscious mind? If you are manifesting something you might have some biases already that you need to pay attention to. This pile might also easily interpret things and get confused. Your older self wants you to follow your heart I heard "it will lead you to the right path" and right after this "sometimes to run is the brave thing" played in my head from its time to go by Taylor swift. You need to act on whatever feelings you have some of you might write and be confused about whether it's good or not or some confusion related to it here's your answer- it is<3 go ahead and follow your heart pile two it will never lead you to the wrong path in the long end. I also heard "beauty and art is everywhere" this pile needs to follow their passion. Lord this is ending on such a good note. Your older self also wants you to know that you should not fear bc all your hardwork will pay off<3 all your hardwork and sacrifices will pay off and you'll get the success that you desire and want. This was also a pile that I chose and I needed to hear this<3
Pile 3-
The time or whatever you are going through will not be wasted. The journey is there to prepare you and give you the experiences that you need to get to the level that you want to achieve in your life. This pile might be going through some hard things. This pile also needs to know that you cannot force anyone to grow early or to change early or hurry up some process everything has its own time be patient a delay does not mean a no. This pile also needs to come face to face with their problems and fear only then they'll be able to move past it. "The only way out is through" "change is the only constant thing in life" "no one else can do it for you" are the things that I'm hearing. This pile knows what's needed to be done but might fear the unknown. A big transformation that is much needed is coming after that I see a wonderful new beginning for you<3
thankyou!!
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